Chapter 7: Anticipated Judgment: The Eighth Century

PROPHETISM AND THE EIGHTH-CENTURY INDICTMENT:

Amos 1-9



Fallen, no more to rise, is the virgin of Israel.

Amos 5:2

The New in Prophetism

There are elements in classical prophetism which are distinctly new. There is the new that is external: a new situation which emerges out of pragmatic history, out of the actual course of real events and which could not have been anticipated. It is a new epoch, which develops out of the wide range of possibilities determined by the past. And in eighth-century Israel it was a new epoch charged with tragedy.

There are, of course also the new internal elements, but the internal is inseparable from the external. The classical prophets now see Israel’s historical existence, first brought into being out of Egypt, turning back again into that same essential abyss, chaos, and unendurable meaninglessness. For the prophets from Moses to Elijah and Elisha, Egypt lay in the past, however wide of Yahweh’s mark Israel’s performance might be. But now, Egypt, or what Egypt represented, lay in the future as well. Out of the Egyptian existence of formlessness and void Yahweh had created for Israel a life relatively formed and ordered; certainly in the popular mind this definition of existence continued to be valid and to provide meaning enough for historical consciousness, however strong the opposing judgment from core Yahwism, from prophetic Yahwism.

Here, of course, in Israel’s core of Yahweh loyalists, the meaning of the present was not so superficially determined. The present was appraised and its meaning apprehended in terms of Yahweh’s participation in Israel’s past; and his ultimate purpose in the future. But until the eighth century the future could be seen in continuum with the present, holding in prospect essentially more of the same, or even, in the prophetic view, the restoration of Yahweh’s lost order. Now prophetism envisages discontinuity between the present and the future, the catastrophic imposition from without of disorder and chaos, the abrupt and violent termination of Israel past and present.

The Historical Context

The new aspects of external history and the related internal prophetic mind were initially produced in the middle of the eighth century simply by the aggressive ambition of Assyria backed, for the first time in several centuries, with the leadership and power to implement ambition. Tiglath-pileser III assumed the throne of Assyria in 745 B.C., "the first of an uninterrupted series of great soldiers on the throne of Assyria, who quickly brought the Neo-Assyrian Empire to the zenith of its power and created an empire in the ancient Orient which for the first time united almost the whole of the ancient Orient under Assyrian rule."1 Indeed, within a single decade of the accession of Tiglath-pileser all of the oriental world that he wanted was clearly either in fact or potentially his. By 721, when the Northern kingdom of Israel fell to Assyria, any hopes of political existence independent of Assyria entertained by smaller neighboring states were simply fatuous. From Tiglath-pileser’s days (745-727), through the successive reigns of Shalmaneser V (727-722), Sargon II (to 705), Sennacherib (to 681), and Essarhaddon (to 669), Assyria’s position of world domination was beyond serious challenge.

The succeeding reign of Asshurbanipal (669-632), unlike his predecessors a patron of the arts rather than of war, was the beginning of the undoing of Assyrian world rule. Assyria slowly succumbed to the vicious powers of the Chaldeans of Babylon, the Medes of the mountains of Iran, and the bands of Umman-manda (apparently Scythians) from the steppes of Russia; and the long death-agony of Assyria was finally ended in decisive battles of 612 and 610 B.C. But unhappily, Assyria’s collapse provided only a brief respite for the barely surviving Israelite kingdom of Judah. For now Assyria’s position in the world was appropriated by Neo-Babylonian power. The political center of the ancient Middle East was moved from Nineveh to Babylon. The sentence of political death was imposed on Judah in the first quarter of the sixth century. The cycle was complete. Israel became once more void and without form. She was once more swallowed up in the chaos of captivity. From uncreation to creation, she was now relegated again to the uncreated. The symbolic word of the eighth-century prophet Hosea (11:5) was fulfilled: "They shall return to the land of Egypt!"

Classical prophetism rises, then, first in the consciousness that Israel now stands between Egypts, that what she was she will be again. Heretofore in Israelite Yahwism the meaning of the present was taken primarily from the understanding and interpretation of the past (see Deut. 6:20 ff.; cf. 26:5-9). So it is in the old cultic credos:

We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt; and Yahweh brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand . . . that he might bring us in and give us the land which he swore to give to our fathers.

This confession of faith addresses the future, if at all, only implicitly, for the future is of a piece with the present. "Now" embraces tomorrow and tomorrow.2 The appropriate response to the confessional knowledge of meaning in history is, of course, faithful participation in the Yahweh cultus. Such is the sense of Deuteronomy 6:24 (cf. 26:10, the similar conclusion of a variant of the same basic cultic confession):

And Yahweh commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear Yahweh our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive, as at this day.

Yahwism before the eighth century understood the past and the present chiefly in terms of Yahweh’s positive action on behalf of Israel. If the future is addressed, it is in the confident expectation that it will be in predictable conformity with the past. One sees this in the preclassical prophets. Elijah, for example, believes this, even though he knows full well that Israel’s unfaith has already reduced to disorder the order which Yahweh purposed in Israel. But the classical prophets, from Amos on, are forced to reinterpret the meaning of the present not only in terms of a heightened sense of Israel’s failure to maintain Yahweh’s true order in the present, but also in overwhelming awareness of an immediate future charged with tragedy. This imminent tragedy is deemed to be no less Yahweh’s doing than the great formative event of redemption from Egypt, or political self-fulfillment under the David-Zion covenant. For the classical prophet the old two-member scheme, "out of Egypt, into this land," has become a three-member scheme — "out of Egypt, into this land, back to Egypt again."

Yahweh who redeemed the nation for his own purposes now finds those purposes thwarted by the unfaith and unrighteousness of Israel. Therefore, he will now commit the nation to its preredeerned status of chaos for the same essential purposes. Why? What lies beyond the second Egypt? Is there, in other words, a fourth member to be added to the three-member scheme. Above all, how does all this qualify the nature of existence under Yahweh in the present time?

These questions and their answers are the essence of classical prophetism. They are the context of Israelite prophetism in the eighth to the sixth centuries.3

Amos: Book and Prophet

The literary-critical problems are few and small. The book is substantially a unit. Some of the woes pronounced upon small neighboring states in chapters 1-2 have commonly been regarded as secondary, particularly the condemnation of Judah, 2:4-5. The superbly articulated doxologies of 4:13, 5:8-10, and 9:5-6 may be later editorial insertions. The ending of Amos, from 9: 8b, has often been regarded as an appendix on the grounds that it represents too radical a change of mood to be a part of the original unit. Now these may be good guesses, but it is important to recognize that this remains a guessing game. We do not even know how the writing first came into existence — whether by the prophet’s own hand (unlikely) or at his dictation (possible); or, with greater possibility, from a circle of prophets-disciples among whom the words of Amos were first "recorded" in memory.

The contents of Amos may be surveyed in this fashion:

1-2 A series of oracular indictments (of Damascus, Gaza, Tyre, Edom, Ammon, Moab, Judah, and Israel) climaxed in the final oracle against Israel.

3-6 The condition of Israel’s present unsatisfying, rebellious existence.

7 The three visions of locust, fire, and plumbline.

8-9 The vision of summer fruit; the pronouncement of Israel’s final and irremediable doom; and (whether secondary or not) the proclamation of hope in Israel’s future beyond the catastrophe of historical judgment.

One may interpret the astonishing phenomenon of classical Israelite prophetism in two ways. It emerges among the ancient Israelites, one may insist, as a kind of mechanical achievement wrought by the accidents of history. It is, as such, a product of Interaction between history and human genius. Now, it is a perennial problem in the life of faith that this remains a possible and credible explanation.

The prophets themselves would, of course, resoundingly repudiate this interpretation of prophetism. They would insist, as the Bible insists, as the life of faith continues to insist, that this epoch in Israelite history witnessed an intense series of divine-human encounters, initiated by God himself and effected by his Word. In this view the phrase, the Word of Yahweh, represents no courteous condescension to religion or piety, no innocent lie thoroughly conventionalized to mean in fact the word of man. It means the Word of God, initiated by God, irresistibly breaking into the life and work of men from Moses’ time on and with peculiar, sustained potency in the classical prophets. In all of these we cannot fail to note — whatever else is the work of the Word — the sharp, specific references to the throbbing life of contemporary human history.

If King Ahab, more than a century earlier, had characterized Elijah in the phrase, "You troubler of Israel" (I Kings 18:17), how much more fervently might Jeroboam II have thrown that epithet at Amos. Amos not only condemned the prostitution of Yahwism in Israel and unethical behavior in the king. He heartily damned the whole fabric of society; he repudiated with violence and contempt all of Israel’s life and thought and practice, including even its worship of Yahweh (e.g., 5:21-23).

Although a native of the Southern kingdom from the little village of Tekoa, about seven miles southeast of Bethlehem, his one recorded public appearance was at Bethel, the official Southern sanctuary of the Northern kingdom. In appreciation of his efforts here, the local authorities cordially expelled him, with the firm invitation for the future to do his preaching at home — or anywhere but Bethel. "It is," said Amaziah, the presiding priest of Bethel, "the king’s sanctuary, and it is a temple of the kingdom" (7:13). Amos’ only trouble — it is always the prophets’ trouble — was his insistence that sanctuary, temple, and kingdom all are Yahweh’s!

It would appear from this same exchange between Amaziah and Amos that the term prophet still commonly denoted a certain official status, or some professional affiliation with organized prophetism. We observe that thus far in Old Testament history, professional prophetism has been both of Yahweh and Baal. The professional prophetism of Yahweh appears neutral in quality as associated with Saul, "good" as associated with Obadiah (I Kings 18:13; cf. 19:14) and Elisha, and on the whole "had" as associated with Ahab’s court as we see the court prophets contrasted with one of their number, Micaiah (II Kings 22).

Amos denies unequivocally any professional status (7:14): "I am not a prophet, and I am not a son of a prophet" (that is, I belong to no guild, no band, no association of prophets). It is, of course, possible to translate "was" rather than "am." The verb "to be" is commonly supplied in translation since it does not appear in Hebrew. Grammatically the imperfect may even be "equally possible" as some have insisted.4 But in context it does not appear to be natural. Amos is denying, not necessarily in heat and certainly not necessarily in repudiation of the institution of prophetism, that he does not himself represent what Amaziah has just imputed to him. He has had no contact with the professional, associated prophets: "Yahweh took me from following the flock, and Yahweh said to me, ‘Go, prophesy to my people Israel!’" (7:15). His action here at Bethel is inspired by this personal confrontation with Yahweh, not by any group apprehension. Not that institutional prophetism may not and does not have this valid, authentic apprehension; nor that Amos is unwilling to be cast in a prophetic role (3:3-8 indicates the contrary!), but simply and exclusively that neither the group phenomenon nor any other official connection happens to be his origin, as charged by Amaziah. Something new comes into the term prophet with Amos. Even Elijah is recognized from the beginning as fulfilling the role of prophet, man of God. Amos is freshly created and validated a prophet only and directly by the Word.

He speaks in passionate and apparently unrelieved condemnation. He excoriates the social structure and practice of the entire nation, in which increasingly during the reign of Jeroboam II wealth was extorted from the poor, in which deceit and dishonesty were the rule; in which great masses of the poor, the dispossessed, the powerless were crushed under the weight of an easy discrimination, a rank and complacent injustice.

He damns the religious structure in which the fervent hymns of praise and the devout symbols of dedication were matched by a fervent immorality and a devout pursuit of vanity; in which Yahwism was enthusiastically endorsed at the sanctuaries but — as Amos saw the Yahweh faith — blatantly violated in business, domestic, and personal relationships. Yahweh was acknowledged with the lips, but denied in the total performance of Israel’s life.

We first learn from Amos of the popularly expected Day of Yahweh. Nothing more brilliantly illustrates the polar disparity between prophetic and popular expectations for the future. Amos declares Israel’s certain doom. The jig is up. Time and Yahweh’s patience have run out. What Israel calls and anticipates as the Day of Yahweh is imminent, but let no one be so foolish as to long for the Day’s coming. It will be darkness and not light. It will be gloom, with no brightness at all (5:18-20).

Israel has brought upon herself the sentence of death which Amos proclaims with bitter fury and passion. He is at pains to let Israel know the magnitude of her rejection of role as Yahweh’s people. We read, then, with wonder and appreciation. Here is an incomparably intimate, partisan interpretation of the life of a little Near Eastern state in the second quarter of the eighth century, the words of Amos, who was among the shepherds of Tekoa, which he saw concerning Israel in the days of Uzziah king of Judah and in the days of Jeroboam the son of Joash, king of Israel. . . (1:1)

CONTINGENCY AND COMPASSION:

AMOS AND HOSEA 1-14

How can I give you up, O Ephraim!

Hos. 11:8

The Positive in Amos

It would be woefully wrong to interpret Amos as an exponent of moral law. Israel’s doom is for Amos no mechanical, impersonal, and automatically invoked judgment. For Amos, as for all prophetism, justice and righteousness (5:24) are not abstractions or in any sense absolutes. They have no independent meaning. These are terms which have meaning only in specific, familiar relationships, and the particular meaning is determined by the particular relationship. When Amos cries, "Let justice roll along [RSV, roll down] like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream!" (5:24), he means specifically justice and righteousness in the Yahweh-Israel relationship, the justice and righteousness in human relationships which honor Yahweh, by which the life of Yahweh’s people is fulfilled, and in adherence to which Yahweh’s purposes in Israel may be consummated. Morality and ethics subsist only in theology. Justice and righteousness in prophetism are derivatives of faith. Israel’s violation is not of principles but of persons, and ultimately the person of Yahweh. The judgment is not a result of the automatic action of some mechanism built into the moral structure of things, but comes directly and personally from Yahweh himself, whose life and power are thus apprehended primarily in history.

Now, if this is true, it is also wrong to read Amos as a prophet of unqualified, unrelieved negation. Contingency and hope are here. The fierce indictment and the proclamation of cataclysmic judgment are predicated on Israel’s persistent repudiation of Yahweh, and are implicitly contingent upon her refusal to turn back again. But Amos knows Yahweh’s love and patience (see 4:6-11, with the essentially tender refrain, "Yet you did not return to me"; but especially 7:2,5); and when he speaks the apparently immutable sentence of death upon Israel (4:12; 7:9; 9: l-8a) it is surely motivated (as the articulation of despair is of necessity always motivated) by hope, indomitable hope, that the pronouncement of judgment will effect decisive change in the conditions which invoked the judgment.

The quality of contingency in prophetism is more marked in other prophets, but it is implicit in Amos; and no prophet, not even Amos, can be interpreted as holding Yahweh’s judgment upon Israel as the last word. The ending of the book of Amos may be secondary (although this proposition is by no means unassailable), but it remains in a profound sense authentic. The man Amos, the prophet Amos, could not have spoken with such passion on behalf of Yahweh except in the faith that the very historical judgment which he proclaimed was itself ultimately positive and redemptive in divine purpose. If Amos had deemed Israel’s sentence of execution to be the end, he would never have spoken at all!

Hosea: The Time and the Book

Hosea’s role of prophet is played out some ten to twenty-five years after Amos. From a number of allusions in the text of Hosea, it appears rather certain that the prophet’s career began after the reign of Jeroboam 11(786-746) and probably after 740 (despite the reference to Jeroboam in 1:1). Since there is no mention of the fall of Damascus to Assyria in 732, it is possible that his active career ended prior to that date. It is certain that it did not extend beyond the fall of Samaria in

721.

The last generation of the Northern kingdom, to which Hosea belonged, was a period of hectic, brutal confusion. Jeroboam II’s reign may have been superficially brilliant but it apparently lacked any fundamental, enduring strength. His son, Zechariah, after a very brief reign (746-745), was assassinated by Shallum, who was himself rather promptly dispatched by Menahem. Menahem (745-738) bought an uneasy security from Assyria in the last year of his reign with the payment of a handsome tribute to Tiglath-pileser, whose annals declare:

As for Menahem I overwhelmed him like a snowstorm and he. . . fled like a bird, alone, and bowed to my feet [?]. I returned him to his place and imposed tribute upon him, to wit: gold, silver, linen garments with multicolored trimmings, . . . great . . . I received from him. Israel [the text reads literally, "Omri-Land," testifying to the power of that reign a century and a half earlier]. . . all its inhabitants and their possessions I led to Assyria. They overthrew their king Pekah and I placed Hoshea as king over them.5

Menahem’s son, Pekahiah, not mentioned in the Assyrian record, reigned for a couple of years (738-732), to meet a violent end at another assassin’s hands, Pekah, who led an anti-Assyrian party in Israel. Pekah (737-732) was rejected by his own people following a pathetic attempt to stop a westward Assyrian advance, and was murdered by Hoshea (II Kings 15:30), who reigned as a vassal of Assyria. Hoshea (732-724) subsequently revolted and was executed by the Assyrian monarch, Shalmaneser V (727-722). Samaria was besieged for three years, and fell to Shalmaneser’s successor, Sargon II, in 721.

The Hebrew text of Hosea is as difficult and confused as the epoch in which it originated. One hesitates to propose anything as definite as an "outline." The present structure does appear to fall into the two divisions:

1-3 The theme, throughout apparent, is Hosea’s anguished relationship to Gomer and the tightly analogous relationship of Yahweh and Israel.

4-14 There is nothing here to give form or provide unity. The character of the section is, however, typically prophetic: the broad range of the types of prophetic utterance is embraced, from indictment and judgment to some of the most tender expressions of the compassion in which Yahweh holds Israel.

The more severe textual critics have reduced Hosea largely to a name under which a broad assortment of prophetic oracles from widely varied sources and times has been collected. Preponderant critical opinion has been much more conservative and withholds from Hosea (or the immediate Hosea-circle of prophetism) chiefly two kinds of material (and not all examples of these two kinds): (1) the utterance which favorably contrasts Judah with condemned Israel (e.g., 1:7), and (2) the prediction of an unqualified bright future, usually falling at the end of an oracle of doom. For the rest, the substantial eighth-century figure of the prophet Hosea is directly or indirectly responsible. This is for the most part "the Word of Yahweh that came to Hosea the son of Beeri" (1:1) in the years shortly before the fall of Samaria and the extinction of the political entity of the Northern Kingdom of Israel.

The Major Problems of Hosea

1-3

Two problems promise to remain problems and may well be ultimately insoluble. One is the relationship between chapters 1 and 3. The other, not unrelated, has to do with the interpretation of the personality of Hosea.

According to chapter 1, in which Hosea appears in the third person, the prophet is commanded by Yahweh to marry a prostitute and to accept offspring of this union whose paternal status must in fact remain in doubt. This Hosea does; and to the three children now born to Gomer he gives symbolic names, making them living oracles of indictment in the community:

Jezreel — for yet a little while, and I will punish the house of Jehu for the blood of Jezreel, and I will put an end to the kingdom of the house of Israel (1:4; cf. II Kings 9-10)

Lo’-Ruhamah ("Not Pitied") — for I will no more have pity on the house of Israel, to forgive them at all. (1:6)

Lo’-’Ammi ("Not My People") — for you are not my people and I am not your God

(1:9, with the Septuagint and the RSV.)

Chapter 3 is a narrative in the first person: the prophet is himself the narrator. The Yahweh Word to the prophet is essentially the same: "Go again [a great deal hangs on this word: is it original or secondary?]; love a woman who is beloved of a paramour [anyone who loves or is loved illicitly] and is an adulteress — even as Yahweh loves the people of Israel, though they turn to other gods and love cakes of raisins [denoting idolatrous rites] ."

The first problem, then, concerns the relationship between the two accounts. There are three possible answers:

1. Since chapter 1 is an account in the third person, and chapter 3 in the first person, the two accounts are parallel — descriptions in different terms of the same thing. The word "again" in 3:1 is an editorial insertion.

2. Chapter 3 preserves Hosea’s own view of the matter preceding the actual marriage which is narrated in chapter 1.

3. Chapter 3 is a sequel to chapter 1. It is the same woman in both chapters. After the birth of the children in chapter 1, Gomer leaves Hosea; and he, later, buys her back, he redeems her from the life of prostitution to which she has returned.

The second problem arises out of the repeated statement that Hosea knowingly married a prostitute (1:2 and 3:1). For one whose moral constitution was as acutely sensitive as Hosea’s, no undertaking could be more bitter. If in fact, then, Hosea married Gomer in the full knowledge of her previous professional standing either as an independent prostitute or as a sacred prostitute attached to one of the still-flourishing fertility cults (see for example Hosea 4:14), several interpretations are proposed:

1. Some, intrigued with the (dubious) game of fitting ancient figures into compartments of modern psychoanalysis, would see Hosea’s act as symptomatic of a profound sickness. Hosea is a masochist: he takes upon himself the fullest possible measure of abuse in committing himself to sexual partnership with a confirmed whore.

This is masochism in its original sense. The term has come into common use for that personality sickness in which one derives perverted pleasure from the endurance of pain. The term originally derives, however, from the title of an Austrian Novel, Masoch, written in the nineteenth century by von Sacher, and describing in detail the case of one whose abnormal sexual appetite and passion find satisfaction in exquisite abuse by his partner.

It is unnecessary to say that this view of a severely psychotic prophet has little to recommend it.

2. Others give a high religious interpretation to the reported fact of Hosea’s foreknowledge of Gomer’s unchaste status. This act — of all acts most repugnant to him — is one of supreme surrender to divine will. In this view, Hosea conforms to the not uncommon figure in the history of religions of the flagellant who, as a (perverted) act of service to or contrition before the deity, heaps abuse upon himself. But this strictly "hair-shirt" explanation of Hosea is only a variant of, and no more satisfying than, the interpretation of masochism.

3. The simplest view — on the assumption still that Hosea did know the qualities of Gomer before their marriage — is that he loved her; that he believed this marriage to be according to the Word of Yahweh; and that he hoped, at least, that his love, like Yahweh’s love for Israel, would ultimately bring a satisfying response and a fulfilled relationship.

It may be, of course, in spite of the statement of 1:2 ("Yahweh said to Hosea, ‘Go, take to yourself a wife of harlotry’"), that Hosea did not in fact knowingly marry a prostitute. Someone has suggested that the implication of "And the Lord said to Hosea" is simply that looking back on his life, Hosea realized that God had enabled him to turn his sorrow to the service of truth, and therefore he could feel that the good hand of God had been with him from the start, despite the personal tragedy for Gomer and for him.6

On any view of either problem, the central facts are unaltered. Whatever the relationship between chapters 1 and 3, and whatever the interpretation of Hosea’s personality, the prophet was in marriage covenant with an unfaithful woman; and in his own anguish and love for his wife, he believed Yahweh had revealed the nature of the relationship between Yahweh and unfaithful Israel, the specific character of the divine compassion, and the precise quality of Israel’s violation of covenant.

Hosea-Gomer: Yahweh-Israel

Is it possible that Hosea is fictional allegory? This suggestion has appeared with some persistence in modern interpretations of the book. It seems unlikely on a number of counts, and especially in view of the authentic appeal and the emotional intensity of the central analogy that as Gomer is to Hosea, so Israel is to Yahweh. In 2:2-7, for example, it is improbable, to say the least, that we are reading a theoretical, fictionalized allegory. In this brief section, and in others, the mingled fury, anguish, love, and hope tend to confirm the dual historical, existential reference — Israel and Gomer. In prophetic faith, this is revelation, this is Yahweh’s self-disclosure, with double intensity. He makes himself known in the most intimate and bitter relationship of Hosea’s private life, in the prophet’s personal history; and Hosea, recipient of the Word of Yahweh, is called to be the interpreter of that segment of history in which he is himself the center. His own agony is the key to the meaning of that history.

The intensity of the castigation in 2: 2-5a (cf. 9:10-17) is derived from the same dual historical reference. So, too, is derived the pathos in the portrayal of a lack of knowledge in 2: 5b and 8. >From the same double reference comes the tender hope of a voluntary return in 2:7.

As Gomer is to Hosea, so Israel is to Yahweh. The wife is unfaithful. The husband’s love is rejected. The marriage covenant is shattered. The most common Hebrew term for the sex act in marriage is the verb "to know." The phrase occurs again and again in the Old Testament: "and so-and-so knew his wife, and she conceived and bore . . ." The book of Hosea repeatedly sets the appropriate Yahweh-Israel relationship in terms of "knowledge" or "knowing" and of course this conveys implicitly far more than the narrow analogue of contractual obligation. The knowledge of Yahweh embraces also the cognizance that in Israel and Israel’s world there is no other; that in her history and the broad history which she shares, Yahweh rules (see 13:4 f.). But in the context of Hosea we cannot escape the inference of the intimate and the particular. The lament that there is no knowledge of God in the land (4:1,6) and the plea for the restoration of that knowledge (6:6; cf. 2:20; 6:3; 8:2) imply so strong a relationship between Israel and Yahweh that the profound effect of its violation can be conveyed only by comparing it to the violation of the marital relationship when a wife wantonly offers a husband’s sexual prerogatives to other men (10:11). Incidentally, in all of this Hosea merits a standing ovation for his unqualified assertion of a single standard in sex morality (4:14).

As Hosea is to Gomer, so Yahweh is to Israel. "How can I give you up, O Ephraim!" cries Yahweh (11:8), whose love and compassion are made known in one who has himself cried, night after lonely night, "How can I give you up, O Gomer!" Hosea knows that the unfaithfulness of the covenant partner invokes wrath, discipline, judgment; and that as Gomer must suffer, so also must Israel (see, e.g., 2:10-14; 4:9-10; 7:11-13; 9: 3,10-17; 11:5; 13:16). But Hosea also knows that unfaithfulness, even at its most lewd and shameless, does not stop the flow of love or assuage the anguish of woefully injured affection. His hopes and purposes for his life with Gomer, as Yahweh’s with Israel, cannot be permanently frustrated. Compassion is of stronger, more enduring stuff than wrath. Discipline becomes only the necessity by which the relationship may be restored and redeemed.

These comments touch but lightly on this rich product of classical prophetism. Read Hosea again — and again. The theme of impending catastrophe is sounded no less forthrightly than in Amos. But the dominant theme is Yahweh’s compassion for Israel and Yahweh’s unimpedable purpose to produce out of Israel his own people in a fulfilled covenant relationship.

In that day, says Yahweh.

I will sow him [i.e., Jezreel: this is a play on the name] for myself in the land.

And I will have pity on Not-Pitied

And I will say to Not-My-People, "You are my people!"

And he shall say, "Thou art my God." (2:21-23)

THE THEOLOGICAL ETHIC AND HISTORY:

ISAIAH 1-23, 28-33; MICAH 1-77

Yahweh alone ‘will be exalted.

Isa. 2:17

Assyria, Israel, and Judah

Tiglath-pileser (745-727) first consolidated his eastern territories before turning west; but in 738 Rezin of Damascus and Menahem of Israel render the tribute of vassals, and other small western states capitulate. Pekah in Samaria and Rezin later conspire to throw off the Assyrian yoke, but needing the support of Judah, and finding Ahaz (735-715?) unwilling to join, they lay siege to Jerusalem in the hope of deposing Ahaz. In extreme straits, Ahaz reverts to the crude rite, persistently condemned in prophetic Yahwism, of child sacrifice, and offers up his own son as a burnt offering (I Kings 16:3). He also appeals to Tiglath-pileser, against Isaiah’s advice (II Kings 16:7; Isa. 7) which was certainly prudentially given: since the Assyrian king would not in any case tolerate for long such independent and insurrectionist action on the part of vassals, Ahaz obligated himself unnecessarily.

In 734, then, the Assyrians campaign in the west with bitter vengeance. Damascus and Northern Israel are mercilessly plundered and for the first time Assyria invokes in this area the policy of deportation, the removal to other parts of the empire of appreciable numbers of the population and particularly the real or potential leaders around whom subsequent rebellion might form. Judah is not molested at this time, but she remains in diminished circumstances from the occupation of Rezin’s and Pekah’s armies. And Ahaz the king is summoned peremptorily to Damascus where, in partial token of his subservience to Assyria, he arranges for the erection of an altar in the Temple in Jerusalem copied from an imported Assyrian altar in Damascus. This we suspect underlies the account of II Kings 16:10 ff. Ahaz hardly went to such pains and expense in the midst of his humiliation simply to satisfy his aesthetic delight in some Syrian altar he chanced to see in Damascus! Commonly in the ancient East political dependence required formal recognition of the victor’s gods, a fact explaining in part the common prophetic protest against any and all kinds of "alliances" with superior powers.

By 732 Tiglath-pileser had efficiently organized and consolidated his western territories north of Samaria into Assyrian provinces. It is important to remember that Hoshea of Samaria (732-724) owed his throne to Tiglath-pileser, a fact which made his subsequent rebellion all the more odious to Assyria. Early in the reign of Shalmaneser of Assyria (727-722) Hoshea begins a series of politically unfaithful flirtations with Egypt. II Kings 17:4 puts it succinctly: "Assyria found conspiracy in Hoshea." The prophet Hosea speaks of the ultimate folly of this kind of action when he characterized the pro-Egypt party as silly doves without sense, calling to Egypt, going to Assyria (Hosea 7:11, cf. 8:9). King Hoshea in Samaria openly declares his intentions to divorce Assyria in 724 (II Kings 17:4). Assyrian forces are able to imprison Hoshea; but probably to their surprise and dismay, Samaria does not surrender and Assyria is put to the effort of a three-year siege before the capital and kingdom of North Israel falls in 722-21, never again to be so reconstituted. Sargon II (722-705) had succeeded Shalmaneser before the fall of Samaria. In Sargon’s own annals, the conquest is claimed several times. And again, Assyria follows its policy of shifting the best classes of populations, deporting thousands of Israelites eastward, and importing thousands from Aramaic-speaking countries, who in time lose their identity among the inhabitants of Palestine. The subsequent attitude of the Judean Jew toward the Samaritan (cf. in the New Testament John 4) draws from the memory of this fusion of population elements. The immediate problems of the North are described in II Kings 17:29 ff.

