Saul and the Spirit Medium – Postscript

dummies_logo_ok[First posted June 23,2012, this is the last of our series proving through the Hebrew Scriptures that the devil, evil spirits and ghosts do not exist and are human creative inventions, part of myth and legend:

 

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When we were still evangelical christians, we learned that the dead could not come back as “spirits.” We were taught to attribute ghost-visitations [that people swear they have experienced] to demons who could disguise themselves in the form of the dearly departed.   Appearing as ‘familial spirits’ demons are not frightful and people tend to be less fearful and therefore easily fooled; thus, demons are able to gain entry into the deluded person’s life.  We categorized these demons as “deceiving spirits” according to Christian teaching on the hierarchy of fallen angels.  

 

Why did we believe in the existence of Satan and demonic beings?  Because they were so prominent in the New Testament.  So we merely passed on what we learned.  If God is the author of the New Testament who are we to question the existence of fallen angels who challenge the Son of God all through his ministry on earth?  

 

The demonic intrusion in people’s lives and how to address it is actually a specialized ministry in Christianity. There are  ‘experts’ who study such “phenomenon” and record their findings.  They write books, produce videos, hold conferences, appear in talk shows, give tips on how to combat levels of demonic influence, from oppression to possession.

 

Christians are warned against buying innocent-looking souvenirs [Buddha statues, Indonesian puppets and masks that look demonic] because they have pagan origins.  Cabbage dolls are said to be made by people who attach demonic spirits to each doll. Catholic statues/idols that have been venerated have similar demons.  Parents are warned against allowing their kids to celebrate Halloween, read Harry Potter books; mess with ouija boards or spirit of the glass; listen to the music of heavy metal rock bands like KISS [knights in satan’s service], black sabbath, etc.   The same people who think fengshui  devotees are deluded do not think the same way about their own superstitious  beliefs because it is supported and in fact promoted by the New Testament scriptures.

 

Dr. Neil Anderson of Bondage Breaker fame has book after book and conduct conference after conference, teaching people how to combat the forces of darkness, real demons as well as “inner demons” [addictions, unforgiveness]; here are two sample advertisements for his books: 

 

  • “Victory Over the Darkness emphasizes the importance of believing and internalizing the cardinal truths of Scripture as a base from which to renew the mind and fend off Satan’s relentless attempt to convince us that we are less than Christ empowers us to be.”
  •  “Satan knows he can block your effectiveness as a Christian if he can deceive you into believing you are nothing but a product of your past, subject to sin, prone to failure, controlled by your habits. Winning Spiritual Warfare provides a practical, step-by-step guide to overcoming the strategies of the devil. In clear, easy-to-understand terms, author Neil Anderson shows you what you can do to experience the full victory and freedom that Christ purchased for you on the cross.”

 

TV evangelists, preachers and teachers relate stories similar to this:  a mother who had been informed that her soldier-son had died in Iraq heard a knock on the door, it turned out to be her son in uniform; having been taught about demonic spirits in disguise, she mouthed the “formula” —- ” begone In Jesus’ mighty Name!”  and if that didn’t work, she was to say “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” repeatedly.

 

Another story went like this:  A newly-widowed grandma was fixing dinner, when she placed the food on the table, she saw her dead husband sitting at his regular place so she said “I know you are not my dead husband, you are a demonic spirit, in the name of Jesus, get away from this house . . . .”

 

A daytime talk show host invited people who perform exorcisms and asked them specific questions about how they go about doing it.  Skeptical from beginning to end, he ended with this question:  “If you have already exorcised a person, why do you have to keep repeating it, doesn’t the first time work?”

 

What do we make of such stories? What do we make of the gospels where Jesus is portrayed as interacting with Satan and demonic spirits?  Who would not be frightened if the Son of God Himself appears defeated as a man during his  earthly ministry?  

 

Should we wonder why Paul in his epistle to the Ephesians talks about the spiritual armor for Christian warfare because he says man’s struggle is —

 

not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.  Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you may be able to extinguish all the flaming missiles of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.  

 

If the New Testament is Truth, then Paul’s admonition makes sense in a world dominated by Satan and demons.  

 

Talk about bondage breaking, here’s a gospel truth placed in the mouth of Jesus of John 8:32:  

 

“You shall know the truth

and the truth shall set you free.”  

 

 

 We have discovered the truth in the Hebrew Scriptures and that truth has set us free from one among many false beliefs:

 

  • that God created angelic beings
  • who could sin and rebel against Him,
  • whose evil powers almost equal His,
  • who are allowed by God to oppress mankind. 

 

There is only one being created in the image of God and endowed with free will according to the Hebrew Scriptures, and that is man.   

 

How do we now resolve the one incident in the TNK about Saul, the necromancer, and the dead Samuel’s spirit? To add to the Rabbis explanations in “Ask the Rabbi,” here is our conclusion:  Saul violated a Torah prohibition in his desire to hear from God about his fate; God indulges him and he probably regretted knowing the bad news.  

 

Just like Saul, people who continue to choose their way instead of God’s way, continue believing in scriptures that contradict foundational teaching in the TNK, God will probably release them to go the way they consistently choose to go.  Recall the Pharaoh who repeatedly hardened his heart, refusing to believe the messages delivered by Moses: 

 

Who is YHWH that I should obey His voice to let Israel go?  I do not know YHWH and besides, I will not let Israel go.  

 

He reaches the point of no return:  God hardens Pharaoh’s heart.   

 

If people insist on going against God’s clear instructions, they might just get their way but at the cost of the consequences of disobedience which could take many forms . . . including experiencing the occult promoted by the New Testament scriptures to which they would rather subscribe than adjust their belief system to YHWH’s original revelation in the TNK.  

Bind up the TESTIMONY, seal the TORAH among my disciples . . .

And when they say to you seek those who are mediums and wizards, who whisper and mutter, should not a people consult their God?  Should they seek the dead on behalf of the living?  To the TORAH and to the TESTIMONY!

If they do not speak according to this word, it is because there is no light in them. . . they will pass through the land, greatly distressed and hungry; and when they are hungry, they will be enraged and will curse their King and their God, and turn their faces upward; then they will look to the earth, and see trouble and darkness, gloom of anguish; and they will be driven into darkness

 (Isaiah 8:16-22)

 

And so be it.

 

 

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A Crash Course in Comparative Religion

[First posted December 7, 2014.

 

Warning:  This is a very loonnnnnggggg article but worth the time, effort, and patience.  It is from  our MUST READ/MUST OWN resource : Reuven Firestone’s  Who are the REAL Chosen People?  — a most fascinating read you can’t put down once you get started.

 

As we normally do with our recommended books, we feature only the ‘bookends’ —Introduction and Conclusion, sometimes excerpted chapters. Well, for this one we have gone so much farther than the ‘come-on’ appetizers, so to speak, because it is such a rich source of a topic most people are ignorant about.  The general thinking about “chosen people” is that this applies to Israel and Israel alone; well, that is not so, according to Reuven Firestone.

 

 Please read these posts:

And so we continue this series, this time featuring one of the most interesting chapters (actually ALL of them are!) on how new religions develop, how established religions typically react, and so on. This is in effect an introduction to Comparative Religion; figure out where your church/fellowship/religion/sect belongs in the scheme of established/institutional world religions.

 

We Sinaites have gone through the same experience of new, fledgling, considered ‘cultic’ God-movements, so this chapter warns us what will happen to us unless Sinai 6000 develops fully and produce numbers in terms of membership (a rabbi already warned us about this same predictable destiny). We are hardly concerned about disappearing as a ‘witness for YHWH’ for the time we have been privileged to declare Him in this website since we barely get a foot in the door in the circles we circulate.

 

Timely reminder:  We are not a religion, we are a way of life aligned with our God YHWH’s prescribed life for believers in Him.  The ‘way’ we have chosen to live is as antiquated as the forever-relevant Torah, so whether or not Sinai 6000 survives beyond our core community, it is not and never has been about us, it’s about YHWH’s Way and many others will continue the work of making His Name and His Way known.   Actually as we keep reiterating, there is no more reason not to know YHWH and His Guidelines for Living [TORAH] in this day and age of Information Technology; ignorance is as valid a choice as openness to more knowledge and continuing education on any subject. To quote an educator/founder of a university who happens to be my father,

“Education is a birthright.”

“EDUCATION is a SHIELD against the INTOLERANCE of the mind.” 

 

 The intent of our MUST OWN series is for our readers to add the recommended book to your library, it is worth the purchase! Reformatting, highlights, and illustrations added.—Admin1]

 

Image from blogs.vancouversun.com

Image from blogs.vancouversun.com

Best Practice Models and Religious Success

 

New Religious Movements

 

New religious movements did not appear only in the Roman period. They appear in every generation, and we are witnesses to the emergence of many new religious movements in our own day. We usually call these movements sects or cults.

 

In the academic study of religion, new religious movements became a field of interest beginning in the seventies (insiders refer to them as NRMs), and it is estimated that thousands have been born since the end of World War II.

 

Some of those that are better known include —–

  • International Society for Krishna Consciousness (or Hare Krishna, founded 1966),
  • the Family (or Children of God, founded 1968), Aum Shinrikyo (founded 1986),
  • Falun Gong (founded 1992),
  • Church of Scientology (founded 1954),
  • the Unification Church (or “Moonies,” founded 1954),
  • the Way International (founded 1942)
  • and Wicca (founded 1951).

Many well-known and well-respected religious of today were founded as new religious movements during the century before World War II, such as the—

  • Pentecostal movement,
  • the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons),
  • Jehovah’s Witnesses, Bahai Faith,
  • and Christian Science. 
 

One of the questions that scholars in the field ask is why new religious movements come into existence. A definitive answer is hard to come by, since our human interest in spirituality and religion is deeply associated with the complexity of human nature and the search for meaning and a life of the spirit. Perhaps our unending spiritual drive is what was meant by the biblical notion of humanity having been created in the image of God. Certainly, our need to be true to our own inner spirit motivates many of us to think deeply about religious issues and evaluate where we fit into the religious framework that we are a part of.   Some individuals seem to be open to a fresh religious call and are willing to pursue a new course.

 

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Sometimes new religious movements emerge as factions within existing religions. These are usually called sects. They may begin as particularly active segments of the religious mainstream, or they may become inspired by a strong or charismatic leader. These groups usually remain committed to the larger institution, but occasionally they begin to see themselves as different enough from the mainstream to be considered (either by themselves or by others) as moving beyond the margins of acceptability. Under pressure from the mainstream, they may return to the fold, but that pressure may also make them feel uncomfortable enough that they seek independence. Sometimes they are pushed out. Once the faction is defined as having separated from the institution, the pressure from the mainstream often changes to hostility. If it moves far enough away from the core, it is labeled a heresy.

 

Sometimes a new religious movement does not emerge from within an established religious systems, but from outside of it. When this occurs, it is institutionally independent and, in our day, is called a cult.   Sect, heresy, and cult are all negative terms, and they indicate how the mainstream feels about them. The new movements may indeed be outrageous, but whether they are or not, mainstream reaction to them is quite consistent.

  • The new movements are always opposed.
  • They are threatening.
  • They challenge the assumptions and comfort that we derive from our own religion,
  • and they may stimulate or activate our occasional uncertainty about what we believe in.
  • They also challenge many of the basic assumptions that we take for granted in our religions.
  • They may also confuse our children, who are naïve and vulnerable.
  • And, most threatening, they may be tempting enough to our children to take them away from us!
 

The Opposition

 

 Establishment religion always opposes new religions. Sometimes establishment opposition to new religious movements is expressed by ignoring their existence with the hope that they will collapse on their own and disappears. And, in fact, most new religious movements do die out within a generation. But not all new religions fail, and mainstream opposition to them can become quite aggressive.

 

Opposition to new religious movements in the Middle Ages led to violence, inquisitions, and massacres but violence usually happens only after all other means of weakening the new movements has failed. The most common attack is by means of delegitimizing the group through public condemnation, censure, and rejection. New movements are typically identified as cults, as existing outside the realm of real spirituality. Their leaders are accused of cynically creating their own private religion in order to exploit their followers (which some have indeed done). Some are labeled as satanic or evil. All newly emerging religious movements are tagged as not being true religion.

 

Whether labeled as sect, heresy, or cult, if the religious movement succeeds in attracting a large enough following it becomes increasingly difficult to marginalize it. With enough followers, the new movement can withstand the pressures of the establishment to destroy it. If the movement can endure for long enough and gain a critical mass of followers, it “graduates” from being merely a movement and begins to attain the status and influence of an accepted religion.

 

One of the questions that students of new religious movement ask is, why do some succeed while most simply die out and disappear? In many cases, the reason for failure is quite clear. Sometimes the leader is so personally unstable that he or she is abandoned by his or her followers. In other cases, the group is so poor that it cannot sustain itself, so it falls apart and people go their own way. Sometimes bickering and poor leadership cause the movement collapse through rancor and ill will among the members. Given the many strikes against the success of new religious movements, the more difficult question to answer is, why do some succeed? 

 

One answer is that is a successful new religion has found the true meaning of life or more closely reflects the true will of God than others, including the religious establishments. This is a common answer among adherents of the new religions themselves, but one that, needless to say, cannot be proven. Students of religious studies look at other ways to analyze the movements’ success.

Image from www.beinwonder.com

Image from www.beinwonder.com

New Language in Thinking about Religion 

 

Whatever the occasions of their origin, religions as we know them today are all organized and run by people. They function as institutions and, as such, they tend to behave and operate similarly to other human institutions and organizations. Some of the most insightful studies of the question of religious success use the language and theory of the market and business organization. When examined as institutions (as opposed to divinely ordained sacred communities), religions tend to look and act in a way that is reminiscent of corporations or commercial enterprises.

 

It is not my intent to cheapen the important spiritual and moral-ethical role of religion by comparing it morally to the cutthroat and often ethically lax operations of business. What follows is not a moral comparison, but rather a structural or functional comparison.

 

Religions are understood as deriving from the Infinite with the goal of realizing the will of God. Whether or not religions reflect God’s true will, however,

  • they are organized by people.
  • Their message is delivered by people.
  • They are represented by people,
  • and they reach out to people.

Social scientists have remarked how they tend to function structurally, therefore, in ways that are not so different from the ways that other human organizations function. A model that some scholars of religion have suggested to offer helpful insight into the behavior or religious institutions, therefore, is that of business organization. 

 

 

For example,

  • religions compete with one another for followers.
  • They often promote their particular approach to God and prayer in ways that look much like some forms of advertising.
  • Every religion offers certain benefits.
  • All claim to help their followers live better and happier lives,
  • and all promise personal compensation of one sort or another for belonging.
  • Common rewards include a sense of warm community, fellowship, atonement or forgiveness of sin, spiritual fulfillment, and even everlasting life or salvation.
  • Although the nature of religious rewards is quite different from promises of happiness or pleasure associated with purchasing a particular brand of muffin or make of dishwasher, structurally speaking, the promise of reward for consumption is identical.
 
Image from www.remnantresource.org

Image from www.remnantresource.org

In the business world, when rival companies offer different brands of the same product, such as cars or stereos, they compete with one another by trying to convince the potential consumer that their model will provide better quality and more advantages than that of their competition. We observe a similar kind of competition among varieties of religion. The most successful religions by most standards are those that have the largest number of adherents. Why would so many people belong if the religion were not meaningful and fulfilling? Large or growing religious movements and churches often throw around their membership numbers as a way of demonstrating that they are successful.

 

Those who join religious communities or participate in worship or other religious activities function as religious consumers. Every community’s religious followers represent a “market share” of these consumers. When a religion controls a large market share of the religious consumer market, it becomes powerful and has a corresponding influence on society as a whole. Because a generally accepted marker of success is in the numbers, those with the greater numbers are considered most successful.

 

In successful religion, as in successful business, the best models tend to be emulated. In modern business this is a conscious and carefully calculated process. In religion, it is likely to be less calculated, but, as in business, a successful religion needs to control a certain share of the consumer market to avoid going “bankrupt.” No religion can survive without the aid of a minimal amount of supporters’ energy, commitment, personal abilities, and material resources.

 

To extend this business model, new religious movements can be likened to new consumer products that become available to consumers. They tend to function like a new company with its own, unique product or brand on the “religious market.” In order to succeed in gaining the necessary market share of support to survive, new religious movements must demonstrate to the pool of potential consumers that they are authentic and that they have something to offer that will meet consumer’s religious needs. To use more religious language, new religious movements must convince an adequate number of potential believers that they are authoritative and that they truly represent the divine will. This is public legitimatizing. It is similar to a business program of branding that establishes a sense of confidence and trust among consumers.

 

One way that new religions demonstrate their religious legitimacy is by representing themselves in ways that are easily recognized as authentic by potential joiners. Successful new religions do this intuitively by adopting familiar religious symbols. To take one simple and common example, new Christian religious movements always use some form of the cross as a sign that they are an authentic form of Christianity. Most other symbols of authentic religion, such as prophecy, revelation, covenant, and scripture, are not as physical, but they are no less important foundations upon which successful religion is based. We will observe below how the notion of covenant appears in the earliest literary layers of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam as a symbol of authenticity. Leaders of new religions are usually considered by their followers to be prophets who speak in the name of God.

 

Successful new religious movements manage to incorporate authenticating symbols of established religions in their own representational systems. We must keep in mind that image, symbols, belief concepts, and rituals form the building blocks of religion. They are not necessarily exclusive to any one system. It is the unique form or style of these and their particular combinations that make for the many different expressions of religion. 

 
Image from restoration.windowsofheavenpublishing.com

Image from restoration.windowsofheavenpublishing.com

One classic example of the use and reuse of previous religious symbols can be found in the emergence of ancient Israelite monotheism. For example, many Israelite customs, traditions, rituals, and conventions can be found among contemporary and more ancient neighboring religions in the ancient Near East. We have learned from the science of archaeology that the altars in ancient Israel looked like Canaanite altars. The layout of the Tabernacle and Temple look very similar to the layout of other holy structures found in ancient sites in the region. The Bible attests that there were non-Israelite priests and non-Israelite prophets (Exod. 3:1; Numbers 22). Even religious poems with uncanny linguistic and literary parallels to biblical psalms have been discovered in the libraries of ancient civilizations unearthed in archaeological digs. But the language of those poems reveres other gods.

 

What made Israelite psalms unique was the extraordinary way that they used well-known idioms and expressions in their praise and worship of the One Great God. Different religions share many of the same generic symbols and institutions. It is the unique way in which these symbols and institutions are conveyed and interpreted that provides the special nature of each religion.

 
Image from markhumphrys.com

Image from markhumphrys.com

Keep in mind that Israelite religion was considered ancient when it was encountered by the early Greeks in the fourth century BCE. It became the only religious survivor form the ancient Near East. The earliest Greek writers on the Jews, such as Theophrastus, Megasthenes, and Clearchus of Soli, all of whom lived in the fourth to third centuries BCE, gave Israel their highest compliment, for they considered Israel to be a nation of philosophers. As a most ancient expression of God’s communication to humanity, it was natural for Israel’s religion to be emulated, whether consciously or not, by new religious movements in formation under the Romans and after. Those that were most successful managed to integrate some of the most powerful symbols, images, and motifs from the religion of biblical Israel. As we have learned above, one of the most central motifs of ancient Israel was chosenness.

 

The religion of Israel is the mother of monotheisms. It was natural, therefore, that it became the definitive model for articulating the relationship with the One Great God.

One classic marker of that relationship is God’s revelation and its record in scripture. God’s revelation of scripture is exceedingly rare, and it is always local. It may be intended for a universal audience, but it is always given to a discrete community, and it marks that community as special, unique—and limited. The extraordinary rarity of scriptural revelation and the limited nature of its reception within a distinct human community are characterized and symbolized in monotheism by the notion of chosenness.

 

Chosenness was a natural and appealing motif to be absorbed by new religious movements because it epitomizes the unique and exclusive relationship between God and humanity.  In a world of competing religions, being the one community truly chosen by God conveys a clear message to potential joiners who seek a meaningful religious community and a path to the Divine. 

 

Chosenness was emblematic of Israelite religion because of its origin among ancient Near Eastern polytheisms. When the religion of Israel became the first and thus most famous expression of monotheism, it was natural for chosenness to become emblematic of new forms of monotheism as well, those trying to compete in the religious market. So when we examine the successful monotheistic religious movements that emerged out of the crucible of the ancient Near East, we cannot help but notice that they all incorporate this one foundational aspect of ancient Israelite religion. A number of other common motifs are also found them. But chosenness, associated with scriptural revelation and authenticated by it, is at the core and incorporated by them all.

 

The Counterattack 

 

Students of new religious movements have articulated something that we already know intuitively from our own experience: that both the leaders and the rank-and–file of establishment religions do not care for new religions—to say the least.

  • Religious leaders and functionaries preach against them.
  • They dispute with them.
  • They claim that new religions make metaphysical promises that cannot be fulfilled.
  • They often shame leaders of new religions and argue that they manipulate innocent people to believe in them only in order to benefit themselves.
  • The bottom lime of their argument is that new religious movements are not authoritative representations of the divine will.
  • They are not authentic, not “true religion.”

These very positions were articulated by representatives of establishment religions in reference to the Jesus movement as it emerged in Late Antiquity. They were also articulated in reference to emerging Islam. Christianity and Islam are the two most successful religions in human history, based on their share of religious consumers, and they have long since behaved like established religions. But they were once new religious movements themselves, and they suffered, as all new religious movements do, from the attacks of the establishment. 

 

The New Testament repeatedly complains about the attitudes of the establishment that seemed so intent on destroying the new Jesus movement. Jews or Pharisees are often identified as trying to discredit Jesus and harassing his followers (Matt. 22:15-30; Mark 7:1-5, 12:13-25; Acts 5:17, 6:8-15, 8:3, 9:1-2; Gal. 4:29, 5:11; 2 Cor. 11:21-24). Romans were also opposed to the new movement and its supporters and acted forcibly against them (Acts 16:19-24; 2 Cor. 11:26). Many parts of the New Testament complain about the general persecution that Jesus and his supporters suffered (Romans 8:35; 1 Cor. 4:11-13; 2 Thess. 1:5; Heb. 10:32; 1 Pet. 4:16).

 
 

The Qur’an likewise complains about the attitudes of the establishment religions of its own day to the newly emerging movement of Islam. The major threat to Islam came from Arab polytheists, who are depicted repeatedly as trying to destroy the young movement (2:217, 3:195, 9:107, 16:110, 22:40, 41:26). Jews and Christians are sometimes lumped together as “People of the Book” in the Qur’an, and they are portrayed as consistently opposing and disparaging the Muslim movement as well (2:74-75, 2:100-101, 2:109, 3:69-72, 4:153, 5:57-59, 4:146-147).

 
 

Most new religious movements are not able to sustain themselves in the face of attacks by establishment opposition, but some are able to fight back. As the weaker party in the relationship, they are not in a position to fight physically, and often they are not even able defend themselves against physical attack. But the successful movements fight back nevertheless, and they do so through argument. They counter the accusations of the opposition and often engage in a literary counterattack. The purpose of the rhetorical thrust and parry seems not to disable the opponent so much as to provide encouragement to the beleaguered followers who suffer abuse from the establishment. Counterattack provides moral support for those who need it most. 

 
 

Scripture and Polemic

 

You can observe this kind of argument and literary counterattack within the scriptures of Judaism, Christianity and Islam.  Passionate, urgent, and aggressive argument is called polemic, and polemic is deeply embedded in monotheist scripture. In fact, because the three scriptures represent the earliest record we have for the period during which the three great monotheistic religions emerged, they contain within them valuable information about the tensions, resentment, and conflict that surround their origins. 

 
 

Scriptures are collections of literary materials that teach about God and tell the epic tales of the religion and its founders. They also faithfully reflect the mood and attitude of the early community of believers in the earliest stages of their emergence into history.

 
 

Given the hostile environments in which new religions inevitably arise, it is not surprising to observe that scriptures articulate anger and even rage directed against the establishments that were trying to bring about the demise of the religion that they represent. Scriptures inevitably attack what is articulated as the “hypocrisy” of those representing establishment religions that attack them (Ps. 115:1-11; Matt. 23:13-33; Qur’an 2:40-44). Some of these scriptural counterattacks are quite severe.

 
 

Based on what we now know of the difficulties encountered by new religious movements, it is not be surprising to find anti-Jewish rhetoric in the New Testament or anti-Jewish and anti-Christian rhetoric in the Qur’an. The Hebrew Bible also contains plenty of angry rhetoric directed against the Canaanite religious establishment of its own day. The New Testament is rightly condemned today for its sometimes nasty portrayals of Jews, and the Qur’an is properly criticized for its sometimes nasty portrayals of Jews and Christians. Negative and malicious portrayals of others always need to be condemned, even (or especially) when they occur in sacred text. We tend to pay more attention to the negative portrayals of Jews and Christians in the New Testament and the Qur’an because Jews and Christians exist today to complain about them. There are no Canaanites today to complain about their nasty image in the Hebrew Bible! All of this scriptural antagonism reflects the difficult experience of those early believers among the few emerging religions that survived.

 
 

As we work through the scenario of the birth of new religion, we need to keep one thing in mind. Persecuted new religious movements that succeed and are able to claim a healthy market share of supporters, along with the power that comes with it, eventually become establishment religions. When that happens, they, in turn, denigrate and attempt to delegitimate new religious movements that threaten them.

 
 

Mimesis, Intertextuality, and Authenticity

 
 

The terms mimesis comes from the Greek and is an elegant English word used in the art world to describe how art can imitate life or nature (the word mime comes from the same root, as does the word mimic).

 

In literature, mimesis is a term that describes the rhetorical use of something that has already been said. Religions are highly mimetic because they naturally use language and symbols and notions that have already been established by earlier religions, but they use them or understand them in distinctive ways that distinguish their own unique identity.

 

Intertextuality is a word that relates to the relationship between texts. There is an intertextual relationship, for example, between the biblical Flood story and the ancient Babylonian Epic of Gilgamesh, in which the gods cause a flood that destroys all humankind except for one man (whose name is not Noah, but Utnapishtum). Scriptures are highly intertextual because literary motifs and symbols and even names appear across and between them.

 

Religions are both highly mimetic and intertextual. They share many of the same symbols and themes, and that sharing occurs most often textually. We have noted above, for example, how the symbolic power of the cross is found as a legitimating motif in new Christian movements. The sharing of symbols and themes occurs freely across religious boundaries as well, and the most basic and powerful textual source of religious mimesis is scripture. We have already observed that common themes such as prophecy and revelation are foundations upon which new religions become based, and how the notion of covenant appears in the earliest literary layers of Judaism, Christianity and Islam as a symbol of authenticity. These themes demonstrate to potential followers that the scripture, and therefore the religious movement, are genuine and legitimate.