The history of surviving Judah is resumed in II Kings 18. Hezekiah (715-687?) had come to the throne in Jerusalem a few years after Samaria’s fall (perhaps a few years before; his dates present particularly difficult problems). He defies Assyria in two ways: he institutes elaborate religious reforms, always in the ancient East a gesture of independence; and even more brazenly, he undertakes extensive defense measures. The outer fortifications of Jerusalem are strengthened, an act of military strategy against which the prophet Isaiah speaks a devastating theological word: it is right and good that this be done, he says in effect to the king, but you and your action are condemned in this kingdom of Yahweh unless it be done for Yahweh’s sake and to his honor and glory (see Isa. 22:8b-11). The same critical prophetic word appears in the same passage applied to Hezekiah’s attention to the acute problem of the city’s water supply in time of siege. The Gihon spring, outside the city wall — ancient Jerusalem’s only unfailing source of water — is made inaccessible to attackers, and its waters channeled through a tunnel cut through the rock, into the city, for a distance of about 1700 feet. The spring, the tunnel, and the terminal pool of Siloam are still in use today. In the tunnel’s construction, workmen began at opposite ends.

At the point of meeting someone inscribed a brief account of this remarkable feat of ancient engineering in the limestone wall — soft when first exposed to air. It is one of our oldest and best Hebrew inscriptions, even though the first half is unfortunately missing:

[. . . when] (the tunnel) was driven through. And this was the way in which it was cut through: — While . . . (were) still. . .axe(s), each man toward his fellow, and while there were still three cubits to be cut through, [there was heard] the voice of a man calling to his fellow, for there was an overlap in the rock on the right [and on the left]. And when the tunnel was driven through, the quarrymen hewed (the rock), each man toward his fellow, axe against axe; and the water flowed from the spring toward the reservoir for 1200 cubits, and the height of the rock above the head(s) of the quarrymen was 100 cubits.8

It is remarkable that Hezekiah got by for so long a time without a spanking from Assyria. In 711 he is party to a rebellious coalition of western states inspired by Egypt or Babylon, or both; yet he appears to escape the punishment which they receive. But in 701 Sennacherib (705-681) moves in to pour the wrath of Assyria on all the small western states, as well as Egypt. Jerusalem, besieged by Assyria, escapes destruction. Why and how? Why was the siege lifted?

II Kings 18-19 lists three reasons:

1. Hezekiah’s payment of tribute (18:14-16), a prodigious sum then — the equivalent of at least ten to fifteen million dollars. Assyrian records indicate a more critical tribute including some of Hezekiah’s daughters, his "concubines, male and female musicians."9

2. Urgent military business elsewhere — rumor of trouble (19:7).

3. Plague (the angel of Yahweh, 19:35).

Some believe that three separate, conflicting accounts of the same episode are combined in the present Kings narrative — Tribute, 18:14-16; Rumor, 18: l7-19:9a; and Plague, 19:9b-35. Not uncommonly this kind of explanation has been offered:

"If I were Sennacherib [quite a stretch, even for the most elastic Old Testament man!] the first two reasons would be enough — tribute paid and insurrection in the east. Since from my point of view the third is unnecessary, we will throw it out. Besides, we must remember the great Old Testament axiom that where two or three accounts of one episode are gathered together somebody lied." This kind of argument is dubiously climaxed with the assertion that Hezekiah’s prayer in 19:14-19 is theologically incompatible with the eighth century (true enough of the prayer in its present form), and that therefore the whole account is obviously late and, of course, spurious.

Happily this point of view even in the FBI itself — the Federated Biblical Investigators — is on the wane. It is clear that the payment of tribute alone was not enough. After receipt of it, and before joining battle with the Egyptians at Eltekeh in the Philistine plain region, Sennacherib expressed his continuing distrust of Hezekiah in a note of sharp warning which Hezekiah took as more than warning; he took it as a threat to return and demolish the city of Jerusalem. If such was, in fact, the Assyrian plan, as both Hezekiah and Isaiah believed, the deed of destruction could have been accomplished then as easily as at any time in the period of Assyrian ascendancy. Morale in Jerusalem was at a record low. On every hand, surrounding nation-states were prostrate. In Judah, forty-six cities had been destroyed. Sennacherib boasts, "As to Hezekiah, the Jew, he did not submit to my yoke; I laid siege to forty-six of his strong cities, walled forts, and to countless small villages in their vicinity, and conquered them. . ."10 No pride remained in Jerusalem. Hezekiah had stripped the temple, exhausted all wealth, and even surrendered members of his own family in tribute. The three practical explanations for Assyria’s withdrawal seem probable, but we must examine the explanation in terms of Israel’s history. For, as we have seen, the Old Testament sets down history as it has been interpreted by faith.

In accordance with the faith that Yahweh is effectively involved with Israel’s history, Northern Israel does not perish accidentally by the impersonal exigencies of history. Destruction is not seen in the Old Testament as the inevitable culmination of a series of events. On the contrary, the catastrophe is explicitly the judgment of Yahweh. Now, the question arises: Is the interpretation, indigenous to the narrative and inextricable therefrom, right or wrong? The answer depends, does it not, upon each interpreter’s response to the ultimate validity of the claims of faith. No one may determine another’s answer. Every reader must answer for himself the ultimate question of the validity of Israel’s historical faith.

But on this all can agree. The Assyrian forces made a sudden, totally unexpected withdrawal, sparing Jerusalem from what had appeared to be certain doom. In the biblical perspective of faith it is a minor consideration indeed whether Assyrian forces were hastily moved for strategic reasons, or were driven back east by a devastating wave of virulent infection, or by severe food or water poisoning, or even by bubonic plague. It could well have been a withdrawal impelled both by the threat of serious trouble elsewhere in the empire and the ravages of epidemic illness or disease. In the faith of Israel and in the kingdom of Judah it was in either case, or both cases, another of Yahweh’s redeeming acts. It was the power of his Word fulfilling itself in history. This kind of repeated application of the proposition that Yahweh’s dominant sphere of self-disclosure is history rather than nature is responsible for the persistent biblical address to human history and the full range of human life and human existence.

Isaiah: Book, Man, and Prophet

Of the sixty-six chapters in the present book of Isaiah the final block, chapters 40-66, is demonstrably from the sixth century; and it is highly probable that chapters 34-35 date from the same century. Chapters 36-39 are narrative rather than oracular material, paralleled in II Kings 18-20. We look for the eighth-century prophet Isaiah, then, in chapters 1-33.

In this block, four units appear:

1-12 In large part authentically Isaianic; and mainly from the prophet’s earlier ministry.

13-23 Oracles for the most part against foreign nations with nonIsaianic material predominating.

24-27 An apocalyptic section, later even than any thing in 40-66.

28-33 Isaianic material again predominating; and mainly from Isaiah’s later years.

By Isaianic, we do not mean necessarily that which comes unmediated, directly from the lips or "pen" of the prophet, but that which is substantially his, some of it no doubt committed to memory in the circle of his disciples (see, now, Isa. 8: 16). The present book is the product of a number of "Isaiahs" but the first Isaiah is prominently, authentically represented, and as we shall see, strikingly influential in the utterances of subsequent prophets who are known by his name.

Of the man himself, several details are clear. His orientation is that of an urbanite. He is a man of Jerusalem to whom the covenant is the David-Zion covenant. His language, his politics, and even his theology are impressively shaped by his urban existence.

He is a man highly placed in Jerusalem either by virtue of professional status or possibly by royal birth or by both. King Ahaz listens to him, if he does not heed him; and Hezekiah, by any standards one of Judah’s most distinguished kings (see the deuteronomic estimate of him, II Kings 16:1-8, matched only by the Josiah formula, 22: 1-2), not only listens and heeds, but is strongly dependent on the prophet. Moreover, Isaiah moves and speaks, despite occasional public ridicule (28:9 f.), with the assurance of one who knows his position is fundamentally secure.

Isaiah is married and sufficiently content with the title "prophet" to refer to his wife simply as the "prophetess" (8: 3). To our knowledge they have two sons, both named, as were Hosea’s children, symbolically: Shear-Jashub, "a remnant shall return," 7:3, obviously predicating the tragedy that will leave only a remnant, but at the same time affirming the expectation of productive survival; and Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz, "The spoil speeds, the prey hastes," 8:1-3, with initial reference to the imminent collapse of the Rezin-Pekah alliance against Jerusalem in 734, but perhaps later with reference to Judah herself as the soon-to-be spoil and prey of Assyria.

No prophet is "typical." But no prophet more forcefully, comprehensively, and eloquently represents classical Israelite prophetism than Isaiah. His force, comprehensiveness, and almost unmatched eloquence are, of course, factors in his great stature. But it is his own honest, unneurotic, thoroughly realistic appraisal of himself and his generation together with his historical and existential knowledge of the Word of Yahweh that create the essence of his distinction.

Now let me speak directly. Neither I, who write these present words, nor anyone else can convey to you in words about Isaiah what is so powerfully articulated in the Isaianic oracles themselves. Indirectly, and occasionally directly, I have tried to say all along: Let no one else do your reading of the Old Testament for you! In another text I have presumed (admitting there the presumption) to discuss the content of Isaiah’s prophetism under the seven headings of Covenant, Yahweh’s Holiness, Judah’s Pride, Judgment, Redemption, The Messianic Hope, The Quality of Faith.11 It is presumption because neither Isaiah’s prophetism nor that of any other prophet may be thus categorized. These are in no sense separable concepts. Any one is of an inextricable piece with all the others. Nevertheless, these categories point to the major emphases not only of Isaiah but of classical prophetism as a whole, and I will later attempt a somewhat similar summary view of all of prophetism (chapter 10).

Let me now indicate briefly some of the lines, paragraphs, chapters that for varying reasons always stand out in my own perusal of Isaiah — and around these you may direct your own conversations with the prophet.

The account of his call, chapter 6, no doubt now colored by his post-call career, is unquestionably the most intimately revealing single chapter in Isaiah, embracing explicitly or implicitly all the persistently sounded notes of his prophetic voice.

Mark the moving, empathic indictment of chapter 1; the knowing ox and ass contrasted with unknowing Israel; the awful totality of the Yahweh-Israel alienation — all this with the key to Yahweh’s controversy with Israel (v. 13), "1 cannot endure iniquity and solemn assembly!" (cf. Amos 5:21b).

Observe the strange and stirring, but characteristic, alternation between oracles of wrath and compassion (seen also in Hosea and Amos), illustrated in the "floating oracle" (because it also appears in Micah 4) at the beginning of chapter 2, in which is envisaged the redemption which the very catastrophe of judgment makes possible.

The merciless castigation of human pride, repeatedly and brilliantly articulate and everywhere presupposed, even in the prophet himself in his own call, is characteristic of Isaiah:

They bow down to the work of their hands (2:8) . . . [they] carry out a plan, but not mine (30:1) . . . are wise in their own eyes, and shrewd in their own sight (5:21) . . . whose deeds are in the dark, and who say, "Who sees us? Who knows us?" [29:15; its Isaianic authenticity doubted by some]. . . who say to the seers, "See not"; and to the prophets, "Prophesy not to us what is right; speak to us smooth things, prophesy illusions" (30:10).

Now read that sweeping condemnation of human pride in 2:12-17 where, on wings of furious prophetic indignation, Isaiah moves north to Lebanon, east across the Jordan to Bashan, on somewhere, anywhere to the mountains — and then to the symbols of human pride, the high towers, the fortified cities, and the proud, frail craft that sail the seas. The pride that renders Judah sick unto dying is the more critical because it is shared — by all men!"

The powerful prophetic Word to Assyria in chapter 10 is one of Isaiah’s most notable passages.

The Song of the Vineyard, 5:1-7, with its devastating conclusion, is the more intense for its play on words:

He [Yahweh] looked for justice [mishpat],

but behold, bloodshed [mishpah];

for righteousness [se daqah],

but behold, a cry [se’aqah].

Isaiah offers prophetic encouragement under siege, both in 734 and 701 (see 7:7 and 37:29; II Kings 19:28), with the plea for a very different kind of response to Jerusalem’s release from siege in 22:12-14 (here, as occasionally elsewhere, we cannot surely tell whether the reference is to 734 or 701).

Yet he persists in the prophetic conviction of cataclysmic judgment based on the proposition that "If you will not believe, surely you shall not be established" (7:9b):

For thus said the Lord Yahweh, the Holy One of Israel, "In returning and rest you shall be saved;

in quietness and in trust shall be your strength."

And you would not,. . . (30:15)

"Surely this iniquity will not be forgiven you till you die," says the Lord, Yahweh of hosts (22:14)

Consider the unequivocal language of judgment earlier in chapter 30 (vv. 12-14); and these words, more bitter than anything else in Isaiah if intended (as may well be the case) as irony and not (as most translations) as a compassionate "evangelistic" invitation:

Come now, let us reason together,

says Yahweh:

though your sins are like scarlet,

shall they be as white as snow?!

Though they are red like crimson,

shall they become like wool?! (1:18)

"Egypt" again, certainly! But beyond?

I will turn my hand against you

and will smelt away your dross . . .

and remove all your alloy (1:25)

The fire will burn but its ultimate function is to purify. A remnant, and the tragic conditions to produce it, will be — but that remnant will return (Shear-Jashub, 7:3). The fire from the altar of Yahweh by which Isaiah himself is cleansed for Yahweh’s service (6:6 f.) symbolizes the nature and function of judgment and points beyond judgment to Yahweh’s purposive redemption.

Finally, observe the two remarkable passages, 9:2-7 and 11:1-9 (which very well may be Isaianic, despite considerable adverse critical judgment), looking forward to the ultimate fulfillment of the David-Zion covenant (for Isaiah, the covenant) in a Messiah, an "anointed one," in and through whose rule "the zeal of Yahweh of hosts" (9:7) will effect justice and righteousness (in the theologically dependent sense) not only in Israel but in all the earth (11:4-9).

This is Isaiah. He knows himself to be a man of unclean lips, dwelling in the midst of a people of unclean lips. He knows this because he knows and "sees" the holiness of Yahweh, the quality without which Yahweh would not be Yahweh, that by which Yahweh is Yahweh, the justice and righteousness which are Yahweh, which may be appropriated as light is appropriated from the sun — and must be appropriated if covenant life is to continue at all, if covenant purpose is to be fulfilled.

All that is truly Isaianic derives from this dialogue between human uncleanness which is pride and Yahweh’s holiness which is the ultimate prophetic assertion of faith.

Micah — and Isaiah

Micah, youngest of the four great eighth-century prophets, is a man from the country, as much shaped by his orientation there as Isaiah by the city of Jerusalem. His home is Moresheth, probably Moresheth-Gath, near the old Philistine city of Gath. We can imagine what his town and area suffered from every invading or even passing army in the last four decades of the eighth century; and we can better understand the intensity of his prophetic wrath especially when the high fortress-city of Jerusalem is his target. Look at 3:2 f. Has any government seat, have any government personnel, ever been so bitterly castigated?

The present book and the relationship of its parts to the prophet himself may be thus briefly indicated:

1-3 With the possible exception of 2:12 ff., this may with confidence be assigned to Micah.

4-5 Here 4:6-7 and 5:7-8 presuppose knowledge of the fall of Jerusalem and Judah. The rest would appear to be, if not from Micah, then from his time or from the reign of Manasseh (from c. 687) shortly after.

6:1-7:7 It is impossible to say whether this is or is not from Micah; but one can say that in time and perspective it is removed from the prophet only a little, if at all.

7:8-20 This is certainly not from Micah. It reads like a cultic psalm and is patently post-fall in origin. Its prophetic reaffirmation of the covenant, verse 20, is marred by a bitter, narrow nationalism.

Especially in the sections chapters 4-5 and 6-7, we sense an affinity with Isaiah and the circles of his disciples:

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah13

. . . . . . . . .

from you shall come forth for me

one who is to be ruler in Israel,

whose origin is from of old

. . . . . . . . .

Therefore he [Yahweh] shall give them [Judah] up until the time when she who is in travail has brought forth;

. . . . . . . . .

And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of Yahweh, in the majesty of the name of Yahweh His God. (Mic. 5:2ff.)14

But as for me (Micah? Or a prophet from the Isaiah circle?)

I will look to Yahweh

I will wait for the God of my salvation; (Mic. 7:7)15

We further note the strong anti-Assyrianism of 5:10 11., reminiscent even in language of the Isaianic circle. If some of this material in chapters 4-7 is from Micah, or if it fairly represents what was in fact the prophetic mind of Micah, then it may be that we will have to predicate a relationship, if indirect, between Isaiah and Micah; and so see Micah, even as we see Isaiah. as holding in faith the prophetic expectation of redemption beyond judgment.

The affinity between the book of Micah and the Isaiah circle is further marked by the presence in both books of the floating oracle (Isa. 2:2-4 and Mic. 4:1-3). Whether it is the original utterance of one or neither of these eighth-century prophets, it is one of prophetism’s finest and most lyrical expressions of the hope for covenant fulfillment. Mic. 4:4 adds the verse:

They shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree, and none shall make them afraid;

for the mouth of Yahweh of hosts has spoken.

The book of Micah includes that matchless summary of the theological ethic:

He [Yahweh] has showed you, O man, what is good;16 and what does Yahweh require of you but to do justice and to love kindness17 and to walk humbly with thy God. (Mic. 6:8)

The essence of prophetism is never merely the moral and the ethical. Micah 6:8 does not, as is sometimes loosely claimed, constitute a summary of classical prophetism. Prophetism is always theological-historical. The theological ethic is never an end in itself, but only the necessary condition for the historical fulfillment of the Yahweh-Israel covenant. This full prophetic faith is given climactic summary in the floating oracle; and even more eloquently, movingly, in this phenomenal utterance originating probably in circles of prophetism subsequent to Isaiah, but, perhaps not without some justification in view of his tremendous influence, attributed to him in Isaiah 19:23 f.

In that day there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria, and the Assyrian will come into Egypt, and the Egyptian into Assyria, and the Egyptians will worship with the Assyrians.

In that day Israel will be the third with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing in the midst of the earth, whom Yahweh of hosts has blessed, saying, Blessed be Egypt my people, and Assyria the work of my hands, and Israel my heritage.

 

NOTES:

1. M. Noth, History of Israel, trans. S. Godman (from Geschichte Israels, 2nd ed.), New York, 1958, p. 253.

2. Cf. S. Mowinckel, Psalmenstudien, Kristiania, 1922, vol. II, pp. 315 ff., who argues that the cult embraces the future: "Der Kult, das Fest ist in erster Linie Vorwartsschauend."

3. On the foregoing discussion, see G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments, Munich, 1957, vol. 1, pp. 72-76.

4. See H. H. Rowley, The Servant of the Lord and Other Essays on the Old Testament, London, 1952, p. 114, n. 2.

5. As the damaged Assyrian text is reconstructed and translated in James B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, 2nd ed., Princeton, 1955.

6. W. A. L. Elmsie, How Came Our Faith, New York, 1948, p. 269 n. For a superb and completely documented discussion of the Hosea-Gomer problem, see H. H. Rowley, "The Marriage of Hosea," Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, XXXIX, no. 1 (September, 1956).

7. Also read II Kings 15; II Chron. 26; II Kings 16; 11 Chron. 28-30; II Kings 17-21 (compare 18-20 with Isa. 36-39); cf. Ps. 46.

8. Pritchard, op. cit., p. 321.

9. Ibid., p.288.

10. Ibid.

11. B. D. Napier, From Faith to Faith, New York, 1955, chap. IV.

12. Ibid., pp. 182f.

13. Reference is to the Davidic line; Bethlehem Ephrathah is the birthplace of David.

14. Cf. Isa. 9, 11,40:11.

15. Cf. Isa. 8:17.

16. Or, Man has showed you what is good, but what does Yahweh require of you.

17. Hesed, a covenant term denoting loyalty, faithfulness, and even something akin to the New Testament concept of grace, the giving of more than the relationship may properly demand.

Chapter 6: Rupture

THE FIRST HALF-CENTURY:

I KINGS 11-16

1 will not take the whole kingdom out of David’s hand.

I Kings11:34

It is time now to look, if briefly, at the form and nature of the book of Kings. Here is a simple, three-part outline of the contents:

I 1-11Solomon.

I 12-II 18:12 The two kingdoms, North and South, to the North’s demise in 722-721.

II 18:13-25:26 The South to its own destruction in 587. (The brief narrative of Jehoiachin’s release from prison in Babylon some years later, 1125:27-30, appears to be in the nature of a subsequent postscript to Kings.)

DH and the Sources

Kings is the editorial work of DH, perhaps a school of theologians-historians thoroughly impressed with and largely controlled by the perspectives and even the language and style of Deuteronomy. As we shall see later, the bulk of Deuteronomy appears to date from the seventh century. The total DH work, Deuteronomy-I I Kings, is probably a sixth-century product as it stands; but Kings may well have been formulated before the fall of the South in 587, since a number of passages suggest the historians’ ignorance of that enormous catastrophe. On the other hand, the story carries through the bitter narration of Jerusalem’s collapse and destruction, and elsewhere betrays editorial knowledge of this tragic end. We assume, then, the probability of two "editions" of Kings, both Deuteronomic, that is, both DH, one edition prior and another subsequent to the final termination of Israelite monarchy.

The most conspicuous structural feature of Kings is the repeated use of a formula defining and summarizing in brief, rigid categories the reigns of the various kings. It appears first, in an abbreviated form, at the end of I 11, to mark the close of the narrative of Solomon’s reign. The first full use of the formula is in its application to Rehoboam, I 14:21-24. The formula appears (with elements here and there omitted, e.g., the name of the king’s mother) in the case of all kings, North and South, as an introductory formula, or a concluding formula, or both. It presents two problems in particular. The length of reign of the king in question is characteristically correlated with the reign of the king in the sister kingdom, e.g., "in the eighteenth year of Jeroboam [North], Abijam [South] began to reign" (I 15:1). This exclusively internal synchronism makes absolute dating exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, although our margin of error even at the upper extreme of dates now hardly exceeds more than a few years. The second problem concerns the formula’s categorical judgment of each king — a sweeping judgment of the king based, however. on only the single item of the king’s relationship to the cultus of the Jerusalem Temple. In the sense of the formula, the good king is the faithful king, faithful to the Temple institution. Now it follows, of course that without exception every king of the North is condemned: under the circumstances not one of them could, even if he would, support the South’s royal Temple. And as a matter of fact, DH’s terms being exceedingly demanding, most of the Southern kings are castigated. Hezekiah (II 18:3-7) and Josiah (II 22:2) alone are completely exonerated. The praise of four other kings of the South (Asa, I 15:11 15; Jehoash, II 12:2-3; Azariah, 15:3-4; and Jotham, 15:34-35) is qualified only with the phrase, "but the high places were not taken away."

Inevitably, of course, our own historical sensibilities are sometimes appalled by this parochial and arbitrary basis of judgment. Perhaps the strongest single illustration in Kings is the case of Omri. He inaugurated the North’s strongest dynasty. He was able to effect and maintain peace during his reign by various means including sheer strength of arms. He possessed the wisdom and strategic sense — and the resources — to purchase and begin construction of a capital city on the shrewdly chosen hill of Samaria. A hundred years after his reign an Assyrian historian, an official recorder for the then world-ruling power, termed the whole territory of Palestine "the land of Omri."1 Yet aside from the usual formula, which rates him as "more evil than all who were before him"’ (I 16:25 ff.), DH includes only one verse (16:24) to inform us of the twelve-year history of his reign.

It is apparent that DH has employed a number of sources in compiling Kings. We have already cited the Book of the Acts of Solomon mentioned in I 11:41. DH elsewhere assumes that the reader of Kings has at his disposal the Books of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel (I 14: 19) and of Judah (I 14:29). (Incidentally, the name Israel is now commonly applied to the North, while the South reverts to the older tribal designation, Judah.) What an incredibly exciting find any one of these ancient works, apparently forever lost, would be! They must have contained detailed and highly diversified material relating to the history of these two kingdoms. For example,

Now the rest of the acts of Jeroboam, how he warred and how he reigned, behold, they are written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel. (I 14:19)

Now the rest of the acts of Zimri, and the conspiracy which he made, are they not written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel? (I 16:20)

Now the rest of the acts of Ahab, and all that he did, and the ivory house which he built, and all the cities that he built, are they not written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel? (I 22:39)

In addition to these three named sources, we suspect the existence of others: perhaps a History of Ahab, comparable to that of Solomon, since we have more material on Ahab than any king since Solomon; almost certainly an Elijah story since one unique hand appears to be responsible for the bulk of I 17-19,21; maybe a collection of stories about Elisha in II 1 ff.; and almost certainly the official Temple Records.

Yahwism, Secession, and Division

I 11-16

No comment is called for here on the basic conditions of the North’s secession. DH provides us with an uncommonly adequate narrative in I Kings 12. The Northern tribes, now designated Israelite, gather at Shechem, which has served from the beginning as their real, if informal, capital. They gather with the serious intention of making Rehoboam king (12:1) — already established in Jerusalem in the place of his father Solomon. But they are smarting still from Solomon’s oppressive measures and when arrogantly assured that these will be in the future only more severe — "My little finger," says Rehoboam, "is thicker than my father’s loins" (12:10) — the old cry (cf. II Sam. 20:1), "What portion have we in David" (I Kings 12:16), is heard again, and the one Yahweh-covenant-community becomes two.

Prophetic Yahwism plays again the crucial political role — even if we are unable to assess that role precisely. The function of the prophet Ahijah is primary through the episodes of the catastrophic event of political rupture (Ahijah dominates the narratives of I 9:9-39; 12:1-32; and 14:1-18). The mighty protest of the North in which Jeroboam figures centrally is inspired if not led by prophetic Yahwism in the person of Ahijah. Jeroboam is again, like the judges, like Saul and David, a charismatic figure, endowed by prophetic declaration and demonstration with the spirit of Yahweh. It is prophetic Yahwism, in the North at least, which prefers the chaos of a broken people to the chaos of a united people under abusive and anti-Yahwistic monarchy,

For roughly the first three-quarters of the tenth century all the tribes of the unified Israel participate in the reigns of David and Solomon. Now, for a half century — the last quarter of the tenth and the first quarter of the ninth — the larger, stronger North and the smaller but more compactly integrated South know a relationship if not of war, at least of unceasing armed bickering over disputed common boundaries (14:30; 15:7,16). And while they quarrel, the Syrians of Damascus, the Egyptians under Pharaoh Shishak I (I Kings 14:25-28), and even the old and vastly weakened Philistine enemy make life hazardous for one or the other segment of the broken kingdom. The high hopes of prophetic Yahwism are dashed again. Two prophetic narratives "predict" Jeroboam’s failure. One, I 13, is a relatively late legend of a prophet led into disobedience of Yahweh after proclaiming the fall of Jeroboam. It is apparently inserted here to underscore the South’s negative view of Jeroboam. In I 14, the story of Jeroboam ‘s wife’s visit to Ahijah, we have a narrative, late to be sure in its present form, which may well be an expansion of an old narrative better preserved in the Septuagint version. Jeroboam’s wife Ano goes to Ahijah before Jeroboam is king; Ahijah is not blind, and Ano is not disguised since she is not yet queen and therefore needs no disguise; Ahijah, giving no reasons, simply foretells the death of the child and the fall of the house of Jeroboam. The point is that both of these prophetic narratives, the one late and Southern, and the other older and out of the North, express prophetic disillusionment with the very course of prophetically inspired events.

This is, of course, the recurring theological tragedy in ancient Israel. Yahweh created Israel (and the world) for purposes totally frustrated. Yahweh brought Israel into a land and an existence free and redeemed from slavery, again for purposes of his own which Israel successfully frustrated. Yahweh made a covenant in that land with David on behalf of all Israel, only to have his covenant intentions frustrated again. Now, Yahweh’s intent to salvage order from the chaos of Israel in the person of Jeroboam also comes to the same frustrated end; and prophetism, which had inspired every significant event of Israel’s history, once more must declare void the movement in which faith and hope inhered briefly.

The singular fact is that prophetic faith and hope nevertheless persisted. Prophetic Yahwism — the sustaining force in ancient Israel — never abandoned the quest for and expectation of the fulfillment of covenant. Yahweh, together with Israel in some recognizable form, will fulfill the purposes of Yahweh’s creation and covenant.

We know very, very little of the fifty years from Jeroboam to Omri in the North, from Rehoboam to Jehoshaphat in the South. In Israel — we shall now use that term for the Northern kingdom — it was then, as it was throughout her history, far more turbulent politically than in Judah where the Davidic line held fast (with the single brief exception of Athaliah). Israel gained previously unprecedented internal security, and Israel and Judah an appreciable measure of concord, with the reign of Omri and the establishment of a short-lived but strong four-member dynasty in the second decade of the ninth century (from c. 876-842?).

But the greatness of the Old Testament people in the ninth century B.C. centers not in Omri or any other of her kings, but again in prophetic Yahwism and particularly in the persons of her distinguished prophets.

EMERGENT PROPHETISM

I will put my words in his mouth.

Deut. 18:18

The history of the Old Testament is for the most part transmitted to us through the eye and mind of prophetic Yahwism, a phenomenon to be sharply distinguished from the popular Yahwism of the Old Testament people. Indeed prophetic and popular Yahwism were in unceasing tension, for Israelite prophetism always found its message and action determined by what was deemed to be the prostitution of Yahwism in its popular conception and practice.

In Part III of this book, we shall discuss ancient Israel’s most notable development and her finest, most widely appropriated legacy to us and the world — classical prophetism. Prophetic Yahwism, certainly already in existence and creatively at work in the whole exodus event of the thirteenth century, attains its full identity and character in the classical prophets of the eighth to the sixth centuries, most notably in Amos, Hosea, Micah, Isaiah of the eighth century; in Jeremiah and Ezekiel of the seventh-sixth century; and in the so-called Second Isaiah of the sixth century. But it is important to recognize an essential prophetic Yahwism, a preclassical prophetism, present in Israel from her earliest beginnings and maintained in an unbroken but fluid continuum from Moses to Amos.