But authenticating symbols and themes are successful exactly for the reason that they are deeply associated with the known, establishment religions.

 

If a new religious movement incorporates too much of the establishment within it, it loses its standing as an alternative to the status quo. On the other hand, being too far out proves its own illegitimacy. Success means maintaining a balance between likeness and uniqueness. 

 

For the new religion, this balance between likeness and uniqueness causes a certain level of anxiety. It is risky to take on the very aspects of an “other” that desires to cause your demise! At a certain conscious or unconscious level, the new religion is working to replace establishment religions. This is one of the reasons for the clear polemics in scripture associated with chosenness. Polemics are arguments and disputes that are used to support one side’s own position while discrediting the position of the opposition. Scriptures contain a great deal of polemics because they are making a case for the truth and validity of the new religion that they represent. This is all happening under the pressure that is leveled against it by the establishment religions that are trying to discredit it.

 

Text and Subtext

 

Literary scholars teach that every text has its subtext(s).  A subtext is an unnamed issue or passage from something written or spoken that the text is responding to. A subtext may even be a work of art or artistic style to which an artist is responding. Often the reference is indirect, such as when a comedian makes a joke out of a statement made by a political figure without referring directly to the politician or what he or she said. The politician’s statement (or even the manner in which he or she makes it) is the unspoken subtext to which the comedian is responding.

 

In the case of scriptural polemic, a subtext may be the arguments or the aggression of the religious competition to which the scripture is responding. We do not have a lot of written material that is contemporary with the Hebrew Bible, so we cannot always be confident about specific subtexts to which it may be responding, But if you read through the biblical chosenness texts, you will note how powerful the image of chosenness is, and how it is used to separate Israelite believers from the opposition nonbelievers who seem to have been all around them:

 
  • “And you shall be holy to Me, for I the Lord am holy, and I have set you apart from other peoples to be Mine” (Lev.20:26);
  • “Now then, if you will obey Me conscientiously and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples” (Exod.18:5-6);
  • “I will maintain My covenant between Me and you, and your offspring to come, as an everlasting covenant throughout the ages” (Gen. 17:7).
 

Note how exclusive the language is, and how harsh:

  • “I will bless those who bless you curse him that curses you” (Gen. 12:3),
  • “[The Lord your God] instantly requites with destruction those [Israelites] who reject Him” (Deut. 7:10-11).
 

This language is belligerent and polemical. It is challenging and threatens opponents or potential opponents, in this case unnamed. It supplies one side of an argument. We don’t hear the other side, but it is clear that it is directed against an unidentified “other” who is not depicted as loyal to the one great and zealous God. Sometimes that “other” seems to represent those within the community who are unfaithful. More often, it represents the adherents of other religions. The immortal nature of other religions and the corrupt communities that practice them is a regular subtext to the polemics of the Hebrew Bible. This can reasonably be presumed from the negative references, and some of those negative references are indeed specific:

“For all those abhorrent [religiously defined] things were done by the people who were in the land before you, and the land became defiled. So let not the land vomit you out… as it vomited out the nation that came before you” (Lev. 18:27-28). 

 
 

We must keep in mind that the term for “nation” in this as in many such verses, goy, refers to a religious nation, since religion and nation were so closely associated in the ancient Near East. No ancient Near Eastern canon of scripture that predates the Hebrew Bible has yet been uncovered, though religious poetry, such as poems to neighboring gods, have been discovered in archeological digs. The general subtext in the case of the Hebrew Bible polemic is the religious practices and opposition of Israel’s neighbors. There is no direct subtext to the claim of exclusive chosenness in the Hebrew Bible. We do have scriptural subtexts for chosenness polemics in the New Testament, however, and these are found in the Hebrew Bible. We also have subtexts for Qur’anic chosenness polemics. They occur in both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament.

The New Testament claims a new chosenness applied to those who have chosen to follow Jesus. The subtext is the chosen status of Israel, which is replaced in the New Testament with chosen status of those, whether Jew or Gentile, who believe in the messiahship of Jesus. In a kind of irony, it is the Hebrew biblical claim to the elite chosen status of Israel that serves to authenticate the new claim for divine election among Christians. Of course, an argument must make that case, and we find it appearing in various forms in the New Testament. The following example is from 1 Peter.

So for you who have faith it has great worth; but for those who have no faith “the stone which the builders rejected has become the corner-stone,” and also “a stone to trip over, a rock to stumble against.” They trip because they refused to believe the word; this is the fate appointed for them. But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a dedicated nation, a people claimed by God for His own, to proclaim the glorious deeds of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light. Once you were not a people at all; but now you are God’s people. Once you were outside His mercy; but now you are outside no longer. (2:7-10)

 
 

A literary subtext for this passage is Psalm 118:22-23:

“The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone. This is the Lord’s doing; it is marvelous in our sight”.

 

The Psalm text is a consolation to Israel, which is represented as the rejected stone that has (or more likely, will soon) become the cornerstone. But the New Testament refers to the rejected stone in two ways.

  • First, it represents the followers of Jesus who were rejected by most Jews but will soon become the cornerstone of God’s new dispensation.
  • And second, it represents the new dispensation that the Jews trip over and stumble against because they cannot accept it.
 
 

The metaphor serves as moral support for a new religious community, rejected by establishment religionists, that actually takes on the very status that the establishment claimed for itself.

 

 

A second subtext for this passage is the notion articulated by a number of biblical verses that the covenant between God and Israel is conditional on Israel keeping the covenant, as in Exodus 19:5-6:

“Now then, if you will obey Me conscientiously and keep My covenant, you shall be My treasured possession among all the peoples. Indeed, all the earth is Mine, but you shall be to Me a kingdom of priests and a holy notion.”

 
 

This notion is taken to mean in the Peter text that keeping the divine covenant means accepting and believing the new revelation and new covenant that God has made through Jesus. The Gentile believers were outside the covenant of biblical Israel, but by accepting Jesus they are outside no longer. According to this passage (along with others that provide additional support) both Jews and Gentiles may be a part of the new covenant, but that new covenant is based on faith—in the saving power of Jesus—rather than law (Eph. 2:8), and it proves the annulment of the old covenant.

 
 

In fact, the ministry which has fallen to Jesus is as far superior to theirs as are the covenant he mediates and the promises upon which it is legally secured. Had the first covenant been faultless, there would have been no need to look for a second in its place. But God, finding fault with them, says, “The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will conclude a new covenant … ” [Jeremiah 31:30]. By speaking of a new covenant, he has pronounced the first one old; and anything that is growing old and aging will shortly disappear. (Heb. 8:6-13)

 
 

This is a classic example of a new religion taking on authenticating motifs of an established religion, in this case, the symbolic institution of covenant. The very motif that was claimed to authenticate the established religion is used to reject it and legitimize the new in its place.

 
 

The Qur’an engages in a similar polemic by making the case that both Jews and Christians have forfeited their exclusive claims to being God’s chosen. The subtexts in this passage are more general than in the New Testament passage just cited, but the rejection of earlier claims is based on images and institutions (such as covenant) that appear frequently in both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament. 

 

God made a covenant with the Children of Israel, and We sent them twelve chiefs. God said: I am with you. If you engage in prayers, contribute the required charity, believe in My messengers and honor them, and support the religion, I will absolve you from your evil deeds and cause you to enter Gardens through which rivers flow, so whoever of you disbelieves after that has strayed from the right way. And because of their breaking their covenant We have cursed them and made their hearts hard. They change the words from their places and forgot part of what they were reminded [through revelation]. You will continue to discover the treacherous among them except for a few, but forgive them and pardon, for God loves the good. And those who say: “We are Christians,” We made their covenant but they forgot a part of what they were reminded [through revelation]. So We incited enmity and hatred between them until the Day of Resurrection, when God will tell them what they have done. (5:12-14)

 
 

We have considered thus far how Christianity and Islam began as new religious movements that were strongly opposed by the religious establishments of their day, but nevertheless met with success. They succeeded in gaining the necessary share of supporters to survive the natural opposition of establishment religions and other threatened establishment powers. They were so successful, in fact, they quickly thrived and grew into the two most powerful religious movements in human history. Many factors contributed to their extraordinary success, but certainly their ability to demonstrate their legitimacy early on was critical. Each made the case that it represented a new dispensation that was better than the religious options available, and each claimed the banner that had been waived by the biblical monotheism of Israel. But what of that early monotheism that was represented by biblical Israel? What ever happened to it?

 
 

The short answer is that biblical monotheism died long ago. The religion of the Bible did not long survive the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple. In phenomenological terms, one could justifiably refer to both Christianity and Islam as heirs and successors to biblical religion. In fact, however, biblical religion did not produce only two heirs. It produced a third heir as well: rabbinic Judaism.

 
 

The “New Religion” of Judaism

 

At about the same time that a new revelation emerged, according to Christians, in the person of Jesus, another repository of revelation was emerging according to Jews who did not accept the messiahship and divinity of Jesus. That is the Talmud, also called the Oral Torah, to be distinguished by Jews from the Written Torah of the Hebrew Bible.

 

Contrary to some uninformed assumptions, the religion of Israel did not remain static after the emergence of Christianity. It continued to evolve with the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and the end of sacrifice and other rituals and structures of biblical religion.

 

Just as Christianity is not the same religion as that of biblical Israel, rabbinic Judaism—the Judaism exemplified by the Rabbis of the Talmud and that which is practiced in one form or another by virtually all Jews today—is also not the same as the religion of biblical Israel.

 
 

Different worship (the use of synagogues instead of the Temple, no more sacrifices, different liturgy), different theologies, different behavioral obligations, and different expectations of the End of Days mark only some of the many significant distinctions; and of course, although unadvertised, an additional scripture in the Oral, as opposed to Written, Torah of rabbinic Judaism. Such differences are the stuff that makes for a different religion.

 

The reason that this has not attracted more attention is that the Jews representing rabbinic Judaism in Late Antiquity (roughly 100-600 CE) did not intend to make an obvious break with the ancient religious system, as did those who accepted the saving power of Jesus as Messiah.

  • For the new Christians, breaking away from the establishment religions was essential, despite the need to retain a level of continuity for reasons that we have considered above.
  • For the Jews, it was continuity that was essential for maintaining its claim of authenticity, so the scriptural nature of the Talmud emerged gradually and only became a doctrinal expectation for most Jews in the eighth century.
 

But the Talmud functions similarly to the New Testament, as a lens through which the Hebrew Bible is read. That is to say, similar to the way in which Christians read the Old Testament through the interpretive lens of the New Testament, Jews read the Hebrew Bible through the interpretive lens of the Talmud. 

 

 

Even among Protestant Christian denominations that claim to go directly to scripture without the interference of the magisterium of the “One Holy Catholic Apostolic Chrurch,” the Old Testament cannot be read meaningfully without looking at it through the lens of the New.

 

 

So, too, in Jewish tradition, among all but a tiny group known as Kara’ites, the Hebrew Bible is read through the eyes of rabbinic literature, which for purposes of discussion here can be referred to as the Talmud. It is certainly true that the way in which it is read varies greatly among Jewish communities (just as the way in which the Bible is read varies among Christian communities), but it is the broad range of Talmudic interpretation that concretizes the  meanings of the Bible for Jews. The emergence of tradition that resulted in the development of the Talmud pushes the boundaries between revelation and interpretation even further than the New Testament does. Nevertheless, its recognition in Judaism as Oral Torah renders it scripture.

 

In sum, then, the old religion of Israel began as a simple form of polytheism that changed and developed into the first successful form of monotheism. This is the religion of the Hebrew Bible, and it is both the “mother of monotheisms” and the progenitor of scriptural religions. There is no more biblical religion outside the text of the Hebrew Bible. Nobody practices it. The chosenness that is so central and deliberate in the Hebrew Bible is an institution and symbolic paradigm that has been absorbed in one way or another by all of its surviving monotheistic progeny.

 

How has rabbinic Judaism understood chosenness? After all, anyone who observes history might conclude that Israel has lost its chosen status.

 

Just look at the size of the Jewish population throughout the world (about 15 million) in relation to the size of the Muslim (about 1.3 billion) and Christian (about 2.1 billion) populations. In point of fact, the experience of permanent exile and inferior social and political status in relation to Christians and Muslims forced a high level of complexity and ambivalence within Jewish thinking about chosenness.

  • On the one hand, because of the great stress on continuity, rabbinic Judaism buys into the chosenness of Israel expressed in the Hebrew Bible and claims it. It then applies the chosen status of biblical Israel to the continuation of Israel among the Jews of the world.
  • On the other hand, the Talmud and rabbinic literature express a certain discomfort with this sense of essential superiority. One repeated sentiment is that God did not choose Israel because of its inherent superiority, but rather because there were no other takers:

Is it not written: “The Lord came from Sinai and rose from Seir unto them; He shined forth from Mount Paran” (Deut. 32:2)?

And it is also written: “God comes from Teman” (Hab. 3:3)?

What did God seek in Seir and what did God seek in Paran? Rabbi Yonahan said:

This teaches us that the Holy One offered the Torah to every nation and every tongue, but none accepted it, until God came to Israel, who accepted it.

(Talmud, Avodah Zarah 2b)

 
 

In an alternative tradition, God eventually had to force one people to accept the difficult life of Torah commandments, and that people ended up being Israel: 

Moses led the people out of the camp toward God, and they took their places at the foot of [in the Hebrew, it can also mean “underneath”] the mountain (Exod. 19:17).

Rav Avdimi bar Hama bar Hasa said:

“This teaches that the Holy One turned the mountain over above them like an [over-turned] cask and said to them: ‘If you accept the Torah, good. But if not, this shall be your grave!’” (Talmud, Shabbat 88a)

In a third, Abraham and his progeny were “chosen” by the angels, but only by the casting of lots, not because Israel was inherently better than any other nation:

Rabbi Shimon said:

The Holy One called to the seventy angels who surround the throne of glory and said to them: Come, let us descend and confuse the seventy nations and the seventy languages. From where [do we know] that the Holy One spoke [thus] to them? Because it says, “Let us go down” (Gen. 11:7). “I will go down” is not written, but “Let us go down.” They [the angels] cast lots among them, as it says, “When the Most High gave the nations their inheritance, when [God] divided humanity” (Deut. 32:8). The lot of the Holy One fell upon Abraham and his descendants, as it says, “For the Lord’s portion is His people, Jacob is the lot of his inheritance” (Deut. 32:9). (Pirqey Rabbi Eliezer 24)

 
 

Not all rabbinic expressions of chosenness are so modest, however. The Talmud emerged as an authoritative literature during and after the rise of Christianity, so it was able to offer counterarguments to Christian claims of having acquired the old Israelite status of chosenness. In the statement that follows, God is depicted as knowing the future decline of the Jews under the Romans, but nevertheless affirms that the eternal chosen status of the Jews was established even before creation:

Rabbi Eliezer HaModa’i said [narrating in the voice of God] …

“Was [Israel] not already designated by Me even before the six days of creation?” As it is said, “If these laws [of Creation] should ever be annulled by Me—declares the Lord—only then would the offspring of Israel cease to be a nation before Me forever” (Jer. 31:35). (Mekhilta de Rabbi Yishmael, Beshalach 3) 

 

We have observed from the texts cited above that after the notion of chosenness was established through ancient Israelite religion and had become a respected marker of authentic monotheism, Jews, Christians, and Muslims jockeyed for relative status by making claims to chosenness for themselves. These expressions of chosenness, however, are not alike. Each one expresses the claim through the unique nature of the religious system that it represents, and their representations have been profoundly influenced by the historical contexts in which each system emerged. We will soon examine how each religious civilization behaved toward nonbelievers in ways that were influenced by their particular notion of election, but in order to get there we need to consider how the sense of chosenness differs among them. 

      

Revisit: "And He Called" 2 – Ciso’s Season of Joy

Image from Calgary Public Library Store

Image from Calgary Public Library Store

[First posted September 30, 2012 as an “In Memoriam” of a God-Seeker who ended his life pilgrimage as one of us, Sinaites.  It has been four years since we posted this, we have not forgotten our co-travellers who fast-forwarded their journey straight into the arms of the God they have sought all their lives.  They came to know His Name, YHWH, and called on that Name to their last breath.  We add our individual tributes here to Ciso’s Book of Life. —Admin1]

 

———————-

 

A previous article on the Fall Festivals ended on this note:

 

“It was on the last day of Sukkot that the oldest among us, 
the most wonderful, most generous, most kind, 
most loving of his fellowmen, 
most visually expressive of his worship of YHWH, 
danced all night, straight into the arms 
of the God he had loved all his life 
but had not known as fully as he did in his last days.   
His name is ‘Ciso.’  
His story will be posted on the anniversary of his life in YHWH.”  
 

Hereunder are 3 tributes by Sinaites; some are shy about writing but one thing we all agree on, what a way to go!  Some are now wishing to go exactly the same way and on the same day: i.e., simply go to bed for a good night’s rest after dancing on the last day of the culminating biblical ‘feast of ingathering,’  Sukkot,  among the 7 listed in Leviticus 23 that YHWH calls “MY feasts.”  In fact the next oldest among us is already announcing if not this year, maybe next year, or the next, for how many more years the LifeGiver has allotted to each one of us, we are ready when He calls our name . . . because we have finally learned to call on His.

 
Our website visitors would not have heard about this man Narciso Padilla, but surely, the Giver of the breath of life knew him from the start, and how his life journey would take its twists and turns in the quest that each God-awakened soul ventures into. Ciso in his 84 years took the same path each of us took, born into one religion but moved on to the next religion that taught more biblical truth, shedding each former faith without hesitation whenever YHWH’s Light shines brighter than the last.  When people live in the darkness of man-made religions, when the slightest flicker shines through, you can’t miss it if you’re alert because you are seeking, and so you start moving toward the direction that provides more light.
 
Ciso, like all of us, did just that.  Like those who made the most shifts in religious affiliation, his  journey was from within sects of Christ-centered religions—Catholicism, Protestantism, Evangelical and Messianic Christianity toward the God on Sinai and His Way of life.  He had just started re-reading TORAH as originally given to Israel, the custodians and guardians of TORAH-centered faith.  Ciso was not one to “just believe” without understanding but once he did, he gave his full commitment not only of himself, but of as many resources as he had honestly earned, at his disposal and bestowed upon him by Divine Providence.
 
In the discussion of our Statement of Faith and Revelation in a Nutshell, the only point Ciso at first argued against but in the end understood and humbly agreed with was this:  man cannot FULLY know God on this side of eternity.  Ciso, within a few weeks of learning to declare the Name — YHWH— was ready for yet another beginning.  Some recall that he had asked forgiveness from everyone on Yom Kippur (day of Atonement) whether or not he had offended them.

 

There was some insinuation from our former messianic teacher that this was judgment upon Ciso for turning his back on the Savior he had embraced all his life, but we knew better . . . our gracious YHWH made sure none of us Sinaites would miss the significant timing of Ciso’s going ahead of us on the last day of celebrating YHWH’s season of joy.  How could returning to the True God YHWH be anything but the righteous thing to do? And how could our awesome YHWH not be pleased to see Ciso arriving at His doorstep? Surely, the Divine Welcome Mat has long been waiting for lifelong seekers like Ciso.

 

The Door has always been open, the TORAH is the map—that’s the real good news!  —-  NSB@S6K
 

 

Here are notes and remembrances added by Sinaites:

 

  • VAN@S6K

[VAN would joke that he and Ciso were “the first and the last,” because they shared the same name: Ciso’s first name ‘Narciso’ preceded his family name,  while for VAN, “Narciso” is his surname. This a message written  in condolence with the bereaved widow and family. ]

 

Shalom, this is just on a personal note.
I sought the ‘ancient path’ and walked in it (Jer.6:16) and I met YHVH (not Yeshua [Jesus]), The ONE TRUE GOD, the GOD of Abraham, and the GOD of Israel. You showed me the way back to our Hebrew roots – our connection to the Land, the People, and the Scriptures of Israel.  I thank you for this and YHVH, blessed be His Holy Name, for bringing me to you. It was a long and hard journey – from a Catholic, to an evangelical Christian, and to a messianic Christian, and finally,to a faith founded on the One True God, YHVH and His Torah. It was certainly VERY REFRESHING!!
 
Ciso (Blessed be his memory!) sought the same “ancient path” and walked upon it and also met YHVH, The ONE TRUE GOD. I was told that he was dancing joyfully while celebrating Sukkot on the 7th day (there’s a video taken and shown during the wake) – and on the 8th day, Shemini Atzeret, he went with YHVH. A wonderful, joyful way to be with YHVH !
 
Ciso was a man who loved YHVH with all his heart, with all his soul, and with all his resources. He was always willing to extend a helping hand to anyone. He helped you and APMF on its 7th Conference in Manila which was successfully attended. He has certainly given a lot of his time and resources – yet  expecting nothing in return. This is CISO PADILLA – a ‘friend of Abraham’ and a ‘friend’
of YHVH!

 

May YHVH bless you and grant you His Shalom!

 

[Update February 2016:  VAN@S6K who wrote this tribute has also left our Sinaite core community significantly on a Sabbath; he had been praying for a “Ciso-Exit” on the Feast of Tabernacles which is a once-a-year event; we think YHWH was even more gracious to grant VAN his final Sabbath Rest on a Sabbath, if only to leave his family a friends the good message that VAN’s wish was not granted exactly as he had hoped, but granted nevertheless according to the time chosen by his Creator Who took back VAN’s breath of life into Himself, if we are to comfort ourselves by the words of the wise author of Ecclesiastes 12:1-8:
 So remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come, and those years arrive of which you will say: “I have no pleasure in them”; before the sun, the light, the moon and the stars grow dar, and the clouds return after the rain, in the day when the guards of the house will tremble, and the powerful men will stoop, and the grinders are idle because they are few, and the gazers through windows are dimmed; when the doors in the street are shut; when the sound of the grinding is low; when the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of song grow dim; when they even fear a height and terror in the road; and the almond tree blossoms and the grasshopper becomes a burden and the desire fails — so man goes to his eternal home, while the mourners go about the streets.  
Before the silver cord snaps, and the golden bowl is shattered, and the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel is smashed at the pit.  
Thus the dust returns to the ground, as it was, and the spirit returns to God Who gave it.  
———————-
  • Notes sent in by “EM,” a member Ciso’s faith community :
 
1. CAREER 
Despite being in his senior years, he did not stop working, dreaming, encouraging his people to work harder –  as though he would live  “forever.”  He was a builder, and his company was well known to produce the best and strongest construction materials. When I asked him why he pushed himself so much in his old age, he said that “in the world to come, all the buildings would still be standing and people would still be needing shelter.”
 
2. HUSBAND
If I’m not mistaken, he always wanted his wife to wear red nail polish, no other color.  Every time husband and wife would host lunch at their residence, he always made it a point to thank his wife for her efforts at being the perfect hostess.
 
3. SPIRITUAL LEADER
As a member of the faith community based in one of his buildings, he was ever so generous; sponsored not just the venue but also the meals!  When he finally learned about YHWH,  he took it upon himself and risked his reputation to introduce to his Trinitarian faith community the concept of the ONE TRUE GOD.  He went out of his way to gather reading materials, reproducing them for free distribution, scheduling meeting dates for discussion of the God of Abraham and of Israel.
 
4. FRIEND
What a humble man, one who opened his life to others. He would offer to pick me up and drive me home during  special/isolated off-site meetings requiring our attendance, but much as I greatly appreciated the gesture, I was too embarrassed to have him go to that much trouble, so I always declined.

  • SMK@S6K:  “On Ciso Padilla”
 
I have known Ciso Padilla to be a peace loving and humble man who honored God’s Shabbat regularly and consistently.  A very disciplined and serious student of the Scriptures, he would attend our weekly Torah study class with a zeal to learn, a heart to listen and a chutzpah to speak his  spiritual convictions.  He would never come to Torah class unprepared and unexcited.  He epitomized the innocence and hunger of a little boy who wanted to learn much about the world of His Creator and the Giver of his life. Despite his advanced years, God blessed him with a youthful humor and a teachable mind. I remember how he loved to doodle on the Hebrew and Japanese Alphabet while listening to our Torah discussions. Perhaps that was his way of keeping his mind youthful and alert. He was a man who loved life and he was one who wanted to give back much to his Creator.
 
During Shabbat worship, one could almost sense the beatings of his heart and his passion for God with the way he dances and sings. He just gave God all his delight! As a Torah class facilitator, he was a submissive listener but a stern leader whenever discussions would go out-of-hand. His fatherly attitude would initiate a calming balance to emotional outbursts among his co-Torah learners. His kind and just disposition was an encouragement to many. With his sensitive compulsion and generosity, he would not hesitate to give anybody a book nor sponsor anybody to a biblical seminar which he felt would strengthen one’s faith and personal relationship with the Creator God. It was no surprise that he gained not only our respect, admiration and love but the respect of his  colleagues in the business and religious community as well.
 
To have known Ciso Padilla has been a privilege and the memory of him is truly a blessing to many.
 
 
 

A Literary Approach to the book of Deuteronomy/Davarim

[This was first posted July 28, 2013.  And so we reach the last book of the Torah. . . this is from  The Literary Guide to the Bible, eds. Robert Alter and Frank Kermode our MUST READ/MUST OWN.  We have recently added Robert Alter’s THE FIVE BOOKS OF MOSES to Everett Fox’s THE FIVE BOOKS OF MOSES, both translators have chosen the same title for their work. Both are excellent translations with commentary; we urge all who are serious in studying Torah in English to acquire both scholarly works.

 

Related posts:

 

 Reformatting and highlights added.–Admin1.]

 

Deuteronomy
Robert Polzin
 
Deuteronomy offers a bird’s-eye view of the entire history of Israel, shortly to be recounted in detail in Joshua through 2 Kings. It is that history’s opening frame and panoramic synthesis.