The classical prophets from Amos to Second Isaiah strike ancient Israel, and continue to impress all of us, with freshness, vigor, and originality. Indeed, individually and collectively these classical prophets are unique. But in emphasizing a tradition of prophetic Yahwism never significantly broken from Moses in the thirteenth to Malachi in the fifth century, we intend to insist that the classical prophet, albeit proclaiming the new, was nevertheless debtor, and consciously debtor, to this core tradition. And we will, of course, understand classical prophetism better in awareness and knowledge of that tradition of prophetic Yahwism.

Prophet and Prophetism

The Hebrew word for prophet is nabi’ (p1., nebi’im). It is a common noun, employed more than three hundred times in the Old Testament to designate a remarkable range of characters from an Aaron (Ex. 7:1) to an Elijah, from the "true" to the "false" (e.g., I Kings 22), from the relatively primitive (e.g., I Sam. 10) to the relatively sophisticated (the Isaiahs, for example), from the highly visionary (e.g., Ezek. 1-2) to the concretely ethical (e.g., Nathan in II Sam. 12 or Elijah in I Kings 21), from the seemingly objective perspective (of an Amos) to the intensely participating attitude (of a Jeremiah).

What does nabi’ mean? The etymological pursuit is vain: we do not know and cannot now determine the original meaning of the Hebrew root. One strong hypothesis sees it as related to cognate Accadian and Arabic words meaning "to call" or "to announce." In the light of what we know the prophet to be this commends itself to us. The prophet of the Old Testament is "an announcer" or "the one who announces" the force and meaning of the impinging divine Word and life. Or, taking this etymological hypothesis in the passive sense, the prophet is the recipient of the announcement of Yahweh, he is "the one who is called."

And how may we define essential prophetism? It may be broadly defined as that understanding of history which accepts meaning only in terms of divine concern, divine purpose, divine participation. Of course, by this definition the bulk of biblical record is emphatically prophetic in its understanding and interpretation of history. In a narrower sense, prophetism refers to the particular succession who are called prophets and who in some real sense fulfill the role of prophet. But in essence, whether referring to person or concept, prophetism presupposes the decisive impingement of Yahweh upon history. This constitutes the basic prophetic character. Where this sense of effective relationship of Yahweh to history is absent, prophetism is also absent. Where this sense of the interrelatedness of history and deity is present and where its role is decisive to the utterance or the person, or to the understanding of historical event or human relationship there is prophetism.

Prophetism in these terms was an ingredient of core Yahwism from Israel’s earliest days. But the word nabi’, "prophet," probably did not come into current use in Israel before the tenth or even the ninth century. I Samuel 9:9 recalls that "he who is now called a prophet was formerly called a seer." The role and function and particular identity of the prophet is a development of monarchic times influenced not only by the older institution of "seer" (a professional role illustrated in the Samuel of I Sam. 9) but by the Canaanite phenomenon of organized, contagious prophecy.

In that same, relatively old narrative of I Samuel 9:1-10:16; we see that kind of prophetism native to Canaan. This is the first recorded instance of its appropriation among the tribes of Israel, by Israelites. We remember this narrative. Saul, with a servant, consults the seer Samuel in his efforts to recover his father’s lost asses. Samuel, "seeing" the animals, reassures Saul and then anoints him "to be prince over his people Israel" (10:1, with RSV and the Septuagint). Samuel informs Saul of what is about to take place, and sure enough,

When they came to Gibeah, behold a band of prophets met him; and the spirit of God [the word in Hebrew is not the name, Yahweh, but the general term for deity, ‘Elohim] came mightily upon him, and he prophesied among them. And when all who knew him before saw how he prophesied with the prophets, the people said to one another, "What has come over the son of Kish? Is Saul also among the prophets

Therefore it became a proverb, "Is Saul also among the prophets?" (10:9-12)

I Samuel 19:18-24 repeats the proverb in a more dramatic setting, with even stronger emphasis on the contagious nature of the seizure and with a fuller description of its manifestation. Saul, this time in pursuit of the outlawed David, sends a company of men to take him forcefully from his position of refuge with Samuel and a band of prophets, who, though perhaps Israelites, exist in the fashion of ecstatic Canaanite bands of prophets. When Saul’s men saw the company of the prophets prophesying, and Samuel standing as head over them, the spirit of God [again ‘Elohim] came upon the messengers of Saul, and they also prophesied. (19:20)

Two subsequent squads are dispatched by Saul, neither returning since both companies are seized by the same contagion. Now Saul himself comes, and the spirit of God [‘Elohim] came upon him also, and as he went he prophesied, until he came to Naioth in Ramah. And he too stripped off his clothes, and he too prophesied before Samuel, and lay naked all that day and all that night. Hence it is said, "is Saul also among the prophets?" (19:23 f.)

We cannot be sure of the relationship between these two narratives in I Samuel 10 and 19. In literary-critical judgment, it has been common to see the second as a duplicate, and perhaps an historically dubious explanation of the proverb, "Is Saul also among the prophets?" We ourselves see no reason why both passages may not be deemed to portray the phenomenon of Canaanite prophetism as in that form it began to be appropriated by Israelites. We shall see how radically the Canaanite institution is transformed in its final adaptation in Israel.

For the sake of comprehending that very transformation, we will do well to understand this form of the Canaanite institution. We note first that the phenomenon of prophecy is induced. Samuel says to Saul, "You will meet a band of prophets coming down from the high place with harp, tambourine, flute, and lyre before them. prophesying" (10:5). Secondly, it produces a total transformation of personality. "You shall prophesy with them and be turned into another man" (10:6). It is further, created and sustained as a group phenomenon; and to "prophesy" (from the same root as nabi’) primarily denotes ecstatic behavior, if this state or action of prophesying is initially induced, it is capable of spread by contagion. And it is popularly interpreted as indicative of seizure by the deity: the prevailing (but not exclusive — 10:6 reads "spirit of Yahweh") term is ‘Elohim.

This kind of prophesying indigenous to Canaan’s culture (we will meet it again in the ninth century brilliantly described in the Elijah narratives) is certainly among the antecedents of the classical prophetism which emerges out of prophetic Yahwism. The roots of the great Yahweh prophets are sunk even deeper into the broad culture of the ancient Middle Fast. Prophet-like persons appear in the Mari texts from the middle Euphrates in the eighteenth century B.C. — a thousand years before Amos. But . . .even if we assume a historical connection between the messenger of God in the Mari texts and the prophet of the Old Testament, there is a clear difference between the two. This difference lies not in the manner of the appearance, but in the content of that which is announced as the divine message. At Mari the message deals with cult and political matters of very limited and ephemeral importance. Any comparison with the content of the prophetical books is out of the question. The prophetic literature deals with guilt arid punishment, reality and unreality, present and future of the Israelite people as chosen by God for a special and unique service, the declaration of the great and moving contemporary events in the world as part of a process which, together with the future issue of that process, is willed by God.2

What Israel freely borrows from all her environment she radically transforms. The distant antecedents at Mari as well as the more immediate antecedents in ecstatic, contagious Canaanite prophetism differ from the prophets of Israel drastically. And the root of the difference is, of course, Yahweh, in whose name Old Testament prophetism always speaks, "who alone disposes of the great powers of world history, and whose will all powers and movement of history serve."3

Premonarchic Prophets

Five prominent figures from premonarchic times are awarded the title of prophet by tradition — Abraham (Gen. 20:7); Aaron (Ex. 7:1); Miriam and Deborah (both nebi’ah, the feminine form of the noun nabi’, Ex. 15:20 and Judg. 4:4); and of course Moses (Deut. 34:10, 18:18; cf. Num. 11:26-29 and 12:5-8). A brief look at why these five were so designated increases our understanding of the place, function, and nature of the prophets in the history of the kingdoms.

The patriarchal saga, as we have seen, imputes to Abraham a sense of divinely ordained history which in Israel could only he postexodus. As the person of this first patriarch tends in tradition to take typological form, Abraham is able to accept in faith (Gen. 15:6) the divine promises of Genesis 12:1-3,7. He is seen in the maturing tradition as acutely aware of Yahweh’s purposive impingement on history. And more than this, he is himself called to play an essential role therein. It is inevitable that in Israel such a figure should be given the ascription "prophet."

The case of Aaron is perhaps less significant, but it instructs us no less in comprehending the nabi’ of monarchic Israel-Judah.

Yahweh said to Moses, "See I make you as God to Pharaoh; and Aaron your brother shall be your prophet." (Ex. 7:1, P)

Again, tradition’s linking of an early name with a subsequently developed Israelite role presupposes an understanding of prophetism in primary terms of Yahweh’s participating. purposive relationship to history. This instance further defines the prophet as one who articulates and proclaims the sense and meaning of the divine impingement, a definition further confirmed in Exodus 4:14 ff. (E) when Yahweh responds to Moses’ objection that he is no speaker:

Is there not Aaron. . . . I know that he can speak well. . .And you shall speak to him and put the words in his mouth.

. . .He shall speak for you to the people; and he shall be a mouth for you, and you shall be to him as God.

Miriam and Deborah (see Ex. 15:21 and Judg. 5) come to acquire the designation because both play eloquent and dramatic roles in celebration of what Yahweh is doing in concrete relationship to the historical existence of Israel.

It may be significant that Moses is never called a prophet in the J-work, the tenth century Yahwist’s creative, but largely editorial, composition; and on this continuing question of primary "documents" a reiterative, summary word is in order. We have consistently regarded J as a concrete entity, the (probably) written work of an individual. Adequate grounds have never existed for the repudiation of D (Deuteronomy, plus the work of DH) and P as for the most part identifiable strata produced, however, corporately as the work more of "schools." And E, we submit, continues to require symbolization, whether or not it ever existed originally as a separate and roughly parallel narrative source to J, as simply that hexateuchal material later than J, earlier than D or P, and reflecting the provenance of the Northern kingdom.4

The term prophet certainly was in use in the Yahwist’s day (as witness, again, the authentic, "Saul" proverb, I Sam. 10:12 and 19:24), but the function and practice of prophetism remained still by and large alien, that is, Canaanite. It is, of course, another matter in E, which reflects the period about 850-750, and betrays every evidence of stemming from Israel’s early prophetic circles.5 In the various E material Moses consistently appears not merely in the role of prophet, but prophet par excellence:

And there has not arisen a prophet since in Israel like Moses, whom Yahweh knew face to face, none like him for all the signs and wonders which Yahweh sent him to do in the land of Egypt . . . and for all the mighty power and all the great and terrible deeds which Moses wrought in the sight of all Israel. (Deut. 34:10 ff., E)

Well may one comment:

The prophetism which Moses represents is of a special sort [as understood by E]; he is much more the performing prophet, actively intervening in events. . . In the last analysis, indeed, Moses towers above all other prophets (Num. 12:7 f.). His charisma was so powerful that even a part of it, and that itself further divided among seventy elders, threw the recipient out of his normal senses and transferred him into a state of ecstasy (Num. 11:25ff.). Even mediation and the intercessory is here (Ex. 18:19; 32:11-13; Num. 12:11); but again we see this quality heightened, augmented in the extreme: in order to save Israel, Moses was prepared to become anathema for the people (Ex. 32:32: cf. Rom. 9:3).6

In the deuteronomic perspective Moses is the model prophet. Here is Moses reporting what Yahweh has told him:

I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their brethren; and I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him. (Deut. 18:18)

In the century or two separating E and D a marked change has occurred in the function, and therefore the concept, of the prophet in Israel: by the seventh century, emphasis has passed from the prophet’s deed to the prophet’s word. The basic character of prophetism, however, remains the same — that is, concern with and the demonstration of the critical impingement of divine life upon human history. If E and D perpetrate a terminological anachronism in ascribing to Moses the title of prophet, the essential identification is nevertheless sound. Prophetism was — and always is — to confront man with God-in-history. Timelessly, prophetism is the bringing of Israel up from Egypt into existence under God.7

THE BACKGROUND OF CLASSICAL PROPHETISM:

I KINGS 17-Il KINGS 14

So shall my Word be.

Isa. 55:118

Sometime in the second half of the eighth century, but before the destruction of North Israel (722-721), the prophet Isaiah envisaged a catastrophic event to be inflicted upon Judah by the might of Assyria. Contemplating that tragedy (and Judah was in fact severely ravaged by Assyria just before the turn of the century), Isaiah declared to King Ahaz of Judah,

Yahweh will bring upon you and upon your people and upon your father’s house such days as have not come since the day that Ephraim departed from Judah! (Isa. 7:17)

Israel’s loss of order and meaning began in the very structure of the David-Zion covenant; took explosive, catastrophic form "the day that Ephraim departed from Judah"; and was climaxed, in seeming hopelessness, first in the North’s and subsequently the South’s (587) destruction.

We have the story only as the story was understood and interpreted in core Yahwism, in what we have broadly called prophetism. This is how, in the Yahweh faith, the whole tragic sequence was comprehended. The order which Yahweh would create out of the people Israel is made chaos by Israel’s rebelliousness, by her obstinate refusal to assume the form and character and identity of the Yahweh covenant. That which Yahweh purposed for Israel from of old was thus frustrated but not Yahweh himself, not his power and his Word. Israel’s unfaith brings her back again to the formless and the void, to the meaningless and the chaotic. She knows at length a figurative "return to the land of Egypt" (Hos. 11:5). But all of this deterioration of form, this negation and destructive judgment, is seen as the positive work of Yahweh’s word toward that original purpose — the creation of a covenant people and through them the blessing of all the families of the earth (Gen. 12:1 ff.)

The Yahwist as Prophet

We very briefly surveyed the premonarchic prophets in the preceding section. Among early prophets of the united kingdom, the Yahwist surely has a place. We have already presumed to place the Yahwist within rather narrow limits — somewhere between David’s mature years and the death of Solomon. We predicate in the Yahwist a prophetic historian who addressed himself to the question of the existing form and significance of the entity, Israel. But to comprehend this entity of Israel as she is, and to give expression to her meaningful existence, he must articulate all in her past that he deems relevant to the present, and indeed (he does this, of course, in rare, almost involuntary bursts) he must also speak of that to which the present meaning of Israel ultimately points (so, again, Gen. 12:3).

We recall that the creative prophetism of the Yahwist inheres in his still discernible basic organization of the Hexateuch. We assess and affirm his role as prophet not from what is conveyed biographically, since there is not a single word about him, nor from the content of his independent utterances, since no oracles or commentary of his is preserved, but exclusively from his inspired selection, juxtaposition, and broadly conceived arrangement of varied existent materials. By means of this fundamentally editorial process, the Yahwist prophetically proclaimed Yahweh’s critical impingement on history, and brilliantly delineated Israel’s form and meaning in terms of her emergence from Egypt into existence under God.9

The judgment is surely wrong that "it was Hellenism that created the idea of ecumenical history."10 The Greek language and hellenistic culture provided the term and a splendid vessel for ecumenical history. But essential ecumenicity inheres, if in quietness and subtlety, in the Decalogue; and it receives its first emphatic description of meaning in the Yahwist’s work in the tenth century B.C., a work which proclaims the central thesis of God’s impingement on Israel, to be sure, but at the same time — such is the historical form of Israel and the meaning of her life — on the world, the whole household of God. The primeval story (see Chapter 2) and its structural relationship to the patriarchal stories and all that follows proclaims the Yahwist’s sweeping ecumenical perspective.

The Yahwist’s place is sure in the story of Old Testament prophetism and the roster of the prophets. Indeed, he renders more credible and comprehensible the roles of Samuel, Nathan, and Elijah, as well as the classical prophets from Amos to Second Isaiah.

Samuel to Elisha: The Tenth and Ninth Centuries

I 17-II 13

Samuel whose career begins in the eleventh century, Nathan and Ahijah in the tenth, and Elijah, Micaiah, and Elisha in the ninth — these six prophets dominate the history of preclassical prophetism. Although they differ radically from one another and appear in widely varied contexts, these early prophets evidence in two significant ways their place in the movement of prophetism from premonarchic times to the decay and collapse of monarchy and on into the days of Jewish reconstruction. First, they address themselves powerfully and sometimes passionately to the contemporary scene in the characteristic prophetic conviction of Yahweh’s impingement upon the sociopolitical institution. All six are intimately related to the life of the state and are effectively, if not always decisively, involved in crucial contemporary events; and all six function as prophets to kings.

The second characteristic of the pre-Amos prophets, which sets them apart from the prevailing pattern of contagious-ecstatic group prophecy, is their relationship and responsibility to the debar-Yahweh, the Word of Yahweh. In all these prophets, the address to history takes its content from the Word, and the divine impingement upon history is made articulate and is interpreted by the same Word.

As we have observed, the Word, through Samuel, is responsible for the establishment of monarchy, first tentatively under Saul and then securely and full of promise under David. Through Nathan the word not only interprets the reign of David but decisively determines the course and nature of that reign. Ahijah and the Word effect the kingdom’s tragic rupture. The next fifty years — from about 925-875, from Jeroboam and Rehoboam to Omri and Jehoshaphat — were on the whole bleak years in both kingdoms and apparently without prophets of outstanding stature.

Under Omri in Israel and Jehoshaphat in Judah a substantial measure of security was regained in the sister kingdoms. Concord was achieved within the family, and relationships with nearby neighbors, except Damascus-Syria, ranged from tolerable to good. Jehoshaphat enjoyed a long reign (873-849, according to the Albright-Bright chronology), and the four-member Omri dynasty survived from 876 until Jehu’s bloody revolution in 842.

Elisha the prophet was a younger contemporary of Elijah (I Kings 19:19-21; II Kings 2-13) who died during the reign of Joash, Jehu’s grandson (837-800). During the second half of the ninth century, especially under the rule of Jehu, Jehoahaz. and Joash, the Northern kingdom led an increasingly miserable existence brought on by her own internal weakness and the ravaging attacks of Syria (note, for example, II Kings 5:7, and the Syrian siege by Samaria, 6:25). In the closing years of Joash’s reign the North was almost destroyed, but was brilliantly, if briefly and superficially, revived in the long reign of Jeroboam II (786-746), the fourth and strongest member of the Jehu dynasty.

Now, like Samuel and Nathan and Ahijah in the tenth century, Elijah, Micaiah, and Elisha are instrumental in the ninth century in bringing the Word of Yahweh into history, in conflict with and in judgment upon the life of the king, and in effective encounter with the life of Israel.

The Word is at its weakest in Elisha. Indeed, of the six prophets in the preclassical succession, Elisha appears in the least substantial form. This is not to deny his historical reality and his powerful influence on the events of his time. The cycle of stories collected around his name and exploits testifies to his impact on Israel over a long prophetic career; but elements in the cycle partake of the stuff of sheer legend far more than in the shorter Elijah cycle (I Kings 17-19,21; II Kings 2 and even II Kings I are of different origin).This is true even of one of the theologically most profound stories in the cycle — the story of Naaman’s leprosy in 11 Kings 5. The narrative presents insuperable historical problems, but speaks with inspiration to the theme of faith’s simplicity and the perennial human problem of the validation of faith. Other stories of the cycle, even less credible historically, are unfortunately at the same time aesthetically or theologically repulsive. One wonders whether the Elisha cycle may not betray efforts to assert the "superiority" of Elisha over Elijah. The only two direct parallels in the two cycles strongly suggest this. The role of the widow her son, and the prophet is far more realistic in the two episodes of I Kings 17 (vv. 8-16; 17-24) than in II Kings 4 (vv. 1-7; 18-27). "Sons of the prophets" appear prominently in the Elisha cycle, a circle of prophets over which Elisha presided on occasion. Are these disciples in part responsible for creating out of their prophetic master a figure possessing fantastic magical powers?

The phrase, "the Word of Yahweh" (and the corresponding verbal phrase, "thus says Yahweh") appears in the Elisha cycle. We do not doubt the prophetic authenticity of the historical Elisha, but again, the historical person as well as the prophetic Word are largely obscured in the present cycle of Elisha Stories. The most decisive event for which Elisha is responsible is the anointing of Jehu as king (II Kings 9). Elisha and his "young man, the prophet" act upon and pronounce what they represent to be the Word of Yahweh (9:3,6) with radically effective and appallingly violent results (II Kings 9:21-40:27). Quite properly, as it seems to us, classical prophetism in the person of Hosea (1:4) subsequently repudiates Jehu and his whole rebellion, and implicitly, therefore, denies that this could be the responsibility of the true Word of Yahweh.

We see the Word of Yahweh imposed upon the king earlier in the eighth century in that brilliant scene of II Kings 22 immediately preceding the death of Ahab. The Word through Micaiah works its historical effects, and another preclassical prophet is instrumental in the efficacious juxtaposition of divine life and divine judgment upon human events. Incidentally, the narrative attests the official court adoption in Israel of the originally Canaanite form of group prophecy.11

Elijah

I 17-19, 2112

Like David (in II Sam. 9-20, I Kings 1-2), Elijah found a brilliant narrator, whose original brief account of a few episodes from the prophet’s life has unfortunately been augmented with some well-intentioned but tedious or offensive details. The narrator wrote with economy of words, as witness the three succinct, eloquent scenes of I Kings 17. His use of the Hebrew language was fresh and original: a surprisingly large number of words and forms are unique. His portrayal of character is powerful in its simplicity and subtlety. Nowhere surpassed in the Old Testament are, Elijah himself; Ahab, in briefer scenes but especially in chapter 21; even Jezebel, especially in the line omitted in the Hebrew manuscripts but authentically preserved in the Greek translation, the Septuagint, at 19:1 — "If you are Elijah, I am Jezebel!" The narrator wrote also with humor, profound sensitivity, and theological insight. His portrayal of the explosively voluble Obadiah (18:7-16) is a masterpiece of humor. The depth of his "psychological" penetration of the prophet himself is astonishing (ch. 19). And only a man himself nurtured and articulate in the tradition of prophetic Yahwism could record Elijah’s racy, earthy verbal devastation of Baal (18:27) and Yahweh’s rebuke of Elijah in the climactic Horeb scene (19:9-18), unquestionably simpler, more direct, and even more moving in its original form. And finally, he also intimately comprehended what Elijah comprehended — that the honor of Yahweh in the Yahweh community involves a theological ethic which not even the king may violate (ch. 21).13

In the prophet Elijah, and certainly also in his narrator, both in the ninth century, the prophetic understanding of the Word of Yahweh has come to full, conscious maturity. Perhaps Elijah and his narrator would not have put it as the Second Isaiah did about three centuries later, but his words express what was essentially their own understanding of the Word-with-power: the entity not merely verbal and descriptive but also instrumental, by its very nature containing the resources for its own accomplishment and fulfillment:

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and return not thither but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and prosper in the thing for which I sent it. (Isa. 55:10-11)

We note in the Elijah narratives the relative frequency of the term, "the Word": I Kings 17:2,5,8,16,24; 18:1 (and vv. 31 and 36, which may not be from the original narrator, however); 21:17 (and v. 28, also possibly secondary). Note also that, as in the records of later classical prophetism, the Word here conveys the sense of a formula whose nature and potency are widely known. Note further that the Word is associated not only with the king but with the people as well. It creates and terminates the drought as a judgment upon people and king (chs. 17,18). It is surely instrumental in the prophet’s indictment of the Carmel assembly (18:20 f.), "How long will you go limping with two different opinions?" It is, of course, the Word which sends the prophet back from Horeb (19:15 ff.) to minister to Israel in the good company of multitudes still faithful to Yahweh.14 And it is the same Word again confronting and judging the king for murder and theft — thus says Yahweh, "Have you killed, and also taken possession!" (21:19).

Although Elijah belongs to the company of preclassical prophets, more than any other in the company he anticipates in two regards that succession of prophets beginning with Amos. Elijah alone of all prophets properly belongs to both groups. In Elijah the Word has attained substantially full prophetic definition and form. Through him the Word finds its mature expression and application, not merely or even principally to the king, but to the nation, the whole people of the covenant. Yahweh’s Word now impinges decisively upon the history of Israel with such force as to involve all history, and upon the royal house with such intensity as to judge all men. Jesus, among others, condensed the Old Testament prophetic ethic (quoting from Deuteronomy and Leviticus) when he declared that "all the law and the prophets" depend upon love of God and love of neighbor (Matt.22:35-40; cf. Mark 12:28-31). But in reality he reached back ultimately to Elijah, in whom these two propositions find impassioned expression, for the first time in biblical record, in a single life. The divine life confronts and decisively qualifies the life of history. To repudiate Yahweh’s lordship and his historical impingement ("The people of Israel have forsaken thee"), to delimit it or run in the face of it ("Have you killed and also taken possession"), to attempt to compromise with it ("How long will you go limping with two different opinions") — all of this is not folly but unqualified disaster. Thus to deny the Word of Yahweh is to invite loss of meaning and fulfillment and the imposition of chaos and death.

Elijah’s address was of course to his own people and his own time; but in his passionate intensity, all men and all history are implicitly embraced. It remains the task and function of classical prophetism to make concrete and specific the decisive involvement of Yahweh in historical existence.15

 

NOTES:

1. In the Annals of Tiglath-pileser III (745-727). See James B. Pritchard, Ancient Near Eastern Texts, 2nd ed., Princeton, 1955, p. 284.

2. M. Noth, "History and the Word of God in the Old Testament," Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, XXXII, no. 2 (March, 1950), 200 ff.

3. Ibid.

4. Cf. G. von Rad. Genesis, trans. J. Marks (from Das Erste Buch Mose, in the series Das Alte Testament Deutsch, vol. Il) Philadelphia, 1961, pp. 23 ff., 27ff.

5. Cf. G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments, Munich, 1957, vol. I, p. 292.

6. Ibid.

7. See E. Voegelin, Israel and Revelation, Baton Rouge, 1956. p. 428: "The Moses of the prophets is not a figure of the past through whose mediation Israel was established once and for all as the people under Yahweh the King, but the first of a line of prophets who in the present, under the revelatory word of Yahweh, continued to bring Israel up from Egypt into existence under God." See further B. D. Napier, "Prophet, Prophetism," The interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, Nashville, 1962.

8. Cf. Pss. 2, 20, 45, 72, 110.

9. See above. Chapter 2. See also von Rad, Genesis, op. cit., pp. 27 ff.; and Voegelin, op. cit., especially chap. 4, "Israel and History."

10. R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History, Oxford, 1946, p. 32.

11. The contention that the account of I Kings 22 is not authentic and, at best, mistakenly assigned to Ahab’s reign is unconvincing. See M. Noth, History of Israel, trans. S. Godman (from Geschichte Israels, 2nd ed.), New York, 1958, pp. 178 ff.

12. Cf. II Kings 1-2.

13. If the character of Ahab comes off rather poorly in the Elijah narratives (I Kings 17-19, 21), I Kings 20 and 22 return the impression of an administrator of considerable ability and power and a man of stature. Assyrian records offer one item of significant support. Shalmaneser III (859-824) fought a battle in 853 against a coalition of smaller Western states including Israel. Since he does not claim to have destroyed this alliance (see Pritchard, op. cit., pp. 278 f.) historians have assumed that the allies gained at least a draw. Shalmaneser’s own records report that Ahab supplied the largest corps of chariots; and it may be that he was the moving force behind the alliance. I Kings 20, probably before this battle of Qarqar, suggests precisely Ahab’s long-term strategy aiming at such an alliance with Syria. I Kings 22, which includes the narrative of Ahab’s heroic death, makes clear that the alliance did not long survive the battle of Qarqar.

14. This is against the interpretation of some who read in the seven thousand faithful in Israel an early insinuation of the "remnant" idea.

15. In the foregoing I have borrowed freely from my article "Prophet, Prophetism," op. cit.

Chapter 5. Monarchy

SAMUEL, SAUL, AND DAVID: I SAMUEL 1-II SAMUEL 8

See him whom Yahweh has chosen.

I Sam. 10:211

Originally one book, and presenting a relatively poorly preserved text, the books of Samuel include:

I 1-15 The fortunes of Samuel, Eli, and the Ark; and Saul to the point of his rejection by Samuel.

I 16-II 8 Narratives of Saul and David.

II 9-20 Events of David’s reign (with I Kings 1-2).

II 21-24 An appendix — a collection of miscellaneous pieces.

We are by now familiar with the "literary" phenomena of a composite text which meet us again here, betraying both the plurality of underlying sources (we shall simply use the symbols A and B for relatively early and late material) and the strong editorial hand of the deuteronomic historian(s), DH, responsible for the unified structure of the block, Deuteronomy-Kings. We are not surprised, then, by duplicate and even triplicate episodes: the fall of Eli’s house, 2:31 ff. and 3:11 ff.; Samuel’s anointing Saul once privately, 9:26 ff., and twice publicly, 10:17 ff. and 11:15; Saul’s double rejection by Samuel in theological but not circumstantial duplicate narratives, 113, 15 and 20:42b the repeated episode of David’s sparing Saul’s life, 24:3 ff. and 26:5 ff.; the duplicated account of his seeking refuge from Saul with the Philistine Achish, king of Gath, 21:10 ff. and 27:1 ff.; the account of Goliath’s dispatch by David, I 17, and again by Elhanan, one of David’s distinguished soldiers, II 21:19 (the Chronicler in I Chronicles 20:5, seeks to harmonize the contradiction by adding to the account of Elhanan’s exploit the words Lahmi the brother of Goliath). And the hand of DH will be recognized: we know something of the character of his piety and we shall see evidence now of his strong bias in favor of the southern, Judean half of the short-lived united monarchy.

Prelude to Kingship

I 1-8

The story of the making of monarchy is introduced with the somewhat idealized account of the birth and early years of Samuel, I 1-3. This is the most appropriate beginning since it is he who plays the role of king-maker in Israel. In the utterly tragic figure of old Eli and in the loss of the ark, the symbol of God’s presence, from the central sanctuary at Shiloh (probably destroyed by the Philistines in this time), we are further prepared for the establishment of monarchy in Israel: it was Philistine aggression, far too powerful to be checked by the resources of a loose tribal confederation, which precipitated the chain of events leading through Saul and David to a unified and extensive, if short-lived, Israelite kingdom.