 

The spatial perspectives of Moses’ audience and of the narrator’s implied audience are similar:
  • Moses and his audience are in Moab, that is, outside the Promised Land, hoping to possess it with the help of God’s power and mercy; the narrator and his audience are apparently in exile, that is, also outside the Land, hoping to get in once more through God’s mercy and power.
  • The one audience is told under what conditions they will retain the Land; the other audience, under what conditions they will regain it.
  • The temporal perspectives of both audiences merge in the book through the phrases “that day” and “this day.”
  • Moses’ “that (future) day” becomes “this (present) day” of the narrator.
  • The separate voices of Moses and the narrator gradually fuse as the book progresses toward its conclusion.
Moses and the Deuteronomist
Deuteronomy may be described as a story told by an anonymous narrator who directly quotes only two persons, for the most part Moses, and occasionally God.
  • When Moses is quoted, he speaks alone, except in 27:1-8 and 27:9-10,Only about fifty-six verses of the book represent direct utterances of the Deuteronomic narrator.
    • where his voice is joined with those of the elders of Israel and the Levitical priests, respectively.
  • Finally, since both Moses and the narrator many times quote God and others, the book is a complex arrangement of quotations within quotations.
Temporally,
  • Moses’ first address (1:6-4:40) looks mostly to past events and statements,
  • his second (5:1b-28:68) to the future; and in the rest of the book that future, both immediate and distant, is his main concern. Thus, for example, in his third address (29:2-31:6), whenever Moses quotes others directly, it is their future utterances he reports, coinciding with the almost complete orientation of this address toward the distant future. An even more important temporal aspect of the book’s composition is Moses’ and the narrator’s practice of shuttling back and forth between “that day” of the speaker’s past and “this day” of his here-and-now. Just as the narrator can alternate, for example, between that day in Moab when Moses set forth the law (1:3) and this day of narration (2:22, 3:14), so too Moses, the human “hero” of the book, moves back and forth in his speeches between that day when “thou stoodest before the Lord thy God in Horeb(4:10) and this day in Moab when “I set before you [all this law]” (4:8). Both Moses and the narrator use “that day” to help them put into context this day’s recitation of the law.
Psychologically, none of the words of God which Moses quotes, except the Decalogue (5:6-21), is described as also having been heard by the people. In fact in chapter 5 Moses makes the point that only when God spoke the Decalogue was he heard by the people: all the other words of God were deliberately avoided by the people as directly heard words. Rather, they were to be transmitted to the Israelites indirectly, through Moses. The only other voice in the book which quotes God directly is the narrator’s: five times toward the end of the book (31:14b, 16b-21, 23b; 32:49-52; and 34:4b). That is, the narrator is a privileged observer and reporter of God’s words, just as he describes Moses describing himself to be in chapter 5.

 

These temporal and psychological details are sometimes complicated by a more complex layering of quotations within quotations.

 

In 2:4-7 and 32:26, 40-42, for example, the narrator quotes Moses quoting YHWH quoting himself;
  • thus there is an utterance within an utterance within an utterance within an utterance, all in direct discourse.
  • In fact the book deliberately presents a vast number of intersecting statements, sometimes in agreement and sometimes in conflict with one another.
  • The result is a plurality of viewpoints, all working together to achieve a truly multidimensional effect.
  • We are dealing with an unusually sophisticated and artfully constructed work of the first millennium B.C.E.
  • Within its pages there exists habitual infiltration of the narrator’s speech within Moses’ speech, and vice versa, at many levels of the composition.
  • Such artful contaminations are the basis for the deep-seated, as well as superficial, “double-voiced” nature of Deuteronomy.
The reader’s first impression is that the book’s superficial distinction of voices serves an underlying ideological unity, that of an overt monologue in which the narrator clearly states, “As far as our basic stance is concerned, Moses and I are one.” However, there are clear indications that this apparent unity in duplicity is indeed only skin-deep, and that the book as a whole consists of an extended dialogue on a number of key ideological issues.

 

The sparse utterances of the narrator exert a powerful pull in opposite directions.
  • On the one hand, the narrator situates the words of Moses in time and space and defines Moses’ preeminent position as leader and legislator of his people (for example, 1:1-5, 34:10-12). This perspective provides an unostentatious frame that rarely distracts us from the powerful words of the book’s hero.
  • On the other hand, the narrator’s infrequent words occasionally serve to “break frame,” either by diverting us from Moses’ main message through the insertion of a number of apparently pedantic explanatory remarks (as at 2:10-12, 20-23 and 3:9, 11, 13b-14), or by simply interrupting Moses’ words without apparent reason (31:1).
  • Moses shifts back and forth between that day at Horeb and this day in Moab; so too the Deuteronomy, by breaking frame throughout the book, subtly—almost subliminally—forces us to shuttle back and forth between the narrated past and the narrator’s present.
  • Both Moses and the narrator shift temporal gears in the process of teaching.
By such frame-breaks the narrator forces his contemporary audience, intent upon Moses’ discourse, occasionally to focus upon their own temporal distance from Moses’ words. In combination with a number of other compositional devices (discussed later), these frame-breaks are part of a subtle but effective strategy on the part of the Deuteronomist gradually to blur or soften the unique status of Moses at the very same time that most of the retrospective elements in the book explicitly enhance it.

 

The narrator’s utterances are spoken in two ideological voices which interfere with one another:
  • an overt, obvious voice that exalts Moses as it plays down its own role,
  • and a still, soft voice that nevertheless succeeds in drawing attention to itself at the expense of Moses’ uniqueness.
In relation to the words of Moses that form the bulk of the book these two ideological voices broaden the dialogue to include positions on the very nature of Israel’s God and on the privileged status of his people, Israel, even as they continue to be at apparent odds with one another on the question of Moses’ unique status.

 

The Voice of Moses
The emphasis in Deuteronomy is on the legislative and judicial word of God, and the conveyers of this word are predominantly Moses and, rarely, the narrator. The manner in which Moses conveys God’s word helps to illumine the complex relationships between Moses and the Deuteronomist.

 

Moses’ first address (1:6-4:40) is an introduction to various ways in which Moses speaks for God.
  • More than half of this address entails his reporting of what he, YHWH, or Israel had said in the past.
  • More significantly, chapter 4 stands apart from the first three chapters not only because its references are to future rather than past events and utterances, but also because its reported speech is predominantly in indirect discourse, whereas the reported speech in chapters 1-3 is overwhelmingly in direct discourse.
  • Thus whereas in chapters 1 and 3 we read, for example, “the Lord was angry … saying, Thou also shalt not go in thither” (1:37) and “the Lord said unto me, Let if suffice thee… for thou shalt not go over this Jordan” (3:26-27), in chapter 4 we read: “Furthermore, the Lord… sware that I should not go over Jordan, and that I should not go in unto that good land, which the Lord thy God giveth thee for an inheritance” (4:21).
  • Since analysis of words is at the heart of indirect discourse, and their exact repetition the rule for direct discourse, these passages illustrate how, in chapters 1-3, Moses mainly reports the past, whereas in chapter 4 he analyzes it in relation to the present and the future.
  • It is because Moses is busy commenting on, and responding to, the past in chapter 4 that his third mention of God’s refusal to allow him to enter the land (4:21) switches naturally, and not accidentally, to indirect discourse.
Moses’ variable practice in his first address casts light on the structure of the history introduced by Deuteronomy. This address presents
(1) a “factual” look at the past, expressed predominantly by reported speech in direct discourse (chaps. 1-3); and
(2) an analytical, evaluative response to the past as a means of indicating its full significance for his audience’s subsequent history in the Land and in eventual exile (4:1-40).

 

This description corresponds nicely to the overt structure of the Deuteronomic History:
(1) the Deuteronomist’s “factual” look at the past, formed predominantly in the reported speech of Moses expressed in direct discourse (Deuteronomy); and
(2) the Deuteronomist’s analytical, evaluative response to that past in order to indicate its full significance for his audience’s subsequent history in the Land and in eventual exile (Joshua-2 Kings).

 

Moses’ second address (5:1b-28:68) involves a compositional build-up of Moses’ status as a mouthpiece of God.
  • Whereas in the first address Moses is depicted as reporting God’s word by respecting the clear-cut boundaries of that speech through the predominant use of direct discourse,
  • in the second address this mode of reporting almost completely disappears, despite the fact that the legislative word of God predominates in quantity as well as in emphasis throughout the address.
  • God is quoted in direct discourse only nine times in twenty-four chapters (5:6-21, 28-31;9:12, 13-14, 23; 10:1-2, 11; 17:16; and 18:17-20). The compositional importance of this difference between the first two addresses is great.

Since the Deuteronomic law code, the core of the book, is phrased as a direct address of Moses to the people, it is much more difficult to determine within the code which utterances are meant to represent the very words of God, which the commenting and responding reactions of Moses, and which a combination of both.

  • In Moses’ first address it is relatively easy to distinguish between Moses’ declaring of God’s word and his teaching or interpretation of that word; in the law code we can no longer tell the difference.
  • This contrast between the subordinate style of Moses’ first address and the supreme authoritative promulgation of the law code in the second address is the main compositional means by which the Deuteronomist exalts Moses’ teaching authority.
  • Whereas Moses quotes the Ten Commandments of the Lord in direct discourse (5:6-21)—that is, God is allowed to speak to the Israelites directly—in the law code of chapters12-28 it is Moses who speaks directly to the Israelites concerning “the statutes and judgments, which ye shall observe to do in the land, which the Lord God of thy fathers giveth thee to possess it, all the days that ye live upon the earth” (12:1).
  • The effect of the law code’s composition, therefore, is to show us that the authoritative status of the Mosaic voice is almost indistinguishable from that of the voice of God, whatever else that narrator—or Moses, for that matter—may tell us about the fundamental distinction between the two.
  • If the theoretical distinction between God’s word and Moses’ is still clearly maintained, the practical importance of this distinction, that is, our very ability to so distinguish them, is obliterated by the law code’s internal composition.
If both Moses and the narrator can quote God directly;
if both of them teach by using “that day” to shed light on “this day”;
if the very structure of Moses’ first address mirrors, in key compositional ways, that of the Deuteronomic History itself;
if, in short, as Moses speaks for God, so the narrator speaks for Moses,
then, with the preeminence of Moses’ word established in the law code, the very authority of the narrator is more clearly defined and enhanced.

 

What the Deuteronomist is gradually blurring, as his narrator’s long report of Moses’ various addresses advances, is the distinction between the teaching authority of his hero and that of his narrator. The composition of the law code is a crucial stage in the book’s overall ideological plan.

 

It appears, therefore, that Deuteronomy, as a panoramic preview of the subsequent history, vibrates with the following hermeneutic ration:
  • as the word of God is to the word of Moses,
  • so the word of Moses is to the word of his narrator.

The leveling of the words of God and of Moses in the law serves the same purpose as the other devices that overtly exalt the status of Moses; they all contribute toward a powerful legitimation of the narrator’s authority in relation to Moses. As a result, when the narrator is ready to speak at length in his own voice in Joshua through 2 Kings, the distinction between his words and Moses’ is practically irrelevant.

 

The reader has been prepared for this effect by the compositional fusion of the divine-Mosaic word in the law code.

 

When we move from composition to content, what precisely is Moses reported as saying about his own unique role as declarer and teacher of God’s word? The answer once again involves us in an unavoidable dialogue. On the second hand, what Moses says in chapter 5 about his commissioning by God is surely his most pointed reference in the book to his own unique status. Here Moses reports in direct discourse what God told him, “Go say to them, ‘Get you into your tents again.’ But as for thee stand thou here by me, and I will speak unto thee all the commandments, and the statutes, and the judgments, which thou shalt teach them, that they may do them in the land which I give them to possess it” (5:30-31).

 

The point is clear:
  • after hearing the voice of God speak the Decalogue, the people fear that they cannot hear more and live.
  • Moses tells them that God sees the justice of this fear and so has commanded him to teach them his further words.
  • The law code, then, is precisely a report of Moses teaching the people, at God’s command, what God has told him.
  • And Moses, having heard God directly, does not die.
On the other hand, Moses is depicted as raising a direct challenge to his own unique status. In the midst of the law code, Moses returns to the event of his original commissioning by God, the authenticating utterance of God first mentioned in 5:28-31. However, this second recounting of the divine commissioning uses Moses’ words against himself, as it were, by revealing that another “Moses” is part of the package. And his commission is also to report God’s word to the people: “And the Lord said unto me … I will raise them up a Prophet from among their brethren, like unto thee, and will put my words in his mouth; and he shall speak unto them all that I shall command him” (18:17-18).

 

In 5:23-31 and 18:15-19, therefore, Moses is represented as twice relating the same incident, and presumably the same utterance of God, in response to the people’s request for an intermediary to convey God’s word to them. That is, Moses is described as appealing to the same occasion and to the same divine utterance to authenticate both his own prophetic role and that of a “prophet like unto him.”

 

If we ask what specific laws, commandments, and statutes Moses is empowered by the commission of 5:31 to set forth, we are led, by the clear-cut construction of the book, to answer: the laws and ordinances introduced by the words “These are the statutes and judgments” (12:1) and concluding with “This day the Lord thy God hath commanded thee to do these statutes and judgments” (26:16).

 

When we then ask what words precisely are referred to when God says, in 18:18, “I … will put my words in his mouth; and he shall speak unto them all that I shall command him,” these “words” are twofold:
  • Deuteronomy on the one hand
  • and Joshua-2 Kings on the other.

Just as Moses first relates the commandments of God in direct discourse (most often in the first address, and most pointedly in the second address with the reporting of the Decalogue) and then abruptly shifts to a much more authoritative manner of reporting that tends to blur the distinction between divine and Mosaic speech, so also the prophet “like unto” Moses first relates the words of God/Moses in direct discourse (Deuteronomy) and then abruptly shifts to a much more authoritative manner of reporting, which blurs the distinction between the words of God/Moses and his own (Joshua-2 Kings).

 

In effect, then, the prophet “like unto” Moses is the narrator of the Deuteronomic History, or, more precisely, that authorial presence in the text which scholars have personified as “the Deuteronomist.” It is he who uses Moses’ direct words to explain by a hortatory law code the wide-ranging implications of Decalogue; in a widening circle, this same “author” will soon be using his narrator’s direct words to explain in an exemplary history the wide-ranging implications of that law code.

 

Dialogue in Deuteronomy
So far we have seen examples from Deuteronomy which reveal through composition and content a double-voiced accent in regard to Moses’ preeminent place as declarer and teacher of God’s word. This “dialogue”—to use Bakhtin’s term for such phenomena—was found first in the narrator’s own voice, which overtly promotes Moses’ eminence to the highest degree, both by explicit statement and by implicit composition, yet at the same time subtly draws attention to itself through a series of pedantic and apparently haphazard frame-breaks. Second, we found that even Moses’ own words draw us in two directions in regard to his self-awareness as preeminent teacher of God’s word.

 

The dialogue, however, turns out to be much more wide-ranging than a simple and singular disagreement over Moses’ place in the scheme of things. Whether we listen to Moses’ abundant utterances or the narrator’s parsimonious few, composition and content combine to reveal within each voice a juxtaposition of opposing viewpoints on key ideological issues such as the nature of God and the privileged role of his people Israel.

 

Moses’ rhetorical questions in 4:7-8, 32-34 emphasize Israel’s special status in God’s eyes.

 

In 7:6 Moses again stresses Israel’s unique relationship: “For thou art an holy people unto the Lord thy God; the Lord thy God hath chosen thee to be a special people unto himself, above all people who are upon the face of the earth.”

 

Israel is unique among the nations precisely because of God’s special treatment. But elsewhere Moses provides disquieting evidence that casts doubt on Israel’s privileged status. In chapter 2, for example, he quotes God to the effect that Mount Seir, Moab, and Ammon have been providentially allotted to the sons of Esau and the sons of Lot for their inheritance.

 

Apparently the Lord reserves various forms of special treatment for other nations as well—and special punishment also: “As the nations which the Lord destroyeth before your face, so shall ye perish; because ye would not be obedient unto the voice of the Lord your God” (8:20). With this statement Moses introduces us to another disquieting perspective on Israel’s relation to God: “Not for thy righteousness, or for the uprightness of thine heart, dost thou go to possess their land: but for the wickedness of these nations the Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee, and that he may perform the word which the Lord sware unto thy fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (9:5).

 

The special relationship between Israel and YHWH, described by Moses elsewhere, apparently exists within a larger context. God seems to have a twofold motive for giving the Promised Land to Israel:
  • retribution, to punish for their wickedness the nations dispossessed by Israel,
  • and gracious fulfillment of his solemn promise to the fathers.
And what happened to those nations will happen to the Israelites also,Moses warns in 8:20. It seems, after all, that Israel is little different, at least in this regard, from the other nations that in the past have enjoyed God’s blessings.

 

Israel is now benefitting from the wickedness (could it even be the disobedience?) of some of those nations, just as other nations will eventually benefit from Israel’s disobedience.

 

The subject matter of the narrator’s frame-breaks at 2:10-12, 20-23 is a good example of how composition reinforces content in promoting this ideological dialogue on Israel’s status in relation to the other nations. For example, when the narrator interrupts Moses’ words with his own:
But the Lord destroyed [the giants/Zamzummim] before [the children of Ammon]; and they succeeded them, and dwelt in their stead: As he did to the children of Esau, which dwelt in Seir, when he destroyed the Horims from before them; and they succeeded them, and dwelt in their stead even unto this day; (2:21-22)

 

the content of this interruption echoes that of God’s words, quoted by Moses throughout chapters 2 and 3, concerning his gift of land to the sons of Esau and of Lot.

 

The question, then, never answered but raised several times in the book by God, Moses, and the narrator himself, is this:
If all these nations inside and outside the Promised Land have been dispossessed in the past, and are now being dispossessed, through the retributive hand of God, was their land also given to them through a divine promise similar to that made to Israel’s fathers?

 

Also unanswered is the question about the nature of the punishment meted out to the nations dispossessed by Israel:
If God is just, then does not his treatment of the nations imply some sort of previous covenant with them similar to that made with Israel at Horeb, and which, like Israel, they have violated?

 

Whereas Moses’ rhetorical questions seem to imply absolute confidence in Israel’s uniqueness as a special nation unto God, his words elsewhere, as in 8:20 and 9:4-5 and throughout chapters 2 and 3, cast doubt on the absoluteness of that confidence. In these hints of a living dialogue a limited, religiously based nationalism is being cautiously expanded on an international and political scale. The succeeding chapters of the Deuteronomist’s history spell out the details of this political theology.

 

A second major ideological dialogue fills the pages of Deuteronomy, concerning the relation between God’s justice and his mercy with respect to Israel. Warning statements about the retribution nature of God’s acts are so widespread and seem to be so definitive in the book that an opposing view about his fundamental mercy and abiding partiality would seem to be difficult to maintain.

 

The key vehicle in Deuteronomy for describing God’s unconditional mercy is “the covenant which God swore to the fathers,” and the unconditionality of this promise is often neutralized by reference to the necessary condition of obedience.

 

Texts such as 6:3, 10-15, 23-24; 7:6-11, 12-13; 8:1, 18-19; 10:11-13, 15-17; 11:8-9, 20-23; 12:1; 13:17b-18; and 26:14-15 reveal recurrent attempts to achieve a synthesis of the covenant with the fathers and the covenant at Horeb by making the latter a precondition for the enactment of the former. Obedience thereby becomes a condition for the fulfillment of God’s apparently unconditional oath to the fathers, and God thereby becomes fundamentally a God of justice, not of mercy, who, as Moses says, is “God of gods, and Lord of lords, a great God, a mighty, and an awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe”(10:17 [AR]).

 

In Deuteronomy the telling of God’s mercy is almost always neutralized by an immediately preceding or subsequent telling of his terrible vengeance or of the need for obedience.

 

On the other hand, whatever God, Moses, and the narrator predominantly say in Deuteronomy, nothing is more clearly shown in the book than the fact that Israel, already destined for disobedience, is going to receive a land it does not deserve. God’s central decision, recounted in chapters 9 and 10, to give Israel the Land despite the people’s initial and immediate disobedience, is a prelude to the entire Deuteronomic History, in which Israel exists in the Land in almost unceasing disobedience to the Mosaic covenant. Through the entire period in Judges, and up to the end of 2 Kings, God is nothing if not partial to Israel.

 

What Deuteronomy shows, therefore, as a prelude to the entire Deuteronomic History, is a God continually mindful of the promise he made to the fathers—so much so that, by the end of the history, the fall of Jerusalem becomes a climax that is the story’s greatest paradox:
  • why, after all the centuries of Israel’s disobedience and God’s partiality, does God at last forget the promise he made to the fathers and finally do what Moses had told them he would do?

A convincing account of how brilliantly the Deuteronomist works up to his climactic mystery in 2 Kings has yet to be written.

The Literary Approach to the book of Numbers/Bamidbar

[First posted July 27, 2013.  This is the 4th book in the series we are featuring from one of the best resources in our S6K library, a MUST-READ/MUST-OWN book titled The Literary Guide to the Bible, eds. Robert Alter and Frank Kermode.  As we keep reiterating, a non-religious, non-theological approach to the Hebrew Scriptures which focuses on pure text and context as well as on the literary forms of expression used in communicating stories, teachings, laws, history — opens up a totally different perspective and understanding.  If you haven’t yet noticed that from the previous posts on Bereshiyth, Shemoth and Wai-qrah, don’t stop now!  The posts are long but worth the read! Reformatting and highlights added.
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Numbers
James S. Ackerman
 
The Book of Numbers narrates —
  • Israel’s departure from Mount Sinai
  • and its journey in the Wilderness for an entire generation
  • until reaching the border of the Promised Land.

Composed of sources with exceedingly long and complex histories of development—

  • it was probably put in its present form some time in the sixth or fifth century B.C.E., during or after the Babylonian Exile. T
  • he editors clearly assume that life in the Diaspora had its ancient analogue in the Wilderness era. They have reinterpreted old traditions of Israel’s Wilderness wandering by arranging a sophisticated collage of diverse materials into a new literary context.
  • Much of the material is Priestly, and we can assume that Priestly circles were responsible for the final version of the book.
Although there are three major sections (10:11-25:18, containing diverse material, is framed by Priestly traditions), certain thematic concerns give literary unity to the work.

 

The Wilderness period is depicted as an ordeal in which the Exodus generation was found wanting.
  • What voices prolonged our sojourn in the Wilderness, pushing us back toward Egyptian bondage?
  • How did divine guidance manifest itself, and to what extent do we still have access to it?
  • What role does Moses play in expressing the divine will, since he too failed the test?
  • Given our impurity, how could the Holy One be in our midst without destroying us?
  • And how can we come near the divine presence without profaning God?

These questions were of more than antiquarian interest to the religious leaders struggling to come to terms with the new realities of life in the lands of the Diaspora.

—————————————–

The first section (1:1-10:10) describes elaborate journey preparations that anticipate important themes of the story.

 

Chapters 1-4 begin with a census in which nothing is left to chance.
  • YHWH exercise tight control over the whole operation,
  • specifying the tribal representatives who are to accompany Moses and Aaron as they make their rounds;
  • and the narrator gives precise figures for each tribe.
  • Every male aged twenty and above is reckoned to the military, and the numbers are overwhelming.
  • As God lays out the order in which the tribes are to march and to encamp, we wonder who could possibly withstand such an overwhelming assault.
A second theme in these early chapters is—-
the establishment of spatial structures
and hierarchies of personnel
that will permit certain groups to approach God’s presence
while safeguarding the rest of the people from God’s holiness.

 

After the Golden Calf incident, YHWH had decided not to accompany the people to the Promised Land.
It would be impossible to dwell in Israel’s midst, says YHWH, “lest I consume thee in the way” (Exod. 33:3).

 

But Moses proves just as wily (and more successful) in negotiating with YHWH as he had been with Pharaoh: “My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest” (Exod. 33:14).

 

There is a new tension, however, between God and people.
YHWH will dwell in Israel’s midst; but how can this holiness be contained, so that the people may be led and nurtured without being consumed?

 

A carefully structured system is developed that marks clear boundaries between people and Presence.

 

Although the tabernacle will be located in the midst of the camp, it will be surrounded at all times by a group no longer reckoned among the tribes—“that there be no wrath upon the congregation of the children of Israel” (1:53).

 

The Levites are to be given over to the service of the tabernacle—offered to YHWH in lieu of all Israel’s firstborn sons. There are further gradations among the Levitical families.

 

Moses and Aaron and his sons encamp east of the tabernacle, and only they have direct access to the most holy objects within.

 

Thus there are concentric circles of holiness in the camp—priest, Levite, Israelite—each protecting the outer circles from divine wrath.

 

And this structure serves more than a prophylactic function, for from the center Aaron and his sons pronounce YHWH’s blessing on all Israel: “they shall put my name upon the children of Israel; and I will bless them” (6:27).

 

The final major theme of the introductory section is that of divine guidance and protection, embodied in the movable cloud that veils and reveals YHWH’s glory.
Israel had first encountered the pillar of cloud/fire during the escape from Egypt. This pillar had protected the people from the pursuing Egyptians and guided them through the Wilderness to Mount Sinai.

 

It reappears in conjunction with, and as a climax to, the completion of the tabernacle, as YHWH’s means of fulfilling the promise to accompanyIsrael into the Promised Land (Exod. 40:34-38).

 

Numbers 9:15-23 refers to that moment of YHWH’s glory entering the completed tabernacle, and both sections seem to summarize the entire passage from Mount Sinai to Canaan (“throughout their journeys”). The cloud moves in mysterious ways, sometimes tarrying, at other times moving on immediately; and Israel faithfully follows the divine guidance, as relayed by YHWH through Moses.

 

The Numbers story has progressed calmly and smoothly to this point.
———————————————-
The second section begins with the cloud of divine glory beingtaken up from off the tabernacle” in 10:11.

 

When Israel leaves the holy mountain and reenters the Wilderness as a covenanted people, conflict will ensue.
Verse 29 introduces a new literary source, most likely preserving ancient traditions of Israel’s Wilderness wandering. Read separately, this material can be interpreted positively. But the present redaction juxtaposes disparate sources that produce a strange dissonance in their new literary setting.

 

For example, Moses’ invitation to Hobab to accompany Israel to Canaan and partake of the divinely promised blessings sounds like wise policy when 10:29-32 is read out of context. Just as Moses had used the helpful advice of his in-laws in structuring a judicial system (Exod. 18), he asks these nomadic peoples to guide Israel through a wilderness with which they would be quite familiar.

 

The context here stresses absolute divine control and guidance, however, and forces us to see Moses’ request as a breach of faith rather than as an act of prudence.
  • Who needs Hobab when Israel can follow the pillar of cloud?
  • How does YHWH react?

Interpreters have long been puzzled by the twofold reference to “three days’ journey” in 10:33, and some have assumed that the second occurrence results from dittography.

 

But if we read 10:33-34 literally, the two symbols of divine presence—that ark and the cloud—have split apart, so that YHWH is no longer totally tabernacled in the midst of the camp.
  • Has YHWH broken away because of Moses’ breach of faith?
The first three verses of chapter 11 seem to confirm our interpretation of 10:29-36, that YHWH is at least partially separated from Israel’s midst.
When the people complain, YHWH’s fire devours the outer edges of the camp. It is noteworthy that this first post-Sinai eruption of divine wrath is not given much narrative justification.

 

Furthermore, YHWH is located outside the camp in the following stories.
  • Is God still nursing grudges because of the Golden Calf,
  • or is this outburst partially related to Moses’ request that Hobab serve as Israel’s eyes?
Chapters 1-10 have established a priestly hierarchy among the people as to how close various groups may come to the divine presence.

 

In 11:4-12:16 the same theme develops in terms of prophecy, and the essential point is this:
at the absolute center of all the concentric circles stands Moses—the unique means of revealing the divine will.

 

Chapter 11 gives us variations of earlier stories—the quails/manna of Exodus 16, and the sharing of Moses’ leadership burden of Exodus 18. The stories, however, are not verbatim repetitions of the earlier ones; and we will note how the similarities and differences contribute to the dynamics of narrative development.

 

Chapter 11 also combines into one story traditions that were originally unrelated to one another. Such a “clumsy” integration seems crude to Western readers, because the redactor has made little effort to cover his tracks. We may wonder what quails have to do with the bestowal of divine spirit on the seventy elders. In fact the redactor has created new context in which the stories comment on one another and thus provide the key for their interpretation.
The people long for meat as they remember their diverse, moist, and gratis foods in Egypt. In their eyes the manna, which they must seek out, gather, grind, beat, and boil in order to make cakes, parallels the dryness of their existence. But from the narrator’s authoritative viewpoint, the manna is anything but dry: it came as bread rained from heaven, tasting like “wafers made with honey” (Exod. 16:4, 31). Falling with the dew, it tasted like cakes made with oil.

 

The narrative has set up a meat/manna opposition—one given by Egypt, the other by God. In Exodus 16 YHWH had brought the quails with the manna to satisfy the people’s hunger. In this version a new divine strategy is introduced: God will comply with the rebellious requests to such an extreme that blessing becomes judgment. The request for meat climaxes with YHWH’s ruah (“wind”) bringing quails from the sea, which the people “gather” and pile up “round about” the camp (vv. 31-32). At the point of fulfillment, however, before they have swallowed their first bite of the meat, a plague breaks out. After all, they have hankered for a taste of Egypt.

 

The motif of bearing the burden relates the quail and spirit-bestowal episodes to each other (11:13-17).
In Exodus 18 Moses’ judicial burden had been resolved by Jethro’s suggestion; in this case YHWH intervenes directly. Moses is commanded to “gather” seventy elders and place them “round about” the tabernacle.
As a result of Moses’ request for diversity of leadership, YHWH’s ruah (“spirit”) moves out from Moses to engulf the seventy.
The immediate result is ecstatic prophecy; and the consonantal text concludes enigmatically wl’ ysfw. Depending on how we vocalize these consonants, we can read “they did not cease” or they did not continue.”

 

Meat and manna have been set in opposition; what is the relationship between meat and spirit?
  • Just as the people have wrongly requested a diverse diet, Moses has wrongly requested to diversify the responsibility of leadership (as with Hobab in 10:29-32 and with Eldad and Medad in 11:26-30).
  • Just as YHWH has plague the people with quails through the ruah, so also the ruah brings the incapacitating plague of ecstatic prophecy.
  • In the ambiguous wl’ ysfw, both meanings apply: the elders prophesy unceasingly, but they do not speak a genuine word of prophecy.
If spirit is placed with meat/flesh at the negative pole in these juxtaposed stories, what is the second positive motif to be correlated with manna?
One thematic key word in this story is dbr, the Hebrew root translated as “word” or “to speak.” Just as the manna comes down and nurtures, YHWH comes down and speaks to Moses (11:17, 25). Despite Moses’ doubts, YHWH says, “Thou shalt see now whether my word shall come to pass unto thee or not” (11:23) Deuteronomy further develops the association between manna and word: in 32:2 Moses’ teaching distills like the dew; and in 8:3 God “fed thee with manna … that he might make thee know that man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord.”

 

The intertwined traditions in chapter 11 correlate the people’s yearning for meat with Moses’ desire to broaden his lonely burden of leadership.
  • One move cloaks the wished-for return to the Egyptian way of life;
  • the other, the abrogation of the concentric circles of holiness that have vested highest authority and responsibility with an inner group: “would God that all YHWH’s people were prophets” (v. 29).
Chapter 12 further develops the theme of authoritative leadership, when Miriam and Aaron—prophetess and priest—question Moses’ unique position in mediating the divine will.
Now the conflict rages in the innermost circle of holiness—the Aaronic priests—and its results in the establishment of a further inner circle; Moses alone speaks with God mouth to mouth.
The pretext for the challenge is that Moses has gone outside the camp—beyond the bounds of the holy—to marry a Cushite, presumably a black-skinned woman.
Again YHWH’s response has an ironic yet meaningful twist:
  • Miriam is turned white (with leprosy)
  • and is placed outside the camp:
  • and as long as she is separated from her people,
  •  Israel cannot proceed toward the Promised Land.

Thus the text suggests that—-

  • challenging Moses’ unique authority,
  • even his own desire to lighten his burden by broadening that authority,
  • prevents progress toward Canaan
  • and masks a yearning for Egypt.
Chapters 16-17 further develop the challenge to Moses’ leadershipthe situation now exacerbate by the divine judgment that the people must about-face into the Wilderness until the Exodus generation has died out.

 

As in chapter 11, these chapters combine diverse material containing two separate themes:
  • the priestly challenge from Korah against the unique role of Moses and Aaron, since all YHWH’s people are holy;
  • and the popular challenge from Dathan and Abiram that Moses has engineered the Exodus from Egypt as a means of grasping personal power.
The redactor has again associated the longing for Egypt
Dathan and Abiram shockingly call it a “land that floweth with milk and honey” (16:14)—with the desire to cut through the hierarchical orders.

 

The rebels claim to speak in the name of total service to YHWH—for all God’s people are holy—but theirs is a false service, somehow akin to serving Pharaoh.

 

YHWH must dwell in Israel’s midst as leader and protector if the people are to enter Canaan.

 

But such nearness to the deity will be fatal for Israel without the clearly marked gradations of holiness.

 

In 17:12 the people express their concern that all must perish because of their fearful proximity.

 

The text’s answer, however, is the reconfirmation of Aaron and a purged Levitical order.

 

Aaron’s sweet-smelling censer stays the plague; Aaron/Levi’s staff sprouts blossoms and bears fruit inside the tent of meeting.

 

Chapters 13-14 describe a climactic turning point in the Wilderness wandering:
because of their lack of faith the entire generation that had escaped from Egypt (except Joshua and Caleb) must die before Israel can enter the Promised Land.

 

Moses’ statement here to the twelve spies should be measured both against Joshua’s orders regarding the spying out of Jericho in Joshua 2:1 and against God’s commandment to Moses in this passage. Whereas Joshua’s order is brief and to the point and God’s command emphasizes that the land to be spied out is the long-awaited Promised Land, Moses’ instructions to the spies go far beyond mediating the divine word (13:17-20). The spies are to note whether or not the cities are fortified.

 

Do not these terms invite us to look askance at Moses’ lack of faith?

 

YHWH has told Moses to send spies into the land for himself (“send for yourself,” v. 2 [AT], and verses 17-20 reveal that Moses still doubts the goodness of the land and YHWH’s ability to deliver it into Israel’s hands.

 

When the spies return, the single cluster of grapes borne on a pole by two men answers the question regarding the land’s goodness; but it also colors the people’s response to the spies’ report about the strength and size of the land’s inhabitants.

 

The narrator terms the spies’ final words (13:32-33) and “evil report” and emphasizes its fearful perspective: the land eats its inhabitants, and we are like grasshoppers before them.
It was, however, the agenda of questions set by Moses and not by YHWH that prompted the spies to seek out whether rather than how the land could best be conquered. Against the majority’s “a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof” (13:32), only Caleb and Joshua maintain that the people of the land “are bread for us” (14:9).

 

With the command lekh lekha, “go thou,”
  • God had sent Abram from Mesopotamia toward the Promised Land,
  • as well as to Mount Moriah to offer up his son (Gen. 12:1; 22:2).

Shelah lekha (“send for yourself”) seems to echo that primal command.

Just as God had commanded Abram to go to a land that his descendants would inherit and then commanded him to sacrifice the next generation, are not Moses and Israel facing, and failing, the same ordeal?
The Exodus generation must die out because, unlike Abraham, they fear for their children’s future.
This younger generation will indeed suffer for the sins of the fathers by wandering for forty years; but like Isaac’s, their future is secured: they will enter the Land.

 

The opening chapters of Numbers have strongly emphasized divine guidance as God dwelt in Israel’s midst.
The census of six hundred thousand fighting men has also indicated a continuation of God’s promises to make Israel a great nation. How could such a multiplied feel as small as grasshoppers? Even apart from divine guidance, they could have moved into the Land like locusts.
But when the Exodus generation repents and makes the abortive attempt at conquest without the presence of Moses and the ark, the people are routed: mere numbers do not suffice.
The narrative makes clear that the key to conquest is faith in, and the reality of, the divine presence.
————————————————
Chapter 20, which returns us to the waters of Meribah (cf. Exod.17:1-7), explains why Moses must join the generation condemned to die in the Wilderness.
  • In Exodus the setting was Horeb/Sinai: in response to the people’s murmuring against Moses. YHWH had commanded him to strike the rock at Horeb with his staff so that the people’s thirst could be quenched.
  • In the second Meribah story Moses is again to take his staff, but this time he is to bring forth the water through the power of speech.
  • Is this not the test: does Moses sufficiently believe in YHWH’s word (see11:23),
    • and does he believe that his words approximate the power of that word?
    • Ironically, the sole mediator of YHWH’s word does not fully trust the word he embodies (see 27:14).
    • He reverts to his wonder-working staff-striking form, as he had done before the divine words were spoken at Sinai.
  • Part of Moses’ “sin,” therefore, is a failure to believe fully in God’s power to deliver on promisesThe other element of Moses’ sin is his desire not to be the sole articulator of YHWH’s word; but that is his destiny.
    • a failure we have seen developing since 20:29,
    • when he first turns to Hobab to lead Israel through the Wilderness.
    • He has not been self-assertive; rather he has wished to share the burden of authority.
    • That is, he is “meek” (12:3); and in his case, this is no virtue.
    • When Moses would just as soon abdicate, YHWH must continually insist on Moses’ unique role as divine-human mediator.
    • Finally Moses does become assertive: “must we fetch you water out of this rock?” (20:10)
    • YHWH had told Moses and Aaron: “speak ye unto the rock … and thou shalt bring forth to them water” (20:8).
    • Is not this a further test: will Moses attribute to himself results clearly derived from divine power. He has never done this in the past (see Exod. 14:13-18).
    • Moses finally sheds his meekness and belatedly asserts himself, but YHWH interprets the action as failure to credit the result to divine rather than to human power.
  • When Moses strikes the rock, “many waters”(20:11 [AT])—
    • a term almost invariably having cosmic associations—come forth to quench Israel’s thirst.
    • The Psalm often depict these waters as hostile to YHWH, typifying a chaotic world that threatens to engulf the worshiper.
    • Yet as in other ancient Near Eastern cultures, God’s victorious cosmogonic struggle had established the divine dwelling place over the many waters, transforming them into fructifying agents.
  • Paradoxically, the act that prevents Moses from entering Canaan results in divinely bestowed nourishment—“many waters”—for Israel.
    • Chapter 20 is the culmination of a series of passages in which Moses provides Israel with water, both as test and as nourishment.
    • In Exodus 15:22-27 Israel had come upon water that the people could not drink because of its bitterness.
    • In response YHWH had “shewed” (the Hebrew root for “Torah”) Moses a tree that sweetened the water and as a test had given them law that, if adhered to, would save Israel from the sickness of Egypt.
  • This symbolism of deliverance through covenant law had been reinforced when Moses struck the rock for water at Horeb/Sinai (Exod. 17:1-7).  But after the Covenant had been sealed, Israel could be held accountable for its ways:In chapter 20 Moses is tested:
    • Moses had pulverized the Golden Calf, mixed it in water, and tested the people by forcing them to drink (Exod. 32:20).
    • In Numbers 5:11-31 there is an unusually detailed description of the ritual for adjudicating a suspected adulteress.  As a test of guilt or innocence, she must drink a potion of “bitter water” made up of dust from the sanctuary and ink from a scroll on which curses have been written.
in the pre-Sinai Wilderness he had brought water from the rock with his staff.
He has grown sufficiently to believe that the words he speaks through YHWH’s command have more power than the staff?
Can he bear the burden of authority over Israel without claiming equal partnership with God?

 

Psalms 106:32-33 gives the following interpretation:
They [Israel] angered him [YHWH] at the waters of strife [ = Meribah],
   so that it went ill with Moses for the sakes;
Because they made his spirit bitter,
   so that he spake unadvisedly with his lips. [AR]

 

Referring to the murmurers as “rebels” in Numbers 20:10 (a wordplay on “bitter”), Moses suffers as a result of YHWH’s wrath against Israel. Because of his embittered spirit he is unable to consume the bitter waters; he is tested and found wanting (27:14).
————————————–
Chapter 19, the law of the red heifer, is one of the most puzzling, anomalous, and often discussed passages in Numbers.
The animal is burned in its entirely—dung, flesh, blood, and so forth—and its ashes are put outside the camp. Yet strangely, when stirred into water, these ashes constitute the “water of separation” that purifies those who are unclean.
Joseph Blau comments on the rabbinic fascination with the paradox of ashes that defile making something clean.
There may be a thematic relationship between this Priestly legislation and the fate of Moses and Aaron at the Meribah waters.
Moses’ flawed humanity, hinted at in earlier episodes, comes to the surface.
As a result the brothers cannot enter Canaan; but through Moses’ failure Israel receivesmany water.”
After YHWH’s judgment that Moses and Aaron must die in the Wilderness, we might expect an eloquent speech of entreaty from Israel’s great mediator. Instead, Moses proceeds with the business of bringing his people to the land his feet will not touch. Even though his negotiations with the Edomites are unsuccessful, there is a new calm, stable character in the relationship among the people, their leaders, and their God.
Aaron is summoned to ascend the mountain of Hur to die, and his priestly office is given to Eleazar—foreshadowing the death of the condemned generation and the transfer of leadership to the new generation that will conquer the land.

 

Emblematic of this is chapter 21. Verses 1-3 describe another Hormah battle against the king of Arad (cf. 14:39-45). Whereas the first engagement had been abortive, initiating Israel’s return to the Wilderness for a generation, YHWH now heeds Israel’s petition, giving the enemy totally into its hands.

 

Chapter 21, in fact, foreshadows Israel’s conquest of Canaan.
The people receive the Transjordan following the death and burial of Aaron, as they will conquer Canaan after Moses’ death.
In this new context the chieftains of Israel are led by YHWH to strike for water with their staffs, apart from Moses’ intervention.
The judgments on Aaron and Moses seem to bring new hope for the future and new stability to relationships, though the Wilderness generation has still not been completely purged.
———————————–
When the Israelites had celebrated their escape from Egypt at the Sea of Reeds, they had anticipated the trembling of those peoples who would be their neighbors in the Promised Land (Exod. 15:14-16).  Now that the people are encamped at the Jordan, ready to begin the assault, the Balak-Balaam story in chapters 22-24 introduces us to a trembling Moabite king who appears as Pharaoh redivivus. Like Pharaoh and the Egyptians, Balak and the Moabites dread Israel as numerically superior (cf. Exod. 1:8-12, Num. 22:3-5). Balak decides to invoke powerful curses on this new enemy. Perceiving Balaam as a professional diviner whose curse can be bought if the price is right, Balak says: “for I wot that he whom thou blessest is blessed, and he whom thou cursest is cursed” (22:6). This oracle runs counter to God’s promise to Abram in Genesis 12:3; and because the words used by Balak (and Pharaoh) to describe Israel’s large numbers are the words of divine blessing spoken to Israel’s ancestors in Genesis, we can expect a confrontation between God and this would-be curser.
But much to our surprise, Balaam does not at first emerge as an adversary to God;
though a Gentile, he is a seer capable of receiving divine communication from YHWH, Israel’s God.
And claiming that YHWH is also his God,
Balaam carefully obeys every divine command and transmits every divine word that he receives.

 

In 22:21-35 the redactor has included the folktale of Balaam’s talking ass.
This story does not seem well integrated unto the larger narrative, because God is suddenly angry at Balaam for complying with the divine command to accompany Balak’s emissaries. However, it plays an important role in introducing Balaam’s oracles. Just as the she-ass three times sees what the “seer” cannot perceive—YHWH’s angel standing before him with drawn sword—Balaam will three times be given a divine oracle that Balak will not accept. In response to Balak’s frustration, Balaam reiterates that he can speak only the word that YHWH gives him. And the not-so-subtle comparison between the renowned seer and his more perceptive she-ass makes it clear that Balaam can see only what God reveals. Only at the third encounter between prophet and angel does YHWH finally “open” Balaam’s eyes. And not until his third attempt at revelation does Balaam introduce himself as one whose eyes have been opened (24:4). A similar pattern obtains within the oracles themselves:

 

A.                 At point far-reaching and profound, 23:7-10 shows only partial vision. Although the seer has not been taken to a point where he could see all Israel, his allusion to the “dust of Jacob” recalls the divine blessing in Genesis 13:16 and 28:14 regarding the seed of Abram and Jacob. Balaam’s vision of Israel dwelling alone, not regarding itself among the nations, also recalls the earlier motif of Israel as a holy nation, set apart from other peoples. Yet he is far off the mark when he attempts to envision his own future (31:8).

 

B.                 Also equivocal is 23:18-24. The divine will to bless is inalterable by human manipulation. God has spoken—promises of blessing to the patriarchs, words of Torah mediated through Moses—and the sovereign purpose is moving toward fulfillment. Israel has been brought out of Egypt, and because of God’s presence it is moving toward violent conquest. Yet we pause quizzically at 23:21: “He [God] hath not beheld iniquity in Jacob, neither hath he seen perverseness in Israel.” Is God’s vision focused on past, present, or future? Given what has already transpired and what will soon occur, in what sense can this oracle be true? Just as Balaam has not properly envisioned his own end, perhaps his view of Israel’s future is also problematic.

 

C.                Balaam’s eyes are not “opened” until he sets his face toward the Wilderness; and 24: 3-9 is an unambiguous blessing. The Exodus allusion is repeated, and the wild animal crushing the prey is not unequivocally Israel. In Balaam’s vision, Israel’s Wilderness encampment is transformed into a lush paradise. The dry dust of Jacob becomes his seed in “many waters”—an indication of the coming proliferation of the nation, sustained by YHWH’s mastery over the waters of chaos. The result will be a king more exalted than Agag—the leader of Israel’s prototypical enemies, the Amalekites (see 1 Sam. 15). And at its conclusion Balaam’s oracle aligns itself with God’s primal promise to Abram: “Blessed is he that blesseth thee, and cursed is he that curseth thee” (24:9; cf. Gen. 12:3).

 

In 24:10-14 the triadic literary pattern is broken, precipitating the final oracle. When Balak withholds payments because Balaam has not done the job, the seer—without seeking a divine word—responds by giving the Moabite king a dreadful glimpse into his own nation’s future.

 

An extraordinary twist in the plot assigns the most far-reaching and positive visions of Israel’s future found in the entire Pentateuch to a Near Eastern diviner rather than to Moses.
It was Moses, after all, who had seen God at Mount Sinai and had spoken with God face to face.
It was Moses who had brought forth the “many waters” at Meribah that Balaam prophesies will sustain Israel.
Ironically, it is Balaam who, by precipitating the tragedy at Baal Peor, will turn out to be the cunning subverter of Israel’s relationship with God.
Why does the narrative give pride of place to this passive vehicle of revelation who then attempts to undermine the blessing he has spoken?
Is it to demonstrate that not even a Balaam, let alone a rebellious Israel, can defeat God’s sovereign purposes?

 

In Exodus the direct vision of God during the covenant ceremony was followed by the sin with the Golden Calf, and Numbers 25 describes a similar dramatic reversal: from the visions of Balaam, to worshiping the Baal of Peor. As in the Balaam story (22:4, 7), Moabites and Midianites are linked; and the narrative connects cohabitation with foreign women to worshipping foreign gods. The text withholds all mention of Balaam’s role in precipitating the falling away at Baal Peor—probably to stress Israel’s responsibility for what happened. In his oracles, however, Balaam has seen the relationship between Israel’s blessing and its status as a people dwelling alone, not reckoned among the nations (23:9). And further, he has learned that divination is ineffective against God’s people (23:23). Undermine Israel’s separation from the nations, as at Baal Peor, and it can indeed be cursed.
Whereas the Golden Calf had been intended to honor YHWH, no such pretense is maintained with the Baal of Peor. The hint of sexual license in Exodus 32 is full-blown in Numbers 25:the people began to commit whoredom with the daughters of Moab” (v. 1). Whereas the Levites had been the vehicle of divine judgment for Aaron’s sin in making the Golden Calf, here it is a grandson of Aaron who turns back the divine wrath and saves Israel. We have already learned that only the offspring of Aaron may approach the innermost part of the sanctuary. After an Israelite takes a Moabite woman into his tent, Phinehas demonstrates his worthiness to inherit the priestly office when, in a gross parody of that office, he enters “the inner chamber” [AT] and pierces the couple with a spear—right through “her inner chamber” [AT]. With this act he makes atonement forIsrael, staying the plague that has killed twenty-four thousand Israelites.
———————————————————
The last section of Numbers, like the first, begins with a tribal census. Chapter 26 specifies that a census took place “after the plague”: and in verses 64-65 we learn that, although the figures are roughly the same, the two numberings represent two entirely separate groups of people—the old and new generations.
  • Through the first incident in the Wilderness (Exod.15:22-27)
    • YHWH had warned the people that adherence to divine law would spare them the sicknesses of Egypt.
    • But with the Golden Calf and Baal Peor stories as frames, plagues had been a common experience for the first generation.
    • A major theme within the frame is the yearning for the comforts of the Egyptian past rather than risking the dangers inherent in the promised future.
    • The Baal Peor incident dramatizes a readiness to become like the nations and to serve their gods;
    • but this catastrophe also becomes the divine means of hastening the purge of the older generation so that a new age can begin.
  • There are no plagues in the final section.
    • Although Moses is told that he will soon die and is allowed to commission Joshua as his successor, he remains center-stage to make sure the new generation does not repeat the sins of the past.
    • Because of the Medianite involvement in the Baal Peor sin, in chapter 31 YHWH commands Moses to engage in holy war against the Midianite people (cf. 25:17-18). Every Midianite male is slain; not one Israelite is lost. Yet Moses is angry that the women and children have been spared, fearing that Baal Peor will break out again. All the sexually mature women must also be slain (31:15-18).
    • In the next chapter the tribes of Reuben and Gad ask to possess the already conquered Transjordan, because it is especially suitable for their cattle. Even though it is not part of the Promised Land that Israel has been commanded to possess, they say: “bring us not over Jordan” (32:5). Moses likewise turns on them for discouraging the people and threatening its fragile unity, likening their request to the spies’ dismaying report at Kadesh-barnea (32:8-15).
    • Thus for the new generation the past Wilderness experiences become paradigms for resolving new issues that arise: Israel must stay separate from the surrounding nations, and it must press on as one people toward the goal of possessing the Land.
The other major theme of the final section of Numbers is an anticipation of life in the Promised Land.
The stages of wandering through the Wilderness, which had seemed so random and meandering as described in Exodus and Numbers, are laid out in chapter 33 as though each place had been apart of the divine plan from the beginning.
The new generation is now to move in, apportioning the Land by lot among the tribes, being careful to drive out all its inhabitants. If any remain, YHWH implies, Baal Peor will repeat itself, and Israel will in turn be driven out.

 

Chapter 34 traces the borders of the Promised Land—much larger than the land actually settled by the tribes and roughly approximating the extent of Israel’s kingdom under David and Solomon.

 

And chapters 28-29 specify the nature and amount of offerings for Israel’s cultic life in Canaan.

 

Chapter 35 describes a particular feature of Israelite law—the Levitical cities scattered throughout the tribes, with six of these cities designated to give sanctuary to any who might kill a human unintentionally.

 

The story of Zelophehad’s five daughters (chaps. 27 and 36), which frames the final section, further develops the theme of inheriting the land. In the absence of male offspring, the daughters are to inherit; but the land inherited may not be transferred to another tribe.

 

The introductory section of Numbers has devoted much space to the hierarchy of —
  • priest,
  • Levite,
  • and Israelite.

But within the Israelite category, it has also given considerable attention to the unique place of each tribe in the national scheme

  • through the census,
  • the orderings for march
  • and encampment,
  • and the dedication offerings.
The final word of the book is therefore about tribal integrity.
In his first two oracles Balaam has seen Israel in part and has been given a word from God to speak.
But his eyes are not opened until the third, climactic vision.
Only when he looks toward the Wilderness and sees Israel encamped in the prescribed tribal ordering (24:2) does he see the Israel of the future.
Though dwelling in the dry Wilderness, its tent clusters conjure up the image of gardens by a river; and from those waters its kingdom will be nourished.

 

It cannot be definitively proved that the final formulation of the Book of Numbers took place during the sixth and fifth centuries B.C.E., and my reading does not depend on that hypothesis. Nevertheless, the work does provide at least one set of answers to the questions faced by the Jewish community in exile at that time.
Through the post-Exilic Temple cult inJerusalem, God’s presence was still graciously available to the people.
But a hierarchical priestly order was necessary to protect the people from divine holiness, as well as to protect that holiness from profanation.

 

The need to enter the Promised Land had the same desperate urgency.
The temptation to “return to Egypt” (settle in the lands of the Diaspora) was strong, as was the threat of assimilation by foreigners and their gods. Many will succumb to that temptation and turn aside; but this is a test, a purging.
The way back to Egypt leads to sure destruction. The only hope is to press on to Canaan;
and although the giants controlling the land make the goal seem impossible, divine guidance is available to the faithful.

 

How do we learn the divine will?
Prophets may arise claiming charismatic authority; but as our ancestors were nurtured by the bread from heaven and given God’s instruction through Moses, we still have that word. Through that word we are nurtured and led.
If we adhere to it, we will survive the ordeal: the bitter waters of divine testing will become the “many waters flowing from our buckets” (see 24:7).

A Literary Approach to the book of Leviticus/Wayyiqrah

[First posted July 26, 2013.  As the opening sentence of this article says: “Perhaps the greatest problem facing students of the Bible as literature is the fact that so much of the Bible is not literature at all.”  