We do not know the ultimate point of origin of the Philistines. They must have settled sometime around 1200 B.C. in the coastal plain between the Mediterranean and the Judean hill country. There is some evidence of their earlier more or less temporary residence in the Aegean Islands and Asia Minor; and they, or related "maritime people," actually threatened twelfth-century Egypt, as we know from records of Ramses III (C. I 175-1144). It is dear in any case that during the twelfth and eleventh centuries they formed a powerful pentapolis made up of the five tightly coordinated city-states of Gaza, Ashkelon, Ashdod, Ekron, and Gath (the last not yet identified), which ultimately gained control of most of Canaan west of the Jordan. The name Palestine is derived from their name, Philistine.

Do not fail to note the theme of these chapters. Unlike the conditions prevailing earlier, the various tribes of Israel are now all reduced by the same enemy; and it is this external threat which ultimately leads to the Israelite monarchy. Philistine control was in some respects minimal and relatively unoppressive, and therefore the threat was not to their existence but to their peace in the full sense of that word — their fulfilled existence. Note also in this prelude to kingship, I Samuel 1-8, the following features of the narrative.

"The Song of Hannah" in 2:1-10 is later than its context (the institution of monarchy is assumed already in verse 10) and can be removed without injury to itself or the story. In this respect, and others, it compares remarkably to the Magnificat of Mary in Luke 1:46-56. The presence of both of these psalm-like pieces in present context simply testifies again to the faith of the believing community that the life of God impinges on the course of human events with power, purpose, and compassion.

Note the starkly portrayed tragic dimension in old Eli shamed by his sons, 2:22 ff., in broken relationship to Yahweh, 2:27-36, and dying in the anguished knowledge that his sons have been killed and the ark stolen by the Philistines. There is tragedy also in the very words of Philistine to Philistine, 4:9, and in the bitter scene of the birth and naming of the child Ichabod, Eli’s grandson, 4:19-22. It is not an unrelieved sense of tragedy: Israel records with humor and glee in I 5-6 the humiliation, in the presence of the ark, of Dagon, god of Philistia, and the humiliation by a plague of the Philistines themselves, regarded as a result of having the ark in their midst. Note also the realistic ancient conviction of taboo reflected in the story of the ark’s return to Bethshemesh (6:19 ff.; not to Shiloh because, we suspect, the Philistines had already destroyed it).

Finally, note in these and subsequent chapters the dual, if not conflicting, representations of the person and role of Samuel and of the whole concept of monarchy. Predominantly in chapters 7-8, and also in 10:17-25 and chapter 12, Samuel is a gigantic figure, possessing the greatest attributes of Moses, Joshua, and the most distinguished of the Judges; he is himself adequate for the needs of Israel. This view of Samuel goes naturally hand in hand with a totally negative judgment of the monarchy, a judgment which regards it as a grave mistake perversely instituted by sinful Israel against the will of Yahweh and contrary to the judgment of Samuel.

Saul and Samuel

I 9-15

According to a second point of view (predominantly, 9-11 and 13-14), Samuel is a seer, a clairvoyant — we might call him a professional occultist. Correspondingly, the monarchy is seen as the will of Yahweh, declared and implemented through Samuel. This representation of the immediate premonarchic time no doubt draws from originally older and more intimately informed narrative strands from what we have called the A stratum. We are nevertheless sure that the present composite narrative constitutes a fuller and even more accurate history. There is every reason to believe that Samuel was in fact a man of many roles — seer but judge; clairvoyant but also prophet; and at the same time king-maker of ambivalent feeling and motivation.2 There is every reason to believe that while subsequent disillusionment with kingship in Israel is reflected in B strands of the narrative, an element of sheer realism is also preserved: that is, that there were contemporaneously in Israel Yahweh loyalists, prophets, and others who regarded monarchy as a pagan innovation borrowed from and patterned after the related but generally estranged kingdoms of Moab and Ammon and as such a flagrant rejection of the traditional ways of the tribes of Israel and of Yahweh himself. And on the essential point of faith, the composite narrative is at one with itself; consenting or disapproving, honored or aggrieved, it is Yahweh and Samuel who are directly responsible for Saul’s quasi-kingship and David’s ultimate creation of full monarchy. In Israel’s ancient faith, Yahweh does not impose his will arbitrarily upon his covenant people in the midst of history’s course, but in the course which they elect, he effects by one means or another his own historical purposes for them. He may approve or disapprove of the monarchy which they will have; but he will take it and use it successfully for his own ends.

The whole deuteronomic history of Samuel-Kings is a remarkably varied story on a single theme. For his own purposes, Yahweh created a people, as he created a world, out of chaos. The intention of divine purpose and meaning was frustrated by pride, by the rejection of given order. And the order which Yahweh would create and sustain becomes thus reduced again to the chaotic out of which, however, Yahweh will nevertheless effect his covenant purpose. This is the theological theme repeatedly sounded throughout Samuel-Kings — in the narratives of Israel under the Philistines, of Saul, of David, of Solomon, and of the succession of the kings of Israel, North and South, to the tragic closing of Israelite monarchy.

See this portrayed vividly and with doubled emphasis in the Samuel-Saul cycle. Saul is surely one of history’s greatest and most tragic men. By his courageous heart, his valiant leadership against Philistia, and his faith that he is Yahweh’s man, he achieves a position of strength and prominence among most of the tribes of Israel quite exceeding that of any previous "judge" but clearly short of full kingship. In chapters 13 and 15 (theological but not precisely episodical duplicates) he is publicly rejected by Samuel-Yahweh; and with the traumatic knowledge that his cause is no longer Yahweh’s cause or that Yahweh’s cause is no longer his cause, that magnificent man, the courageous heart, the valiant leadership are seen to shrivel, disintegrate, and atrophy. Who can say whether the theological judgment is "right" or "wrong"? We who read of him are nevertheless moved to repeat the lines of David’s lament mourning Saul’s death — "How are the mighty fallen!" (II 1:19, 25, 27)

David and Saul

I 16-31

At Yahweh’s behest Samuel anoints David in a strictly private ceremony: this is Samuel’s (and therefore Yahweh’s) man for the future (16:1-13, B). Saul, deprived of Samuel’s support and no doubt aware of his own inadequacy and Israel’s against Philistine aggression, suffers from severe depression and ironically finds the antidote to his illness only in David’s musical gifts (16:13-23, A). David comes to Saul with an incomparable recommendation — "skillful in playing, a man of valor, a man of war, prudent in speech, and a man of good presence"; and as if this were not enough, the further word that "Yahweh is with him" (16:18). This is of course no incidental comment. This is the point of the narratives: Yahweh is with David. All that is recounted in the progressively deteriorating relationship of David and Saul is intended to illustrate this theme. This is true of the tale of David’s conquest of Goliath (in this clearly composite work, David is quite unknown to Saul in this chapter, 17). The theme that David is Yahweh’s man dominates the David-Jonathan relationship and, with greater or less direct control, determines the editor’s selection of available narratives which deal with the intricate and tragic Saul-David relationship.

The story is its own best commentary. The greater part of the second half of I Samuel is assigned to A, which is simply to say that, by and large, we suspect that these episodes in the lives of Saul and Jonathan and David are accurately informed. They are certainly brilliantly narrated and take the point of view which holds David to be Yahweh’s man, the man on whom the Yahweh-blessing firmly resides. Some modern interpreters feel that every move of this uncommonly gifted man was calculated in terms of its political expediency in achieving his own ambitious ends.3 Certainly David was ambitious. Undeniably he was a man of almost uncanny political astuteness. Nor do we doubt that some of his acts of magnanimity were also calculated to his own advantage. The total political accomplishment of David still stands as a nearly incredible feat, and let no one be so naive as to suppose that this kind of performance is carried out anywhere, in any time, by unadulterated goodness and nobility of character. These biographical notes on the life of David acknowledge and illustrate David’s moral ambivalence and even duplicity, and yet at the same time present a man who, as the sons of men go, is superior not only in the qualities of winsomeness and shrewdness, but also in the solid virtues that issue from a dominant integrity.

The Full Accession of David

II 1-8

Saul’s death (I 31) hardly warrants the term suicide unless the narrative deliberately falsifies the facts in order to spare the reputation of Saul — and this is unlikely. He and his sons, including Jonathan, die in a cause they know to be doomed even before that final battle with the Philistines begins; and Saul, this figure of stark tragedy drawn in heroic dimensions, makes his exit from Israel’s history with his essential stature of greatness still intact. If the moving lines of the lament (II 1:19 ff.) over the death of Saul and Jonathan are in fact David’s (as appears to be probable) it becomes more difficult to maintain the interpretation of David as a man of unmitigated, calculating ambition. These words are more than a lyrical garland tossed toward Saul’s adherents in an effort to win them (although we do not suppose for a moment that David was unaware of the positive political implications of his public and phenomenally articulate grief). Genuine sorrow and a profound sense of personal bereavement are undeniable in the lines of the lament; David’s love and affection for father and son are unmistakably attested.

We repeat that the narratives here are their own best commentary. This is the unimpeachable stuff of history, history at its best — history articulated and shaped by the very participants in the narrated events and unabashedly interpreted from an internal and involved standpoint, from a position within the history. The participants — David and his contemporaries in Israel — believe that David is Yahweh’s man, coming now to the leadership of Yahweh’s people, in Yahweh’s land, to form Yahweh’s kingdom, and (always implicitly at the core of the Yahweh faith) to fulfill Yahweh’s purposes in history. Such a record requires no commentary but only an alert, sympathetic, and sensitive hearer-reader. David, endowed of Yahweh, possesses in these years and through these episodes a kind of Midas-touch. The Philistines, with whom he has earlier been allied, stand confidently by while this old friend is elevated to tribal kingship in Hebron over the small confederation of southern tribes (2:1-4). Internal events in Israel all operate, by accident or manipulation, in David’s favor (chs. 2-4). Now the northern tribes request that David assume rule over them; and a narrator gives us his own and what he obviously believes also to be David’s interpretation of the whole astonishing sequence of events:

David perceived that Yahweh had established him king over Israel, and that he had exalted his kingdom for the sake of his people Israel. (5:12)

The last major Canaanite (Jebusite) city-fortress, Jerusalem, is taken (5:6-10) and the Philistines, asleep on their feet or successfully lulled by the political charm and machinations of David, suddenly come to (5:17-22). Now the ark is brought to the new capital of Jerusalem (6:1-16: this reminds us of the narrative of the ark’s earlier potent taboo during and following its Philistine sojourn) and David secures Saul’s daughter Michal, this time surely in an act predominantly politically motivated. The editor adds, from the B complex of narratives, the David-Nathan-Yahweh conversations over the question of a temple in Jerusalem (8:1 ff.; cf. I Chron. 28:11-19).

This remarkable section on David’s full accession to political kingship over the tribes of Israel and the land of Canaan is summed up and also favorably judged in the words of II 8:15:

So David reigned over all Israel; and David administered justice and equity to all his people.

DAVID, URIAH, AND ABSALOM: II SAMUEL 21-24, 8-20

Evil out of your own house.

II Sam. 12:114

The block of chapters II Samuel 9-20, with its original conclusion in I Kings 1-2, has been justly described as the prose masterpiece of the Hebrew Bible. This is the written work of a highly articulate, gifted, and informed historian who shared as colleague and participant the days of David’s mature years. In this remarkable biography every detail is authentic and unimpeachable. And yet, as tends to be true of Old Testament history, this is obviously written not merely for the sake of preserving a history of the life of David, the King, but in order to extract from the history its essential meaning in the Yahweh-faith. The historian himself passionately believes that the sequential events in these years of David’s reign are fundamentally shaped by the covenant fact of Yahweh’s decisive involvement in the life of Israel and his efficacious impingement upon the life of history. In this sense, therefore, this too is in the nature of prophetic history, that is, history in which the historian, wittingly or involuntarily, acts as spokesman for and interpreter of the Yahweh-faith. Here as in the Saul cycle of stories the historical turning-point is theologically conceived: both Saul and David are seen to suffer anguished reversal of fortune not in terms of causality, not as the result of mere circumstance, not as blind historical accident, but precisely as the judgment of Yahweh, the negative response of Yahweh to the mis-response of the king to the covenant Lord of Israel. Saul is expelled from the kingdom for what is twice represented as an act of unwarranted pride (1 Sam. 13 and 15); the theological "plot" is closely parallel to the story of the Garden in Genesis 3. David’s reversal takes the form of alienation within his own communities — family, city, and kingdom — as a result of this violent desecration of community (II Sam. ll);and here the theological scheme parallels that of the story of the Brothers in Genesis 4. We shall see in the next section that the reign of Solomon is similarly interpreted as turning on an act — apostasy — in violation of the Yahweh-faith (I Kings 11), in response to which Yahweh brings to violent, tragic rupture the unity of Israel. And this too has its parallel in the Yahwist’s prelude to the Old Testament in the story of the Tower, Genesis 11.

And so, for all the intimacy and accuracy of the present record of David, this is not what we would call "objective" history, since the decisive force is without question deemed to be outside and above the plane of history, in the person of Yahweh, who, although effectively involved in history, is himself suprahistorical.

The Situation

II 21-24; 8-10

David has attained the pinnacle. His achievement, we think, is the work of a devoted man — devoted certainly to David, but also in uncommon and laudable measure to Israel and to Yahweh. We do not try to maintain that he has reached the summit utterly clean and quite untarnished. Narratives constituting an appendix to the books of Samuel (II 21-24, interrupting the original unit of II Samuel 9-20 plus I Kings 1-2), remind us of the degree to which David was a product of his own time, and a full-fledged member of the political race (see, respectively, II Sam. 24 and 21:1-4). Both stories are authentic, and come from David’s earlier years. The former describes how David incurs the active displeasure of Yahweh by taking a census. It is useless to speculate on the "why" of this episode — are population figures deemed to be nobody’s business but Yahweh’s, or is there implicit condemnation of the possibly sinister ends of census-taking, namely, heavy taxation and conscription? In any case the story reminds us again of the strong sense of group solidarity in the ancient East and specifically in ancient Israel. In the narrative of II Samuel 21:1-14 even the most ardent supporter of the winsome David must read with suspicion David’s consent to and implementation of the slaughter of the surviving males of the house of Saul (save only one, to whom we will come in a moment). Equally suspect is the rational for this purge (designed, of course, to put David above political reproach), and David’s calculated gesture of rapprochement with the adherents of Saul in the final disposal of all the mortal remains of the male Saulides (II Sam. 21: 12-14).

David’s variously motivated ambition is attained. He has trained and fought with a mighty band of warriors (geborim), some of whom on occasion have saved his life (21:15-17) or tilted with Philistine giants (21:18-21); and once, in a moving episode of mutual loyalty and admiration between men and leader, three of their number risked seemingly probable death to answer David’s longing for the cool water of Bethlehem’s well (23:13-17). Philistia on the coast and Moab across the Jordan are subdued (8:1-2), and more remote potential enemies are unable to offer David any serious threat (8:3-14). The sole male survivor of Saul and Jonathan is, in a gesture at once magnanimous and politically astute, brought into the king’s household, to "eat at the king’s table," live on the king’s bounty — of course under the constant surveillance of the king’s staff (ch. 9). With the situation thus in hand both without and within the kingdom, the narrative of chapter 10 adds the advice, and brilliantly illustrates it, that in the person of Joab, David has a commander-in-chief not only of fabulous competence, but possessing an admirable quality of Yahweh-faith in the bargain (see 10:12).

What a beautiful day David has had!

Spring Night in Jerusalem

II 11-12

"It happened late one afternoon when David arose from his couch. . ." (11:2). It is spring, "the time when kings go forth to battle." But David has sent Joab against the Ammonites while he, the king, "remained at Jerusalem" (11:1).

There is no combination of situation and season comparable to Jerusalem in the spring. Other cities of renown have laid claim to pre-eminence in this regard (e.g., "Paris in the spring"); and we have met personally the ravishing coincidence of April or May in Athens and Rome, Washington and New York, in Atlanta and San Francisco, in Cairo and Damascus, in Munich and Berlin, in Nanking and Shanghai and Kobe and Yokohama. Each of these has its peculiar excellence under spring’s invasion, but nothing exceeds the intoxication of Jerusalem in early April, a condition lyrically and erotically memorialized by an uncommonly articulate resident of Jerusalem some centuries after David:

Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away;

for lo, the winter is past,

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of singing has come,

and the voice of the turtledove

is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines are in blossom;

they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away.

(Song of Solomon, 2:10-13)

An idle, aging king in the heady, evening air of a Jerusalem springtime; the beautiful Bathsheba and her incorruptible husband Uriah; the king’s prompt, efficient, confident steps to cover the results of his lustful intoxication; Uriah’s integrity as soldier and his unwitting and ultimately fatal frustration of David’s self-protective scheme merely by the virtue of his extreme loyalty to his compatriots still in the field; David’s unhesitating but premeditated resort to murder; the complicity of Joab, always intensely, blindly loyal to David; and continuing this picture of the king’s total moral collapse in steps of progressive deterioration, David’s calloused words of reassurance to Joab, "Do not let this matter trouble you . . ."; and at last the consummation of the whole sorry episode when Bathsheba is added to David’s harem and another son added to his progeny. Here, too, one might murmur, "How are the mighty fallen!"

Such behavior by the king in ancient oriental monarchy was nor, we think, so common as is sometimes alleged. On the other hand, it appears certain that the total historical response to this in Israel, and, particularly, within Israelite Yahwism, was unprecedented and unique. It remains one of the distinctive aspects of Israelite monarchy that it was not deemed to be absolute. In Israel the only absolute is Yahweh, and repeatedly Yahweh’s spokesmen, the prophets, assume in Yahweh’s name a role of authority above even the king’s authority to rebuke, condemn, and declare judgment upon the king.

"The thing that David had done displeased Yahweh" (11:27); and the prophet Nathan is Yahweh’s instrument for checking and containing the swollen pride of David (ch. 12). David’s response to the prophet’s incisive, devastating parable is not the response of a monarch to a brash subject or courtier, but, in this case in full contrition, of a covenant man to the Word: "I have sinned against Yahweh!" The sentence of death, which David himself has meted out, is removed; but the faith which gives form to the biography regards the harassed remainder of David’s life as the fulfillment of an irremovable and unalterable judgment. For lust, arrogance, covetousness, adultery, calculated competence iii compounding wrong, for deliberate murder, and for highhanded indifference to this wholesale shattering of covenant commandment — for all this, you shall know now the kind of violence you have perpetrated on Uriah, and the same loss of sexual prerogatives which you inflicted upon him. All this evil will come against you out of your own house! see 12:7-12).

The child conceived in that spring night in Jerusalem did not live, and something of the strength of the old David is heard in his courageous response to the death (12:20-23). This sequence, which is the turning point in David’s reign, closes with Solomon’s birth to David and Bathsheba (12:24), and David’s triumphant "conquest" of the Ammonite capital across the Jordan, a farce set up by the loyal Joab (12:26 ff.).

The Grotesque Triangle

II 13-14

David is to be succeeded by his (and Bathsheba’s) son Solomon, whose despotic, ostentatious reign (contrary to the still glowing Solomonic legends) leads directly to the rupture of the united Israelite kingdom. But, at least in the understanding of David’s historian, the real turning point, not merely in the life of David but in the life of the kingdom, is in the center of David’s reign. Ultimate responsibility for the collapse of the united monarchy must fall upon David, whose failure is seen as essentially a failure of faith, a moral failure in the broad sense — a failure to act according to covenant faith and in covenant righteousness. And again, the order and meaning which Yahweh would impart to Israel is reduced to chaos by the failure of faith, by the response of unfaith.

The anguish that is now David’s — an anguish produced out of his own house — is at least as profound as that of the tragic Saul. There can be no doubt (at least I do not doubt) that, in his encounter with the prophet Nathan, David felt the full force of his own despicable role in the David-Bathsheba-Uriah triangle. But if time began to ease his guilt, it was a short-lived reprieve, for in the intimate circle of his own children the primary components of his own heinous behavior are enacted. Amnon, David’s oldest son and heir-apparent, vents a sexual aggression more rampant than his father’s not upon another man’s wife but upon his own half-sister Tamar, David’s daughter and the full-sister of Absalom. Not only does David see his own sexual arrogance manifested in one of his sons, but he must also witness in another son that driving political ambition which he had held in check to some degree. But in Absalom it becomes a ruling and ultimately uncontrollable passion. In a grotesque modification of the triangle in which David played so wretched a role, these traits in his sons lead to the same bleak end — murder. In the Amnon-Tamar-Absalom triangle, David’s son Amnon is both the perpetrator of incestuous rape and the victim of homicidal passion — he is, then, David and Uriah. David’s daughter Tamar plays the role of violated woman, the victim of her brother. And David’s son Absalom re-enacts David’s role of murderer, unleashing against a brother the same calculated passion of David against Uriah. Amnon blocked Absalom’s way to the throne: in both cases, then, the victim threatened the aggressor. Amnon-Tamar-Absalom: "evil out of your own house."5

Son with a Chariot

II 15-20

The winsomeness of the younger David is incarnate now in Absalom. The deep hurt which Saul knew from his "son" David (see I Sam. 24:11,16), David knows in full bitter measure. Absalom is utterly without scruple, a man in whom the vile passions against which David had certainly struggled are in full control.

And he is David’s son. Were David and his advisers at any time unaware of Absalom’s intentions? The structure of David’s court may have been relatively simple (II 20:23-26 and 8:16-18), but it was obviously an exceedingly competent organization. If David’s normally shrewd and sensitive political faculties were stupefied by his doting love for Absalom, we can hardly expect the same of his advisers, one of whose gifts in counsel is boldly likened to the very oracle of God (II 16:23). Under the circumstances, we can only suppose that David’s evacuation of the capital, Jerusalem, before Absalom’s advance from Hebron in the south (a shrewd choice by Absalom: it was from Hebron that David had earlier moved the capital) must have been voluntary and, we suspect, imposed by the king arbitrarily upon a strongly disapproving Joab and army, and indeed the whole of David’s staff.

One may repeat here yet again that the text is its own superb commentary. We do not miss the loyalty of David’s mercenary troops (15: 19-21); the narrator’s conviction of the mature quality of David’s faith (15:25 f.; 16:12); the essential gentleness of David in these most wretched hours (16:5-14); the brilliant, carnal symbol of Absalom’s irrevocable usurpation (16:20-22) and its portentous recall of the David-Nathan encounter (II 12:11-12); the arch Old Testament realist, the remarkable pragmatist Ahitophel (17: 1-23); Joab, who always acts like Joab (18:10-15; 19:1-7; 20A-13); David’s pathetic concern, implicit throughout, for the defiant son (18:1-5); the moving grief of a father’s utter brokenness in the loss of his son (18:33); the reassertion in this critical time of the old and always fundamental north-south cleavage (19:11,41-43); David’s profound and probably chronic annoyance with the crude, brash, "muscular" ways of Joab and his brothers, the sons of Zeruiah (16:10; 19:22; see also 3:34b; 3:38 f.); and finally, in a kind of pausal summary before the last scene of David’s reign in I Kings 1-2, the statement of David’s very modest bureaucracy (20:23-26; cf. the extensive elaboration of this structure under Solomon, I Kings 4:1 ff.).

This is the brilliant story of David’s mature reign in which order becomes chaos in the form of evil out of David’s own house. We, who stand outside the covenant faith of ancient Israel. may want to question or to alter the historian’s interpretation of these episodes and events in the king’s life, but we must first acknowledge his interpretation: the king, the kingdom, and the reign — all these that might have been but for the violation of the covenant community, the Yahweh faith, and Yahweh himself. What might have been was not, because of the failure of faith.

DAVID, SOLOMON, AND THE KINGDOM:

II SAMUEL 21-24; I KINGS 1-11

For David’s sake.

I Kings 11:12

We looked in the preceding section at three of the component pieces in the appendix to the book(s) of Samuel (II 1-4). In addition to these (census, 24; blood revenge upon the house of Saul, 21:1-14; and the water of Bethlehem’s well, 23:13-17) we find two lists of David’s geborim, his mighty men, the most distinguished of his soldiers (Uriah is one of them, 23:39), in 21:15-22 and in 23:8-39, of which the third episode just mentioned is a part. These two lists were no doubt originally a unit, broken by the insertion of two psalm-like pieces attributed to David.

The second of these, 23:1-7, appears to be a late composition and purports to be the last words of David. The first, chapter 22, also appears, with a few minor differences, as Psalm 18.That it cannot be in its present form a composition of David is on every hand agreed; but whereas most scholars of preceding generations confidently assigned the psalm to a much later age (some as late even as the second century B.C. there is now strong support for the view that this psalm had its original formulation (subsequently expanded, to be sure) if not from David, then from the time of David or very close to David’s time. It takes its place among a considerable number of psalms which may be called Royal Psalms, setting forth (as, for example, Ps. 72) the ideal of righteous kingship under Yahweh which had its origin and, always in tradition, its supreme expression in the Davidic covenant.6

The Acts of David’s Dotage

I 1-2

This is the continuation and conclusion of that superb performance of the historian’s art, II Samuel 9-20. Not in the Old Testament nor anywhere else have we anything comparable to this intimate, eloquent, profoundly moving tragedy of three thousand years ago.

The opening episode (I Kings 1:1-4) is emphatically not in deference to popular taste for smutty or racy details from the life of a public figure. The narrator brilliantly conveys the senile condition of the king and at the same time introduces the innocent figure of the warm-bodied, beautiful young woman whose strong appeal to Adonijah precipitates Adonijah’s death and secures his younger half-brother Solomon’s accession to the throne.

As always it is the genius of this narrative that it leaves the reader quite on his own in the assessment of motives and the interpretation of details. Tradition vastly magnifies Solomon, the successor to David; and it is easy to assume the illegitimacy and/or the "wrongness" of opposing claimants. Adonijah sounds and looks like another Absalom but with the significant exception that his father’s life is finished and that he has no intention of usurping his father’s place. And he is the next in line (1:6). It is a point in his favor that he enjoys the support of Joab and Abiathar the priest: it is difficult if not impossible to think that either of these would have supported him if David himself were on record in support of another candidate. We doubt, then, that the Solomon conspiracy of Nathan, Bathsheba, Zadok, and Benaiah had David’s support as they claimed (1:13). David’s senility is successfully put to their uses, and Solomon, son of Bathsheba, is made king. It may be significant that Nathan, who masterminds the plot and its execution, is not here represented as acting at the behest of the Word of Yahweh as twice earlier he is (II Sam. 7:4 ff. and 12:1 ff.). If David authorized the bloody purge to remove all real and potential threats to Solomon’s position, it was "authorization" from the surviving body of the already departed David, from the irresponsible lips of an old man in advanced senility.

One must recall in chapter 2 that verses 3-4, 10-12, and 27 are editorial additions from the hand of DH (that is, the deuteronomic historians who fashioned the block Deuteronomy-II Kings from numerous sources). Otherwise, it is a calculating and merciless Solomon whose "hatchet-man" Benaiah dispatches in cold blood first Adonijah, then Joab, then Shimei. We are not reading too much into this remarkable narrative of II Samuel 9-20, 1 Kings l-2, when we read the present concluding line, "So the kingdom was established in the hand of Solomon."

The Solomon Legend

I 3-10

Negative evidence against Solomon and his reign is overwhelming. All the more remarkable, then, the persistence and extravagance of what may be called the Solomon legend. The unknown author whose distinguished work of history we have been reading leaves us now. This is material from a variety of other sources. Chapter 3 gives us a highly idealized and stuffily pious account of the wisdom of Solomon. This hard-fisted "fascist" who in the preceding chapter wipes away his potential opposition in a smear of blood appears now a Jekyll to his previous Hyde. To put it mildly, 3:7-9 is out of character: ". . .I am but a little child: I do not know how to go out or come in"(!). Even more out of character are God’s words (perhaps significantly not Yahweh’s) in verses 11-14: ". . . none like you has been before you and none like you shall arise after you . . . no other king shall compare with you all your days." One could believe that Yahweh might speak so in irony! And one could then also read a meaning certainly not intended by the legend in the following verse: "And Solomon awoke, and behold it was a dream."

But so that we, the readers, will know that this is a dream of substance, the story continues with the famous illustration of the King’s wisdom in the disposition of the case of the disputed baby. This legend intends to portray not only the king’s wisdom but his accessibility to the meanest of the population — a claim for Solomon, we suspect, even further from the truth. And the essential Solomon legend now moves in a gusty crescendo to its fabulous climax in 4:20-34.

The Solomonic legend continues to be sounded through the more reliable accounts of his prowess as builder and patron of the arts. Solomon was ambitious for the kingdom — of Solomon; and relative to anything ever known in Israel, at least, his public works’ program was incredibly lavish and, no doubt to the discerning, ostentatious and pretentious. Under Solomon Israelite art and architectural forms were largely nonindigenous. His alliance with Hiram king of Tyre (in reality, kin of all Phoenicia), provided Solomon’s Israel with the resources of a people singularly advanced both economically and culturally; and Solomon’s costly but no doubt magnificent building program, including the Temple, employed Hiram’s architects, designers, and engineers. Two great pieces of prophetic composition lyrically extol the superior virtues of Tyre, the capital and symbol of Phoenician culture (Isa. 23 and Ezek. 27).

The legend of Solomon is not without foundation in fact, as we shall see in a moment; and some of the legend’s accretions are superb creations, instructive to the life and faith of Israel and emanating from deep within it. Such is the character of the long speech and prayer put on Solomon’s lips on the occasion of the dedication of the Temple (I Kings 8:12-61). This is the work of DH at DH’s best, drawn in part from the living liturgy and prayers incorporated in the whole Temple institution. If the language of the speech and prayer sometimes appears crassly materialistic by our standards, we must not miss the sensitivity, the depth, and, in the best sense of the word, the sophistication of the theology especially apparent in verses 27-50. Tradition is right in ascribing this to the Solomon of the legend, since indeed such a Solomon might well have prayed for the future of his own people that in every evil contingency Yahweh would hear and would forgive, renew, and restore the life of the people.