 

We, like most readers, have struggled with chapter after chapter of this book as well as the next book, wondering why we—gentiles living in this day and age, who can’t relate to details of how to build the tabernacle, instructions relating to the priesthood, etc.—have to study and wonder about the relevance of such commandments to us.  We Sinaites have since resolved those why’s, but this literary approach adds to our understanding of this centrally-located book in the Torah. Thankfully, this article will leave you raring to read/reread Leviticus/Wayyiqrah, if only to start appreciating why the Revelator would indeed include a whole book that appears to read like a boring manual of operations for custodians of the tabernacle in the wilderness. We, readers, modern day recipients of the revelation are the problem, not the text.  

 

Again, please note that the writers of these articles use the Christian Bible with its two-part testaments, “Old” and “New” and therefore use Christian terms and not Jewish terms. For example, they use “Pentateuch” instead of “Torah” for the first five books of the “Old Testament.” Continuing this series on a literary approach to the 5 books attributed to Moses, we highly recommend the resource book we’ve listed under MUST READ and MUST OWN:  The Literary Guide to the Bible, eds. Robert Alter and Frank Kermode. Reformatting and highlights ours.

 

Related posts:
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Leviticus
David Damrosch
 
Perhaps the greatest problem facing students of the Bible as literature is the fact that so much of the Bible is not literature at all. Amid the many and manifest glories of biblical historical narrative, prophecy, and lyric, we must also acknowledge frequent eruptions of intractably nonliterary, even anti-literary, material.

 

In the Pentateuch, the long compilations of laws which persistently interrupt the narrative in Exodus through Deuteronomy pose the greatest such stumbling block in the reader’s path. In all the Pentateuch, this problem is most clearly seen in Leviticus, composed largely of ritual ordinances which have warmed the hearts of few, if any, literary readers in any period.

 

Faced with such an unappetizing of most readers is simply to push it quietly off the plate. Thus Gerhard von Rad, in a summary of the narrative contents of the Pentateuch, neglects to mention Leviticus altogether, and literary studies of the book are virtually nonexistent. More polemically, Harold Bloom dismisses the Priestly regulations in Leviticus and elsewhere as pitifully belated attempts at domesticating the numinous and uncanny (in short, truly poetic) essence of the Pentateuch, the early Yahwistic source.

 

Such neglect, whether benign or hostile, misses—
  • the central literary concern of the Priestly writers who shaped the final form of the Pentateuch, which was precisely the interweaving of law and history.
  • Far from interrupting the narrative, the laws complete it, and the story exists for the sake of the laws which it frames.
  • Leviticus is consequently important for the understanding of the overall role of law in the Bible.
  • For in Leviticus the law is represented in its ideal, fully functioning form, the best model against which to assess the complicated uses and misuses of law by a Saul or a Solomon in the historical texts.
Equally, Leviticus is of great literary interest in itself, as the fullest expression of the pentateuchal effort not simply to set the law within a narrative context, but actually to subsume narrative within a larger symbolic order. An attentive look at the laws shows how it was possible for the Priestly writers to intersperse law and story so readily: in their hand, law itself takes on narrative qualities. Rather than a sterile opposition between law and narrative, the text shows a complex but harmonious interplay between two forms of narrative. Law and history meet on a common ground composed of ritual, symbolic, and prophetic elements. In achieving this union, Leviticus typifies a central movement in much of the Bible: the use of profoundly literary techniques for ultimately nonliterary ends.

 

The Ritual Order
The opening chapters of Leviticus provide one of the clearest illustrations of the narrative quality of law throughout the Pentateuch. In the earlier stages of the Priestly composition, before the Torah was divided into separate books, the material of Leviticus 1-7 was not included. The great account of the construction of the tabernacle, which now closes Exodus, would have been directly followed by the anointing of the tabernacle and the investiture of Aaron and his sons, the material which now constitutes chapter 8-10. A decisive literary decision was taken, then, to open the new book not with a direct continuation of the story from Exodus, but with seven chapters’ worth of ritual prescriptions concerning sacrifices. Why was this done?

 

Historical criticism variously accounts for this material as an instruction manual for priests at Jerusalem or, more politically, as the result of priestly disputes at the time of the text’s reformulation. On this reading, the priests from Jerusalem inserted this material in order to establish Sinaitic authority for their particular ritual practices, as against other ritual forms practiced at Shiloh or elsewhere in the country. The writing down of these laws may well have had some such impetus, but the choice to insert them here, at the start of the book, serves a literary purpose as well. Indeed, the theological meaning of the insertion is most clearly understood through the passage’s narrative function.

 

The whole section has been constructed with considerable care. Thus, the first three chapters show a consistent triadic form. Three kinds of sacrifice are described—
  • (burnt offerings,
  • cereal offerings,
  • and peace offerings).

Each of these offerings is in turn divided into three variants, which describe different offerings that can be made to fulfill each type of sacrifice. This tripled threefold structure gives these chapters a certain lyrical aspect. Each subsection, a few verses in length, functions stanzaically, even ending with a refrain, some variation on the formulaic phase “it is an offering made by fire, of a sweet savour unto the Lord.”

 

The first chapter is the most consistent, giving its refrain identically each time, and furthermore giving the refrain a three-part form of its own: “it is a burnt sacrifice, an offering made by fire, of a sweet savour unto the Lord” (vv. 9, 13, 17). The repetition of “burnt sacrifice” and “offering made by fire” is instructive. The first term is the technical term for this particular sacrifice, ‘olah, whereas the second is the generic term for offerings involving fire, ‘isheh.  Clearly there is no real need to repeat both terms, as the first presupposes the second, but the phrasing strongly suggests that parallelism characteristic of Hebrew poetry. (In chapters 2 and 3, where the cereal offering and peace offering are also burnt, but where the poetic potential of two parallel terms for burning is lacking, the text simply uses the term ‘isheh.)

 

Although the structure is lyric, the presentation is dramatic. Rather than simply prescribing the necessary details, the text stages the event, presenting a little ritual drama of interaction between the person offering the sacrifice, the priest, and God:

 

And if his offering be of the flocks, namely, of the sheep, or of the goats, for a burnt sacrifice; he shall bring it a male without blemish. And he shall kill it on the side of the altar northward before the Lord: and the priests, Aaron’s sons, shall sprinkle his blood round about upon the altar. And he shall cut in into his pieces, with his head and his fat: and the priest shall lay them in order on the wood that is on the fire which upon the altar: But he shall wash the inwards and the legs with water: and the priest shall bring it all, and burn it upon the altar: it is a burnt sacrifice, an offering made by fire, of a sweet savour unto the Lord.   (1:10-13)

 

The identity of the priest(s) has been specified as “the sons of Aaron” in order to emphasize the narrative setting at Sinai, although occasional lapses into the singular indicate the use of the generalizing designation “the priest” before these rules were put into their present context. The style, though simple, is unhurried, with occasional flourishes such as “on the wood that is on the fire which is upon the altar” which emphasize the sense of ritual order and fill out the scene of ritual drama.

 

The presentation of the variants in each form of sacrifice reflects great skill. The burnt offering, for example, may consist of three types of animal: a bull, a lamb or goat, or a dove or pigeon. Lambs and goats are sacrificed in essentially the same way as bulls; birds require somewhat different treatment. The text could simply have mentioned the lambs and goats briefly as an alternative to bulls, but it gives them as much space as the birds, allotting to each variant a full scenic description, as in the example quoted above. These latter descriptions are slightly abbreviated from the first version, to avoid wearisome repetition, but they are full enough to impart an overall sense not so much of three choices as of a series of three sacrifices.

 

Thus the text dramatizes the sense of orderly sequence at the heart of ritual. The singularity of the giving of the Law at Sinai is extended, through the rituals inaugurated at Sinai itself, to a narrative order of varied repetition.

 

The emphasis on the different forms of sacrifice allows for narrative variety within the ritual order. The rites reflect different points in the ritual year, and different problems which require the several different types of sacrifice. Equally important, the variant forms allow for differences in the circumstances of the people making the offerings. Lambs and goats are permitted for people who cannot afford a bull; birds are specified for people too poor to offer a lamb or a goat (as is explicitly stated later, in 12:8 and 14:21). The ritual order is not a millenarian order which would gloss over details of wealth and poverty; it remains linked to individual circumstances as well as to the cyclical order of the ritual calendar and the structural order of different kinds of sin.

 

At the same time, individual circumstances is delimited and ordered, in the implicit division of society into only three economic groups (wealthy, average, and poor). This is not an individualized narrative, or even an image of extended contingency with a multiplicity of categories (envisioning, for example, other groups of people so poor that even a bird is unaffordable, or so rich that even a bull would be too trivial a sacrifice). It remains a ritual order, but one which gives a definite place both to circumstantial variations and to narrative progression.

 

History
Having establishes this orders ritual narrative, however, the text immediately calls it into question, in the story of the investiture of Aaron and his sons (chaps. 8-10). This is the only extended passage of full-fledge narrative in the book. In it, Moses follows the instructions given him in Exodus 29 for the anointing of the tabernacle and the consecration of Aaron and his four sons as the chief priests. The initial preparation alone takes a full week and is intricate and difficult, even dangerous, given the immense divine power with which they are dwelling. Aaron and his sons perform everything flawlessly, as we are told at the end of this phase:

 

And Moses said unto Aaron and to his sons . . . Therefore shall ye abide at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation day and night seven days, and keep the charge of the Lord, that ye die not: for so I am commanded. So Aaron and his sons did all things which the Lord commanded by the hand of Moses.    (8:31, 35-36)

 

So far so good, and on the eight day Aaron offers the final series of sacrifice (chap. 9), which culminate in a direct response from God: “And there came a fire out from before the Lord, and consumed upon the altar the burnt offering and the fat: which when all the people saw, they shouted, and fell on their faces” (v. 24).

 

No sooner is the ritual complete, though, than disaster strikes, for Aaron’s eldest sons make the mistake of improvising an offering of their own, not specifically requested by God:

 

And Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, took either of them his censer, and put fire therein, and put incense thereon, and offered strange fire before the Lord, which he commanded them not. And there went out fire from the Lord, and devoured them, and they died before the Lord. Then Moses said unto Aaron, this is it that the Lord spake, saying, I will be sanctified in them that come nigh me, and before all the people I will be glorified. And Aaron held his peace.  (10:1-3)

 

A strange inauguration of the ritual order! Here the officiants themselves go the way of the burnt offering just made by their father. Clearly the episode serves, in part, a monitory purpose, warning against the invention of new practices or the importation of practices external to the cultic order. (“Strange fire,” ‘esh zarah, can also be translated “foreign fire” and suggests something either lying outside the prescribed order or literally coming from another people.)

 

The purely ritual message here stresses the danger inherent in God’s power. Like the fire, which concretely expresses God’s action in the scene, God’s power is the basis of civilized life is handled properly, but a raging, destructive force if misused. The passage draws this ritual moral through its description of the strange fire not actually as something forbidden but simply as something that God had not asked for. This is also the perspective of chapter 16, when the deaths are described as the result of Nadab and Abihu’s having come too close to God: “they drew near to the Lord and perished” (16:1 [AT]; the King James Version and some modern translations obscure this point by assimilating this passage to the earlier one, but the Hebrew simply uses the verb qarav, whose normal sense is “to approach”). Here the narrative details drop out as unimportant to the purely ritual message, which refers to the inherent structure of divine-human relations rather than to anything specific to the historical incident.

 

Yet the shocking quality of the event, both in its timing and in the stature of its victims, has a broadly disturbing effect. Indeed, within the text itself, the disaster shakes Aaron’s own faith in his ability to carry on with the ritual order. The chapter ends with Moses’ discovery that Aaron’s surviving sons have failed to eat the goat of the sin offering, as they were supposed to do. He angrily reproaches them, but Aaron replies:

 

Behold, this day have they offered their sin offering and their burnt offering before the Lord; and such things have befallen me: and if I had eaten the sin offering to day, should it have been accepted in the sight of the Lord? And when Moses heard that, he was consent.   (10:19-20)

 

A clue to the wider meaning of the episode lies in the sudden shift from Aaron’s sons to Aaron himself, and specifically in Aaron’s sense that the death of his sons is something that has befallen him, a sign that he himself is not entirely worthy in God’s sight. In fact Aaron is the focus of this enigmatic episode, whose ramifications present a classic case of the biblical confrontation of the present in the form of the past.

 

Nadab and Abihu have no existence apart from Aaron; this is their one action in the Pentateuch, apart from accompanying Aaron on Sinai in Exodus 32. Their names, however, have a more extended referential life. In 1 Kings we read of a pair of brothers, Nadab and Abijah, the sons of King Jeroboam I. These brothers die young, both because of their own misdeeds and because of their father’s sins, which have determined God to destroy his lineage (1 Kings 14-15). Now Jeroboam’s signal sin is his establishment of a cult of a golden calf, atBethel and at Dan (1 Kings 13); at Bethel he personally offers incense at the altar—just the sort of offering which brings about the death of Nadab and Abihu in Leviticus.

 

The echo of Aaron’s great moral lapse, his forging of the Golden Calf at Sinai, is clear, and the story of Jeroboam has served as a model for the reworking of Exodus 32 into its present form. Indeed, the one alteration in the names of the brothers only serves to point to Aaron has the real focus of the Leviticus story. “Nadab” is retained unchanged, but “Abijah,” which means “God is my father,” is altered to the more general “Abihu,” “He is my father.” In the present context, the father is certainly Aaron, who here receives his punishment for the forging of the Golden Calf.

 

It is this punishment which gives a literal point to the initial cleansing of the people at the end of the Golden Calf incident. Moses calls together all the Levites, who disperse among the people and slay the three thousand ringleaders among the other clans. Since all the Levites have rallied around Moses, they are not slaying their own clansmen, but Moses describes their feat in a striking metaphor: “And Moses said, Today you have ordained yourselves to the Lord’s service, everyone at the cost of his son or of his brother, so that God may bless you this day” (Exod. 32:29 [AT]). Leviticus 8-10 presents the literal ordination, and the literal death of sons and brothers.

 

Four distinct layers of history are folded into the ritual order by this episode.
  • First, the complexity of the historical moment at Sinai is encapsulated as Nadab and Abihu in effect recapitulate the Golden Calf episode and their father is brought to face the consequence of his sin. Aaron’s making of the Golden Calf stemmed from the people’s demand to have a tangible divinity, since Moses was remaining out of sight up on Sinai; the calf was an expression of the people’s spiritual weakness.
  • The proleptic reference to the history of Jeroboam brings the action forward into the time of the monarchy, strengthening the association between priest and king already implicit in the regal paraphernalia given to Aaron as high priest (Exodus 28).
  • In contrast to the weakness behind Aaron’s misdeed, Jeroboam’s making of the calves is an act of cynical power politics: king of the newly separate Northern Kingdom, he makes the calves in order to keep his people from returning to the shrine in Jerusalem, where he fears they will renew their allegiance to the Davidic dynasty, now represented by King Rehoboam of Judah.
  • The episode is typical of the history of the monarchical period, with politics as the central testing ground of moral issues, whereas the premonarchical period represented by the time of the Exodus stages moral issues more directly in terms of divine leadership and ethical demands.
In addition to these specific historical references, the fact that it is Aaron’s eldest sons who fail in their duty ties the scene into the family politics of the Patriarchal period, when in case after case the younger brother takes the lead after the elder one is shown to lack moral strength. On the death of Nadab and Abihu, the younger brothers Eleazar and Ithamar for the first time begin to play an active role and become the forefathers of the divisions of Levites later organized by David.

 

In its reference to Aaron, the episode of Nadab and Abihu also completes the theme of the logic of Moses’ own predominance over his elder brother. On a deep symbolic level, this theme of the necessary triumph of the younger over the older represents, as has long been noted, one aspect of Israel’s self-awareness as the people chosen by God in preference to the older and more powerful cultures around them.

 

These three historical levels, patriarchal, Sinaitic, and monarchial, provide resonance for the fourth, that of contemporary history.

 

Leviticus reached its full form during or soon after the period of the Babylonian Exile. Both the fickleness of the people and the misuse of royal and priestly power under the monarchy were seen as responsible for the downfall of the nation. Nadab and Abihu serve as a warning of the importance of just leadership by the priestly class (in the absence of any formal government during the Exile) and, more generally, are an image of the justified destruction already visited on a large part of the population and a threat of even further woe to the remnant if the survivors fail to reform. In this aspect, the plaintive cry of Aaron concerning the sin offering acknowledges the shock of the Exile even while the story asserts the need to pick up the pieces and carry on.

 

The Symbolic Order
The fivefold interweaving of narrative orders (ritual, patriarchal, Sinaitic, monarchial, and contemporary) in chapter 10 forms a fitting conclusion to the first third of the book. Then overall, chapters 1-10 serve as a narrative introduction to the symbolic order of cultic regulations which make up the second two-thirds of the book: the laws of purity and atonement in chapters 11-16 and the group of ordinances known as the Holiness Code (chaps. 17-26, with an appendix in chap. 27). After long neglect, these latter sections have begun to receive attention on several fronts. As the structural anthropologist Mary Douglas has observed, “rituals of purity and impurity create unity in experience. So far from being aberrations from the central project of religion, they are positive contributions to atonement. By their means, symbolic patterns are worked out and publicly displayed.”

 

A symbolic structure can be deduced, although it is not explicit in the text; but do the assorted ordinances in these chapters have any connection with what has gone before? Readers who have come to appreciate the literary value of the previous chapters are likely to view the laws of Leviticus 11-25 with dismay, for the regulations and ethical statements given here largely lack the narrative form of the earlier chapters. In fact this section presents not a nonnarrative but an antinarrative, whose purpose is to complete the transformation of history inaugurated in chapters 1-7.

 

In the context of the Primeval History as portrayed in the Pentateuch, we can say in rhetorical terms that the Eden story describes a scene of metaphorically based union with God, in whose image and likeness man is created, whereas the fall away from God and into history takes the form of a series of metonymic displacements illustrated in the major stages of prehistory (Eden, Cain and Abel, the Flood, and the Tower of Babel). This world of metonymies, of cause-and-effect relations, parts standing in for inaccessible wholeness, is the world of most biblical prose writing.

 

By contrast, Leviticus seeks to undo the metonymic cause-and-effect relations of narrative; it struggles to recreate a metaphoric union with God in very different terms. Traditional narrative strategies are not so much abandoned as transformed, which is why Leviticus can be described as a book which uses literary methods for nonliterary ends. The narrative patterns examined above are still here—regulations are often described scenically, for example—but most of them are fractured and recombined in strange ways. The narrative order is subordinated to a conceptual order, and the surviving fragments no longer show a progressive narrative development. Instead, there are disconcerting moments such as the description in 16:3-4:

 

Thus shall Aaron come into the holy place: with a young bullock for a sin offering and a ram for a burnt offering. He shall put on the holy linen coat, and he shall have the linen breeches upon his flesh, and shall be girded with a linen girdle, and with the linen mitre shall he be attired: these are holy garments; therefore shall he wash his flesh in water, and so put them on.

 

The narrative goes backward here, describing first the entry into the inner part of the Temple, then how Aaron is to have dressed, and finally his bath before he dresses. In an extended series of variations on this rhetorical movement, the sacrificial order creates a series of disjunctions and displacements, by which the Holiness Code seeks to reconstruct a metaphoric wholeness from the pieces of the narrative metonymies it has taken apart.

 

In much of the Hebrew Bible, the rhetoric of displacement is presented through the theme of exile.

 

Leviticus is no exception, and exile can fairly be said to be the very basis for the construction of the antinarrative ritual order.

 

To be holy, qadosh, is to be set apart; the root means “separation, withdrawal, dedication.”

 

If a metaphoric union with God is no longer possible in a fallen world, the Law can on the other hand create a life built around a principle of separation which will serve as a metaphor for the transcendental otherness of God. God himself repeatedly makes the point that the people’s separateness is to mirror his own: “Ye shall be holy: for I the Lord your God am holy” (19:2).

 

The separation from what is not holy paradoxically creates a close spiritual connection not only between God and man but also between man and the material world. The purity laws concerning physical disfigurements apply not only to the people but also to their clothes and even their houses, which are subject to the same purity regulations, with mildew and mold analogized to leprosy (chaps. 13-14). The people are to be separated not only from their neighbors but even, in  a sense, from themselves: “Thus shall ye separate the children of Israelfrom their uncleanness; that they die not in their uncleanness, when they [would] defile my tabernacle that is among them” (15:31).

 

The text quite directly makes the connection between holiness and exile as it goes about creating a metaphoric wholeness of God, people, and land through the mechanisms of purity and avoidance. Thus the people’s ritual link to the land of Israel expresses not a sense of possession but a permanence of exile.

 

The land itself must keep the Sabbath and cannot be sold in perpetuity, for it belongs not to the people but to God: “The land shall not be sold for ever: for the land is mine; for ye are strangers and sojourners with me” (25:23).

 

The term ger,”stranger,” might best be translated into modern English as “resident alien” and is the term used for the Israelites during their stay in Egypt. In taking up the term, the text transforms the lament of Moses, who named his eldest son in response to a life of exile: “he called his name Gershom: for he said, I have been a stranger [ger] in a strange land” (Exod. 2:22). Leviticus expresses a desire for something closer than possession, a fellowship of exile, shared among the people, their servants, their cattle, their goods, and the land itself.

 

The transformation of exile makes alienation the basis for a renewed ethical closeness to one’s neighbors and even to strangers: “thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself: I am the Lord … the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God” (19:18, 34).
Prophecy
The purpose of the Sinaitic setting for the symbolic order is ultimately not historical but prophetic.

 

Composed after Israel’s subjugation to Babylon, Leviticus presents a body of ritual which had never been fully observed and whose physical and spiritual focus, the Temple, had now been razed to the ground. Looking toward the future, the book concludes with prophecy. Chapter 26, originally the conclusion to the Holiness Code, now serves as the conclusion to the book as a whole, apart from the appendix of miscellaneous material in chapter 27. In describing the good that will follow from keeping the Law and the evils that will result from failure to keep it, the chapter looks to the contemporary history of the Babylonian Exile:

 

And I will bring the land into desolation: and your enemies which dwell therein shall be astonished at it. And I will scatter you among the heathen, and will draw out a sword after you: and your land shall be desolate, and your cities waste. Then shall the land enjoy her Sabbaths …As long as it lieth desolate it shall rest; because it did not rest in your Sabbaths, when ye dwelt upon it.  (26:32-35)

 

The devastation of the land of Israel is seen, with rich prophetic irony, as the earth’s long-delayed chance to observe the fallow periods demanded by the Law but hitherto neglected by the greedy tillers of the land.

 

The chapter is laden with imagery of journeying, and it promises that if the people walk in the Law, God will walk with them (as he had walked with Adam in the Garden): “If ye walk in my statutes, and keep [literally, ‘hear’] my commandments …I will walk among you, and will be your God, and ye shall be my people” (26:3, 12).

 

In contrast to this orderly walking and hearing will be the disordered flight and aural perception of the sinful in their new exile:

 

And upon them that are left alive of you I will send a faintness into their hearts in the lands of their enemies; and the sound of a shaken leaf shall chase them; and they shall flee, as fleeing from a sword; and they shall fall when none pursueth.  (v. 36)

 

Even in the new exile, though, God will be prepared to remember his Covenant if the people repent, as the conclusion of the chapter stresses (vv. 40-45). With faith and active repentance, the people can find a new Sinai even in Babylon.

 

Wilderness and Promised Land merge in Leviticus. The laws are inserted into the story of Sinai not only to give them authority but still more because the Wilderness exemplifies the fullest potential of a life of exile: that the place where everything has been lost can prove to be the place where everything is gained. The stark landscape of the Wilderness seems to the people to lack any source of hope, we might say any narrative possibility, to be a dead end: “and they said to Moses, Was it because Egypt lacked graves that you have brought us out to die in the wilderness?” (Exod.14:11 [AT]). Leviticus sees the Wilderness as the necessary lacuna, between cultures and between past and future history, in which the people can receive the redemptive symbolic order of the Law:

 

And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Speak unto the children of Israel, and say unto them, I am the Lord your God. After the doings of the land of Egypt, wherein ye dwelt, shall ye not do: and after the doings of the land of Canaan, whither I bring you, shall ye not do: neither shall ye walk in their ordinances. Ye shall do my judgments, and keep mine ordinances, to walk therein: I am the Lord your God.  (18:1-4)

 

In its presentation of the Law within this vision of the redemptive potential of exile, Leviticus is the very heart of pentateuchal narrative.

A Literary Approach to the book of Exodus/Shemoth

[First posted July 26, 3013.  This is part of the series on a literary approach to the books of the Torah.  Please read the introductory note in Bereshith/Genesis if you have not yet done so.

 

If serious readers/students of the Christian Bible and the Hebrew Scriptures were literature-majors, these documents of ancient antiquity would most likely be better understood, because amazingly, there is rhyme and reason in the organization of the material in the books comprising the Torah, or the first five books attributed to Moses. And as you will note after reading this series of literary approaches to different books of the Hebrew Scriptures, minus religious-theological confusing biases, the original text clearly communicates the message of the God who revealed Himself to humankind through His revelation to a people assigned to be His light to the nations.  

 

This valuable resource in our S6K library needs to be read by all, and that is why we are sharing its contents in case the book is no longer available in bookstores.  

 

Again, please remember that the authors of these articles have based their studies on the Christian Bible of 2 parts, Old and New Testaments, instead of the Hebrew Scriptures.   Understand as well that the Jews do not refer to their Scriptures or the TNK as the “Bible” —that is a Christian designation.  The original article has been reformatted and highlighted for this post; and the source is our MUST READ/MUST OWN: The Literary Guide to the Bible, eds. Robert Alter and Frank Kermode.

 

Other related posts:

Admin1.]

 

Exodus
J. P. Fokkelman
 
The second book of the Pentateuch, like the first, provides a foundation for the whole Bible.
The themes and most important events of Exodus recur with regularity in later books.
Exodus consists of two main sections,
  • chapters 1-15 and 16-40,
  • a compositional scheme that embraces
    • the physical
    • and spiritual birth
    • of the people of Israel.
  • These two stages might be called
    • Liberation
    • and Covenant.

After a concise sketch of the book’s composition, I shall examine both—-

  • the extent to which Exodus represents a continuation of Genesis
  • and the new themes and specific features that make the second book a distinctive literary text in its own right.
The caesura marking the end of the first section of Exodus is signaled by dense and powerful poetic language.

Chapter 15 is a hymn to—

  • the incomparability of YHWH,
  • who has manifested himself as supreme overIsrael and Egypt.
  • This song of Moses beside the Reed Sea celebrates
    • the definitive liberation of Israel from slavery in Egypt,
    • and this disjunction of two nations obsessed by each other
    • is the issue of the whole section 1-15.

The great confrontation between the leaders of Israel, Moses and Aaron (both from priestly tribe Levi), and Pharaoh, the king of Egypt, takes place in the series of stories dealing with the Ten Plagues (chaps. 7-14). This sequence mounts to a double climax. The narrator gives much more space to the exceptional tenth plague, the destruction of the firstborn of Egypt (chaps. 11-13), than to the others and emphasizes its unique nature by interweaving two types of text.

 

Narrative and legislative language alternate and interpenetrate as follows:
  • 11 is narrative (annunciation),
  • 12:1-28 gives the laws for Passover,
  • 12:29-42 is narrative (the catastrophe itself),
  • and 12:43-51 + 13:1-16 gives laws for Passover and the firstborn.
  • Verses 11:10b, 12:28, 12:40-42, and 12:50-51 (and, somewhat later, 13:18b-19) mark the conclusion of each section and could easily be read as a distinct sequence of short reports, each one of which carries the line of development forward.
  • After this, Pharaoh relapses yet again into stubbornness, which yields the decisive climax: the passage of Israelt hrough the Reed Sea while the waters close over the pursuing Egyptian army.
The liberation is preceded by a long, also climactic preparation in three phases.
  • After a prologue (1:6-22), which sets the tone of oppression,
  • chapter 2 presents phase 1, Moses’ education, in three short stories:
    • birth (vv. 1-10),
    • attempts at intervention (11-15a),
    • and activity in Midian and marriage (15b-22).
  • Chapters 3-4, phase 2,
    • tell of God’s revelation to Moses
    • and his commission to demand that Pharaoh allow Israel to depart from Egypt unhindered.
  • Phase 3 consists of —
    • Pharaoh’s increased oppression as a result of Moses’ and Aaron’s plea (chap. 5)
    • and God’s reiteration of his command to Moses (6:2-13).

The exposition concludes with—

  • the genealogy of the Levites (6:14-27),
  • crowned with the origins
  • and role of Moses and Aaron.

By its position, this list marks the narrative change from preparation to confrontation.

 

The preamble to the second section relates five stories about the crises that befall Israel on the march, involving—
  • water (15:22-27),
  • food (chap. 16),
  • water (17:1-7),
  • war with Amalek (17:8-16),
  • and Jethro’s advice to Moses on the delegation of power (chap. 18).

These events also constitute the itinerary of the people to the most holy mountain, Sinai.  

Beginning in chapter 19, this summit will predominate for a very long time in the narrated world of the Torah, and Israel will remain encamped for almost fourteen months at its foot.

 

Not until Numbers 10:11 does Israel break camp, continuing on its way toward the Promised Land, with other crises ahead.

 

The story of the theophany (chap. 19) and the account of the conclusion of the Covenant (chap. 24) embrace a normative (legislative) section which contains the Ten Commandments (20:1-17) and the so-called Book of the Covenant (20:22-23:19), an old text containing legal rules for the rural Israel from before the time of the monarchy.

 

A second normative section comprises chapters 25-31, in which God gives Moses instructions for making the sanctuary (the tabernacle of the congregation) and its cultic objects, as well as rulers about garments and ordination of the priests. This long text in direct discourse is carefully mirrored in the narrator’s text, chapters 35-39, which describes how Moses and his craftsmen follow the instructions. But there unexpectedly intervenes an immense crisis which yields another three chapters of narrative:
  • the worship of the golden calf,
  • Moses’ mediation with the wrathful deity,
  • renewed revelation and covenant.

Finally, chapter 40 concisely recapitulates the cultic instructions and provides a follow-up:

  • in verses 1-15 God gives instructions about the placement of the tent and of the objects within it,
  • in 16-33 Moses obeys,
  • and verses 34-38 imposingly conclude the book by describing how God dwells with Israel in his glory.
  • The overall structure may be summarized as follows.
Exposition
frame         1:1-6
Israel enters slavery, Moses’ youth          1:7-2:22
frame         2:23-25
YHWH reveals himself, Moses’ call          3-4
oppression, command, genealogy           5:1-6:27

 

Confrontation
prologue                6:28-7:13
nine plagues          7:14-10:29
tenth plague, Passover, Exodus               11:1-13:16
passage of the Reed sea, Egypt destroyed         13:17-14:31
conclusion: hymn  15:1-18

 

Introduction: making for Sinai
crises in Israel over food, war, governance          15:22-18:27

 

Revelation on Sinai and Covenant I
narrative text         19:1-25
normative text, Decalogue            20:1-17
narrative text         20:18-21
normative text, Book of the Covenant       20:22-23:19
narrative text         24:1-18
instructions from God on sanctuary and worship                        25-31

 

Revelation on Sinai and Covenant II
crisis around idolatrous people, Moses mediates            32
revelation and covenant    33-34
Moses and artisans follow instructions    35-39
conclusion (speech/report): sanctuary in use      40

 

In most prose books of the Old Testament, the story is used as a basic literary unit. But the stories combine in groups (which can be called acts); these groups often constitute a section or cycle, and the sections form a book.

 

The arrangement of Exodus proposed here is probably not perfect, but it demonstrates the principal importance of determining a plausible arrangement through thorough analysis. An adequate schema helps us to assign accurate meanings to the literary units on the various compositional levels. Thus it is necessary first to evaluate the literary data on the higher levels (from stories to book), then to integrate them on the next-higher-level, which is ruled by other networks of meaning and other rules of play. In this way we can work through the hierarchical structure of the text step by step, continuously alternating between analysis and integration.

 

In this process, the device of repetition is a powerful aid, as two examples from Exodus show.
  • The deaths of Joseph and of a later Pharaoh connect 1:6 and 2:23, and this knowledge helps us realize that the short paragraphs 1:1-6 and 2:23-25 are not independent stories but bridges. Their primary function is articulative: they frame the four short stories of Exodus 1-2 and thus mark phase I of the exposition—a function whose importance exceeds the size and lexical meanings of these stories.
  • Another connection with strong articulative power is formed by the substance of 2:23-25 and 4:31 versus 6:9 and 12 and 14:30-31. When we read these verses as a series, we see how the end of the three phases of the exposition and the end of the confrontation are attuned to each other and thereby provide a double theme: God’s concern with Israel versus the belief or unbelief of the people. We can then reread Exodus 1-14 as a continual obstacle race for God, who wants to free his people.
Various powerful literary resources ensure that Exodus shows a solid continuity with its predecessor Genesis. 
  • Genesis is emphatically and clearly rounded off with the death and burial of Jacob,
    • who as the eponymous “Israel” is the patriarch.
  • Exodus links up with its predecessor in a very simple way:
    • the opening section (1:1-5) recapitulates the names of Jacob’s sons and counts the number of souls of their families, and thereby takes up the thread where it was dropped.
  • Two other aspects of continuity are also apparent in the prologue (1:7-22).
    • The Egyptian kings who enslave and exploit generations of Israelites are formally grouped in an emblematic title, “Pharaoh.” He makes serious attempts on the survival of Israel, first with the command that newborn males be killed, then with the command that they be thrown into the Nile.
    • This very first story artfully extends the key notion toledot (“generations”) from Genesis and introduces two named midwives (meyalledot; we can hear the rhyme) as heroines. Their courageous action turns the prologue into an arena in which immense forces of oppression and revolt clash. The midwives’ refusal to execute the Egyptian orders because they “feared God” is the high point of the story.
    • In the meantime we have recognized the theme of birth and survival:
      • the choice of words in 1:7—“And the children of Israel were fruitful, and increased abundantly, and multiplied, and waxed exceeding mighty; and the land was filled with them”—is inspired by the Creation story (see Gen. 1:28)
      • and is also reminiscent of God’s promise of numerous offspring and his blessing of the patriarchs.
      • Moreover, the sequel forms an iterative line containing a paradox which refers to God’s support against Egyptian terror: “But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew” (1:12a, with an echo in 1:20b).

The beginning of Exodus, then, transforms the theme of the genealogical line and raises it to the level of an entire nation.

The midwives and the blessing of children in chapter 1 are also emblematic, because from 12:40-41 we learn that the people’s slavery has lasted four centuries. That period and its tensions are concentrated in chapters 1 and 5.
————————————————————-
The second story describes another paradox of growth during oppression:
  • Moses is raised by an Egyptian princess despite Pharaoh’s command.
    • Her compassion crosses the boundary dividing flock-tending Semite from Egyptian Herrenvolk.
    • The issue of 2:1-10 is indicated by the key words “to bear” and “child” (both from the root yld).
    • The Hebrew child, fished out of the Nile,
      • matures quickly (the narrator virtually skips Moses’ youth, 2:11-15)
      • and finds a wife in Midian after fleeing Egypt;
      • and the short text 2:16-22 ends with a new birth, in yet another allusion to the theme of genealogical continuation.
  • And chapter 6 presents the genealogy of Moses, a typical successor of the registers in Genesis.
    • The name of his son Gershom contains a pun which anticipates Israel’s departure fromEgypt: Pharaoh “shall surely thrust you out hence altogether [garish yegaresh]” (11:1).
    • An antithesis to this expulsion is announced later, in 34:24a: “For I will cast out the nations before thee, and enlarge thy borders.” (Also see 6:1, 12:39, 23:28-31, and 33:2.)
The conclusion of Genesis and the first section of Exodus explore the question of whether the combination Israel-Egypt is a conjunction or a disjunction.
  • At first the two nations seem to get along well. Joseph’s visionary powers help Egypt through years of famine, and Pharaoh welcomes Joseph’s entire family.
  • But this conjunction quickly ends. The four-century-long oppression introduces the spectacular disjunction or the Exodus.
  • The information from 12:40-41 on the narrated time—practically the only indication of its kind in the first section, for the narrator is not concerned with regular historiography or the individual feats of Pharaoh—supplies still another connection with Genesis.
  • The long slavery entails the fulfillment of Abraham’s haunting prophetic vision in Genesis 15.
  • The beginning of Exodus directly signifies the ultimate disjunction between Israel and Egypt,
    • as the water of the Nile, which to the Egyptian is in all aspects the water of life, is chosen as the site and means of death for the Israelite male babies.
    • Thus Egypt through the agency of the Nile brings about a separation between life for Egyptians and death for Israelites, a division which should be the prerogative of the deity alone.
  • Eventually this high-handedness leads God to intervene—the only one who has actual power over the polarities of existence.
    • The Creator, whose first deeds consisted in establishing a division between elementary entities such as light and darkness, earth and see, announces to Pharaoh through the mouth of Moses: “I will put a division between my people and thy people: tomorrow shall this sign be” (8:23).
    • The words are reminiscent of the cosmogonic dividing in Genesis 1.
    • Thus it is not surprising that Egypt’s fountain of life, the Nile, in the very first of the ten plagues turns into a stream of blood—an unmistakable hint from God to Egypt that death will strike in many forms.
The first division in Genesis 1 was that between light and darkness.
This polarity continues powerfully throughout Exodus and beyond.
  • On its journey through the desert, Israel is protected and led by a column of smoke or a cloud during the day and a column of fire at night, as signs of God’s presence.
  • These are the virtuoso effects of the master of polarities, who has thus created a chiasm: light in darkness, darkness in light. These polarities occur at strategic points in the composition:On the one hand, this impressive moment of revelation is prepared for in the beginning of chapter 3, when Moses sees a burning bramble which is not consumed by the fire (a striking spectacle which, together with 3:4-6, introduces the long dialogue between God and Moses that begins in 3:7).
    • in chapter 14, where the division between Israel and Egypt becomes definite, around and in the Reed Sea (13:21-22 and 14:19-20),
    • and also in 10:23, 19:18, and 20:18, where smoke and fire dramatize the theophany on the holy mountain;
    • in 33:9-11a, in front of the tabernacle of the congregation, where the cloud appears only in order to screen from the people Moses’ contact with God;
    • and preeminently in the climactic moment at the conclusion of the book (40:34-38), where the full polarity, day/night = fire/cloud, appears and marks how “the glory of YHWH filled the tabernacle” (v. 35b).
  • On the other hand, the column of fire/smoke signals that main issue of the book: the question of whether man can behold God or not. Yes, say two passages unambiguously: 24:9-11, upon the conclusion of the first covenant, and 33:11, “And YHWH speak unto Moses face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend.”The intimacy of the encounter in 33:11 harks back to Jacob’s insight, beside the Jabbok, into his own truthfulness in relation to God’s blessing (Gen. 32:31), and perhaps also to his nightlong struggle relieved by the break of day.
    • No, thinks Moses in 3:6 (although it is not at all certain whether the narrator would agree with him).
    • No, say 19:12 and 21 and, more ambiguously, 20:19;
    • and God himself says no in 33:20-23.
  •  Egypt is now left behind in darkness.
    • The ninth plague is impenetrable darkness;
    • the eradication of the tenth plague takes place in a horrible night;
    • and the dawn of 14:24, which illuminates the safe departure of Israel,
      • does not extend to the Egyptian army,
      • which is engulfed by the darkness of deluge and death.
The moment God reveals himself to Moses in Exodus 3:6, he does so in terms from Genesis: “I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”

 

In 3:15 he even reveals his proper name, the tetragrammaton YHWH, commanding Moses: “Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, YHWH God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, hath sent me unto you: this is my name forever, and this is my memorial unto all generations” (see also 3:16, 4:5).

 

The emphatic series in 2:23-25 characterizes the Lord unambiguously as the God who wants to keep his covenant with the patriarchs.

 

On the subject of primogeniture, the rights and position of the firstborn, Exodus also links up with Genesis.At the same time it elevates this issue—just as with the theme of birth—to the level of peoples. This transformation occurs powerfully as early as 4:22-23, in the framework of Moses’ call, when God tells him of the plagues he has in store for Pharaoh:

 

Thus saith the Lord,
   Israel is my son, even my firstborn:
And I say unto thee,
   Let my son go, that he may serve me:
   and if thou refuse to let him go, behold,
   I will slay thy son, even thy firstborn.

 

Here the question of primogeniture expands into the historical theme that is central to Exodus and to the whole Bible, the choosing of the people of Israel.
  • The description of the tenth plague (11:1-13:16) contains a special section (13:1-16) on the law of the firstborn.
  • Thus the normative is anchored in the narrative (the report of the slaughter among Egypt’s firstborn).
  • The consecration of the firstborn and the feast of unleavened bread (Passover),
    • both manifestations of the idea of an entirely new beginning,
    • are founded in the historical event which initiates the history of God and his people.
Within the normative context of Passover and the Passover meal,
  • the ritual of the circumcision also reappears (12:23-48),
  • instituted in Genesis 17
  • as an indispensable condition for the keeping of the Covenant.
  • Earlier, in 4:24-26, another circumcision occurs at a frightening, almost magic moment of transition,
    • after Moses’ call but before his return to the people.
    • Only quick and resolute interference by his wife saves Moses for Israel and the future.
    • She turns the literal circumcision of her son into the symbolic one of Moses, who is thus saved from a demoniac attack.
    • The attack comes from God himself, who in chapters 3-4 is apparently exasperated by the objections and hesitations of his servant.
    • The entire incident as rite de passage is again reminiscent of Jacob’s night beside the Jabbok.
Another religious institution, that of the Sabbath,
  • also received special attention in Exodus,
  • at the prominent junctures 20:8-11 (part of the Decalogue)
  • and 31:12-17 and 35:1-3 (the end and beginning, respectively, of blocks 25-31 and 35-39).
  • The holiness of the seventh day was instituted in Genesis 1 after the Creation, when God turned his day of rest into one of celebration.
What is new and specific in this book?
Exodus richly portrays the constitution of Israel,
  • both physically and historically in the first section,
  • and, in the second section, as a spiritual entity.

Beginning with chapter 16 Israel enters the circle of light of the revelation and receives its spiritual statute from God.

 

Two manifestations of this new portentous status are—
  • the conclusion of the Covenant
  • and the two stone tablets containing the Ten Commandments.

These considerations of content increase our awareness of the intimate connection between narrative and normative sections.

  • The latter are direct discourse by God as he instructs Moses to instruct the people.
  • Thus the legal text, in its function as spoken word, is embedded in the narrative.

As elsewhere in the Bible, what we need to do here is to examine the relation of speech, using the tools of current textual and narrative theory, and not to detach embedded speech from its textural setting, even if it comes from the character God. In 12:1-12, 43-52, 13:1-16, and chapters 20-23 the enactments of God are purposefully embedded; they stand in fruitful interaction with the narrative mass around it and share their themes with it.

 

As a text that articulates a large spiritual vision, Exodus is defined by the three climaxes of revelation on the mountain of God,
  • in 3:1 called Horeb, in 19-24 and 33-34 Sinai.
  • The divine revelation in Exodus concerns—
    • God himself,
    • both his name
    • and his nature.
  • Exodus 3:15, quoted above,
    • contains the first mention of the tetragrammaton,
    • the proper name YHWH,
    • and makes it the focus of our attention.
  • This mysterious and holy name is authoritatively discussed in two ways,
    • in the literary unit on the call of Moses (chap. 3).
    • The word yhwh, clearly from the root hwh = hyh, “to be, become,” and, like many other proper names in the Bible, an imperfect form of the verb, is uttered and explained by the bearer himself, and Exodus as a whole offers a valuable, contextual explanation for the name.
    • God answers Moses’ question about his identity in two ways in 3:14: “I AM THAT I AM” (‘ehyeh ‘asher ‘ehyeh) and “Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, ‘ehyeh hath sent me unto you” [AR].
    • Only afterward, in verse 15, does God utter his name YHWH for the first time.
      • The entire creation has originated from God’s being,
      • which wants to stand-in-relation-to,
      • and now God further develops this desire by designating a specific partner, the chosen people.
      • God is the only one who can entirely develop the fullness of his being.
      • But he cannot be happy—Therefore, his freedom is also his self-chosen confinement.
        • if his creation
        • and his creatures (among whom is the attentive listener to the story)
        • do not get the chance to do so as well,
        • within their appointed limits.
      • The Name signifies a paradox of absolute being and involvement.
      • The “I am” poses a spiritual question to every reader taking his own growth seriously, pondering whether he can fully accept what is within and around him.
In the context of Exodus, “I am” is applied in a practical sense, in that Egypt must free Israel so that it can be/become itself, and the text plays with two sides of the key word “serving.”
  •  Israel asks whether it may leave “to serve the God of the Hebrews” (key words recurring in 7:16; 9:1, 13; and 10:3),
  • and this service is incompatible with service (slavery, the same word in Hebrew) under earthly powers because it entails actual spiritual freedom.
  • In 3:14-15 the three ‘ehyeh-lines surrounding the revelation of the name touch on the theme of liberation.
    • In 3:12 God says: “Certainly, I will be with thee,”
    • and in 4:12, 15 he tells Moses: “I will be with thy mouth.”
  • Together, these lines reveal the aspect of involvement and covenant in God’s being,Later, God as speaker uses the same construction as “I am who I am” in 33:18-19, an enheartening section on God’s involvement at a moment when Moses again presses a question: “And he [Moses] said, I beseech thee, shew me thy glory. And he said, I will make all my goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before thee; and will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy.
    • which is also implied in the probably correct translation of the name Yahweh, “he lets be” (which includes “he creates”).
  • Similarly, in the compact poetry and archaic power of 34:6-7, after the annunciation of 33:19, the God of Israel performs a self-revelation which can serve believers as a credo:
The Lord passed before him and proclaimed:
“The Lord! The Lord! A God compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness,
extending kindness to the thousandth generation,
forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin;
yet He does not remit all punishment,
but visits the iniquity of fathers upon children and
children’s children, upon the third and fourth generation.”

 

The dialogic being of God, already evident in the creation of man in his own image and reflected in the man-wife dialogue, culminates in Exodus when God assigns exceptional status to his covenanted people: “And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests, and an holy nation” (19:6a).

 

The blessings of the patriarchs that are so characteristic of Genesis are crowned in Exodus with the so-called covenant formula, two clauses of characteristic reciprocity: “And I will take you to me for a people, and I will be to you a God” (6:7a). This passage and the self-revelation reported in Exodus recur regularly throughout the Old Testament, and that is a proof of their major importance in ancient Israel.

 

The full proper name of God incorporates a title: YHWH Sabaoth, which is to say, “YHWH (God) of host.

 

The epithet, which usually refers to the heavenly host around God’s throne, acquires another dialogic significance in Exodus within the context of covenant. God himself names Israel “mine armies” in 7:4, and the narrator uses similar words to denote the Exodus in12:41:all the hosts of the Lord went out from the land of Egypt.”

 

Without the hosts of the chosen people, God can no longer be complete, says the book of liberation and revelation.

 

God wishes to be known as much by Egypt as by Israel. For this reason, in the first section of the book the elementary and powerful line “I am YHWH” is proclaimed—
  • five times to Egypt (7:5, 17; 8:22; 14:4, 18)
  • and five times to Israel (6:2, 6, 7, 8, 29).

In the second section it recurs in strategic places, not only in 15:26 and 16:12 but also as title to the Decalogue itself. This seminal pronouncement is found further on in the Bible as well. It occurs, for example, as a key statement in Ezekiel (6:7, 10, 14, and passim), for there too God wishes to make himself known through his involvement in history.

 

Thus the book on Names—as Exodus is called in Jewish tradition because of its opening words—is in effect the book of the Name.

 

Henceforth God’s care envelops the chosen people.
  • The covenant between them has its classic formulation in Exodus; later formulations, as in Joshua 24, are only variants of this.
  • The Covenant at Sinai remains the matrix for Israel’s relationship with God.
  • But Exodus points, beyond itself, even more clearly to the future insofar as the stories of the Exodus and the program which God lays down in his speeches to Moses anticipate the entry into the Holy Land.
  • The blessing of the forefathers will not be fulfilled until the people take possession of the land of Canaan,
  • and the following three books of the Torah lead us only to the threshold of the era.

For all the richness of its complex formal dynamics and for all its spiritual depth, Exodus is only a part of a greater literary-spiritual conception.

A Literary Approach to the book of Genesis/Bereshith

[First posted July 26, 2013.  The good thing about a ‘literary approach’ to Scripture is that it reminds us that first and foremost, Scripture is “language” and not simply communicated information with the use of spoken/written words but in the case of Scripture, the written record smacks of literary expressions full of figures of speech and images that one would normally read in works of literature.  

 

Another good thing is — there is no “religion” involved in the approach to reading Scripture as Literature, so that we simply get the message without all the theological/doctrinal baggage we normally get when we read interpretation from Christian/Messianic/Rabbinical sources.  

 

If YHWH simply spoke to humankind through His mouthpieces, selected individuals and prophets of Israel, then we get the simple message in the literary context reflecting the times, culture, and history during which the message was given.  There is no ‘fast-forward’ to religions that now use the Torah or the TNK as prophetic utterances pointing to future man-made gods.  You get the idea.  

 

So once again, sharing one resource that has been featured in other recent posts, the five books of Moses is approached from the literary point of view by secular readers of Scripture. Please understand that these writers are non-Jewish and their orientation to Scripture is through the Christian Bible of two parts, Old and New Testaments. The Jews do not call their divinely-sourced revelation as “bible”; rather YHWH’s revelation is in the Torah; and the Neviim [Prophets] and Ketuviim [Writings] compose the TNK or Tanakh/Tanach.  Original articles have been reformatted and highlighted.  

 

Related posts:

 

Source/MUST-READ, MUST-OWN:  The Literary Guide to the Bible, eds. Robert Alter and Frank Kermode.–Admin1.]

 

Genesis
J.P. Fokkelman
 
Genesis is —-
  • the first of the thirty-six books of the Old Testament,
    • and much in it is used as a basis for or creatively incorporated into numerous further on in the Bible.
Genesis is—-
  • the beginning of the Torah,
  • traditionally known as the Five Books of Moses,
  • or the Pentateuch.

In the standard edition,

  • the Hebrew text comprises well over fifteen hundred “verses,”
  • which in the Middle Ages were divided, not always happily, into fifty chapters.

For at least two reasons Genesis, like other narrative books of the Bible, can be hard to understand.

  • It is very complex,
  • and it exhibits a baffling multiformity.

The difficulties have not been diminished by two centuries of the so-called Higher Criticism, a historical-critical approach—an “excavative scholarship,” as it has been called—that subjects the text to serious reduction.

 

Philologists and historians are apt to regard the text—-
  • as a source for something beyond itself
  • because their proper interest or attention is directed to contextual realities.
And theologians
  • tend to read the text as message,
  • and to that end separate form from content
  • without realizing that in doing so they violate the literary integrity of the text.
Multiformity and Discord
As readers of Genesis, we must fully respect and explore the large variety in shape and structure, tone and length, which the literary units display. This disconcerting combination of highly heterogeneous elements, which often test our tolerance, prevails in books such as Exodus, Numbers, Judges, Samuel, and Kings.

 

The main aspects of this multiformity are as follows.
  • The narrator (or the creative writer responsible for the final version of the text) may, at any moment, switch from the narrative flow to a more elevated style, that is, to the compactness of formal verse.
  • Thus a polarity arises between prose and poetry, and the body of prose functions as a setting in which, repeatedly, the gem of a poem sparkles.
  • Sometimes the poetry consists of no more than one verse, as in the triadic line at 1:27:
So God created man in his own image,
   in the image of God created he him;
      male and female created he them.

 

More often it is a two-line strophe, as in 2:23:

 

This is now bone of my bones
   and flesh of my flesh:
she shall be called Woman
   because she was taken out of Man;

 

or 8:22:

 

While the earth remaineth,
   seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat,
and summer and winter, and day and night
   shall not cease;

 

or 14:19-20a:

 

Blessed be Abram of the most high God,
   possessor of heaven and earth:
And blessed be the most high God,
   which hath delivered thine enemies into thy hand;

 

and compare 25:23.

 

There are also three-line poems, such as 4:6-7:

 

Why art thou wroth?
   and why is thy countenance fallen?
If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted?
   and if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door.
And unto thee shall be his desire,
   and thou shalt rule over him;

 

or Lamech’s song, 4:23-24:

 

Adah and Zillah, hear my voice;
   ye wives of Lamech, hearken unto my speech:
for I have slain a man to my wounding,
   and a young man to my hurt.
If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold,
   truly Lamech seventy and sevenfold;

 

and compare 27:39b-40.

 

The blessing in which God promises the patriarchs land and offspring (12:1-3) is somewhat longer still, three triadic lines, whereas subsequent passages such as 22:16-18 and 28:13 are midway between prose and poetry—the boundaries are often not very clear.

 

Old Isaac’s blessing in 27:27-29 is a double strophe (3 + 3 dyadic lines).
Later the poetry recedes until chapter 49, near the end of the book, where we encounter a large composition of well over eighty versets or half-lines.