Solomon and the Kingdom of David

I 3-11

David’s problems emanated largely from the very considerable community of his own household. David was at his weakest and most inept in these relationships. But the vast structure of the kingdom — indeed, the empire — was securely maintained throughout his reign by his brilliant capacities as political administrator and, of course, by the superior military establishment under Joab. Solomon possessed neither. He conspicuously lacked the political comprehension and sensitivity of David; and while he elaborated the physical facilities of the Israelite military,7 the fundamental security of the Davidic kingdom was critically undermined, probably early in Solomon’s reign, by a resurgent Edom under Hadad to the south (I Kings 11:14 ff.), the establishment of incipient Syrian power in Damascus under Rezon to the north (11:23 f.), and, from the very center, the early insurrection of the Ephraimite Jeroboam (11:26-28) who, upon Solomon’s death, played a leading role in the North’s secession from Israelite union. The kingdom survived Solomon’s reign intact and may even have appeared stronger and more extensive than under David’s administration. But Solomon permitted the foundations of the kingdom to deteriorate while he built upon them a spectacular superstructure.

David was content with the limits of the old Jebusite city of Jerusalem. Solomon extended the city to the higher hill immediately to the north where he constructed his own extensive royal residence and its probably incorporated royal temple, the renowned Temple of Solomon. It was built over or upon a great rock, sacred from time immemorial and held in tradition to be the scene of Abraham’s near-sacrifice of Isaac — a rock now enclosed in the magnificent Arab Dome of the Rock in today’s old walled city of Jerusalem.8

Solomon’s ambitious and far-flung building programs were, of course, terribly costly — one might say, fatally costly. The personnel, equipment, and maintenance of the royal establishment became exceedingly heavy and elaborate (see I Kings 4:1-28). Legends of Solomon’s vast wealth and wisdom are based upon fact. As an avid patron of the arts, Solomon collected in Jerusalem priceless treasures from all over the world (10:14-25), many of them no doubt transported in ships of his own fleet (9:26-28 and 10:11 f.). His "wisdom" consisted, we suspect, in his profligate and ultimately self- flattering sponsorship of native and imported "wisdom" artists — articulate writers and reciters of a kind of prephilosophical moral philosophy current in the Near Eastern world of the tenth century and preserved, in essential character at least, in Proverbs, in many of the Psalms, and, in a different vein, in the Prologue and Epilogue of job (Job 1-2; 42:7-17).

All of this had to be paid for out of Israelite pockets, with Israelite sweat and blood and tears. The pious statement 9:22 belies itself — it is the protest which confirms the reality of what is denied:

But of the people of Israel Solomon made no slaves; they were the soldiers, they were his officials, his commanders, his captains, his chariot commanders and his horsemen. This has always been a great dream — an army made up entirely of officers, a construction gang composed only of overseers, an enterprise employing only executives. But, all Israel paid, and paid dearly, to satisfy Solomon’s prideful ostentation; and in paying so dearly, the original kingdom of David was destroyed.

The Solomon story is very different in kind from the David story. The sources are more impersonal, further removed, and sometimes ill-informed. The embellishment of legend is incomparably greater. The final history is an editorial creation in which a work called "The Book of the Acts of Solomon" (11:41) is no doubt the source of reports of Solomon’s varied administrative actions, but which freely incorporates long current lore about that fabulous reign, and here and there the candid editorial judgment of DH. Nevertheless, Yahwism’s theological judgment and interpretation of the reign are no less apparent here than in the stories of Saul and David. Unsuppressed by glowing legends of unqualified Solomonic utopia, it is both the explicit and implicit conclusion of the whole Solomon story that Solomon was apostate: by his total performance as king he repudiated the Yahwism of Israel and of his father David. David’s kingdom, so runs the perceptible judgment of the Old Testament texts, remained the covenant kingdom of Yahweh. For all his acknowledged weaknesses, David remained to the end a Yahweh man, the Israelite leader of covenanted Israel. But the Solomon story is the Babel story all over again, the story in which Yahweh is repudiated in grossest fashion ignored: ". . . let me build myself a city and Temple, and let me make a name for myself . . ." Solomon’s sin is apostasy, as the strongly editorial lines of chapter 11 make clear. And consonant with the immutable position of Yahwistic prophetism, whose primary proposition is always the effective impingement of divine life upon history, the meaning of Solomon’s reign and of events subsequent to it is discerned in the scheme of sin and judgment: like Babel, apostasy results in the rupture of human community. The same Yahweh faith which in Genesis 11 historizes the myth, here clothes history with the myth. Israel’s Yahwism understands the failure of the Davidic kingdom to hold together all Israel as a failure of faith. Israel (of course, always in the person of her king in whom all Israel is embodied) must be a Yahweh-covenant people or no people, she will be a Yahweh-community or a Babel, she will be what Yahweh created her to be or chaos.

 

NOTES:

1. Cf. I Chron. 15; Ps. 132.

2. Samuel’s ambivalence is discerningly portrayed in D. H. Lawrence’s play, David, available in Religious Drama I, M. Halverson, ed., Living Age Books, New York.

3. Cf. M. Noth, History of Israel, trans. S. Godman (from Geschichte Israels, 2nd ed.), New York, 1958, pp. 178 ff.

4. Cf. Ps. 13.

5. For a fuller commentary on this, and other narratives of the united Israelite kingdom, see B. D. Napier, From Faith to Faith, New York, 1955, pp. 108-155. The most distinguished, now classic, study in this area is L. Rost, Die Ueberlieferung von der Thronnachfolge Davids, Stuttgart, 1926.

6. Cf. A. R. Johnson, Sacral Kingship in Ancient Israel, Cardiff, 1955, p. 15 also E. Jacob, Theology of the Old Testament, New York, 1958, pp. 234-239.

7. The builder Solomon was at work as far south as the Gulf of Aqabah at the port city of Ezion-geber, as we know from I Kings 11:26 and from excavations of his copper mines there. His extensive stables at Megiddo, one of his fortified cities (I Kings 9:19), have also been uncovered. See further Noth, op. cit., pp. 206 ff.; G. E. Wright, Biblical Archaeology, Philadelphia, 1957, pp. 129 ff.

8. Any precise reconstruction of the temple is impossible, although Ezekiel 41 may offer tangible assistance where I Kings 6 is deficient. See G. F. Wright’s attempt at reconstruction and his vivid description in Biblical Archaeology, op. cit., pp. 136 ff.

Chapter 4: Anarchy

TRIBAL OCCUPATION AND CONSOLIDATION:

JOSHUA 1-12; JUDGES 1-5

I will not drive them out.

Judg. 2:31

The contents of the book of Judges may be outlined as follows:

1:1-2:5 Introduction. Efforts at occupation and settlement in Canaan by separate and isolated tribes, with emphasis on the successes of Simeon, Judah and the house of Joseph.

2:6-16:31 The work of the judges. A collection of narratives originating for the most part independently of one another among tribal groups in Canaan later embraced in Israelite monarchy — a collection wrought and edited by DH (Deuteronomic historians responsible for the substantial present form of Deuteronomy-Kings).

17:1- 21:25 An appendix of assorted components.

The process by which any record and memory of the past is preserved inevitably involves some screening of the past. This is especially true of history that is predominantly maintained cultically, when past event is the occasion for present praise of God and the celebration of his role in the life of a people. The basic cultic formula, Out of Egypt, into this land, unquestionably rests upon past events, but it is a past marvelously screened and filtered.

Now it is the genius of ancient Israel that she knew this. We have already noted in the stories of her fathers (the patriarchs) and her founder (Moses) the irrepressible quality of realism which frustrates all efforts to describe existence — any existence — in ideal terms. In her joyous cultic celebrations she rehearsed the fundamental theological scheme of Yahweh’s initiating Word, Israel’s response of faith, and the resultant redemption from slavery into freedom; but at the same time she knew (and found herself compelled to record) that the Word is fulfilled always with characteristic imprecision, and in tension and anguish. She insists at once on the truth of the theological scheme and on what she also knows to be the facts of existence. Such is the testimony of the Joshua-Judges record.

The Nature of the Story in Joshua

We could call the theological scheme the cult-myth if the term were not so easily misunderstood. The cult-myth is the true theological essence of the event. It is what faith decrees to be the essential structure and meaning of the event. The myth, then, is historicized, that is, its true essence is clothed with a story which purports to make history of theology. In this case, the account of Canaan’s acquisition as told, for the most part, in Joshua represents the historicizing of the cultic confession. Yahweh gave the land. It was the conquest of the people under Joshua, total, complete, easy, and sometimes, as at Jericho, Josh. 6, wrought not at all by force of arms but hy potent formula revealed by Yahweh.

So Joshua defeated the whole land, the hill country and the Negeb [the land stretching south of Canaan into the reaches of the desert] and the low-land and the slopes, and all their kings; he left none remaining, but utterly destroyed all that breathed, as Yahweh God of Israel commanded. And Joshua defeated them from Kadesh-barnea to Gaza, and all the country of Goshen [an unidentified but obviously Palestinian, not Egyptian Goshen], as far as Gibeon. And Joshua took all these kings and their land at one time, because Yahweh God of Israel fought for Israel. (Josh. 10:40-42)

In another conspicuous feature, the story confesses its adaptation to the two-member theological scheme, Out of Egypt, into this land. The two members of the faith-formula take on a striking parallelism: the Joshua-Canaan epoch is seen as a kind of antiphonal response to Moses-Egypt.

Moses-Egypt Joshua-Canaan

1.Spies dispatched: especially To the Jericho area. Josh. 2.

to the Hebron area in the

south. Num. 13:22 ff.

2.The dry crossing: "Israel "All Israel [crossing the Jordan]

went into the midst of the on dry ground." Josh. 3:14 ff.

sea on dry ground." Ex. 14: 21ff.

3.Circumcision: Ex. 4:24—26; "Circumcise the people of Israel

cf. 12:43 ff. again the second time." Josh. 5:2 ff.

4.Passover: Ex. 12 Josh. 5:10 ff.

5.Commission: "Put off your "Put off your shoes. . ." Josh.

shoes. . ." Ex. 3:lff. 5:13 ff.

6.The potent gesture: "Moses "Stretch out the javelin that is

held up his hand. . ." against in your hand . . ." against Ai.

Amelek. Ex. 17:8 ff. Josh. 818ff.

7.Law-giving: at Mount Sinai At Mount Ebal (Shechem)

"Moses wrote all the words Joshua "wrote upon the stones

of Yahweh." Ex. 24 a copy of the law of Moses,

which he had written." Josh. 8: 30ff.

8.Cities of refuge: anticipated Appointed and named by

by Moses. Num. 35:9 ff. Joshua. Josh. 20.

9.Covenant-making; at Sinai, at Shechem, "all that Yahweh

"Yahweh our God we will has spoken we will do." Josh.

serve, and his voice we will 24.

obey." Ex. 24.

To a considerable extent, the book of Joshua historicizes the first and fundamental proposition of Israel’s faith: Yahweh brought us out of Egypt and gave us this land. It is theology which determines the major theme. But we also observe that etiology has been freely employed, here as in Genesis, to voice and define the theological meaning of names and events which figure prominently in the "history," for example, circumcision and Gilgal, 5:8 f., and Achan and the Valley of Achor, chapter 8. In view of all this, it is impossible to reconstruct any firm, full outlines of the concrete structure of events. Nor is archaeology as helpful here as some of the popularizing archaeologists would have us think. The most recent and competent spade work at the site of ancient Jericho returns the verdict that no trace of Israelite violence in the thirteenth century is to be found. Ancient Gilgal may have been located — the identification is not yet certain — but yields nothing significant on the period of Israel’s early occupation. Excavations at Ai indicate that the city was already in Joshua’s day a long-dead ruin (the attack of the invaders may well have been upon nearby Bethel); Ai, meaning "ruin," may easily have become the object of attack in the story as it circulated in later generations. Shechem is another matter, of course; but here light is cast chiefly on the times both prior and subsequent to the first entrance of the Joshua group.2

The Nature of the Event: Conquest or Occupation?

Of course, it is not impossible that an initial, decisive conquest of Canaan under Joshua was effected and the gains largely lost in the generation following his death.3 But the present book of Joshua warns strongly against its own idealizing tendencies (see, for example, 15:63; 16:10; 17:11-13) and records a notable instance of accommodation (with the Gibeonites, ch. 9). The book of Judges reflects a process of occupation, settlement, and accommodation stretching over a number of generations involving numerous mutually independent tribes and resulting ultimately in the amalgamation of Canaanite and "Israelite" into the people of Israel, under covenant to Yahweh. We do not mean to suggest that the process was always without violence: conquest of sorts there surely was, but it was largely localized, involving skirmishes between older and more recent settlers of the land.

The Joshua group (or the Benjamin-Joseph-Ephraimite tribes;4 and was it also, earlier, the Moses group or have we two originally separate, but now collated, traditions?) occupied a territory in the sparsely settled central hill country of Canaan bounded on the cast by the Jordan, on the west by the coastal plains, and on the north and south by strong Canaanite city-states. In the small scattered settlements of this area the inhabitants were distantly or more closely related to the occupying Israelites. They were descendants of Amorite settlers who had moved into Canaan from the fringes of outlying deserts some six to eight centuries earlier; or indeed, some of these may well have come out of tribes originally closely related to the group which went into Egypt and now, some centuries later, made its return to the land.

There are some suggestions that perhaps Simeon (Judg. 1:1-3; but Gen. 34:25f. sees Simeon and Levi responsible for the defeat of Shechem in central Canaan), with the Kenites (Judg. 1:16), the Calebites (Judg. 1:12-20; Josh. 14:13), and perhaps as a separate but closely related tribe, or clan, the Othnielites (Judg. 1:12-15) occupied the southern hill country of Canaan to the south of the powerful Canaanite fortress-city of Jerusalem earlier and independently of the occupation of central Canaan by Yahweh-worshipers of the tribes of Judah.

This thesis is supported by the narrative of Genesis 38 (the story of Judah and Tamar) which strongly suggests Judah’s early and permanent occupancy in this area, as well as by the presupposition of some of Israel’s earliest beginnings — and even before (Gen. 4:26).

North of the plain of Esdraelon and its defensive chain of strong cities — Megiddo, Taanach, Ibleam, Beth-shan (see Judg. 1:27) — the "conquest" was again an originally separate story involving tribes having no historical association with other tribes ultimately involved in the entity "Israel" until the campaign of Deborah, Judges 4-5. Thus, the entity Israel, formed out of a process of tribal confederation leading to monarchy, has a highly complex, heterogeneous prehistory now understandably simplified and idealized. The ultimate unity of the twelve tribes is imposed upon traditions relating originally to the separate tribes; and most strikingly, the Yahweh-faith which dominates confederation and monarchy appears to have been historically the moving, cohesive quality in the long process.

Deuteronomic History and the Judges

"Judge" is a poor term but since we cannot change it, we must understand that it is not merely an ancient counterpart of our judge. The judge in Israel’s tradition is a charismatic (from Greek charisma meaning gift, endowment) tribal leader usually responsible for the achievement of at least a temporary respite from harassment or subjugation at the hands of a nearby enemy. In the Old Testament the word shpht, "to judge," and its derivatives are not exclusively juridical terms nor do they necessarily connote negative action. Judging is the total task in varied capacities of setting right the wrong and reordering the disordered. As a "history" wrought by the deuteronomic historians, the book of judges is obviously and rigidly under theological control. Israel’s peaceful, ordered existence in the land promised and given by Yahweh is continually frustrated by Israel’s defiance of the giver. The promised life of fulfillment in the land becomes a life of abysmal unfulfillment, an anarchistic existence, because Yahweh is ignored. "You have not given heed to my voice" (Judg. 6:10).

The deuteronomic historians — we will use the symbol DH for them — set all of this in a four-member formula by which the individual stories of the judges are introduced and linked to one another. The formula appears in full for the first time in 3:7 ff. It envisages the long epoch of tribal occupation-settlement-confederation as revolving in the cycle of apostasy, punishment, penitence and finally, through the instrument of the charismatic judge, the restoration of peace. Israel forgot Yahweh who in anger "sold" her into subjection to an alien power; Israel came back in penitence to Yahweh who then effected salvation through the judge. DH has employed tribal stories from all over Canaan without regard for sequence, if, indeed, the sequence was known to DH; and while we do not presume to reconstruct from this a history of Canaan in the twelfth and eleventh centuries, we nevertheless gratefully acknowledge DH’s contribution to our understanding of the character of a period which was, for whatever reasons, predominantly an anarchy. And I, at least, must further acknowledge what appears to me to be beyond dispute; that in an internal sense, DH is right; in the Canaanite setting, the Yahweh-worshiping tribe, whether alone or in confederation, achieved order and fulfillment and maintained meaningful entity and self-respect only in the force of its Yahweh-faith.

DH no doubt aimed to include twelve judges, one for (but not from) each of the tribes, although with Deborah and Abimelech (neither is called a judge) there are fourteen. The most important figures are Ehud, Deborah, Gideon, Jephthah, and Samson.

Othniel and Ehud

Judg. 3

The Othniel "judgeship" (3:7-11) has often been regarded as spurious. We doubt the historicity of several figures: Shamgar "who killed six hundred Philistines with an oxgoad" (3:31, and created out of whole cloth from the reference in 5:6); Jair who "had thirty sons who rode on thirty asses; and they had thirty cities" (10:4); Ibzan who "had thirty sons; and thirty daughters he gave in marriage outside his clan, and thirty daughters he brought in from outside for his sons" (broadminded, anyway; 12:8); Abdon who went old Jair one better gifted in the old game of upmanship: he had "forty sons and thirty grandsons, who rode on seventy asses" (12: 14). Is Othniel no more substantial than these, or Tola (10:1) of whom not even an anecdote is told (except perhaps that he is the son of Puah, the son of Dodo), or Elon, who simply judged, died, and was buried (12:11-12)? In Othniel’s case, the brief narrative consists almost entirely of the DH formula; and we know nothing else of a Syrian (Aram) king named Cushanrishathaim (the name is etymologically suspect). Othniel is a tribal designation, certainly; but is the episode of judges 1:11-15, in which Othniel figures ostensibly as an individual, anything other than a tribal encounter, reduced and idealized in terms of personal relationships? Such skepticism may be justified, yet we find ourselves wondering whether DH has not in fact preserved here the very ancient but real encounter of free-ranging Syrian forces with the Yahweh-tribes (notably the Othnielites) inhabiting southern Canaan in the general area south of Hebron.

The story of Ehud’s dispatch of Eglon, king of Moab, is one of antiquity’s finest examples of graphic, brilliant prose description (3:15-30). Traces of its composite construction still show (vv. 19 and 20, e.g., appear to be duplicates) but its impact on the reader is unified and powerful and its disclosure of the life of Canaan in the twelfth century bold, true, and uninhibited.

Deborah

Judg. 4-5

The Song of Deborah (Judg. 5) is in every respect the finest treasure preserved in the book of Judges. Without significant dissent scholars have long regarded it not only as the oldest extant poem of any considerable length in the Old Testament, but also as the work of, if not an eye-witness, then one who was nevertheless close to the event and intimately informed about it. It is one of the world’s great literary documents. But it is also of incomparable historical value. From no other single narrative of such antiquity do we learn so much of the tribes of Israel in the twelfth century. The Song records what must have been the first significant effort at a confederation of the tribes of Israel against a Canaanite alliance.

The prose account of the same event (Judg. 4) lacks the vigorous authenticity of the poem and is certainly a considerably later creation. We note certain conspicuous differences in the two accounts:

Prose Poem

The oppressor is Jabin, king of Hazor, whose captain is Sisera.

Deborah seems to belong to the the hills between Ramah and tribe of Issachar in territory Bethel, in Canaan’s central region occupied by Benjamin. later know as the Sea of Galilee.

The coalition under Deborah pose the enemy; and thus embraces all the tribes in central as well as northern Canaan, that Canaan, north of Esdraelon. is Manasseh (Machir in Josh.17:1), Ephraim, and Benjamin, as well as Zebulum, Issachar, and Nephtali.

The battle occurs in the region The Canaanite coalition is routed at Taanach along the southern edge of the plain of Esdraelon, near Megiddo.

Jael murders Sisera while he sleeps.

Estimates of the poem’s age differ but we are surely not far wrong if we take the round number of 1100 B.C. We note several matters of the utmost significance. If the words Yahweh and Israel are not later interpolations (that is, insertions by later editors), which seems hardly tenable, then there already existed a conceptual, ideological (if not a formal political) Yahweh-worshiping entity known as Israel. This entity consists already not only of the six tribes which "offered themselves willingly" (5:2,9) but also — since their failure to join Deborah is implicitly deemed to be a breach of integrity — four tribes which are specifically rebuked (and in such exquisitely poetic language, vv. 15b-17).

Certainly by the turn of the first full century of occupation by the central tribes of Benjamin, Ephraim, and Joseph/Manasseh (whatever the length of occupation of related or subsequently confederated tribes north and south), a confederation of ten tribes at least is already in existence, embracing roughly the full territory of later monarchic Israel on both sides of the Jordan, but exclusive of the area south of Jerusalem (still a Canaanite stronghold) later identified as the land of Judah. We note further the Song’s recollection of Yahweh’s especially potent self-disclosure in the Kadesh area and of Sinai’s location there (vv. 4-5). We commend the poet’s consummately sensitive powers of identification with participating leaders and people; with recalcitrant as well as with responding tribes; with the whole natural environment of the event, poetically clothed with vital purpose and depicted as a glorious participant (vv. 20-21); in some sense with the enemy, Sisera himself; and of course profoundly, if also with conscious irony, with Sisera’s mother.

Most notable is the role of Yahweh in the Song. As emphatically as in the story of the exodus event, or any other comparable Old Testament event, the Song is created in praise of Yahweh, as a confessional recitation on the theme of his living impingement on history. This is another in his series of performances on behalf of a people in quest of a land. It is composed, so it would seem, in the immediate excitement and heat of the encounter between Israelite and Canaanite. In the flush of an astonishing victory, the winner exuberantly calls down a fate like Sisera’s on all Yahweh’s enemies. But it is more than simply a song of victory, for here, as always. it acknowledges the faith that this is Yahweh’s world, history, and people, and that victory is meaningful only in terms of Yahweh’s purpose.

So perish all thine enemies, O Lord!

But thy friends be like the sun as he rises

in his night. (v.31)

Although from Israel’s point of view this was nor a time of unrelieved anarchy, during these years of occupation, settlement, skirmish, and consolidation respite from severe harassment was at best intermittent. In awareness of this and hard-put to rationalize a "gift" of Yahweh so agonizingly achieved, DH finds Israel’s prevailing unfaith (not only now but in the subsequent monarchic period as well) the cause of the persistence of disorder and chaos in an existence which Yahweh would bless with meaning and fulfillment of life if only Israel would appropriately respond.

The DH formula in Judges repeatedly takes the form of what appears to be an almost crude religious superstition: When Israel did what was evil in the sight of Yahweh, he gave them into the hand of Aram or Moab or Sisera or Midian (Gideon: 6-8) or Ammon (Jephthah: 11-12), or the Philistines (Samson: 13-16). But this is nothing more nor less than the faith of DH that Israel is a covenant people, that to violate the covenant is to make chaos of the life of the people and that to keep the covenant is to fulfill Israel’s creation in order and meaning.

The life of faith in any time and in any variety of acknowledged covenant-existence under God finds itself perennially confronted by the essence of DH’s formula. In its unceasing tension with the varied and eminently rational claims of positivism, causality, and aggressive agnosticism. the life of faith must always not merely confront, but confront with decision, the fundamental proposition of the deuteronomic (and on the whole, biblical) faith that human life, the gift of God, is meaningfully fulfilled only in acknowledgment of the reign of God in history and in a relationship of response to him.

PREMONARCHIC ISRAEL:

RUTH; JUDGES 6-21

You have not given heed to my voice.

Judg. 6:10

Whatever the relationship of the little book of Ruth to the actual life and history of ancient Israel it stands as a superb example of classical Hebrew prose narrative and as an inspired editorial stroke. In the midst of the brutal, violent chaos of premonarchic Canaan, it brings a moment of warm relief.

Ruth is a Moabite woman whose sojourning Israelite husband dies in Moab. She returns with her mother-in-law to Bethlehem in Judah, and there wins love and marriage with Boaz, a kinsman of her deceased husband. With the almost certain exception of 4:18-22 and the possible, even probable, exception of 4:7, the story is a unit, a skillfully and beautifully told tale.

As an artistic creation, Ruth is commonly ranked with the greatest short stories in the literature of the world. Composed around that shamelessly abused theme of they-lived-happily-ever-after, it is the genius of the tale that it successfully avoids what even then must have been the prevailing prostitution of the theme in banal sentimentality. The story of Ruth exploits some of the noblest qualities of human character — tenderness, loyalty, compassion, love — without anywhere sounding noble, without anywhere becoming cloying. And as is true of all classical Hebrew prose, it is a narrative spun with consummately skillful economy and simplicity.

Read aloud now the first seventeen verses of the story. This is as it should be rendered, since it was created (whether originally in oral or written form) for the ear rather than the eye, to be heard rather than read. The familiar lines of verses 16-17 are abused in their appropriation to the category of erotic love in popular song or cheap fiction: these are lines all the more magnificent in conveying the love of a younger for an older woman, a Moabite daughter for an Israelite mother!

The book of Ruth presents two problems. What is the date of its composition and what is its purpose? Not uncommonly a late date, the fifth century, has been argued on the grounds, in part, that in the Hebrew canon, Ruth takes its place in the third and latest collection of writings finally incorporated. The story of the canon cannot be precisely reconstructed, but the three divisions, Law, Prophets, and Writings, did come in that chronological order to the status of canonical, holy scripture between about 400 B.C. and the decisive Council of Jamnia, about A.D. 90.5

The present Hebrew canon looks like this:

I. Law, torah: Genesis-Deuteronomy.

II. Prophets, nebi’im:

A. Former Prophets: Joshua, Judges, I and II Samuel, I and 11 Kings, counted as four books.

B. Latter Prophets: Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and, reckoned as one book, the Book of the Twelve, Hosea-Malachi in RSV. These four, with the four former prophets, total eight books in the prophetic Canon.

III. Writings, ketubim: I and II Chronicles (one book), Ezra-Nehemiah (one book), Esther, job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon, Lamentations, Daniel, and Ruth — a total of eleven books.

Now, it might be assumed that a relatively late date for the book of Ruth is supported by this division, since, admittedly, the Writings by and large are, in their present form, relatively late. As a matter of fact, however, the original Hebrew Canon comprised not, as above, twenty-four books, but only twenty-two) books (this is the count given by the great Jewish historian, Josephus, in the first century A.D.). Ruth was then a part of Judges, and Lamentations was attached as one book to Jeremiah. And we suspect that the argument from canon to date would in any case be indecisive, since there is late and relatively early material in all three divisions.

We doubt, then, that the story is postexilic. A number of distinguished scholars of the Hebrew language have insisted that on the grounds of style, vocabulary, and the form and syntax of the language, it cannot be dated later than the ninth-seventh centuries. In its present form, of course, it can hardly be dated earlier than the tenth century, since it envisages a measure of order in Canaan as well as cordial Moabite-Israelite relationships which were hardly possible before the time of David. And we suspect, too, that it is more in the nature of fiction than history (observe the typological meaning of the names: Mahlon, "sickness"; Chilion, "wasting"; Orpah "stiff-necked"; Naomi, "my sweetness"; and Ruth, a shortened form of a word meaning "companion").

Indeed (to turn to the second question) it has been proposed that the story of Ruth came into existence chiefly as a genealogical narrative — to preserve or comment upon the ancestry of King David: Ruth is David’s great-grandmother (4:17; it is the fuller genealogical table of 4:18-22 that appears alien and secondary to the original story). The story then is hardly earlier than the tenth century age of David-Solomon.

On the question of date one can say little more than this. The postexilic daters have claimed support in the fact that the ritual of the shoe (4:8) is at odds with the prescription in Deuteronomic law (Deut. 23:3), a fact recognized and commented upon apologetically in the preceding verse 4:7. But that, we suspect, is a postexilic comment added to the story. The custom recounted in the performance of levirate marriage in Ruth 4:8 (by which the brother or the next closest male kin takes the wife of the deceased relative) is, we should judge, considerably earlier than Deuteronomy.

As to the story’s purpose, we are confident that it is not (as some remarkably allege) a subtle piece of fiction describing in fact the practice of a Bethlehem fertility cult. Ruth is a lesson in tolerance, but we doubt that it was first created in response to the crusading spirit of the Israelite Society for Moabite Friendship. Nor could it have been produced simply to make concrete some rumor of David’s more distant Moabite blood. And we even doubt that the early support and elucidation of levirate marriage was its purpose, although if specific motivation must be assigned, this presents perhaps the strongest claim. We tend to concur in the wise comment that "if the author had an ulterior motive, he concealed it more successfully than is common to story-tellers who write with a purpose"; and, from another source, that the writer "set out to tell an interesting tale of long ago, and he carried out his purpose with notable success."