 

In the enumerative or serial design there,
  • Jacob concisely characterizes each of his sonsHe accords five of them only one line each;
    • (and the tribe of which he is the eponymous forefather) with a thumbnail portrait.
  • dedicates a three-line strophe to Reuben, Issachar, and Dan
  • and a double strophe (3 + 2  versets) to Simeon and Levi together;
  • and devotes a full stanza of eight and nine verses of praise
    • to Judah (8-12)
    • and Joseph (22-26) respectively.
Occasionally the switch from prose to poetry is explicitly marked.

 

In the case of Lamech’s song of revenge and Jacob’s blessings, the transition is achieved by a formal beginning, an adjuration to be attentive (4:23a and 49:1b).

 

Sometimes the discourse glides unobtrusively from prose into poetry. We suddenly realize with a little shock that the words are symmetrically aligned and that the language has become more intense; next we notice the text’s poetical form; and finally we perceive that the personage who is blessed or cursed in the story has anticipated our shock of recognition in feeling the force of the poem.

 

In the story of the Fall, Genesis 2-3,
  • it is the figures of “man and his wife”
  • and the serpent who through the poetry of 3:14-15, 16, and 17b-19
  • sense that they themselves have become the victims of God’s curse.
An even greater source of heterogeneity in the composition is the use of different genres.
We meet with a colorful variety of action-directed narratives in the strictness sense,
  • genealogical registers,
  • catalogues,
  • blessings and curses,
  • protocols for the conclusion of covenants,
  • doxological and mythological texts,
  • etiological tales,
  • legal directives.

This old diversity is complicated still further by a third and a fourth factor of multiformity:

  • size, that is, the different between short and long units;
  • and the polarity between narrator’s text, that is between report and speech.

Genesis does not fundamentally differ in this regard from other narrative books of the Bible.

 

The narrator may create a harmonious balance or variation between report and speech, as in chapters 24, 27, and 38, stories that are directly accessible and attractive to Western taste. Here report and speech together carry the plot. These instances of balance form the middle of a scale one extreme of which is represented by units consisting mostly or entirely of narrator’s text (and thus lacking the charm and vivacity conferred by dialogue), and the other extreme of sections consisting entirely of character’s text or dialogue.

 

On the other hand, Abraham’s outspoken haggling with God over the dwindling remnant of integrity which he hopes may still exist in Sodom and Gomorrah (18:23-33) is a textual unit that consists entirely of dialogue. Similarly, in the bargaining scene in chapter 23 the spoken word carries the plot entirely, the narrator being content with a marginal role. The body of the text consists of three rounds of dialogue, marked by bows by Abraham. It concerns increasingly concrete negotiations between him and the Hittites of Hebron which result in a purchase (vv.3-6, 8-11, 13-15). The narrator confines himself to reporting the occasion of Sarah’s death (9vv. 1-2) and playing a participatory role in verses 17-20. There are speakers as the notary who is responsible for the contract of sale, for the exact description of the extent and cost of the purchased ground, and for the contractors and witnesses. In that way the narrator’s text frames the dialogue.

 

On the other hand, the genealogical registers of chapter 5 (with the exception of 29b, Lamech’s naming-speech at the birth of Noah), 11:10-26, and chapter 36 consist entirely of narrator’s text. The impression of discord is especially strong where a long report stands in sharp contrast with a long speech.

 

A similarly abrupt transition from report to speech occurs in the episode of Jacob’s flock-breeding (30:37-43), followed by his flight from Laban (31:1-21). The contrast between these two units warrants a more detailed analysis. The perspective of the narrator first reveals little more than the temporal aspect of Jacob’s ingenious animal-breeding, through which he is able to become wealthy. Then the perspective of the character, Jacob himself, reveals that he has in fact been victimized by his uncle Laban and providentially protected by God.

 

Differences in length are also a source of strong contrasts. Some of the profoundest and most exciting stories are remarkably short but are found close to a long text which moves at a very relaxed pace.

 

Consider chapters 22 and 24. In the Binding of Isaac,
  • Abraham is cruelly ordered by God to sacrifice his son,The immense anxieties and incalculable implications of this situation are succinctly evoked in approximately 70 lines.
    • the bearer of the promise,
    • whose coming he has awaited a lifetime.

 

Then, after the briefing intervening episode of the purchase of the gravesite, we are pleasantly entertained by the calm flow, the epic breadth, and the poised harmony of characters, report, and speech in chapter 24, in which Abraham’s servant seeks a bride for Isaac in Mesopotamia.

 

By Hebrew standards, a great amount of space is devoted to ensuring that everything falls into its proper place—approximately 230 lines, at least four times the number found in the average story. In the last lines (v. 67), which link with chapter 23, Rebekah as a matter of course takes up Sarah’s position, and we understand that a new cycle has begun.

 

The charged story of the tower of Babel (11:1-9),
  • hermetically composed in a symmetrical thirteen-part concentric design
  • representing measure-for-measure justice,
  • the mirroring of human hubris in divine nemesis,
  • requires only 121 words and approximately 25 lines.

1.   The sinister nocturnal story of Jacob’s flight and rebirth in 32:22-32 (to which we shall return later) needs only 143 words in 34 cola to develop a formidable intensity.

2.   Another form of discord appears at the level of composition, where the narrative cycles of Jacob and Joseph constitute the second half of the book. The history of the eponymous forefather of the people of Israel extends from 25:19 to the end of chapter 35 but seems on two occasions to be drastically interrupted.
  • During the exposition (chaps. 25-28, Jacob’s youth in Canaan), an excursus in chapter 26 allows the intermediary patriarch Isaac only a few paragraphs,
  • and in the conclusion (chaps. 32-35. Jacob back in Canaan) chapter 34 intervenes,
    • a brutal story about two sons of Jacob who take revenge when their sister Dinah is raped by the prince of the old and respectable city Shechem.

3.   In addition, the history of Joseph (chaps. 37-50) is interrupted in its initial phase by another harsh story, also involving sexual behavior, in which the double standard of Joseph’s brother Judah is painfully exposed as he is challenged by his brave daughter-in-law Tamar.

 

These three texts seem to be intrusions only as long as we ignore the fact that they are all separated from the boundary of their cycle by the space of one story. Thus they form hooks to the adjoining cycles. If we notice this and allow ourselves to be instructed by the key words, we can integrate these passages thematically with their context despite their superficially digressive character.

 

Finally, in several cases discord arises through the content.
  • For example, chapter 1, which is less a story than a solemn enumeration of the majestic deeds of creation (in a formal design of two times three days which mirrors the duality heaven/earth), presents man as created in God’s image.
    • The reader, seeing this representation of man as the crown of creation (cf. Ps. 8), may feel a certain elation.
    • What immediately follows is the shock of the second creation story (chaps. 2-3), which portrays man as a morally shaky being who eagerly sloughs off responsibility and whose aspirations to becoming God’s equal in knowledge of right and wrong are realized at the price of his own fall.
    • Moreover, the creator is called simply “God” in chapter 1, but YHWH God” (KJV: “Lord God”) in chapters 2-3.
    • And there seems to be a contradiction between 1:27 and 2:18-23 on
      • the origin of nature
      • and the relation between man and woman.

Another example is 27:46-28:5: does it belong organically to the story of the deceit of the blind Isaac? The diachronic approach calls its status into question.

  • How are we to reconcile all these seeming contradictions, and on the basis of what criteria?
  • Are we to declare Genesis a badly sewn patchwork?
  • Surely such a judgment cannot be justified, certainly not on the basis of Western and modern concepts of what is whole or beautiful.
  • Instead we must handle these contrasts supplely enough to rediscover by stages what the Hebrew standards of literary organizations were and how they are embodied in the texts.
Concord or Unity
In Genesis, powerful means of integration are used at the levels of—
  • genre,
  • theme,
  • plot,
  • content,
  • and key words.
Genesis is part of a grand design which unites the books of the Torah with Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings in one configuration:
  • from the creation of the world
  • through the choosing of the people of Israel
  • and their settlement in Canaan
  • up to the Babylonian Captivity.

Genesis contributes two building blocks to this overarching plot:

  • the Primeval History (1-11)
  • and the protohistory of the people of Israel,
    • namely the period of the eponymous forefathers (in three cycles: 12-25, 25-35, and 37-50).

These two stages prepare for the history of God’s covenant with what the Hebrew Bible regularly calls “his heritage” Israel (see, for example, Deut. 4:20-21 and Ps. 28:9) in Egypt and at the foot of Mount Sinai—a history that begins in Exodus.

 

The characteristic contribution of Genesis to the Torah and to subsequent books is indicated by its own key word toledot, literally, “begettings,
  • from the root yld, which is used for mothers (yaldah, “she gave birth”),
  • fathers (holid, “he begot”),
  • and children (nolad, “he was born”).

The begettings provide a solid framework that supports and meticulously articulates the various sections of Genesis. The distribution of this key word is of great structural importance.

  • Five times it occurs at the beginning of a genealogical register or enumeration, in the significant positions 5:1, 10:1, 11:10, 25:12, and 36:1.
  • The units introduced in this manner (three chapters, two paragraphs) reveal the toledot as a genre in its own right and function as a conclusion;
    • they complete two acts (chaps. 1-4 and 6-9)
    • and two cycles (those of Abraham and Jacob).

Toledot is also used in another way.

  • Again it occurs five times in a strategic position,
    • but now as an opening (with one significant exception) in a short clause,
    • functioning as the heading of a new narrative cycle:
      • in 6:9 (Noah
      • and the Deluge), 11:2725:19 (the beginning of the Jacob cycle),
        • (11:27-32 being the prologue of the Abraham story),
      • and 37:2 (the beginning of the Joseph story).

Thus the lives of the protagonists Abraham, Jacob and Joseph are presented within the framework of the begettings of their fathers (Terah, Isaac, and Jacob, respectively). This image of concatenation reveals the overriding concern of the entire book:

  • life-
  • survival-
  • offspring-
  • fertility-
  • continuity.
The one exception is 2:4a. Through its use of the key word, toledot, it is clear that this one line, “These are the generations of the heavens and of the earth,” is part of the first creation story; by forming an envelope structure together with the heading 1:1, it rounds off Genesis 1:1-2:4a and is a conclusion in itself. This exceptional usage attracts the reader’s attention.
  • Everywhere else, “the toledot of X” refers to human beings as fathers and as subjects of begetting,
  • but 2:4a raises the radical question whether heaven and earth may be the objects of God’s begetting.

The word toledot is, then, a metaphor which, approaching the boundaries of the taboo in Israel’s strict sexual morals, carries the oblique suggestion that the cosmos may have originated in a sexual act of God.  It becomes evident how daring a game the writer is playing when we consider the world from which Israelite belief wished to dissociate itself:

 a world characterized by—
  • natural religion,
  • fertility rites,
  • cyclic thinking,
  • and sacred prostitution;
  • a world in which the idea of creation as the product of divine intercourse was a commonplace.
The toledot, then, as genre (at the structural level of greater units) and as heading (at the textual level of clauses) is not distributed at random through the narrative sections, in a superficial gesture of pure technique. Its true importance becomes clear when we view it in relation to the overriding theme of most Genesis stories.

 

Time and again, fertility in diverse and vivid variety and survival through offspring are an urgent concern in the strictly narrative material.

 

This concern is first signaled in the choice of the name hawah, Eve,

  • “mother of all living” (3:20),
  • for the first woman at the end of a story in which
    • the freshness,
    • innocence,
    • and harmony of man-and-wife-together
    • have been destroyed.

It recurs in Eve’s pretenses in 4:1b after bearing Cain and in the enigmatic story of the Nephilim in 6:1-4.

 

The nakedness of the first couple in 2:25 has a sequel in 9:20-27, in which the genitals of the father become taboo for the sons.

 

The possibilities, limits, and precarious aspects of sexuality are expressly explored in,
  • among other texts, 12:10-20; 20; and 26:1-11;
  • in stories in which women struggle with each other for motherhood, such as 16 and 29:31-30:24; and in 19, 34, and 38,
  • in which characters and reader are forced or invited to decide what is or is not sexually permissible under special circumstances.
  • Tamar, who tricks her father-in-law into lying with her, is dramatically vindicated at the end of chapter 38;
  • and it is by no means certain that the narrator condemns the curious case of incest in chapter 19 (where Lot’s daughters ply their father with drink and become pregnant by him), even if he pokes fun at the dubious origin of the neighboring tribes Moab and Ammon.
Everything converges and fits perfectly at the highest level, that of theme, expressed in the words of God concerning fertility that permeate the book.
  • From the primeval age on, God’s general commandment, “Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth” (1:28), predominates,
  • through the paradoxical intermediary episode of the Deluge (all life is destroyed except one pair of every species, which must be expressly spared to ensure continuity)
  • to the repetition of the commandment to be fruitful in 8:17 and 9:1-3.
  • The scores of names in the toledot of chapters 10 and 11 imply realization of the commandment;
  • the scattering of humanity in 11:9 is both punishment and command.
Especially noteworthy is God’s twofold blessing or promise to the patriarchs, which recurs regularly in the protohistory with the concentrated power of formal verse:
  • 12:1-3 (the programmatic placing at the beginning of the Abraham cycle);
  • 13:14-17; 15:18-21; 17 passim; 22:16-18; 26:3-5; 28:13-14; 35:11-12; and 46:3-4.
  • God promises the patriarchs
  • numerous offspring and the land of Canaan as a permanent home.

Clearly, offspring are not safe without a fixed habitat

  •   and promises of land are useless if there is no procreation.

 

The two parts of the promise/blessing therefore presuppose each other and are intertwined.

  • But their principal importance in terms of narrative organization is that —
    • they thematize and explicate space and time,
    • the fundamental coordinates of life and narrative,
    • at the highest level of meaning.

Space in Genesis is divided, ordered, and sanctified by the divine promise and is also promoted to the status of a theme: 

  • the origin,
  • wanderings,
  • and sojourns of the forefathers.

Time, too, is ordered and, because of the promise, stands under a sign of expectation and fulfillment.

 

In its manifestation of continuity in the genealogies, time is most relevant in the Abraham cycle, where it promotes suspense. This cycle is spanned by an immense tensile arch: will Abraham get the promised son, and will he keep him?

 

When the story begins in chapter 12,
  • Abraham is seventy-five years old and childless.
  • Another twenty-five years elapse before Isaac is born,
  • and immediately afterward God seems to want to take his son away from him, directly counter to his promise.
  • Thus continuity is also threatened with destruction,
  • and time itself with deprivation of purpose.
The meaning of space and time in the Torah as a whole is already determined in Genesis by God himself.

 

Their thematic importance is felt throughout the Torah (and in the subsequent narrative books, then again in the Prophets, Psalms, and Wisdom literature).

 

And because the promises are still unfulfilled by the end of Deuteronomy, when Moses dies, the Torah points beyond itself to the sequel, longing as it were for the fulfillment which begins with the march into the Promised Land.

 

Thus Genesis, in its thematic centering of time and space, constitutes the immovable foundation of the Torah and of the entire Hebrew Bible.

 

When we transpose plot as planning principle from the level of the basic literary unit, the individual story, to the level of the composition of the book, it is the promises of God that carry forward the life cycles. But at this level too the writers introduce a dramatic complication. All three matriarchs, Sarah, Rebekah, and Rachel, are barren—an insurmountable obstacle to continuity.

 

Thus a supraplot arises through and transcends the three cycles.
  • In chapters 5, 10, and 11 the very monotony of the genealogical enumeration suggests that begetting children is a matter of course (and the hyperbolic ages of people who reached eight hundred or nine hundred years indicate that life is long).
  • Accompanying this is a secondary theme, that of the supreme importance of the firstborn son from generation to generation, so that only his name is worth mentioning.
  • From11:30 on, both certainties are radically undermined.

In the stories themselves, the births of Isaac, Jacob, Esau, Joseph, and Benjamin are never described in terms of a begetting (holid) by the father; only afterward is such paternity indicated in the concluding toledot lists.

 

The conception is always represented by God’s opening the womb of the barren woman, after which she can give birth (yaldah). Thus the birth achieves the status of a miracle, foreseen and effected by God alone.
Only he can enable and guarantee continuity.

 

In addition, the importance of primogeniture is three times subverted or handled ironically:
  • Ishmael is older than Isaac and also carrier of the promise;
  • Jacob outrivals Esau but pays a high price, for his maturation is marred and impeded by deceit;
  • and at the end old Jacob’s blessing of Joseph’s sons, Epharaim and Manasse, deliberately reverses younger and elder.

Attentive readers will compare these passages carefully and enjoy participating in the dialectic of correspondence and difference among them.

 

Echoes of the competition between older and younger child are also present on the margin of the story, through Jacob’s wives:
  • Laban exchanges Leah and Rachel behind the bridal veil at Jacob’s marriage (29:16-30the deceiver deceived),
  • and there is a sequel to this episode in the relation between the women, in the agreement they make to trade mandrakes for conjugal rights (30:14-24).
Whichever aspect we consider in the literary text—theme, the coordination of time and space, plot at the levels of story, cycle, or book—the means that create concord are so powerful that they override the aspects of discord. The differences and shifts in language and in types of text which we noted at the outset and which seemed so disturbing now fade, or rather, converge in a plane of a concord sustained from many sides. We are now in a position to reevaluate them as dynamic contrasts.

 

The better we realize that time and space, theme and plot merge to create a synthesis of the heterogeneous, the easier it becomes to enjoy the intended play of differences and oppositions.

 

The more we know our reading to be based on centripetal forces, the easier it is to surrender to the centrifugal movements and explore them as a system of counterpoise.

 

From the Whole to the Parts: A Structural Approach
A competent reader is constantly mindful of the hermeneutical principle that the whole is more than the sum of its parts, and brings this insight to bear. Just as the meaning of a word is determined not by a dictionary definition but by its context, no single element in the Hebrew narrative art can be isolated and described atomistically.

 

Thus we should first investigate the kind of interaction between prose and poetry and the effect produced by the intersection of the two genres.

 

Then we should examine the effect of different lengths of episode and how the points of view of narrator and characters imitate, undermine, or enrich one another.

 

The short poems is Genesis have a special function in the narrative flow. By serving a crystallization points, they create moments of reflection. In a powerful and compact formula they summarize what is relevant; they condense the chief idea and lift it above the incidental.

 

It is no coincidence that the first lines of poetry in the Bible occur at 1:27 and 2:23.
Together they show that man’s essence is defines by two dialogical dimensions,
  • his relation to his partner
  • and his relation to God.

The parallelism of 1:27 (“So God created man in his own image, / in the image of God created he him, / male and female created he them”) suggests that humankind is only in its twofoldness the image of God, which in its turn incorporates the fundamental equality of man and woman.

 

The balance is represented in the concentric symmetry of—-
  • 2:23b, the pattern abcxc’b’a’: “this (being) shall be called ‘isha, because from the ‘ish was taken this (being)” [AT].
  • The sin of man in chapter 3 evokes the fearful question, “Will the image of God be preserved in us?”
  • It receives a positive answer through the thread of poetry in 5:1-2and in 9:6. The fascinating juxtaposition accomplished in 9:6 shows us how poetry in yet another manner distills the essential from the episodic.
    • (in 5:3 man, now called Adam, transmits the image of God to his offspring)
  • Verse 6a is a legal directive which prescribes an accurate balance between capital crime and punishment; 6b contains its sacral motivation (and verse 7 connects it with the theme of fertility):
shofekh dam ha’adam / ba’adam damo yishafekh   (6a)
for in the image of God / made he man.      (6b)

 

The first line is usually wrongly translated “Who sheds the blood of a human being, by a human being his blood shall be shed.” The structure of the first line in Hebrew, however, reveals a symmetry, the concentric pattern abcc’b’a. The purpose of this arrangement is of course to show that the “human being” in the first half-verse is the same person as the “human being” (that is, the victim) in the other. The correct rendering offers a precise image of balanced legal retribution; “Who sheds the blood of a human being, his blood shall (as compensation) for that human being be shed” [AT].

 

This passage is particularly instructive as the first instance of the literary, sometimes even poetic, shaping of many legal enactments and religious rules in the Torah. And this phenomenon in turn opens perspectives for the literary study of the interaction between the narrative and the legislative sections in the Torah.

 

The poem at 12:1-3 is a blessing from God with which Abraham is sent into the wide world, and it forms the first pillar of the tensile arch which spans the cycle 12-25.
Just as programmatic, but in an entirely different manner, is the oracle-poem at 25:23. The sting lies in the tail, “and the elder shall serve the younger.” God foments rebellion against the natural order.
  • The strophe is an oracle to Rebekah, who is pregnant with twins.
  • It is not only the center of power of the overture of the Jacob cycle (25:19-26) but also the foundation of the entire section 25-35, persisting as the matrix of Jacob’s energetic aspiration for power and precedence.
  • Jacob struggles (even during his birth, 25:22a, 26a), intrigues, and deceives in order to oust Esau from the position of firstborn.
  • The moment the reversal becomes irrevocable, again there is poetry: in 27:27-28 two strophes evoke the blessing of God and the cosmos, and their ending (v. 29) makes a point of the polarity rule/serve.
  • Thus the blessing of the deceived Isaac confirms the prenatal oracle.
  • In 27:39b-40 we find the antipode, again in poetry.
    • The “blessing” left for Esau is almost a curse
    • and also revolves on the axis of ruling/serving.
The location of these two poems within the framework of the entire story provides structural proof that the disputed passage 27:26-28:5 forms an organic part of the whole.

 

Note the alternation of the twins and the parents in the following six scenes.
A   Isaac and the son of the berakhah/bekhorah (blessing/birthright), Esau (27:1-5).
B   Rebekah sends Jacob onstage (27:6-17).
C   Jacob appears before Isaac, receives blessing (27:18-29).
C’   Esau appears before Isaac, receives anti-blessing (27:30-40).
B’   Rebekah sends Jacob from the stage (27:41-45)
A’   Isaac and the son of the berakhah/bekhorah (now, Jacob) (27:46-28:5).

 

The family is split into two camps in such a way that the presence of parent and child in each camp excludes the presence of the other parent and the other child. The reversal in the positions of Esau and Jacob is illustrated by the sound play bekhorah (= primogeniture) versus berakhah(= blessing). Sound play and reversal come together and become cogent in a chiasm forged by the duped Esau when he ascribes to the name “Jacob” the meaning “deceiver,” in 27:36a, which can be scanned as a two-line strophe:
Isn’t he called ya’qob?
   He has deceived [ya’qebeni] me twice:
my bekhorah he took away
   and now he takes away my berakhah!  [AT]

 

But an even more powerful structural instrument than poetry, and indeed the most powerful in biblical prose, is repetition. Repetition is used at practically every level of the hierarchy which the text constitutes, from sounds, words, and clauses to stories and groups of stories. It is rarely applied mechanically or inartistically, and usually it features ingenious variations.

 

Thus a dialectic game of identity and difference is created which challenges us to compare parallelisms at various levels and to ask questions such as:
  • What has remained unchanged, and why?
  • What differences occur and what do they mean?

Through the instrument of repetition, Genesis is also replete with parallelisms at various levels. Indeed, it is a classic illustration of Roman Jakobson’s thesis that parallelism is the main characteristic of the literary use of language.

 

Let us consider a few examples.
  • When Jacob must flee Canaan and the deadly revenge of his brother, as night falls he halts at the place that will be called Bethel (28:10-22). When the narrator then states that the sun sets, we gather that this may be symbolic in this phase of Jacob’s life. And yet the full function of the sunset can be appreciated only much later, when the narrator mentions the sun again (32:31). The sun rises at the bank of the Jabbok at the very moment when the hero, maimed by a night’s battle and reborn as “Israel,” joins his people, finally prepared to smooth matters out with Esau. This detail is part of a larger whole. The two fearful nights at Bethel and Penuel with their numinous encounter (dream and struggle) mark the voyage from Canaan to Haran and back and are counterparts in the larger design of the following cycle:
A   Jacob grows up in Canaan, displaces Esau
      birth, oracle   (25:19-26)
      lentil soup / bekhorah   (25:27-34)
      Berakhah / bekhorah   (27:1-28:5)
      Jacob in Bethel, dream  (28:10-22)
X   Jacob in the service of Laban, in Haran: six units, pattern
      ABABAB   (29:-31)
A’   Jacob back in Canaan, toward Esau
      preparations    (32:1-21)
      Jacob in Penuel, fight, rebirth   (32:22-32)
      face to face with Esau   (33)
      back in Bethel   (35:1-15)
      end: birth and death   (35:16-28)

 

The element of space, in the form of Jacob’s long journey to the east and back, structures the cycle as a central panel with two flanks.The hero himself marks the end of each of the three sections with his characteristic activity of erecting a pillar of stones for a monument.

 

Another characteristic repetition strengthens the balance between “God’s House” (Bethel) and “God’s Face” (Peniel or Penuel). Immediately before and after the period in Haran, and nowhere else in the text, a large host of angels ascend and descend the stairs connecting heaven and earth; this spectacular vision forms the prelude to a revelation from God to the fugitive. The host of angels which Jacob meets in Mahanaim (32:1-2) has at first an ambiguous influence on him, for on his way to Esau he is terrified by fantasies of catastrophe and a bad conscience. It emerges, however, that the meaning of the angels is positive and virtually the same as in chapter 28. The one group is the other, an escort on behalf of the God of Abraham for the new bearer of the blessing, on the verge of the Promised Land.

 

The element that determines the segmentation of the Abraham cycle is the narrated time; not surprisingly, for the life of this patriarch is devoted to waiting patiently for the fulfillment of the promise of God, and hence to faith and obedience.

 

Chapters12-21 carefully distribute a sequence of lines indicating age, mostly Abraham’s. These verses form a pattern by which this cycle, too, is divided into three sections.
  • When the story begins, Abraham is seventy-five;
  • when it ends with his death, he is one hundred and seventy-five. The text, then, covers exactly a century.
  • The central panel, however, chapters 17-21, covers the hundredth year of his life, precisely the period in which God makes the concrete and definite announcement of the arrival of Isaac to Abraham and Sarah, and in which the ninety-year-old woman conceives, and the miraculous birth of the son takes place.
    • At the same time, and also in the central panel, the subplot around cousin Lot is completed.
    • The reception of guests at the beginning of 18 is parallel to that at the beginning of 19, and the annunciation of the inferno which God will draw down upon Sodom and Gomorrah stands in polar contrast to the annunciation of the birth.
    • The aspects of sexuality at the beginning and end of 19 (Lot is prepared to cast his daughters to the sharks all around, in contrast to the daughters who get offspring from their father) are closely related to the issue of fertility, which in chapter 20 generates the following comparison of polarities: Sarah/Gerar’s wives = one/all = pregnant/sterile.
    • This reversal of the norm (normal procreation in Gerar versus previous sterility in Sarah) is placed between the annunciation and birth of Isaac.
    • But that period partly overlaps with the one in which Sarah is brought into the harem of the Philistine king!
    • The timing leads us to raise the impertinent question, Is she already pregnant when she arrives there? Surely she has not been made pregnant by … , has he? Not so, of course. Abimelech has not touched her (20:4a), and God himself recognizes the king’s innocence in 20:6.
    • But the point is that the coordinates of time and space create an eerie context for Sarah’s sensitive condition, her only pregnancy. And the narrator keeps the time scheme obscure by revealing nowhere in chapter 20 in which weeks of the hundredth year of Abraham’s life this episode occurs!
I now propose a new integration of chapter 17 into the larger structure of the cycle. Because 18 and 19 constitute antithetical parallels on essential points and, with the fulfillment in 21, frame the ambiguous chapter 20, the principal aspects of the preparation for the birth of Isaac on Abraham’s side and of his annunciation have been isolated from the narrative flow of 18-21 and are provided earlier, in chapter 17. In this case, the one type of text complements the other.