Gideon, Jotham, and Jephthah

Judg. 6-12

Gideon’s activities (6-8) center in Ophrah, a site unknown to us, but evidently near Shechem (see 9:1 ff.). His tribe is Manasseh and his problem is that of the age-old incursions into central Canaan of seminomadic Bedouin raiders (6: 3, "Midianites and the Amalekites and the people of the East"). The story may well be composite, as witness the two names, Gideon and Jerubaal, and occasional duplicates such as 8:1-3 and 8:4-9. It is nevertheless an exciting and instructive episode in the life of one of the tribes soon to become a part of the nation Israel. Gideon is a charismatic figure, endowed with the spirit of Yahweh. He moves first against the apostate worship of Baal within his own immediate community. By clever stratagem he routs the Midianite enemy with the meager forces of his own clan, Abiezer, and captures and slaughters Midian’s two chiefs, Zebah and Zalmunna, in the conventional act of blood-revenge to compensate and set right the loss of life inflicted by them. He takes bitter, but again no doubt conventional, revenge against the towns Succoth and Penuel for the taunting refusal of aid. He makes out of the spoils of battle an ephod, an object in the paraphernalia of a priest (not an image, as a later editor in verse 27 would have it). The ephod was sometimes an apron, but hardly here since it weighs about 65 pounds, and was employed for divining, that is, determining the will of Yahweh. He rejects the popular response to make of him a monarch in language which no doubt was subsequently put to political use (or perhaps the precise language was only then created in the story?) by the Yahweh loyalists and other dissident members of monarchic Israel who deemed the institution of king to be itself an act of apostasy against Yahweh:

I will not rule over you, and my son will not rule over you:

Yahweh will rule over you! (8:23)

Judg. 9

Gideon’s son, Abimelech, does not share the sentiment attributed to his father and establishes himself for a brief period as king over the city of Shechem. The story of his aggressive rise preserves the exceedingly choice and ancient Fable of the Trees, or Jotham’s Fable. The Fable is probably a contemporary commentary on one man’s consuming ambition played out perhaps sometime around 1100 B.C. in the central hill country of ancient Palestine.

Judg. 10-12

Although the years prior to Canaan’s consolidation in political monarchy cannot be reconstructed in historical detail, the stories of Judges do afford a remarkably vivid impression of the tone and character of the age, as well as insight into Israel’s later interpretation of the anarchic period. Above all we have the realistic portrayal of a crude and bitter existence, but an existence given persistent light, relief, and meaning by the Yahweh-faith and the (consequent?) redeeming quality of human love. Jephthah is as rough and tough a package of male humanity as one will find anywhere, destined to act out his years in reaction to a human environment with which he always found himself at odds. Yet here he is, remembered and sung for his exploits on behalf of Israel (in Canaan’s tribal confederation, however loose, one tribe’s victory over a common enemy is other tribes’ boon), fighting from the tribe and territory of Gilead east of the Jordan against Ammon. And here the term "shibboleth" (meaning a decisive test or snare) was coined in Jephthah’s interconfederation feud with Ephraim (12:1 ff.). The most memorable and poignant feature of the Jephthah story is his tragic vow (but so thoroughly in character) and its genuinely moving sequence (whether interpreted as literal occurrence or as cult-myth). While we spontaneously react in revulsion to the theology of this kind of vow (by no means in principle a thing of the past), we must understand the character of that epoch: this is Jephthah; this is premonarchic Canaan and preprophetic Yahwism; the victory, dear to Jephthah, is only Yahweh’s to give, and if he gives it, he must receive in return some commensurate sacrifice. It may seem crude and misconceived by our standards, but our standards may not be imposed on that epoch more than three thousand years ago. All of which may (or may not) justify the comment that, at its highest and purest, the sincere sacrifice was (and is, properly conceived) a rite of communion between man and God, and a satisfying means by which the creature pays his debt of gratitude and love to the creator.

The Samson Saga

Judg. 13-16

The Samson stories continue to appeal to the reader who reads the Bible simply as he reads the Iliad and the Odyssey. Samson is not a "judge," since his remarkable exploits are purely personal in character. There may have been a real man back of these stories, but what we have is a well-integrated collection of highly exaggerated hero tales. Samson is ancient Israel’s Hercules or Paul Bunyan. This is not to say that elements of the Samson saga are not old: the riddles especially convey that age of anarchy, reflecting the ancient delight in the riddle, rough ("out of the strong came something sweet" 14:14) and, shall we say, ready ("If you had not plowed with my heifer you would not have found out my riddle" 14:18).

From Ambrose in the fourth century A.D. to Thomas Hayne and John Milton in the seventeenth century, there have been repeated attempts to maintain a proper "biblicity" for Samson by means of allegorical interpretation. Thus, James Calfhill in 1565 made Samson’s victory with the jawbone of an ass an allegorical figure of "how Christ . . . hath overthrown the adversary Power; hath by one death destroyed all the enemies of life." Henoch Clapham, confusing New Testament Galilean Nazareth with the Hebrew term nazir and the dedicated Old Testament order of Nazirite declared in 1596: "A Nazarite he was, and a figure of our Nazaret anointed." Thomas Hayne saw, among other points, the following allegory early in the seventeenth century:

And while Milton made no overt allegory in his Samson Agonistes, 1671, it is probable that he and his readers assumed this kind of allegorical reading and "that this duality was part of — perhaps the center of — the meaning which the poet intended the tragedy to have."6

Such allegorizing is, of course, out of the question for us; and beyond this kind of literary-allegorical pursuit of the Samson saga we are able to find nothing. We cannot even appropriate for ourselves the kind of piety which produced this weak effort at salvage: "The important point [in the Samson stories] is Samson’s radiant certainty that his tremendous strength, and his successes, were due to Jehovah [Yahweh], who filled him with His (Jehovah’s) divine energy."7

We reject the sun-myth theory that Samson (Hebrew shemshon meaning "little sun") represents the survival of an ancient sun-worshiping cult. Whatever Samson is in the stories he is because of Yahweh and not the sun; but we find nothing of a "radiant" faith, nor anything else worthy of even the earliest Yahwism in central Canaan. The stories do have some historical importance in that they betray the expanding power of the Philistines in the eleventh century. And this is surely the editorial justification for Samson’s place as the last of the "judges." It was, in the final analysis, the Philistine harassment which forced upon the tribes of Israel and the rest of Canaan a change from loose tribal confederation to monarchy.

"No King in Israel"

Judg. 17-21

And since there is no king in Israel, it is a time when every man does what is right in his own eyes. This is the theme of these chapters (see 17:6, 18:1, 19:1, and the final verse, 21:25). In a story preserving a sizable nucleus from the purported age (chs. 17-18), the tribe of Dan migrates from the central coastal area (near the Philistines, and beyond a doubt forced out by the Philistines) to north Canaan, demonstrating en route the power of any bully to act as he would (see especially Judg. 18:21-26).

The story of Dan and the story of Gibeah and Benjamin (19-21) remind us of the kind of treasure the Old Testament is. It is the story of a people’s life and no one denies that any such story, told by any people of themselves, will have its fictional aspects, its idealized accretions, its modifications of episodes and persons in the interests of pride, pretense, and piety. And the self-preserved past will always also undergo an unconscious, psychological screening. It remains nevertheless — and we know that this is repetition — one of the Old Testament’s qualities of greatness that the real past is withal preserved, not always in detail, not always in sequence, and certainly not always with any external precision.

We will probably never be able to vouch for any given, specific detail of the marvelous array of stories brought together in the book of Judges. But in reading them all, we can confidently affirm that we are there, that this is the time the color, the smell, the feeling of the age. This is Israel and Yahweh when Israel was still becoming Israel and when Yahweh was not yet "the Holy One in your midst" who brought up Israel and the Philistines and the Syrians (Amos 9:7), who loved and created not only Israel but Egypt and Assyria as well (Isa. 19:25). And this is the land of Canaan before it was the land of Israel. It is the land of Canaan in anarchy, and in the story of its essential nature there is no mincing of words.

We see certain qualities which have been realistically preserved and recreated — this utterly noneuphemized story of the sojourning Levite and his concubine, the degenerate townsmen, the women’s tragic fate and the unhappy mores which dictated the circumstances (cf. Gen. 19), the Levite’s shockingly dramatic response, the attrition of Benjamin, and the episodes of that tribe’s very meager reconstitution [was Benjamin in fact depleted by Philistine massacre over the years?].

On this sorry foundation faith was able to build the emergent prophetic Yahwism of Israel; or better, prophetic Yahwism was able to come intact through this hard moral and political debacle with resurgent power even yet beneficial to human existence.

 

 

NOTES:

1. Cf. Ps. 83.

2. For bibliography and a summary of the problems and answers of archaeology in this period, see John Bright, A History of Israel, Philadelphia, 1959, pp. 118ff.

3. See G. E. Wright, Biblical Archaeology, Philadelphia, 1957, pp. 69ff. Cf. B. Anderson, Understanding the Old Testament, Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1957, pp. 81 ff.

4. M. Noth argues convincingly that the basic account of Joshua 2-9 is the history of the Benjamin tribe, augmented by accounts of the related movements of Joseph and Ephraim. See his History of Israel, trans. S. Godman (from Geschichte Israels, 2nd ed.), New York, 1958, pp. 74 f., 93.

5. The best brief summary of the origin of the Old Testament canon is in German, O. Eissfeldt, Einleitung in das Alte Testament, 2nd ed., Tubingen, 1956, pp. 695-707. See also A. Bentzen, Introduction to the Old Testament 2nd ed., Copenhagen, 1952, vol. I, pp. 20 ff.; N. H. Gottwald. A Light to the Nations, New York, 1959, pp. 29-36; and R. Pfeiffer, Introduction to the Old Testament, New York, 1958, pp. 50 ff.

6. See further M. Krouse, Milton’s Samson and the Christian Tradition, Princeton, 1949, especially pp. 119ff.

7. W. A. L. Elmslie, How Came Our Faith, New York, 1948, p. 161.

Chapter 3: Lord and Covenant

IN THE PATRIARCHS: Genesis 12-50

All the families of the earth.

Gen. 12:3

These chapters should be read in a single sitting, or in as few sessions as possible. The reader should read uncritically and not be concerned if parts of the whole refuse to fit into any scheme of interpretation or any pattern of meaning.

Three fairly well-defined subunits appear, which at one time were probably three separate cycles of stories. The subunits center in (1) Abraham and Isaac, 12-26; (2) Jacob (and Esau), 27-36; (3) Joseph, 37-50 (excepting 38 which deals with Judah and Tamar).

Areas of Meaning

The questions we must address to these patriarchal stories fall into three categories. How are these stories to be interpreted (1) historically, (2) etiologically, and (3) theologically?

HISTORICAL INTERPRETATION

The "age of the patriarchs" is roughly the first half of the second millennium B.C. (2000-1500). Several archaeological finds illuminate this epoch in the life of the Middle East. We know from evidence gathered all over the productive lands around the fast Arabian desert (long ago the historian J. H. Breasted designated this area as the Fertile Crescent) of a widespread eruption of desert peoples, Semitic nomads, into the more sedentary areas. The invaders were called Amorites ("Westerners") and for centuries they dominated the life of the Fertile Crescent, with city-states firmly established at such sites as Haran (from whence came Abraham, 11:31), Ugarit, Mari, and Babylon, which was ruled in the decades around 1700 by the renowned Hammurabi, Ugarit and Mari, among other ancient sites, have yielded profuse contemporary information of several kinds. At Nuzi, southeast of Nineveh, clay tablets from the patriarchal age further inform of that epoch’s practices and customs. All of these, together with a still-growing body of contemporary information from the exciting fields of archaeology, confirm the credibility of the whole atmosphere of the patriarchal stories. If no shred of specific evidence substantiating the historicity of the patriarchs has appeared, it is on the other hand impossible now to maintain that the stories are of no historical value. Whatever may be the ultimate "historical" decision with respect to the plot and the players themselves, the stage-settings are indisputably authentic.1

ETIOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION

The array and variety of etiological stories in Genesis is striking.2 Three primary types recur again and again.

1. The ethnological story explains in terms of the "past" observable phenomena relating to known tribes and ethnic groups. Amman and Moab, recognized in Israel as related peoples, are explained in their relatedness in the simple terms of the brothers Abram and Lot (13) and the literal father-sons relationship of Lot to Ammon and Moab (19). Their consignment to territory beyond the Jordan and to the south of Israel is etiologically explained and justified in the story of Lot’s voluntary choice of that area (13).

2. The etymological legend betrays Israel’s (and, in general, the East’s) profound interest in names, their meaning, and the relationship between meaning and innate character or performance, or between meaning and situation of origin. The explanation of Isaac’s name (from a word meaning "laughter") is thrice repeated (17:17, 18:12; 21:2) as is Ishmael’s ("God hears" 16:11; 17:20; 21:17). An alleged peculiarity of Jacob’s birth and the subsequent, continuing relationship between the descendants of Jacob and Esau is etymologically explained ("heel-holder" — born holding his twin brother’s heel, 25:26); while the same man’s character (and in their own eyes, surely, that of his descendants who bear the name) is etymologically defined in his other name, Israel (perhaps "Striver with God" 32:28).

3. The cult etiology explains the existence of a sanctuary or a cultic ritual. Israel’s major sanctuaries are thus all domesticized by association with the patriarchs, as, for example, Abraham at Jerusalem (Salem, 14:18) and Jacob at Bethel (28:10 ff.). Cult etiology attributes the origin of the rite of circumcision to Abraham (17, but also to Moses, Ex. 4:24-26, and Joshua, 5:2 ff.).

THEOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION

But in the present context, historical and etiological relations are subservient to the broadly theological bearing of the patriarchal narratives. The "literary" judgment, for what it is worth, sees the whole, 12-50, as a JEP compendium. E is deemed to enter the structure at 15 (a prominent feature of E is the dream motif). P’s role is in substance seen to be relatively slight except in 17 (covenant by circumcision, the P parallel to the JE covenant in Yahweh’s promise, the response of faith, and Yahweh’s irrevocable commitments to promise in ch. 15); in 23 (the charming story of the patriarch’s negotiation for a burial ground, a narrative we suspect to be of very different stuff indeed from 17); and in 25, 34, and 36. The rest is in the main JE except the very odd chapter 14 which continues to defy both historical and literary analysis. But again, this "documentary" structure serves to remind us of the centuries from J to P, from Israel’s days as political state to her reconstitution as theocratic state, during which the fluid collection of traditions, the still pliable story of Israel, continued to serve as a living commentary on this people’s existence. In the following sections on the patriarchs it is essentially this meditative, theological perspective which we shall pursue.

Abraham and Isaac

12-26

The theological theme, sometimes subdued and even momentarily lost, is unmistakable. Abraham is a chosen man. The chooser is Yahweh. The reasons behind the choice of Abraham (and not some other) are decidedly unclear, but the purpose behind the choosing is most explicitly affirmed. It is to give a land (remember the Garden, 3), peoplehood (recall the Brothers, 4), the blessing (contrast the Flood, 6-9), and a name (see the Tower, 11):

Go . . . to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great. . .(12:1-2)

It is, in short, to create a people, a people of Yahweh, a people of God, a covenant people. Yahweh said this to Abraham (12:1). This is the WORD to and on behalf of a people.

But Abraham’s election by Yahweh is not confined to the two-member relationship of Word and people. It is in its end function of universal import. It is Word and people — and world:

In you all the families of the earth will be blessed.3 (12:3, RSV margin)

One strongly suspects that in ancient Israel the first patriarch was seen in terms analogous to Israel’s first historical epoch. One notes an unmistakable correspondence between Abraham and Moses. Both respond to an exceedingly difficult call in an act of profound faith. There is a sense in which neither is fully Hebrew-Israelite. Both come into Egypt and go out again with ringing success. Both are committed to covenant in circumcision (Gen. 17; Ex. 4:24-26). In both the role of intercessor is featured (Gen. 18:22 ff.; Ex. 32:30 ff.). And although both are represented as models of faith, there are notable instances of gross unfaith in each.

If Israel tends to see her own first epoch essentially "anticipated" in the Abraham cycle of stories, there can be no doubt that she also sees the many in the one, that she identifies herself as people with Abraham the patriarch, that she gives concrete articulation to her own tensions of faith in his fluctuations from faith to unfaith. In short, Abraham is at once both Abraham and Israel. This identification of one and the many accounts in part for the remarkable realism of all the patriarchal stories. This kind of story shows everywhere the tendency to idealize and the tendency to cast Abraham as the epitome of faith is apparent especially in the story of the near sacrifice of Isaac, the climax of the Abraham cycle of stories (22, but cf. 15). But Israel holds her one and her many to be indivisible. Israel knows her own repeated, irrepressible acts of unfaith, her own unceasing disposition to deny the response of faith in which she was created, by which she is sustained, and through which alone her existence has order and meaning. What she knows to be true of herself, she knows also to be true of her fathers and her heroes; and she records their stories in the realistic awareness that faith always exists in tension with unfaith.

Jacob

27-36

We do not deny that the patriarchs may, as it were, speak their own lines on occasion; and we have already testified to the authenticity of the settings. But Genesis 12-50 is an incomparable and intimately informed historical document in its revelation of ancient Israel’s inner life. In depth and degree quite without parallel this is the internal history of a people — self-understanding, self-deprecation, pride, shame, fears, hopes, aspirations. The ideal response of faith so movingly portrayed in Genesis 22 is Israel’s deepest confession of her own calling — to be ready to suffer the loss of her own historical life in response to the Word and at the same time maintain her faith in the Word’s declared purpose to bless the world through her. And at the other extreme of the confessional scale, the stories of Jacob’s lies and deceits, his unscrupulous, calculated operations conducted with some considerable finesse for his own self-interest, these reveal as conventional "history" never could Israel’s acknowledgment of her own share in the distortion of creation and her own particular form of rejection of status.

For Jacob is Israel. Israel is his name (Gen. 32:28, J; and 35:10, P). The identity of the one and the many is unmistakable and unforgettable. The Jacob cycle thus effectively silences those who would persist, innocently or maliciously, in interpreting "the chosen people" as self-righteous, self-inflated, and self-praiseful. In Yahwistic-prophetic circles, in the core Yahweh-faith of Israel, Israel knew that Jacob was Jacob-Israel, and that Israel was Israel-Jacob. Israel knew and through her prophets acknowledged that she shared with all men the faithless, self-worshiping corruption of motive and action by which all creation and all human life within it are defaced and distorted.

Popular Yahwism in ancient Israel (like popular Christianity in our own day) commonly cheapened and reduced the faith. The notion of chosenness for mission and responsibility was popularly perverted to signify exclusivism and superiority. Israel certainly knew arrogant pride. But consistently in the core representation of Yahwism she acknowledged this pride and deplored it. The Jacob cycle is a declaration of realistic self-knowledge — in no sense does Jacob-Israel merit election and covenant. It is a candid appraisal of the qualities of deceit and viciousness devoid of the morbid: in the tales of Jacob, Israel accepts her own vigorous participation in the alienations of existence with remarkable candor and even with humor.4

In the Bethel and Peniel episodes of Jacob-Yahweh "meetings" (28 and 32) the stories also mirror Israel’s faith that, like Jacob, she is finally sustained and justified only by Yahweh.

Joseph

37-50

For whatever reasons, Isaac lacks the impression of substance, color, and vitality returned in the Abraham and Jacob narratives. Nothing significant is told of him that is not in essence recounted of his father or son.

Four chapters serve to bridge the Jacob and Joseph stories. The story of the rape of Dinah (34) may have strong tribal implications — Dinah is a weak tribe aggressively assaulted by the tribe of Hamor. Certainly the background of the patriarchal age is reflected — frictions between tribes; a level of sexual morality upon which for a number of reasons we may not sit in judgment; and a consistent representation of Jacob who rebukes his sons not on moral but on utilitarian-prudential grounds (34:30). Chapter 35 also reiterates themes of the Jacob cycle — the tension between man and God, Jacob and Yahweh, sin and grace; the faith that Jacob-Israel is redeemed only by Yahweh; and the repetition of the promise and the blessing. In the Edomite genealogy of chapter 36 and its accompanying notices Israel affirms her claim to the land on grounds other than Yahweh’s gift and at the same time recognizes again her close relationship to some of her historical neighbors.

Chapter 38 interrupts the otherwise closely integrated Joseph story. Why? Is it in contrast with and favorable commentary on Joseph’s sterling moral deportment in the next chapter? Is it in any pious sense to say that this is what, alas, a son of Jacob is (38), but this (39) is what a son of Jacob ought to be? We note in any case, and emphatically, that it is, like so much in the patriarchal narratives, a very good story indeed especially in the graphic portrayal of Tamar, in its deft integration of plot, and in its fine suspense.

The Joseph story has been called E’s masterpiece. But J is very much in evidence as the confusion and contradictions in chapter 37 indicate (for example, E features Reuben and the Midianites, but J, Judah and the Ishmaelites). But although the story is at such points conspicuously composite, it achieves a tightness of coordination that distinguishes it from the much more loosely integrated cycles centering in Abraham and Jacob. Its settings, as for the most part in the preceding stories, are authentic. But again its function in the present context cannot he primarily historical; or rather, and again, its historical value for us lies primarily in its contribution to our historical knowledge of inner Israel.

The Joseph story also sees the many in the one; and the one this time is a projection of Israel’s most inspired hopes for what she may be, for what, according to the Word, she must be — a blessing in the earth. Joseph matures and survives to adult manhood against insuperable odds, and having gained full stature he is given to feed not only a starving "Israel" and a starving Egypt, but a starving world (41:57).

Now this kind of correspondence between patriarch and people, as with Abraham and Jacob, is imprecise. In the Joseph story too the players speak their own lines, lines created long before the historical phases to which they bear correspondence. We do not for a moment mean to suggest that Gen. 12-50 was created out of whole cloth as an allegorical, fictional, personalized "history" of Israel. . . . the bulk of the immaterial comes in fact out of Israel’s ancient past, transmitted first orally and given. . .written formulation (first) by the Yahwist. . . Nor do we mean to say, then, that the story of Joseph came into being as a messianic message with the intention of treating Joseph as a messianic figure. We do mean to suggest . . . that in the unmistakable implications of messsianism in Joseph, the germ of the later development of the concept (see, e.g., Isa. 49:6) was something already given in Israel’s early traditions, precisely as the germinal faith in one God as Creator (Gen. 2), Judge (3-11) and Redeemer (12 ff.) was also given in the same traditions received by the Yahwist.5

Genesis begins and ends declaring in faith that Israel’s created, called life will find fulfillment only in a role of instrumental service to the world. It cannot be only people and Word. It is people, Word, and world. This is the meaning of covenant with the patriarchs.

IN THE SINAI DECALOGUE: Exodus 19-20

These are the words. Ex. 19:6

These two chapters introduce a very large block of material — Exodus 19:1 to Numbers 10:10 — of varied sorts and from a broad span of centuries, a block editorially created and given unity in the place, Sinai. In present form this whole block purports to have its origin there. It has been set in the midst of a section unified in the place Kadesh. Kadesh appears as the center of operations both before and after this extended Sinai complex.

Now while this block is no doubt in its present arrangement the work of priests, it contains a significant nucleus that is not of the priestly cast. Exodus 19-24 and 32-34 we may term Yahwistic-prophetic (though not necessarily limited to the old J stratum); and within this unit, Exodus 19, 20, and 24 appear to have constituted the basic framework. This prior structure was simple and theologically eloquent. In chapter 19 the glory of Yahweh is revealed with uncommonly convincing power (the term often used for this is "theophany"), signifying Yahweh’s commitment to his covenant made with Israel. In chapter 20 the instigator of the covenant and the senior party, Yahweh, makes known his will — the decalogue, the ten commandments (literally, ten words) — for the other party to the covenant, Israel. In chapter 24 Israel’s commitment to this covenant is symbolized in a cultic act involving the shedding of blood and a communion meal signifying the irrevocable quality of the commitment.

Here, again, we are faced with unresolvable historical questions. The Sinai block of material is certainly an insertion from the literary point of view. The oldest forms of Israel’s cultic recitations (Deut. 6,26 and Josh. 24) do not mention Sinai and the giving of the law, so central in later Judaism. Does the present Old Testament story here combine two originally separate "histories"? Is the exodus-Kadesh tradition the memory of the Egypt-Moses-Israel group, as cultically created and celebrated in the northern hills of Canaan where this contingent first settled? And is it possible, then, that the Sinai complex is characteristically southern, drawing upon the cultically remembered experiences of a totally different group who were later united in the Israelite monarchy with the descendants of the exodus group? We simply do not know. What is clear is that the whole entity which we know as Israel and later as Judaism accepted for its own both exodus-Kadesh and Sinai-law traditions and, with discerning theological appropriateness, combined them in what we have broadly termed the one great exodus event.

The Glory of Yahweh

19:1-25

It is important to remember that we are dealing with a part of the Old Testament story which had a long oral history before it assumed its written form, and no doubt the oral form was shaped, preserved, and periodically "celebrated" at some particular, ancient cultic center.

Chapter 19 is in three scenes: The Initiating Word, 19: 1-9a; The People’s Preparation, verses 9b-15; and Yahweh’s Commitment, verses 16-25.

19:1-9a

Observe the strong emphasis on the spoken word. "Yahweh called . . . saying, ‘~Thus shall you say . . . and tell . . .(v.3). Verses 5-9 contain many further examples:

Obey my voice

These are the words which you shall speak

So Moses called . . . and set before them all these words which Yahweh had commanded him

And all the people answered ... and said, All that Yahweh has spoken we will do

And Moses reported the words

And Yahweh said

Deuteronomic traditionists (designated by the symbol D) have added to the narrative or modified the language of the story in verses 4-6. Somewhere along the way, these Deuteronomic editors have lightly touched the form of the Tetrateuch (Genesis-Numbers) here and there. But the major work of D is Deuteronomy amid the editing of the block of the Old Testament story from Deuteronomic through Kings. That these verses here show the D mind and vocabulary is apparent in a comparison of verses 4-6 with Deuteronomy 32:11; 7:6; 14:2; and 26:18.

19:95-15

Ancient cultic practice and belief are still mirrored here. The requirement of ceremonial purification may well reflect old notions of taboo. It is taboo (and risked on pain of death) to be "unclean" in the presence of deity; but if this is a primitive concept it still appears preferable to us to the all too common chumminess in the God-man relationship in popular religion of our own time. Better some sense of the old taboo’s awe than the reduction of God to the role of buddy, or worse, the intimate partner in a relationship with erotic overtones.

The story means, of course, to laud the stature of Moses. While Israel stands afar off under strict taboo, Moses will climb to the summit of the mountain and enter the very cloud of the Presence!

19:16-25

The closing verses here, 21-24, are a fine example of the sort of disaster that can befall the biblical text. This is a little collection of debris which cannot he explained and out of which little or no sense can be made. It does serve to remind us, however, that this whole treasure of the Old Testament story is given to us in earthen vessels (cf. II Cor. 4:7, in the New Testament), and serves sharply to check any man who would equate the Word and the vessel which contains it.

Verses 16-20 are something else. Is it storm or volcano? Or is it intentionally metaphorical language to convey the overpowering awe, mystery, and power in the manifestation of the Glory of God? If this is unclear, the testimony of faith is utterly unambiguous: to every instrument of human perception Yahweh made known his Presence and Glory. It is not the self of Yahweh that is revealed, but the unqualified fact of his immediately in~pinging life and nature and will. The motive? It is the validation of the Word which is given and of the covenant which here comes into being.6

The Decalogue

201-17

Other such compact definitions of covenant responsibility appear in the Old Testament. We shall be looking at some of them in Deuteronomy 27:15 ff., Exodus 21:12,15-17; Leviticus 19:13-18. And the present decalogue appears a second time in slightly modified form in Deuteronomy 5:6-21.

It would be a rash man indeed who would attempt to toss away the vast weight of a tradition which insists on the role of Moses as law-giver. But we think it would be an equally arrogant man who would attempt to define in any detail the content of actual Mosaic law. One can discern regulations which are not Mosaic in "words" which speak to Israelite existence in demonstrably post-Mosaic times, e.g., statutes unquestionably aimed at conditions of monarchic political existence in Canaan, or at the control of problems presupposing settled agricultural life.

The Decalogue is not, as one might casually infer, an original nucleus around which was formed the ever-expanding Old Testament law — or better, torah, which means "instruction." Rather, it is a self-conscious, skillfully conceived and executed effort to reduce to its most significant essence a relatively comprehensive body of torah. The Decalogue is the summation of the will of Yahweh for Israel drawn from an established and relatively extensive legal-instructional corpus.

20:1-12

The first five commandments are concerned with Yahweh’s (1) identity, (2) nature, (3) name, (4) day, and (5) claim.

IDENTITY OF YAHWEH

Most of Protestantism counts verse 3 — "no other gods" — as the first commandment and verses 4-6, prohibiting images, as the second. Roman Catholics and Lutherans combine these as the first commandment and count two commandments in verse 17, against coveting. Judaism, whose reckoning we shall follow here counts verse 2 — the definition of Yahweh’s identity vis-a-vis Israel — as the first commandment and verses 3-6, combining in one commandment the prohibition of other gods and any physical representation of deity, as the second.

I am Yahweh your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage. (20:2)

This is a commandment. Know and acknowledge Yahweh as him without whom you, Israel, would not exist; without his creative, sustaining, redeeming Word, chaos, formless and void, would still embrace you. Only in Yahweh’s identity are you an entity. Know and acknowledge Yahweh who brought Israel out of shackles into freedom, from unmeaning to meaning. I am Yahweh your God, who wrought this for you. In terms of your very existence and history, this is my identity!

NATURE OF YAHWEH

It is Yahweh’s nature to be God alone. In the notion that there are other gods and in their representation, Yahweh is in fact denied, since his essential nature is thus denied (see vv. 3-6).

You shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make yourself a graven image, or any likeness of anything. . . (vv. 3-4)

Here again in verses 4-6 (as in 19:3-6) we encounter the Deuteronomic cadence, characteristic of the style and point of view of Deuteronomy and commonly dated in the late eighth, seventh, and early sixth centuries. We would ourselves nevertheless affirm the relative antiquity of the essential commandment supporting Yahweh’s oneness, aloneness, and uniqueness.

What of a "jealous" Yahweh, verse 5? Is this the projection (primitive?) of a small god, vindictive, petulant, easily flattered? Something of this may still adhere to the commandment. But on the other hand, if Yahweh is one-alone-unique, then he must be "jealous" — which is neither more nor less than to maintain consistently this divine nature. To condone an image, that is, not to be jealous, would be to deny himself. And this Deuteronomic expansion on the "word" (of the original "ten words") respecting the nature of Yahweh concludes on the note of Yahweh’s devotion to those who live in accord with his nature.

NAME OF YAHWEH

The name of Yahweh may suffer no abuse because it is inseparable from the reality of Yahweh.

You shall not take the name of Yahweh your God in vain; for Yahweh will not hold him guiltless who takes his name in vain. (v.7)

The name is of the essence of that which it names; and to push the concept back to its more primitive application, to name the name is to seek to appropriate and command the power of the one named. But Israel, clearly debtor to a broad, common background of Near Eastern culture in the second millennium B.C., repeatedly converts and transforms what she borrows. Men sought to use the divine name — and Israelites repeatedly the name of Yahweh! — to bring under their own control the power of the deity. This is, of course, magic. The ultimate background of magic is perhaps still discernible, but the intent of magic is thwarted by the very prohibition. The power of magic is denied. He who would gain his own ends by name-incantation incurs a breach in the very relationship upon which he presumes to act.

DAY OF YAHWEH

The fourth word on Yahweh’s day is added now to the preceding words on his identity, nature, and name (see vv. 8-11).

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. (v.8)

Why? On what authority? In verse 11 the Sabbath institution is validated in the very pattern of creation and in language strongly reminiscent of the conclusion of the P account of creation (cf. Gen. 2:2-3). The present form of the commandment in Exodus would appear to be dependent upon Gen. 1: 1-2:4a.

The form of the Decalogue as preserved in Deuteronomy 5 presents at this point its most considerable deviation. Keep the Sabbath

. . .that your manservant and your maidservant may rest as well as you. You shall remember that you were a servant in the land of Egypt, and Yahweh your God brought you out thence with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore Yahweh your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day. (Deut. 5:14b-15)

Here sabbath observance rests not upon a primeval "event" but upon a historical event. Yet it is essentially the same quality of faith. The fundamental sanction of sabbath in both statements of the commandment is creation — in Deuteronomy of a people and in Exodus of the world. To "remember" and "keep" the day is to acknowledge Yahweh as creator-sustainer and to affirm that life continues under his reign and providence. It is an act of trust, All of fretful labor’s anxious preoccupation with the maintenance of life is suspended every seventh day precisely as an affirmation of the providence of Yahweh. And in its most intimate understanding. of course, the sabbath is the perpetual reminder of the covenant not only with Israel, but through Israel, with all the families of the earth.7

CLAIM OF YAHWEH

The climax of Yahweh’s pentalogue is the establishment of his claim on every life by and through the parental relationship.

Honor your father and mother. . .(20:12)

In context, this is in effect Yahweh’s saying,

Your life is my gift. I created you in the image of the divine (Gen. 1:27); the essential breath of life which makes you a living being is my animating breath (Gen. 2:7). The gift is given, the image of the god-like is conveyed, the breath of life is transmitted, through your father and your mother. The life your parents bear and give to you is my life. To dishonor them is to dishonor me.8

We think it is the sense of the fifth commandment in its present place and sequence that mother and father are to be honored not for what they are intrinsically or sentimentally or even out of any particular moral or ethical or sociological considerations; but pointedly in acknowledgment of Yahweh’s claim on every life. Life is his and therefore sacred and holy. The holiness of life can be upheld only in honor of father and mother through whose joined life the divine image and animating breath are given.

The deuteronomic phrase which concludes the first pentalogue is more than an appeal to the motive of reward. If Yahweh’s identity, nature, name, day, and claim are acknowledged, it cannot be otherwise than that your days will be "long," that your life will be fulfilled in order and meaning. Such is the faith always undergirding the Old Testament story.

20:13-17

The second pentalogue is concerned with the integrity of Israel. The first five words define the God-man relationship. The second five are prohibitions of that which is destructive in the relationship of man to man. However, that relationship is in no sense a "secular" relationship, but rather always seen in the three-member scheme of God-man-man.

It is the function of the second pentalogue to defend in human community the inviolable mutual respect for (6) life, (7) person, (8) property, (9) reputation, and (10) status.

LIFE

You shall not kill (v. 13). Every man’s life is God’s life. This is the reason, powerfully implicit in context, why no one may violate the life of another (recall the Brothers, Gen. 4:2-14). This prohibition seeks to maintain the integrity of every individual life as basic to the life of community, both the community of men and the community of God and man.

PERSON

You shall not commit adultery (v. 14). If community is to be community neither life nor person may be violated. What is involved in the sex distinction is purposively and functionally given by Yahweh (so in both stories of creation). The abuse of that purpose and function violates the giver, Yahweh, as well as both persons involved; or, where the marriage covenant is also violated, three or even four persons may be involved and violated. The David-Bathsheba episode provides historical commentary on the Old Testament understanding of adultery as disruptive of community between God and man (II Sam. 12:13; and see also Joseph’s classic statement, Gen. 39:9) as well as between man and man (II Sam. 11).

PROPERTY

You shall not steal (v. 15). This is in defense of a man’s property, but in a sense more dire and stringent than we, economically cushioned, so to speak, would casually suppose. The loss of a garment, put aside during the warmer day, could in parts of the East result not only in the owner’s bitter suffering from cold through the night, but to physiological complications leading even to death. Or, in a simple pastoral economy where life is tenuously sustained in a literal hand-to-mouth fashion, the loss of a simple shepherd’s meager flock could easily be a life-or-death concern to him and his family. In a society where property and life are directly connected, the prohibition against theft is of a piece with the two preceding prohibitions in defense of life and person. To steal in a society where the vast bulk of property is in an immediate sense the means of subsistence is potentially as great a violation of community as murder or adultery. It is as powerful an assault on human integrity and the God-man-man relationship as either of these.

REPUTATION

You shall not hear false witness against your neighbor (v. 16). His reputation may not be violated. The language here suggests juridical practice. To bear false witness is to give false testimony in court. Formal "witness" then, in this sense, must be accurate.

At the same time, this commandment, as one of a series of summary statements

expressing the larger torah of Israel, must a broader meaning. This, too, reflects the man-man relationship but theologically conceived. As in the case of life, person, and property, reputation may not be falsely violated without also violating Yahweh and the aggressor’s own relationship to Yahweh. In intention, whatever the juridical overtones, the prohibition means to suppress any and all "witness" that constitutes false testimony against the neighbor, and the depreciation, even destruction, of his reputation.

STATUS

You shall not covet your neighbor’s house . . . or anything that is your neighbor’s (v. 17). This final prohibition is consistent in intent with the four preceding prohibitions. The full status of a man — all that is implicit in that inclusive word "house" — must be inviolable not only from physical or material damage overt abuse, or appropriation, but also (and this is a remarkable concept) from another’s wish, thought, or dream of appropriation — in short, another’s covetousness.

This injunctive word against illicit traffic through the mind is at once sum and climax of the pentalogue in protection of Israel’s integrity. All true community finally hangs on how the neighbor’s "house" is contemplated. If contemplation is covetous, community is already violated and all possibility of mutuality is crushed.

Ten commandments-prohibitions: a pentalogue whose purpose is to maintain the integrity of Yahweh, author of the covenant with Israel; and another pentalogue concerned with the community thus created and with that community’s integrity thus defined. This is conceived to convey out of Israel’s full torah the very essence of Yahweh’s total will with respect to himself but at once also every other covenant person.

The place of the decalogue in the life of ancient Israel can hardly be overemphasized. Once formulated (in its original form, subsequently expanded, not later than the early monarchy) it was understood and celebrated in Israel as a major

"event" on a par with and inseparably linked to the event of Israel’s deliverance from Egypt. And in that same way it was deemed to be a salvation event, disclosing the fact, meaning, and purposiveness of Yahweh’s Word in Israel and the world.

IN THE COVENANT CODE: EXODUS 21-24

These are the ordinances. Ex. 21:1

The first and oldest considerable code of instruction in the Old Testament is the Covenant Code, Exodus 21-23. The introduction to it, Exodus 20:18-21:1, resumes the Yahweh-manifestation interrupted by the decalogue; and again the story magnifies the role and stature of Moses. "You speak to us," the people cry, "but let not God speak to us lest we die" (20:19). And Moses, reassuring his people, ascends the mountain, disappears in the cloud of the Presence, and receives the Word which tradition represents to be the Covenant Code (21:1). One must not overlook the prescription for the simple, unpretentious altar which has been, a trifle irrelevantly, inserted here in 20:24-26. This is an early and discerning protest against the perennial tendency in every cult, ancient and modern, to elaborate the "equipment" of worship so as to make of the material representation of worship an end in itself. This prohibition of the ostentatious altar was, of course, violated in Israel. One can cite examples of rationalization on behalf of pretension: the fault in the elevated altar is not in the altar but in the priest’s short skirts; we will robe the officiating priests so that their "nakedness" will not be exposed (Ex. 28:40-43). Elsewhere one encounters open testimony to the disposition to elaborate the structure of the altar (Ex. 27:1-8; I Kings 1:50-51; Ezek. 43:13-17). But the demand for the simple altar was not forgotten (Josh. 8:30-31; I Kings 18:31).

From 21:2 to 22:17 the Covenant Code presents laws for the most part apparently borrowed from Canaanite practice in the course of the two centuries preceding the establishment of monarchy. On the other hand, in 22:18 to 23:19 cultic regulations predominate which tend much more to express the original character and mind of Israel. The conclusion of the code, 2 3:20-33, is a Yahweh speech summarizing and reaffirming covenant:

You shall serve Yahweh your God, and I will bless your bread and your water . . . I will fulfil the number of your days. . .(23:25 f.)

In its present form the code is, of course, no older than this latest concluding section (perhaps the middle of the eighth century). But the full code embraces a span of many centuries and draws both from preoccupation Canaan and pre-Mosaic Yahwism. It is, all in all, a stupendous achievement.

On Servitude and Freedom

21:2-11

On what other theme could this code so appropriately open? "We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt, and Yahweh brought us out!" (Deut. 6:21).

Verses 2-6 regulate the conditions of freedom for the Israelite slave and ought to be compared with the same law in the Deuteronomic Code (Deut. 12-26) which, as a later formulation, represents on the whole considerable refinement of feeling. In Deuteronomy (15:14) the slave is freed not only together with all his family, but with liberal provision from the resources of his master. Still later, in a third major Old Testament collection of torah known as the Holiness Code, Leviticus 17-26, the very institution of the slavery of an Israelite to an Israelite is abolished (Lev. 25: 39-42).

The grounds for the firm protection of the rights of the Israelite slave (Covenant Code), for his generous consideration upon going free (Deuteronomic Code), and for his ultimate removal from the possibility of enslavement (Holiness Code) are emphatically theological. It is implicit in CC; but explicit and emphatic in DC and HC:

You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and Yahweh your God redeemed you; therefore I [thus] command you! (Deut. 15:15)

. . .for they are my servants, whom I brought forth out of the land of Egypt; [for this reason] they shall not be sold as slaves! (Lev. 25:42)

It is consistently and pointedly Yahweh’s historically known grace and redemption in Israel which is responsible for the Old Testament’s remarkable regulation of slavery (see further Ex. 12:43 f.; 21:20 f.; Deut. 12:17 f.; 16:10 f.; 23:15 f.; Lev.

25:10).

On Control of Violence

21:12-35

We have what appears to be the mutilated torso of an ancient unit — perhaps an original decalogue, "ten words" — in four surviving "words" in 21:12,15-17. Here the death penalty is decreed for murder (cf. Gen. 9:6 Lev. 24:17; Num. 35:30 f.), for physical violence against parents, for manstealing, and for verbal abuse (cursing) of parents. The first has been humanely elaborated (vv. 13-14) to distinguish between voluntary and involuntary manslaughter. The third has been expanded with the phrase "whether he sells him or is found in possession of him." In common with ancient Hittite and Babylonian codes of law, the Covenant Code compensates the injured (vv. 18-19).

There is apparent tension between the proposition that the slave is property on the one hand and a human life on the other. If verse 21 represents the former principle, verses 26-27 (perhaps originally connected to 21) clearly represent the second, always dominant in the Old Testament: if the slave’s owner inflicts the loss of an eye or even a tooth upon the slave, the slave must be given his freedom in compensation!

The lex talionis, the law of retaliation (vv. 22-25; cf. Lev. 24: 18-21 and Deut. 19:15-21), is a widely held legal principle in antiquity. Looked at positively, this "life for life, eye for eye" sentiment no doubt marked an advance in juridical concept and practice at some time in the distant past, in the sense that it limited damages. In the Old Testament as a whole, of course, this principle of exact retaliation is not normative. Israel took it over from Canaan for a period and retained it only for certain particular cases as a standard of judgment in specific instances of injury. In the instance before us, lex talionis remained applicable; and this is true also of the two other instances of its use, Leviticus 24:18 ff., and Deuteronomy 19:15 ff. But, in general, the Yahweh-covenant quality is dominant, and Israelite law, covenant law, is characterized by relative gentleness and mercy.

The theme of violence continues in verses 28-36 but the focus shifts to the beast, the ox, and the problems created by violence done both by him and to him.

On General Conduct and Responsibility

22:1-23:33

We mark three sections here. The first section, 22:1-17, differs from the second, 22:18-23:19, in form as we1l as in content. The first is characterized by the structure, "If so and so . . . the offender shall do thus and so . . ." Such casuistic formulation derives from the Canaanites and concerns itself with what we should call secular, as opposed to religious, law.

The second section occasionally incorporates the casuistic "if" form (22:25; 23:4), but with the second person "you" not the third "he"; but generally it is not casuistic in expression but apodictic, stating the noncasuistic, nontheoretical, direct, unqualified commandment or prohibition. Apodictic law explicitly deals with cultic or theological concerns (e.g., 22:20); it is implicitly more closely related to the particular life of covenant Israel and the Yahweh faith. Apodictic law is characteristically Israelite in origin and perspective.9

The third section, 23:20-33, is the subsequently composed postlude in the form of a hortatory speech of Yahweh.

22:1-17

These verses are casuistic laws of Canaanite origin for the most part; and the theme throughout the section is the determination of appropriate restitution. These are lay regulations as opposed to cultic or religious stipulations. Parallels appear in profusion over the ancient East and in specifically expanded form in, for example, the Code of Hammurabi of Babylon (eighteenth century B.C.). Yahweh plays no role (the phrase of verse 11 is intrusive), deity receives institutional mention under the vague term ‘Elohim (vv. 8 and 9), and theological-ethical content is virtually void.

22:18-23:17

Beginning in 22: 18, the characteristic form of expression shifts from the casuistic to the apodictic.

The death sentence is categorically imposed for three offenses — sorcery, sex perversion (with an animal), and idolatrous sacrifice. Hittite (but not Babylonian) law also decrees death for this kind of debased sex act; but in the present context of Israel’s torah the law is cast in the same theological perspective as the prohibitions immediately preceding and following. Sorcery (with all divination, witchcraft, and necromancy; cf. I Sam. 28; Jer. 7:18 and 44:15; Lev. 20:27; Deut. 18:10; Mal. 3:5) is anathema because it invades the exclusive domain of Yahweh. Non-Yahweh sacrifice, the most vehement of the three prohibitions, denies Israel’s very being, since it is Yahweh who "brought us out of Egypt . . . and into this place" (see again Deut. 26:7-9). So, too, by association and context, the theological basis of the middle prohibition: to debase and pervert the sex function by which covenant life is perpetuated is to deny the covenant, the Yahweh-man relationship, and Yahweh himself.

Verses 21-24 cite three classes of persons repeatedly given special mention in Old Testament torah — the sojourner, the widow, and the orphan. The sensitive discernment of relationship between Israel’s Egyptian experience and her proper treatment of the sojourner (v. 21) appears again in 23:9. Verses 25-27 (cf. Deut. 23:19 f. and Lev. 25:26-28) regulate aspects of the old institution of credit. Verse 28 is a prohibition in support of authority, divine and human (the Holiness Code, Lev. 24:16, imposes the death sentence for blaspheming "the name of Yahweh").

Cultic requirements constitute verses 29-31. Verse 29b is hardly the survival of an ancient demand in Israel for child-sacrifice. The willingness to offer the son and some (here not prescribed) symbolic act to that effect is called for (see 13:2,13,15). In the core Yahweh faith, early and late, literal human sacrifice was consistently repudiated. An old taboo survives in verse 31 but now with theological justification: it is because you are mine, says Yahweh, that you are not to play the role of scavengers to the beasts of creation.

The Covenant Code’s most eloquent lines on the theme of justice appear in 23:1-9. No comment is called for, save to urge the reader not to miss the continued relevance and pertinence (the "isness") of the Egyptian sojourn, nor the summary statement in Deuteronomy 16:19-20, perhaps the most moving single plea for justice in the Old Testament:

You shall not pervert justice; you shall not show partiality; and you shall not take a bribe, for a bribe blinds the eyes of the wise and subverts the cause of the righteous. Justice, only justice, you shall follow. . .

Verses 10-19 deal with cultic concerns — the sabbath year (vv. 10-11), the sabbath day (vv. 12-13), and the three major annual festivals (vv. 14-19). The feast of unleavened bread (passover, 34:24) commemorates the exodus from Egypt. The feast of harvest (feast of weeks, 34:22 and Deut. 16:10, 16) or pentecost (so named because it came to be celebrated fifty days after the feast of unleavened bread) or the first fruits of wheat harvest (also 34:22) is by whatever name the celebration of the first harvest of the fields, ready in Palestine in April. And a third feast, of ingathering (so also 34:22 but Deut.16: 13-16, the feast of tabernacles), celebrates the grape vintage in the fall. These "three times in the year shall all your males appear before Yahweh" (v. 17). Verses 18-19 carry four regulations of the passover (unleavened bread) festival. Both stipulations in verse 18 warn against carrying the passover celebration beyond its appointed day. Verse 19a reiterates 16. And verse 19b (also 34:26 and Deut. 14:21), whether originally humanely motivated or not, came to be interpreted in Judaism as excluding any mixture of milk and meat.

23:20-32

From casuistic laws and apodictic torah, the Covenant Code turns in its concluding section to what ostensibly lies immediately ahead — the acquisition of Canaan. Deuteronomic editors seem to have had a hand in this (cf. Deut. 7:1-5), but the substantial framework of this Yahweh speech (20-22, 25b-28,31a) is as old as the tenth century. The "predicted" limits of the land to be acquired correspond roughly to the peak holding under David and Solomon. The speech is informed of the slow progress of acquisition; and also of some prior attacks upon Canaan unwittingly assisting Israel’s task ("hornets" v. 28, cf. Josh. 24:12, Deut. 7:20; and note the fly and the bee of Isa. 7:18). It is in any case a splendid summary section to the Covenant Code, appropriately reaffirming the powers, gifts, and commitment of Yahweh himself to the covenant with Israel.

The Covenant Sealed

24:1-18

We know that covenants in the ancient east were of several kinds.10 In the Old Testament story at least two primary types of covenant are emphasized. The earliest understanding of covenant in Israel sees Yahweh as initiator, definer, and sealer of covenant with Israel. It is covenant in which the human role is very nearly passive. Such is the covenant with Abraham in Genesis 15; and such is the sealing of the covenant described in Exodus 24:1-2, 9-11. Yahweh himself prepares a communion meal to which he invites Israel’s leadership. It is Yahweh who gives the food and in giving it commits himself to the covenant.

Ancient covenants sometimes laid greater stress upon the role, obligations, and commitment of the junior or subordinate party to the covenant. It is covenant in this interpretation which is recounted in Genesis 17 (P), where Israel’s commitment is sealed in the rite of circumcision. And in the passage before us, Exodus 24:3-8, a rite is described by which Israel’s acceptance of covenant is symbolized — covenant as defined for Israel, as her responsibility and obligation, in the Decalogue and in the Covenant Code.

In 24:12-18 Moses (and incidentally Joshua) is again set apart, his person and stature lauded. But this closing section of the chapter is also clearly intended to serve as the conclusion of the long section beginning with Exodus 19 and at the same time as appropriate introduction to the extended (priestly) section which follows in chapters 25-31, and which has to do exclusively with the institutionalizing of all that has occurred in the making of the covenant. It is the intent of this link not only to laud the role of Moses, but to declare again that the total development of Content and form in the practice of Israel’s faith presents itself to every succeeding generation with the authority of Yahweh himself directly mediated through Moses.11

Yahweh brings order out of chaos. It is the impingement of his life upon history which imparts meaning to the meaningless. This is the faith which ancient Israel proclaims in her story. Not alone in Yahweh’s creation of a people and a world but emphatically also in the creation of covenant, he discloses himself, his nature, his purpose. Decalogue, and now Covenant Code, are deemed to be continually creative, always now sustaining order out of the stuff of chaos.

Covenant is the promise of Yahweh, and his own irrevocable act of commitment to that promise to take Israel for a people, and through her to restore to the world the lost blessing of creation, to mend the now fractured meaning of existence, and to heal history’s tragically disordered order. But covenant is also deemed to be concretely that by which Israel is to live out all the days of all her years — the ordinances which Moses set before her in response to the Word (see 20:1 and 21:1), ordinances in fulfillment of which Israel herself alone would be fulfilled. In her covenant-keeping Israel is kept. Sustaining food, sweet water, days without illness, births without accident and parental love without frustration, and satisfying length of days (23:25-26) — abundant life in these terms is offered in a covenant relationship in which Yahweh creates a people and a people serve him in faithfulness.

IN THE WORK AND PERSON OF MOSES: EXODUS 32—34

I know you by name. Ex. 33:17

The conception of the task undertaken in this text12 rules out any discussion of the two very similar priestly sections of Exodus having to do with the plans of institution (25—3 1) and the acts of institution (35—40). Both sections are concerned — sometimes in closely corresponding or even identical terms — with the physical means, forms, nature, dimensions, and personnel of the cultic-religious institution, the first section ostensibly as plans and the second as detailing the actual construction, realization, and inauguration of the full-fledged cultic institution.

It is impossible to determine from these sections the actual objects involved in Israel’s early cultus. The description of the tabernacle (chs. 26 and 38), for example, bears no direct relationship to any real Israelite sanctuary. Memories of a Mosaic-nomadic tent of meeting may be imbedded in the description. It is certain that the form of Solomon’s temple (tenth century) influenced the account. But any reconstruction according to these specifications would produce a tabernacle structure which never existed in fact.

The three chapters of Exodus now before us are composite. We have already noted their general Yahwistic-prophetic east and the nature of the large block of which they are a part (Ex. 19: 1-Num. 10:10). What we have termed J and E are both here, with other voices, or other hands. But the finished product is a unified achievement.

Perhaps the reminder is again in order that Israel’s interest in the original "event" rests predominantly in its present and continuing meaning that the form of the narrative before us is unquestionably cultically conditioned, that is, shaped by the influences of cultic circles at centers of worship in which, the tradition was maintained; and that this cultic tradition returns an image of Moses formed out of long years of meditation on the total significance of his life and time through the succeeding generations of Israel’s life.

The Golden Calf: Denial of Covenant

32:1-35

Moses is on Sinai, now himself as mysterious and unapproachable as that Presence of Yahweh which he alone may confront and the Word of Yahweh which he alone may hear. The impatient people, to whom the reality of Moses and Yahweh has become only a memory and who know the widespread representation of deity in the form of a calf (probably a young bull, denoting primarily the strength of reproductive power and fertility, natural and human), with Aaron’s consent and counsel, make Yahweh (v. 5) in this form, and to Yahweh thus materialized they hold a full-fledged cultic celebration.

Yahweh’s immediate repudiation of Israel for this breach of covenant is directly conveyed in his Word to Moses, in form charming and naive, but in communication of the sense of ruptured relationship profound and powerful:

Go down! Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have corrupted themselves! (v. 7)

Now (such is the sense of the Word) step aside, get out of my way — hold my coat — while I administer — death!

Now therefore let me alone . . . that I may consume them!

Now the thematic note:

Of you (Moses) I will make a great nation! (v.10)

But Moses will not entertain this complimentary proposal even by mentioning it. Instead he makes successful (v. 14) intercession on Israel’s behalf reminding Yahweh that Israel is his people whose destruction would frustrate the glory of the exodus (vv. 11-12) and constitute a shameful breach of Yahweh’s promise to the patriarchs (v. 13; the prayer, as other aspects of the narrative, is informed by relatively late traditional stereotypes).

Moses descends the mountain carrying the two stone tablets inscribed with the Decalogue, presumably ("the writing was the writing of God," v. 16); sees what has occurred (Joshua suddenly appears again, cf. 24:13); and in fury breaks the tablets, symbolizing the covenant which Israel has in the same way just shattered.

It all happened "at the foot of the mountain" (v. 19). Tradition recalls that Moses came here first with Jethro’s flock and first knew here the piercing of the shell of his existence by the Word of Yahweh out of the undiminished, unconsurned burning bush. To this same mountain Moses brought Israel where she — a people redeemed only yesterday out of slavery — acknowledged Yahweh as the Shatterer of her own tight little prison, and entered a covenant with him, accepting his commitment to her and reciting her own vows of faithfulness. Here, at the foot of the mountain, she brazenly denied the reality of her encounter, repudiated her emancipator, and shamelessly broke her vows. Here, at the foot of the mountain, Moses cast into the moral rubble the tables of the testimony already in effect reduced to powder and ashes.

When Moses confronts Aaron, the one on whom responsibility clearly falls, he produces a line of evasion, an emphatic disclaimer, which forever ranks with the best, the most ridiculous, and therefore the most humorous of its kind:

I said to them, "Let any who have gold take it off"; so they gave it to me, and I threw it into the fire, and there came out this calf! (v.24)

What a remarkable accident. We had absolutely nothing to do with it.

One could wish for restraint in the introduction of the next paragraph (vv. 25-29). We can appreciate the seriousness of the prohibition of images in Israel and (at its highest motivation) the theological maturity which it represents. We are at the same time sure that the human word is given the status of divine Word in the command (v. 27) of indiscriminate slaughter; and we are sure that Moses never regarded such an act as ordination to priesthood (v. 29)!

The narrative concludes on the note of Moses’ moving intercession, to be ranked among the greatest prayers ever preserved (vv. 31-32); and with the response of the Word in grace (v. 34a), but with the firm reminder that Yahweh will when the occasion demands make himself known as judge (v. 34b). The final verse (35) is the contribution of a traditionist who obviously feels that Yahweh must be made of sterner stuff, or that Israel must he yet more sternly treated and so produces the disagreeable and anticlimactic notice of the plague.

Among circles of Old Testament students, it has been commonly held, almost taken for granted, that the present narrative was created as a condemnation (with Mosaic-Sinaitic authority") of the representation of Yahweh in the bull image at the two chief sanctuaries of North Israel, Dan and Bethel, beginning late in the tenth century when the united Israelite kingdom was split (I Kings 12:28-29). Now, we are sure that tradition reinterpreted and no doubt somewhat modified the story in the light of this heresy; but we are unable to see any reason for denying that the story was already in existence then and that in fact the Yahwistic heresy of image representation began in the beginning of Israel’s life as a people, in the first, Mosaic chapter of that life.

Yahweh and Moses: Renewal of Covenant

33:1-34:9

Chapter 33 opens with Yahweh’s Word still sounding in bitter tones of reaction to the broken covenant. "You (Moses) and the people whom you have brought up out of Egypt" get out of here and move on to the land. But it is the promised land; and "I will drive out" those who impede your settlement in the land. And, inconsistently, the negative note resumes in verse 3: Go ahead, but go without Me!

This divine ambivalence plays a role in the plot. Yahweh’s Word has been given. That Word cannot be broken. But Israel has behaved in flagrant defiance of all that was implicit in the covenant-Word, so that from any human point of view Yahweh is justified in having no more to do with Israel, indeed in withdrawing himself for Israel’s own protection, since to stay among them in wrath would be to destroy them! The role of this tension and duality is to serve in the delineation of the character of Moses; the person of Moses and his intercession and faith are responsible for the resolution of the divine ambivalence.

In hopes of appeasing the divine anger, Israel "stripped themselves of their ornaments, from Mount Horeb (Sinai) onward" (v.6).

More clearly than in any previous reference, the tent of meeting is the place where Yahweh may be found (v. 7). The use of the two terms "tent of meeting" and "tabernacle" leaves the reader in doubt as to whether they are the same or different structures. Chapters 29 (vv. 4,10,11,31,32,42) and 30 (vv. 16,18,20,36), for example, employ only the first term (cf. also 27:21 and 28:43) and clearly identify tent and tabernacle. In chapter 33 before us it may be that the tent of meeting is envisaged as a provisional arrangement, a substitute tabernacle for the duration of Yahweh’s withholding his own direct Presence from Israel: Yahweh meets only Moses in the tent of meeting — and that "face to face"! (v. 11; but see the contradiction, v. 20, from another of the sources employed in the shaping of the present account). In subsequent references identity or virtual identity must be assumed (35:21; 38:8,30,32; 39:40 NB; and 40: repeatedly).

This is all in Moses’ praise. Here the uniqueness of Moses is defined in terms of the uniqueness of his relationship to Yahweh. Here the Old Testament story testifies that Israel owes her existence to Yahweh, to be sure, but also to Moses, without whose intercession the Yahweh-Israel enterprise would to all intents and purposes have been dissolved. This is tradition s testimony and tribute to the absolutely incomparable Moses. He goes alone to the tent of meeting for a meeting — the Meeting — while all Israel stands in awe and reverence (v. 8). Yahweh follows, and all Israel worships "every man at his tent door" (vv. 9-10).It is a face-to-face meeting (see above).Moses speaks with such power as to persuade Yahweh of the wisdom of his words and to gain a reversal of the divine decision to withhold the immediate Presence of Yahweh from Israel (vv. 12-17). And Yahweh bestows on Moses words of rare occurrence indeed: "I know you by name (vv. 12, 17; cf. Matt. 1:21 ff.; 16:13 ff.); "you have found favor in my sight" (vv. 12,17; cf. Mark 1:10; Luke 2:40); "I will give you rest" (v. 14; cf. Matt. 11:28); and "the very thing that you have spoken I will do" (v. 17; cf. Matt. 28:18; 10:32; Luke 12:8; John 16:23).