 

Chapter 17 consists almost entirely of speech:
  • the clauses and blessings of the covenant that God confirms with Abraham and formulates, stipulating circumcision as incumbent upon the faithful.
  • The preceding analysis of the underlying scheme of narrated time indicates that this covenant text, with its idiosyncratic use of language, forms a part of the revelation with which God turns to Abraham in 18.
A similar kind of doubling back of narration is apparent in chapter 15. If we read the chapter as an ordinary sequence, problems arise such as the following:  is verse 12, after the night supposed by verse 5, to indicate the beginning of a new night, so that verses 13-21 are later revelations?

 

Such difficulties disappear when we regard the two sections of this text, verses 1-6 and verses 7-21, as different versions of the same nocturnal vision. Then 15:1-5 is the prologue, the short, summary version (with offspring as its subject), and 15:7-21 is the main body of the unit, the elaborate, emphatic version (with its subjects the Promised Land, the future, the Covenant).

 

When Isaac has finally been born and Abraham thinks that the terrible strain is now over, God strikes with a horrible, inconceivable demand: sacrifice your son! At the last moment, this drastic turn of the story yields a paroxysm of fearful tension. The dynamics of life and death present in 18-21 in the form of birth and holocaust, but proceeding on two different tracks (Abraham versus Sodom), are brought together to a painful focus in 22. This chapter constitutes a refined fabric of binary and ternary lines. The basic pattern (the warp) is binary and is controlled by the plot, whose most fearful moment occurs at 10b, when the knife of the father hovers above Isaac’s throat. Thus the chapter is divided into halves, verses 1-10 and 11-19, problem and solution, or command and execution. The opposition between the uncertainty and tension before the reversal and the relief afterward is also hidden in the following chiasm:

 

Abraham … went unto the place of    Abraham lifted up his eyes, and
which God had told him.   (v. 3)         looked, and behold behind him a ram
                                                                        caught …   (v. 13)
On the third day Abraham lifted up     Abraham called the name of that
his eyes, and saw the place afar        place “YHWH provides.”
off.   (v. 4)                                            (v. 14 [AR])

 

The warp of the dual composition is complicated and enriched by the weft of a triple distribution of narrative data. Three times (vv. 1b, 7a, 11) there is a short dialogue in which Abraham is hailed and promptly answers “yes?” (hineni; KJV: “here am I”). Three times there are important utterances from God: the command to sacrifice (v. 2), the prohibition against the sacrifice (v. 12), and the definite confirmation of the blessing (vv. 16-18) with which the theme of the cycle is complete. Also ternary is the key phrase “God will provide”: dark and ambiguous in the mouth of the father to his son in verse 8, relieved in 14a, a proverb which perpetuates the incident in 14b. Until that moment also the variation of report and speech is ternary:
speeches: command from God (vv. 1-2)
action: preparation, material, journey + refrain line  (vv. 3-6)
speeches: conversation between father and son + refrain line (vv. 7-8)
action: arrival, altar built, sacrifice prepared  (vv. 9-10)
speeches: command from God not to sacrifice  (vv. 11-12)
action: Abraham’s substitution and slaughter of the sacrificial animal  (v. 13)

 

The double naming in verse 14 underlines and concludes this sequence. The refrain line at the end of verses 6 and 8 and in the middle of 19,and they went both of them together,” signals a nexus in the binary-ternary fabric. By means of this wordplay the narrator explores the possibilities of the root, yhd, “one.” He uses two derivatives from this root, yahid, “only one,” and yahdaw, “together,” and places them both in three lines that occupy key positions, in order to set us thinking of the unity of father and son, now being threatened:

 

Speech                                                            Report
Take now thy son, thine only                          and they went both of them
one   (v. 2 [AR])                                               together  (v. 6)
thou hast not withheld thy son, thine              so they went both of them
only son from me   (v. 12)                               together   (v. 8)
thou … hast not withheld thy son,                  they went (back) together   (V. 19)
thine only son [from me]    (v. 16)

 

This ingenious wordplay creates a paradox at the heart of the message: by showing his willingness to give up his only son, Abraham gets him back, and a much deepened togetherness begins, both between father and son and between the Lord and his obedient follower.

 

The hardest hour for Jacob occurs during a frightful night by the brook Jabbok (32:22-32). Here, too, the issue involves life or death, this time in terms of displacement and definite psychic hardening versus inner renewal. Jacob returns to his native country and must now face what he has been able to evade for twenty years: his past as a fraud, his bad conscience toward his brother. The imminent confrontation with Esau puts him in a moral pressure cooker and forces him to pass through a process of maturation at an accelerated rate. Tricks to placate or evade Esau (32:4-5, 7-8, 14-20) no longer help; fear of death and feelings of guilt get a firm hold of Jacob. For the first time we hear him praying to God. Stripped of all ornament (vv. 9-10 and 12), his prayer becomes a simple cry for help,Deliver me” (the center, v. 11a). The reconciliation that Jacob now attempts is still impure, for it remains in fact an effort to bribe Esau with gifts. Jacob has still to recognize that his stand on the back line (which is a refusal to take responsibility, 32:18, 20) must be replaced by a position up front (acknowledgement of guilt and a plea for forgiveness, 33:3, 10-11). But that does not happen until chapter 33.

 

First the impasse and self-confrontation must be complete, and Jacob’s ego must undergo a horrible death (32:22-32). To demonstrate the structure of this literary unit I shall transcribe it in its entirety. The capital letters represent the five major links of the whole, which shows a design ABXB’A’; in the central dialogue, another concentric pattern and our chief consideration, the lowercase letters mark the subdivision. M and J stand for “man” and Jacob; the verse numbers and their subdivisions are given at the right.

 

A         And he rose up that night                                                                             22a
            and took his two wives, and his two womenservants, and
            his eleven sons,                                                                                          22b
            and passed over the ford Jabbok.                                                              22c
            And he took them, and sent them over the brook,                                     23a
            and sent over that he had.                                                                         23b
            And Jacob was left alone;                                                                         24a
B         and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day               24b
            And when he saw that he prevailed not against him,                                25a
            he touched the hollow of his thigh;                                                           25b
            and the hollow of Jacob’s thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled
            with him.                                                                                                   25c
X         a          M. “Let me go, for the day breaketh.”                                           26ab
                        J. “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me.”                           26cd
            x          M. “What is thy name?”                                                               27ab
                        J. “Jacob [Fraud].”                                                                      27cd
                        M. “Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel:           28ab
                        for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men,
                        and hast prevailed.”                                                                   28c
            a’         J. “Tell me, I pray thee, thy name.”                                           29ab
                        M. “Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name?”           29cd
                        And he blessed him there.                                                       29e
B’         And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel:                                  30a
            “for I have seen God face to face,                                                       30b
            and my life is preserved.”                                                                    30c
A’         And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him,                      31a
            and he halted upon his thigh                                                              31b

 

The combination AA’ both separates Jacob from and joins him with his family. It is marked by the key word “passed,” which is also prominent in the context; compare 32:16 and 21a (Jacob hiding himself behind, v.  20) with 33:3 (Jacob finally daring to appear).

 

With its opposition night / sunrise the pair AA’ frame this unique night.

 

The elements BB’ present the action proper, a long and frightening struggle in the dark, plus the profound interpretation of the event, given by the hero himself. They embody an opposition of report and speech, concealing and revealing respectively the identity of Jacob’s redoubtable opponent.

 

The pairs AB and B’A’ frame Xas the heart, and X indeed has its own nature. It is a sustained dialogue showing a perfect circularity.

 

The axis on which the circular scheme ABXB’A’ revolves is to be found precisely in the middle of the middle, where the old Adam is defined, and Jacob’s black past is for the last time summarized in the name with the association “deceiver.”

 

Then he receives the accolade from his mysterious opponent: henceforth, your name will beIsrael.

 

The act of separation (a disjunction) in A ensures that Jacob is left completely on his own (that is, must stand up for himself, take responsibility).

 

The night functions not only as a cover for the opponent but also as a symbol for Jacob’s dark side, with which the hero must come to terms.

 

Repeating the key word “passed” and reuniting Jacob with his family, verse 31 represents a conjunction.

 

This element, A’, deliberately and symbolically places the sun at the beginning of the main clause.

 

The action of B is clarified in B’.

 

 Unlike Hosea 12:5, the narrator purposely does not reveal who the man of the night is, but modestly makes room for the protagonist himself, who in verse 30 draws his own far-reaching conclusions and then spells them out for us.

 

With his announcement of his deliverance in verse 30c comes the proper fulfillment of his cry for help in 11a.

 

Even under the enormous stress of this rite de passage, Jacob remains himself in that his obsessive desire to be blessed still asserts itself. Afterward he realizes that he can symbolically surrender the blessing he has stolen from Esau.

 

The tying off of the network of occurrences of the root brk (“to bless”) comes in 33:10-11, when Jacob begs his brother to accept the gift, which is a berakhah. After one line from Esau (A), Jacob replies at length:
A          “I have enough, my brother; keep that thou hast unto thyself.”                      9
B          “If now I have found grace in thy sight,                                                       10
C         then receive my present at my hand,
D         for truly I see thy face
X          as I have seen the face of God [AR],
D’         and thou wast pleased with me.
C’         Take, I pray thee, my blessing that is brought to thee;                                11
B’         because God hath dealt graciously with me,
A’         and because I have enough.”

 

Beside the Jabbok, the mirror Jacob had to look into was called “God”; this time it is called “Esau.”
The key-word style and concentric structure in both passages ensure that the vision of God and the actual sight of the exemplary fellow human being (the brother) flow into each other as halves of a metonymy.

 

Jacob had expected murder from Esau but received a long and ardent embrace. As a consequence of his doing no more than staying put and enduring the impasse, the future is open. How differently did matters end in chapter 4, where the relation of “a man toward his brother” (the Hebrew expression for human mutuality) was first explored. The result, fratricide, makes chapter 4 a kind of duplicate of the fall in 3.

 

In chapters 32-33 it now appears that there are more constructive possibilities for solving a broken fraternal relationship.

 

Finally, in the last cycle of the book, the psychology of crime, guilt, remorse, and compunction among brothers is worked out much more thoroughly, under the direction of the master manipulator Joseph. He puts his brothers, who once threw him into the pit, through a protracted ordeal (chaps. 42-44). Only when they have fully sympathized with the pain of young Benjamin and their old, fragile father and have broken down under the weight of their own bad conscience does he reveal himself to them as their brother who was predestined by God to ensure their survival—now in two senses, from famine and from crime. The brothers are then reconciled (chap. 45).

 

Thus the theme of brotherhood, a metonymy for the bond that links humanity, is handled with growing complexity from the beginning of Genesis to the end.

Discourse: S6K/Messianic – The Lamb of God – 2

[This is one of a series of email exchanges between Sinaites and our Evangelical-turned-Messianic Bible teacher identified as “RW”.  This post and others related to it are dated in the year 2012, two years after we left Christianity/Messianic Judaism.  Our former Christian colleagues avoided us like the plague but our former Bible teacher continued to debate with us on email, questioning our “apostasy” from our Christian roots, incredulous that we would turn away from the Christian Savior.  We were of course accused of never having been “true believers” and admittedly in hindsight,  maybe we weren’t even if we didn’t realize it then, since we kept seeking the One True God and questioned too many inexplicable “mysteries” in the belief system of that major world religion, primarily the nature, relationship and differing roles of its Trinitarian Godhead.

 

For those interested in the continuing Discourse between Sinaite “S6K”/Messianic “RW”, here are other posts:

Admin1]

 

————————

 

 

 THE Lamb of God  by “RW”

What does this mean?

 

 “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! John 1:29.   

 

What do you think it meant to John, who said it? 

—————————

 

S6K: 

First, the identity of “John.”  As we see it, there are 2  “Johns” involved here:

  • the writer who used the name “John” for the 4th gospel;
  • and John the baptist (baptizer), let’s call the baptizer by his Hebrew name Yochanan.  

John the gospel writer was supposedly—-

  • John the beloved,
  • one of the 12,
  • the one to whom Mary was endorsed by Jesus while dying on the cross,
  • established his ministry at Ephesus [or so christian tradition claims],
  • to whom was attributed 3 epistles [1,2,3 John] and the Apocalyptic book of Revelation.
  • His gospel, as scholars note, is different from the synoptic gospels, quite unique in his presentation of Jesus from the opening verses which read like the opening verses of Genesis. and designs his gospel like a good literary piece.
    • He simply states his claim—Jesus is the Word of God,
    • who himself is God the Creator,
    • who became man, etc.

But since the gospel writer put the words “Behold the Lamb of God” in Yochanan’s mouth, we have to figure out what was the gospel writer’s purpose for saying so —

    • did all 4 gospels make the same claim, and if so, where did they get their material?
    • Were the gospel writers eyewitnesses, participants in the events they recorded or did they record hand-me-down stories?
    • Did Matthew, Mark, Luke and John really write the gospels that bear their names?
  • There are current researches published in books today questioning the authorship of the 4 gospels which we have featured time and again; one of them is FORGED by Bart D. Ehrman [please refer to those articles listed on our Updated Site Contents.]

The writer of the gospel of John assigned these words to Yochanan; who is he? Culled from the gospels, he is—- 

  • son of high priest Zechariah 
  • and wife Elizabeth [cousin of Mary the mother of Jesus],
  • from the tribe of Levi, 
  • and as high priest, in the line of Aaron.  
  • John as a Jew and a Levite would have been Torah-educated, and if so, Torah-observant,
  • would associate the word “lamb” most likely with the passover lamb, 
  • perhaps the lambs offered in the daily sacrifices at the Temple.  

First, a thought about Yochanan as “the baptist,” meaning someone who “baptizes.”  If Christianity officially became a religion in 325 CE and baptism was one of its rituals for babies (Catholics) and born-again baptism (adults who choose to be “Christians”), what is a Jew like Yochanan, doing “baptizing” people?  Was that a Jewish thing to do, required by the TORAH? We know about “ritual cleansing” which requires more than just being dunked in water or sprinkled, please go to this link to learn all about Mikveh and the purposes for it in scripture and in Judaism:[http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/judaica/ejud_0002_0014_0_13881.html].

 

Second, why would Yochanan now refer to his cousin Jesus [let’s call him by his Hebrew name Yeshua] as “the Lamb of God”?  Both of them, being Jews, would know the symbolism of the passover lamb in the liberation of their people from Egyptian bondage. The lamb was one of the many gods of Egypt; we have written other articles on this [please check UPDATED SITE CONTENTS]. That lamb was cooked and consumed by the family; the blood on doorposts was a bold show of defiance to Egyptians about what Israelite slaves did to so many lambs slaughtered, cooked, and eaten. The temple sacrifices had not yet been given as a concession to the Israelites’ propensity to worship like the nations did. Certainly, the passover lamb was not a temple sacrifice.

 

Third, as for the lambs sacrificed at the tabernacle/temple as as commanded later, none of the Temple animal sacrifices were ever intended nor could actually take away man’s sins, not even make up for sins; only true repentance [conviction of sin, confession, and turning away from sin could earn God’s forgiveness—sample–David].

 

 

————————

 

 

RW: Their minds probably would think of Leviticus and the sin and trespass offerings.  Since most Jews in Yeshua’s day had the Torah memorized, they would have had no problem scanning their memory for information. 

 

 

Do you know of any place in the Tanakh where a male lamb is sacrificed as a sin offering? I cannot find any. What I do find consistently is a goat sacrificed as a sin offering, sometimes a bull, and a female lamb or goat for a sin or trespass offering.  

 

 

“If anyone of the common people sins unintentionally…he shall bring for his offering a goat, a female without blemish…(or) if he brings a lamb as his offering for a sin offering, he shall bring a female without blemish.” Lev 4:27-32 and Lev 5:6. 

“And he shall bring his trespass offering unto the LORD for his sin which he hath sinned, a female from the flock, a lamb or a kid of the goats, for a sin offering.” 

 

 

Both a bull and two goats are used on Yom Kippur, and at other special times as well, including during the Millennium, or Kingdom Age, as we understand Ezekiel 40 – 48 to be.  

 

Another question that might come into their thinking, and ours, is, does the blood of goats or bulls actually take away sin?

 

 Up to Yeshua’s time, the answer would be “No,” since this blood only made “atonement,” a temporary “ransom by means of a substitute” to cover their sins shown by the fact that the Yom Kippur sacrifices had to be repeated every year at the moed, or appointed time on the 10th day of Tishrei.

 

 The answer for us is Hebrews 10:4.

 

 “For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.”

 

 

 ———————————-

 

 

S6K:   As Rabbi M. Younger of Aish.com answered in our “Ask the Rabbi” series:

 

The idea of how the animal offerings worked is most often misunderstood. Many believe that sacrifice was the only way to achieve atonement. Actually, atonement always was accompanied by sincere prayer, teshuva (spiritual return), and charity. Hoshea (8:13) decries people bringing offerings without making an attempt to get closer to God. For this reason, their offerings were rejected.

 

The animal offering aided the atonement process, as it drove home the point that really the person deserved to be slaughtered, but an animal was being used in his/her place. The offering also helped atonement in many spiritual mystical ways. But we should not mistake the animal offering for more than what it is. It was an aid to atonement. It did not cause atonement.

 

Logically, how can one think that the death of an animal could atone for their sins? If a person were to commit an atrocity, such as murder, stealing, adultery, or even less severe sin, could one possibly think that slaughtering a cow and a sheep will atone for the sin? Of course not! God is not a child who is appeased by gifts and animal slaughter. God, the true judge, provides atonement for those who sincerely desire to fix their ways. An offering must be accompanied with the will to get closer to God (prayer), a promise to observe the words of the Torah more carefully (teshuva), and concern for God’s creation (charity).

 

 

Since the baptizer was considered in Christian teaching to be the prophetic voice that breaks the 400 year silence since the last prophet in the TNK [Malachi] and later one referred to as Elijah by Jesus himself, then perhaps going along with this thinking/teaching, Yochanan was a prophet who could make such a proclamation that Jesus is the Lamb of God [pointing towards fulfillment of the FINAL sacrificial LAMB on the cross later in the gospel story.] 

 

 

——————————-

 

 

RW:  And what did it mean to those around him who heard it?  

 

——————————–

 

 

S6K:  Good question to ask of any bible student —what would any text have meant to the speaker and the original hearers, not to the reader today living in 21st century.  We must time-travel and place ourselves into the culture, original language and what words meant then [if possible], and listen and understand with their ears and their mindset. If that is at all possible for the student with limited access to resources, study aids, etc. The best approach would be to learn from Jews themselves who know how they would think if they heard such words uttered. The reason Jews cannot be persuaded to believe in the “New Testament” is because it conflicts with their “Old” even if they teach that one works perfectly with the other as prophecy and fulfillment. We have written articles about the differences between the two scriptures; again, please refer to those.  

 

 

 

 

How now do we celebrate Sukkot . . . or do we?

Image from ursularoma6.blogspot.com

Image from ursularoma6.blogspot.com

[This was first posted in 2014.  Sukkot this year 5777/2016 falls on October 17.—Admin1.]

———–

 

The first time I attended a Sukkot festival was when (then-messianics-now-Sinaites) VAN and BAN invited me to their congregation’s celebration.

 

If I didn’t know they were into Christ-centered Messianic Judaism (that sounds like a triple oxymoron), I would have thought I was in a Jewish affair except none of the celebrants looked like Jews.

 

They had a ‘sukkah’ or booth from which were hanging vegetables and fruits.  They sang Jewish songs and danced the ‘hora’,  the traditional circle dance.  Part of their prayers were in Hebrew . . . and the name they invoked most of the time was ‘YHWH-Yeshua’.

 

At the time I was ignorant and clueless and did not mind Christ-centered believers elevating Jesus to God or on this occasion, ‘Yeshua’ to YHWH.  What did I know?

 

 

I wondered at myself then why I was not persuaded to ‘convert’ from evangelical Christianity to Messianic Judaism; after all I had studied it on my own almost as much as they did.   In fact sharing any discovery with others on any subject, but specially in health or religion, was and continues to be my obsession at the risk of being a turnoff and a ‘bore’.

 

‘MJ’ introduced me to the Old Testament which, typical of most Christians, I had not bothered to study much; like everyone else, I reasoned ‘why go there, there’s enough to study in the New; after all it’s not applicable to me, I’m under grace and not law’.

 

In time, after attending a series of Messianic conferences and teaching seminars, I concluded:

    • the belief system was the same banana,
    • except one was in Christian garb and the other in Jewish dress,
    • both believing the Trinitarian God
    • and focusing on the Second Person, the Son—
    • one calling him Jesus Christ, the other ‘Yeshua HaMaschiach’.
    •  One focused mostly on the New Testament while the other re-studied the Old but ‘fast-forwarding’ to the New constantly, to prove ‘prophecy’ in one and ‘fulfillment’ in the other.

 

Image from www.despines.com

Image from www.despines.com

I like using the zebra as example of this way of ‘seeing’ or ‘reading’ or understanding the  Christian/Messianic movement:

    •  is the zebra black with white stripes or
    • white with black stripes?

Whichever way you explain the zebra, the fact is the zebra has black and white stripes and because of those stripes, this creature is still identifiably a zebra.

 

Messianic Judaism sounds like it’s Jewish because of the word “Judaism” and it probably draws Jewish converts just like the  ‘Jews for Jesus’ movement whose mission it is to convince Jews to believe the Jewish Jesus is their long-awaited messiah. Messianics use Jewish symbols and trappings: menorah, mezuzah, tzitzit, shofar, prayer shawls, star of David jewelry with a cross superimposed on it.  In fact after meeting a lot of Jews in my city lately, the Messianics appear even more Jewish than true-blue Jews! Sinaites have been wrongly perceived as Jew-wannabes but the real Jew-wannabes are Messianics.

 

So back to the Sukkot celebration — at the end, except for the name of the God they constantly invoked, I felt like I had attended a Jewish affair.

 

That was 2007.  We are now in 2014.  What happened in seven years? Ah seven, a significant number in the Hebrew Scriptures, how providentially coincidental can this be?

 

As we have many times recounted our transition in personal accounts under JOURNEY, we—VAN and BAN and our core community of 8—are now ‘Sinaites’ and as such, we have weaned ourselves from our Messianic Judaism orientation into arriving at our own conclusions regarding what gentiles like ourselves are required by the Torah Giver.

 

We keep reminding ourselves we are gentiles, not Jews.  Surely, the God of Israel had a plan for all humanity and as we kept studying the Hebrew Scriptures and particularly the Torah, the fog started to lift, hallelu YAH indeed!  We can pray like gentiles, celebrate feasts like gentiles, live Torah like gentiles, but if we wish to borrow from the wonderful traditions of the Jews, we could and in fact we do!

 

With regard the seven feasts commanded in Leviticus 23, we analyzed that while all seven are in the historical and national experience of the chosen people, the nation of Israel then and now,  only three out of seven are applicable to a gentile’s experience of the universal God:

    • the weekly Sabbath observed by the Creator at the culmination of creation week;
    •  Shavuot which is the anniversary of the giving of Torah on Sinai; and
    • Yom Kippur, since Jew and Gentile commit transgressions against God and fellowman.

Still, we are free to celebrate all seven if we so wish, to join Israel in commemorating their forbears’ liberation from Egypt (Pesach) and Feast of Unleavened Bread, and their living in tents during their wilderness wandering.

 

It is not an ‘obligation’ but a heartfelt desire to honor and obey the commandments of YHWH that apply to us and are relevant to our gentile experience; we obey as many as we can manage to obey in the context of our culture and our times.  It is a lifestyle, not a religion.

 

Image from six11.wordpress.com

Image from six11.wordpress.com

That cathedral in the heart (worship) and that cathedral in time (Sabbath)—both are built into our system and become ingrained in our essence if we so choose.  It’s all about personal choice, not attending ‘church’ or religious affiliation.

 

As we have written in one post:

 

Deuteronomy/Davarim 27: First duty in the Land: build an altar to YHWH  

 

“The ‘altar’ in these instructions should be built in the one and only earthly place where it belongs:  in the heart of man from whence the love of YHWH is birthed once the mind recognizes, learns and understands the importance of the knowledge of the One True God. One cannot truly love what one does not know . . . but once introduced to the Creator and Master of the universe through His revelation on Sinai, that altar in the heart is automatically built. . . and then true worship begins, not at church, not in front of an altar, but in outward expressions of what is in the heart, simply living the Torah with an ever-conscious appreciation of this benevolent and gracious God!”

 

The feasts of Leviticus 23, “MY feasts” — serve as reminders to Israel of the goodness of the God of Israel. . . . but since YHWH is the universal God, these remind us, gentiles of the Nations, to look to Israel as proof there is a God Who manifested  Himself and revealed His Will and Way of life to Israel so that all humanity might learn about Him and know Him.

 

The prophesied end:

 

 And YHWH shall be King over all the earth;

in that day there shall be one LORD with one name.  

Zechariah 14:9.

 

 

As our soul/spirit/essence lives in our temporary ‘home’ — our earthly body — our ‘tent’, may we never cease to acknowledge the Source of our breath and bread of life. His Name is YHWH, the cause for our season of joy, Jew and Gentile.

 

 

Instill your awe upon all Your works,

and fear of You on all that You have created.” 

 

— a Jewish Prayer during  the ‘Days of Awe’ acknowledging the sovereignty of God on all humankind.

 

From:   Sukkot: The Dual Festival & ‘Covenant & Conversation’ 5775 on Ethics by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks:

 

http://us7.campaign-archive2.com/?u=2a91b54e856e0e4ee78b585d2&id=8b9eb91097&e=891e5d661b

 

 

Image from www.pinterest.com

Image from www.pinterest.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Amen!

 

NSB@S6K

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