Finally, in marked contrast to the face-to-face meeting (v. 11; cf. Num. 12:8; Deut. 34:10) Moses’ request to behold Yahweh’s Glory is granted (vv. 18-23; compare and contrast Elijah’s great hour on the holy mountain, I Kings 19). The

quality and meaning of the Glory is suggested in the coupling the proclamation of the name YHWH (33:19; 34:6) with the passing by of the Glory, and in the words goodness, graciousness, and mercy (33:19 and 34:6-7). Implicit, of course, is Yahweh’s forgiveness of Israel, won through the intercession and devotion of Moses, and assured now in the passing Glory of Yahweh’s goodness, grace, and mercy. Indeed, the actual description of the passing by of the Glory and the rounding out of this intimate Sinai-Horeb scene between Yahweh and Moses (34:6-9) expands on the theme of the graciousness of Yahweh (cf. Joel 2:13; Jon. 4:2), affirms the appropriate humility of Moses before this revelation of the nature of Yahweh, and puts on Moses’ lips a prayer which constitutes a fine summary of all that has gone before in chapters 32 and 33. "If 1 (Moses) have (in very fact) found favor in thy sight," then (and it is now a moving, timelessly relevant prayer!) let the Lord . . . go in the midst of us, although it is a stiff-necked people; and pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us for thy inheritance.

In 34:1-4, the narrative takes up again the subject of stone tables of the law destroyed in Moses’ wrath at the sight of the golden calf. Tradition is making a single story of several strands; and since Moses’ marvelous vision of Yahweh’s Glory is also the renewal of covenant with Israel, the broken tablets must be replaced. These verses supply the logically necessary advice that Moses has two new blank tablets at hand and ready.

The Redefined Covenant: the Ritual Decalogue

34:10-28

Accordingly, the covenant between Yahweh "merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness" and a forgiven Israel is instituted afresh. In this completed work of tradition, that is, as the present text of Exodus 34 is handed over to us, the content of the new covenant law differs from the old, the Decalogue of Exodus 20. Following an introductory speech of Yahweh which declares the marvels Yahweh is about to perform and warns against the temptations of Canaan and its religious institutions (vv. 10-13), a decalogue is given which, however, concentrates exclusively on concerns of the cultus, and has therefore come to be known as the Ritual Decalogue, as against what is often called the Ethical Decalogue of Exodus 20 and Deuteronomy 5:

I (v.14)You shall worship no other god, for Yahweh, whose name is jealous, is a jealous God (cf. 23:13).

II (v.17)You shall make for yourself no molten gods (cf. 20:23).

III (v.19a)All that opens the womb is mine (cf. 22:29-30).

IV (v.20b)All the first-born of your sons you shall redeem (cf. 22:29-30).

V (v. 21)Six days you shall work, but on the seventh day you shall rest; in plowing time and in harvest you shall rest (cf. 23:12).

VI (v. 23)Three times in the year shall all your males appear before the Lord Yahweh, God of Israel (cf. 23:17).

VII (v. 25a)You shall not offer the blood of my sacrifice with leaven (cf. 23:18a).

VIII (v. 25b)The sacrifice of the feast of the passover shall not be left until the morning (cf. 23:18b).

IX (v. 26a)The first of the first fruits of your ground you shall bring to the house of Yahweh your God (cf. 23:19a).

X (v. 26b)You shall not boil a kid in its mother’s milk (cf. 23: 19b).

The parallel references from the Covenant Code (Ex. 20-23; but especially 23:13-19) indicate that this cultic decalogue is unique only in arrangement, and its present form is obviously an expansion of an original "ten words." How old may have been the original Decalogue? Did these cultic prescriptions first appear in the corpus of an extensive code (the Covenant Code of Exodus 20-23), to be distilled into briefer, decalogue form, or was the Ritual Decalogue original and its individual prescriptions subsequently incorporated in the longer code? And how does it happen that tradition comes to record the Ethical Decalogue as the content of the first tables of the law, but the Ritual Decalogue for the second? Questions of this kind remain still without certain answer. It may be that tradition, in combining differing, independent, but parallel accounts of Sinai-Horeb and its covenant, has, without reconciliation, brought together an older version (the nucleus of Ex. 3-34, J) which "remembers" a ritual decalogue, and a somewhat later version (E, having its locus in the North, not the South as J) which associates the Ethical Decalogue with the covenant of the sacred mountain. Or, in that long, unceasingly active process that we call tradition, an original J decalogue, very closely parallel to the F decalogue of Exodus 20, may have been at some point displaced in Exodus 34 by the Ritual Decalogue now before us. This last suggestion has the merit that in an earlier formulation, tradition was not inconsistent but recorded a renewed covenant-decalogue, on new tablets, which was essentially the reproduction of the original tables.13

Moses: A Terrible Thing

34:29-35

This section on the denial and renewal of covenant (chs. 32-34) is conceived, of course, in praise of Yahweh. Its theme might be the Yahweh-Word in 34:10, "It is a terrible thing that I will do with you" — terrible in the sense of awe and wonder, not simply dread and horror. But on the terrestrial plane, at the human level, the narrative concentrates on Moses, on his role vis-a-vis Yahweh and Israel, and on his incomparable stature as intermediary between God and people.

Appropriately, then, the section closes (and the J-E or non-priestly stratum of Exodus, since 35-40, like 25—31, is exclusively of priestly quality) with this almost fabulous tribute by tradition — which is, of course, the tribute of all Israel — to Moses. He has prevailed, in a sense, over Yahweh himself. By a combination of intercession and argument, he has gained for Israel full divine forgiveness. By the strength of his own person and the power of his own commitment to Yahweh, he returns again, descending the sacred mountain with the new tables of the covenant-law in his hands; and he does not know — tradition elsewhere insists that "the man Moses was very meek, more than all men that were on the face of the earth" (Num. 12: 3) — he does not know that his face is literally aglow, shining with the radiance of the very Presence of Yahweh!

This is the ultimate tribute. This is Israel’s enduring estimate of Moses. We live because Yahweh gave us life out of Egypt for the death that we lived in Egypt. By Yahweh’s Word (or his Hand, or his Presence) Yahweh brought us through the Sea, sustained us in the wilderness, made covenant with us at Sinai, forgave us our appalling denial of him, and renewed in mercy and grace the covenant which we had broken. But by the means of what amazing human instrument was all of this the accomplishment of the Word of Yahweh on behalf of Israel?

. . .for the place on which you are standing is holy ground. Moses, Moses! Put off your shoes. I know the affliction of my people. . . . Come, I will send you. . . . I will be with you. . . . I will be with your mouth. . . . and I will bring you into the land. . .

Come up to me on the mountain and I will give you the tables of stone. . . . Go down; for your people have corrupted themselves. . . . let me alone that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them; but I will make of you a great nation. . . . I will give you rest. . . you have found favor in my sight. . . . I know you by name. . .Behold, I make [again!] a covenant. Before all your people I will do marvels. . . . it is a terrible thing that I will do with you!

No comment is better able to convey the staggering impression of such a man upon other men, not simply in Israel, but in the world of all time, than this recording of the "memory" of the face of Moses, so brilliantly shining with the radiance of the very Presence of God that that countenance could be unveiled only in the presence of the Presence.

This is Moses — by whose offices and through whose leadership and vision the covenant was first made; against whose devoted commitment to Israel’s life the covenant was shamelessly denied; and by whose strength of faith and communion with Yahweh Israel was forgiven and the covenant renewed and reinstituted.

IN PRIESTLY CULTUS AND ETHIC: LEVITICUS 10, 16, 19, 23-26

I will make my abode among you. Lev. 26:11

We turn now to the third book of the Old Testament. In Hebrew tradition it is customary to call a biblical book by its first word. Genesis is Bereshith, "In the beginning," and Leviticus, Way yikra, "And he called." We follow the Septuagint (Greek) and Vulgate (Latin) translations. This is Leviticus, the Levitical book — laws, instructions, torah collected and arranged (but not necessarily composed) by the Levitical priests during and after the period of Babylonian exile, that is, in the sixth and fifth centuries.

Look briefly at the contents of Leviticus:

1-7 Instructions, regulations, relating to sacrifice.

8-10 On the consecration and installation of the priesthood.

11-16Torah relating to ceremonial uncleanness and purification; and to the special rites for the Day of Atonement (16).

17-26 The Holiness Code.

27-28 An appendix on offerings and tithes.

This is Lord and covenant, Yahweh and his covenanted people, as seen in the perspective of priesthood and cultus. In this perspective Levitical law is the covenant, and the keeping of it is the covenant obligation of the entire community. Leviticus is not an original unit — the inclusion of the Holiness Code, itself a prior unit, testifies to this; and in over-all editorial design, Leviticus becomes an integral part of the giant Sinai-centered block of material from Exodus 19 to Numbers 10: 10.

The completed canon (the word means "rule" by which the content and limits of holy scripture are determined) affirms that all covenant law, all torah, is of Yahweh, and, therefore, essentially of Sinai-Mosaic origin.

What is offered here in very brief commentary presupposes the biblical text. As always, these words of mine are intentionally dependent. It is precisely my aim to avoid discussion of the Old Testament which can be appropriated in lieu of the biblical text, as a substitute for the text.

The Day of Atonement

16:1-34

This day, Yom Kippur, has continued in annual celebration in Judaism. It is "a solemn white fast, during which from dusk to dusk the faithful partake of neither food nor drink in token of penitence, but through prayer and confession scrutinize their lives, abjure their evil-doing, and seek regeneration, a returning to God and goodness."14

Contrary to the notions of some, belief in the universality and pervasiveness of sin did not originate in the theology of Reinhold Niebuhr nor of Karl Barth, nor of Kierkegaard, nor of the Protestant Reformers, nor of St. Augustine, nor even of the good St. Paul. What is called or miscalled original sin (original in the sense that it is a primary datum of every nun’s existence) has its roots in Israel’s ancient Yahweh-faith (the Garden, the Brothers, the Flood and the Tower — these always are, in the varied forms of all men’s violations of creation). The priests of Israel and of Judaism (a term appropriate to the Old Testament community after Israel’s sixth-century political demise) institutionalized in the Day of Atonement both their conviction of ruptured creation and their faith in the mercy of God.

Indeed, priestly symbolism in the Old Testament underlines a stunning sense of the centrality of sin — and by sin we mean not the mere infraction of rules for the "good" life, but that which in any respect violates the biblically defined relationship of God and man. In the priestly-cultic institution the holiest symbol is the mercy-seat, a solid-gold rectangular plate, conforming to the top dimensions of the ark of the covenant (2-1/2 x 1-1/2 cubits: a cubit was 18 inches?), resting on the ark, supporting the two cherubim above whom resides the invisible Presence. This mercy-seat is the footstool of Yahweh, the most sacred symbol within the holy-of-holies, behind the veil of the tabernacle-temple. At the center of the center, the nucleus of the nucleus, the seat of God’s mercy.

Verses 5-10 of Leviticus 16 constitute the earliest stratum of the chapter describing a simple but complete ceremony, subsequently elaborated. The name Azazel (vv. 8, 10, 26) remains a puzzle. It appears nowhere else in the Old Testament and has been variously interpreted: the chief (or in any case one) of the fallen angels; or as denoting the place to which one of the goats was sent (according to Rashi — Rabbi Sholomon ben Isaac — incomparably distinguished medieval commentator, twelfth century A.D.Q; or again, Azazel has been taken as denoting the sins for which the goat atones.

Observe that the priest and the whole house of the priests is not exempt from the necessity of making atonement (v. 6, in the original prescription). A ram (bull) is the specifically priestly sin-offering. Of the two goats, one is sacrificed as a sin-offering for the people and its blood, its life-essence, symbolically sprinkled on and before the mercy-seat (vv. 15-16). The other goat becomes a scapegoat: the total burden of all Israel’s transgressions, all her corporate sins, is symbolically placed upon him and he is driven away "to a solitary land" (vv. 20-22).

In the traditions of the rabbis of Judaism codified in the Mishnah about A.D. 200, there is a tractate called "Yoma" which adds details to the development of the celebration of Yom Kippur. The priest’s moving prayer is recorded, pronounced with his two hands placed upon the goat.

O Lord, thy people the house of Israel have committed iniquity, and transgressed, and sinned before thee. 0 Lord, pardon now the iniquities, the transgressions, and the sins which thy people, the house of Israel, have iniquitously done,, transgressed and sinned before thee, as it is written in the law of Moses thy servant, "For on this day shall atonement be made for you, to cleanse you; from all your sins shall you be clean before the Lord" (v. 30).

At various points throughout the ceremony the people respond:

Blessed be the Name of the glory of his Kingdom for ever and ever.

The goat, according to practice detailed in the tractate of the Mishnah, is then taken to a place called Zok, about twelve miles from Jerusalem. People follow in sober procession. Arriving there, the goat is pushed backward off the edge of a cliff. Thus profound penitence is confessed; and thus is symbolized God’s complete forgiveness and removal of Israel’s sins. Thus sang the Psalmist (103:12):

As far as the east is from the west,

so far does he remove our transgressions from us.

The Holiness Code

19, 23-26

Since A. Klostermann gave the name Holiness Code (Dat Heiligkeitsgesetz) to this distinctive section (Lev. 17-26) in 1877, its separate unity within the P corpus has been almost unanimously affirmed. This is chronologically the third major code of torah in the Old Testament after the Covenant Code (Lx. 20-23) and the Deuteronomic Code (Deut. 12-26, 28). Its precise date and origin remain uncertain. The code makes use of items of torah already long in existence: many of the regulations of the Covenant Code and of Deuteronomy are reproduced. It is not feasible here to detail even the principal supporting arguments. Let it suffice to say that while the three codes, CC, DC, and HC, all incorporate already existent torah, they may he deemed to represent in their original codification three successive centuries, the eighth, the seventh, and the sixth, respectively.

The primary quality conveyed in the Hebrew term for holiness is separateness, set-apart-ness (the root of the word, qdsh. means to cut, and so, to separate). More particularly in the Old Testament it is a term applied to that which is sacred, that is, set apart for devotional use, for the exercise of the religious function, for purposes pertaining to deity. The root, in varying forms, identifies sacred places and sacred personnel, including both male and female cult prostitutes. In Yahwism holiness is appropriated to Yahweh himself. He is holy (Isa. 6); indeed, he is the holy one (Isa. 40:29; Hos. 11:9). Thus, holiness becomes the central attribute of Yahweh, denoting that total aspect of his being which is disclosed to man. Holiness embraces the full range of his effective impingement upon human existence. It is that without which Yahweh would not b Yahweh, since without holiness Yahweh would not be known at all. Holiness is his power. It is also his character.15

Now the Holiness Code makes the (preposterous?!) affirmation that it shall be, in the Semitic idiom, like Yahweh like people. Israel’s full covenant responsibility is to be, like the great covenanter himself, holy. "You shall be holy; for I Yahweh your God, am holy" (19:2). "You shall be holy to me; for I Yahweh am holy, and I have separated you from the peoples, that you should be mine" (20:26; cf. 21:8). This is the intentional force behind the thematic phrase of the Code a phrase repeated almost fifty times: I am Yahweh. Thus and so shall you do (the Code embraces the full range of torah — cultic, ceremonial, civil, sociological, theological) because I am Yahweh, I am holy; and my holiness is fulfilled in you in honoring this torah; in obedience to this, you are holy, you appropriate my power, you conform to my character.

And beyond any doubt, the fourth event (see pages 7 ff.1 is implicit in this. The covenant demand of holiness unambiguously conveys the relationship of people and Word to the world: Israel, in her "separation" and in her appropriation of Yahweh’s holiness will convey in the world the power and character of God and his purpose to heal the world’s alienation. In doing so, Israel will participate in and bring to realization the fourth event, for which the first three were made — Exodus, Zion, and Exile.

19:1=37

In this consummately theological conception of the function of Israel’s existence and of the force and sanction of her torah, it is no wonder that the Holiness Code embraces in Leviticus 19 the Old Testament’s supreme articulation of the theological ethic.

The chapter has to do, of course, with the broad concerns of torah. Items of the Ethical Decalogue are reiterated — parents and sabbath (vv. 3,30), other gods (v. 4), stealing (v. 11), Yahweh’s name (v. 12). Purely cultic matters are taken up — the eating of the sacrifice (vv. 5-8) and the flesh-blood restriction (v. 26). Husbandry (v. 19) and horticulture (vv. 23-25) arc regimented; and the humane law on gleaning again finds eloquent expression (vv. 9-10). All forms of the occult penetration of the unknown are prohibited (vv. 26b, 3l). Two obviously not uncommon infringements of sexual morality are given attention (vv. 20-22, 29). And the concluding verses of the chapter (33-37) eloquently sound two characteristic thematic notes in the torah of prophetic Yahwism — the equality of the foreign-born and the home-born, the stranger (sojourner) and the native (you shall love the stranger as yourself, since you know, from Egypt, what it is to be a stranger!); and in the matter of weights and measures, there must be unqualified integrity.

The Theo-Ethical Summary

19:11-18

But the heart of the Holiness Code and of Leviticus 19 is verses 13-18. Here is a series of commandments-prohibitions which compares favorably in every significant regard with the Decalogue. Like the Decalogue, the form is prevailingly apodictic — "Thou shalt not" or "Thou shalt." This too represents the effort to give succinct expression to the universal essence of torah. And here too the content is theo-ethical; indeed, there is nothing here corresponding to what we have termed Yahweh’s pentalogue, but a series in which every member has to do with the relationships of human community.

It is possible to count twelve commandments in the series. Perhaps this, or ten, was the original intent of the unit. It may be that the series was long perpetuated in liturgical use, and that the refrain "I am Yahweh" originally occurred after each one of the commandments. As the text now comes to us we wonder whether the unit is not best read as an eight-member series; or whether, against prevailing critical opinion, the original unit may not include verses 11-12, and so comprise a decalogue.

Within the covenant community, in the living of your days one with another,

You SHALL NOT

1.v. 11 act corruptly in personal relationships

2. v. 12 and compound the corruption by a false oath in my name

1 am Yahweh

3.v. 13 abuse your neighbor

4.v. 13 delay prompt payment of wages and so abuse the worker

5. v. 14 abuse the handicapped — specifically the deaf and the blind

I am Yahweh

6. v. 15 commit injustice, either out of sympathy to the poor or out of fear of the mighty: let the consistent principle be tsdq, righteousness (which is precisely the principle of honor and integrity as appropriate to any given relationship)

7. v. 16 perform (busily, energetically, peripatetically) the function of gossip-slanderer in the community

8. v. 16 witness (the primary sense seems to be that of formal witness) so as to put in jeopardy the life of any of your fellows

I am Yahweh

9. v. 17 hate another; but if you do, you shall meet with him whom you hate and together heal the breach, and so be rid of the sin you bore, which was the hate you knew in the ruptured relationship

10. v. 18 avenge or cherish the wrong done you but (and especially in this situation!) you shall love your neighbor as yourself

I am Yahweh

This is a theological ethic derived from the sense of Yahweh’s holiness and from the conviction that the quality of his holiness must prevail in all the relationships of the community under covenant with him. Of course holiness is translated into elaborate cultic and ritual rites and regulations and it is with such that the hulk of the Holiness Code is concerned. But, without apparent conscious distinction, the HC is also moral-ethical, as the moral and the ethical are conceived under the primary fact of existence — "I am Yahweh."

Leviticus 19:11-18 (or 13-18) is a phenomenal series of community controls. A later teacher, nurtured in and informed by this torah, quoted the concluding line with the observation that herein, coupled with love of God, is the whole of the law and the prophets (Matt. 22: 34-40).

The Yahweh Speech

26:3-45

We have seen that the Covenant Code concludes with a hortatory speech of Yahweh. The second major collection of torah, the Deuteronomic Code (Deut. 12-26, 28) is similarly rounded out in Deuteronomy 28; but this we reserve for discussion in a later chapter. As in CC and DC, HC puts in the mouth of Yahweh the threat of disaster in the event of disobedience and the promise of unparalleled blessing and fulfillment for the keeping of torah.

It is a moving speech, revealing the vitality of the sense of relationship between Yahweh and covenant people. The lines, which appear in refrain, are charged with intimate concern — If you will not hearken to me, if you walk contrary to me, then I shall perforce walk contrary to you. But to what end? Not simply to unleash my wrath upon you, but to bring you back, to restore you in the land, and to renew my covenant.

The present text is obviously informed of the catastrophe of the early decades of the sixth century. In this crisis, the Holiness Code, with some of its regulations reaching far back into Israel’s ancient faith and practice, is freshly presented. Here, in this tangible form, is the substance of our life. It has always been the real substance of our life, and nothing can remove this from us.

An astonishing faith, this covenant faith of ancient Israel, this unquenchable, indestructible Yahwism. In the face of seeming certain death, annihilation, extinction, this faith in Lord and Covenant, in Yahweh and Word, this faith cast in history’s fires, this one-track, obstinate Yahwism — this faith is articulated in the keynote of the Holiness Code:

. . .you shall clear out the old to make way for the new . . .I will walk among you, and will be your God, and you shall be my people. (26:10, 12)

Do you fear what has now befallen you? Have you forgotten that

I am Yahweh your God, who brought you forth out of the land of Egypt, that you should not be their slaves; and I have broken the bars of your yoke and made you walk erect. (26:13)16

Walk erect even now — in holiness.

IN NARRATIVES OF WILDERNESS AND OCCUPATION:

NUMBERS 5-6, 11-17, 20-24; JOSHUA 1-12, 23-24

I gave you a land.

Josh. 24:1317

The last verse of Leviticus (27:34) reminds us of the structure of the Hexateuch. "These are the commandments which Yahweh commanded Moses for the people of Israel on Mount Sinai." Yahweh to Moses to people, at Mount Sinai. This is the platform of Leviticus — in the present arrangement of the text. But it is also the foundation of the balance of Exodus from 19:1. And it is the fundamental scheme of first section of Numbers, to 10:10. At Numbers 10:11 ff. "the people of Israel set out by stages from the wilderness of Sinai." The immediate goal, though agonizingly frustrated, is the gaining of Canaan, the acquisition of a land in fulfillment of divine promise.

A glance over the full contents of the book of Numbers returns this outline:

1:1-10:10Varied torah as part of the total Yahweh-Moses-Sinai law.

10:11-20:13 Traditions and torah of the wilderness period.

20:14-36:13 Toward the land: from Kadesh to Moab.

Numbers gets its name from the fact that it opens (1-2) with the numbering of Israel, with complete census lists by tribes.

So the whole numbers of the people of Israel . . . from twenty years old and upward, every man able to go forth to war in Israel — their whole number was six hundred and three thousand five hundred and fifty. (1:45 f.)

This would imply a total community of about two million, a preposterous figure which may result from the retrojection of census figures compiled in the days of the monarchy, centuries later, to this early epoch. The figure 603 is hardly the achievement of numerology (it is a remarkable coincidence that the Hebrew letters in "children of Israel" total, in the sum of their numerical equivalents, the number 603). This is of course P. In passages commonly assigned to J (Num. 11:21 and Ex. 12:37) the round number 600,000 appears, perhaps, however as later glosses influenced by P. Is it possible that about six hundred families first figured in the tradition? The change from families to thousands is easy indeed in Hebrew. Again we have to say not only that we do not know but that we shall probably never know. We can only say again that the numbers were relatively small, certainly not in excess of a total of ten thousand, and perhaps only about half that number.

5-6

The Ordeal of Jealousy (5) and the Law of the Nazirite (6) represent very ancient belief and practice and ought not to be omitted in reading. Comparable institutions of ordeal in the case of confirmed or suspected unfaithfulness are found over the ancient world. And the Nazirite (from the Hebrew nazir, meaning one who is consecrated — no relation to Nazareth in the New Testament) is later represented in the figures of Samson and Samuel. That widely and justly beloved benediction, the so-called Priestly Blessing, is attached to the Law of the Nazirite (6:22 ff.). Fortunately, translation only slightly mars its beauty. The Hebrew composition presents three lines of three, five, and seven words each. "In beautiful climax it leads in three members from the petition for material blessing and protection to that of the favour of Yahweh as spiritual blessing, and finally to the petition for the bestowal of the Shalom, the peace of welfare in which all the material and spiritual well-being is comprehended."18

The Lord bless you and keep you.

The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you.

The Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.

Between Egypt and Canaan

11-17; 20-21

Not everything in the Old Testament is edifying, or of theological meaning, or even in and of itself worth reading. But everything comes out of Israel’s life, and it is part of the genius of the whole Old Testament story that Israel’s life is so broadly and deeply represented. Sometimes, then, we are content to read the story simply for what it adds out of the fullness of her experience and her memory to our penetration into the entity of that ancient people.

Three narrative units now before us duplicate what we have already encountered in the story as told in Exodus. The cry of hunger (Ex. 16) is here the lament, "O that we had meat to eat!" (11:4). Manna (bdellium, 11:7) is deemed unsatisfactory and "again"(?) quail fall in profusion (11:31 ff.; cf. Ex. 16:13). Chapter 11 begins and ends with a little etymological legend of the sort we have seen before. But the strong feature of this chapter is the delineation of the Yahweh-Moses relationship and the brilliance and vigor of the dialogue. Moses, sick of the faint-hearted, self-pitying wails of complaint, turns with impudent irony to Yahweh — "Did I conceive all this people . . ." (see 11:12 ff.); and Yahweh himself carries the day with as fine a speech of sarcasm as is to be found in all antiquity:

Yahweh will give you meat and you shall eat! You shall not eat one day, or two days, or five days, or ten days, or twenty days, but a whole month, until it come out at your nostrils. . . (11:18 ff.)

The cry of thirst (Ex. 17) is also repeated (Num. 20). This time Moses responds in such fury (Num. 20:10) that the episode comes to be seen as the explanation for Moses’ failure to enter the land of promise (see Ps. 106:33). That the episode is a duplicate of that of Exodus 17 seems likely in the repetition of the etymological explanation of the name Meribah (Contention).

The appointment of an administrative staff to ease the fearful load on Moses is also duplicated in Numbers (11:24-29; cf. Ex. 18). But in this account Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, does not figure at all; and in the episode of the somewhat excessive charismatic seizure of the indefatigable Eldad and Medad, Moses is given one of the finest lines ever given a professional to speak of other professionals. When informed by some fortunately nameless busy-body that these two boys are still inexhaustibly making like prophets, old Moses thunders,

Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all Yahweh’s people were prophets, that Yahweh would put his spirit upon them! (11:29)

A notable difference between these three sets of duplicates in Exodus and Numbers is their place in the story: in Exodus these are pre-Sinai episodes; in Numbers, they follow the Sinai sojourn.

In this context where Moses appears with unparalleled vigor, if not violence, it is a remarkable touch that the story incorporates the strange little narrative of Miriam’s and Aaron’s insubordination (Num. 12) and the accompanying testimony (unthinkable if untrue) to the essential humility of the man Moses (12:3). Nor is any higher tribute paid Moses than in Yahweh’s words of rebuke to Miriam and Aaron (12:6-8).

The area of present occupation is in the vicinity of Kadesh. The Old Testament story now recalls, and surely idealizes, the tentative probe of Canaan (Num. 13) in hopeful anticipation of occupation, and Caleb’s courageous report against all the other Milquetoast spies who testify that against the stalwart occupants of the land they seemed in their own eyes like grasshoppers (v. 33).

It is not at all impossible that Numbers 14 preserves the memory of an abortive attempt to occupy Canaan by approach directly from the south (vv. 39-45). But these narratives of pre-Canaan Israel are not nearly so appropriate to the reconstruction of external as of internal history: it is the grateful impression of a Joshua and a Caleb in the living memory of a people that is best preserved (14:4-10); it is the role of Moses’ intercession in their very survival that is celebrated (14:13-20; cf. Ex. 32:30 ff.); it is the enduring shame and remorse of faithlessness, the aggressive rebellion of unfaith that is sounded as a perennially relevant theme in the existence of Israel (14:26-45).

The Rebellion of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram

16:1-50

As it now stands, this narrative confirms the prerogatives enjoyed by the professional hereditary priesthood, the Levites. But here is a fine example of the nature and process of a long-fluid, composite tradition. The present text betrays an original account which was simply a vindication of the position and authority of Moses; a second, variant account combined with the first; and a third account introduced still later, or a decisive, aggressive editorial hand providing the final modification. There can be no doubt of the fact of multiple oral and written sources underlying the present Hexateuch, even though our conventional symbols may be inaccurate in certain particulars of representation. Employing these symbols, nevertheless, Numbers 16 presents this interesting history and structure:

1. JE: vv. 1,2a,12-15,25-34 (omitting all references to Korah). Here is a straightforward narrative of a purely secular revolt by the Reubenites Dathan and Abiram against the civil authority claimed by Moses. They are swallowed up.

2. P: Korah, at the head of 250 recognized leaders of Israel, opposes Moses and Aaron in the interests of the entire community, protesting the limitation of priestly rights and privileges to Moses arid Aaron and the Levites on the ground that "all the congregation are holy" (v. 3). Korah and company are consumed by fire from Yahweh (v. 35).

3. R (final redactor): Korah, at the head of 250 Levites, opposes the exclusive rights of Aaron as against the Levites.

In summary, then: (1) Dathan and Abiram (cf. Ps. 106:16-18 where Korah is not mentioned) protest Moses’ civil authority. The motive of the story is, of course, to substantiate the continuing Mosaic authority. (2) Korah and all the congregation challenge the Levites in a variant designed to give ultimate confirmation to the Levitical institution. (3) The third variation centers the controversy within the professional priesthood and in upholding Aaron against the rebellious Levites, the story serves to give ancient sanction to the relatively late office of high or chief (Aaronic) priest over the Levitical priests.

The Old Testament story, we repeat, tends always toward "isness"; and where questions of external fact are hopelessly obscure (or indeed, as is often the case, irrelevant, the nature of the story being what it is), the subsequent course of Israel’s internal history may nevertheless be remarkably illuminated.

Approach

21

An unusual array of fascinating, if problematical, items is presented in this chapter. We can do no more here than call attention to some of them. The broad lines of the story are moving toward the entrance into Canaan. The long period of wilderness occupation is behind (how, again, are we to assess historically the obviously round number of "forty years," Num. 14:33 f., representing a full generation: was it more or less?). Israel moves now toward Moab, intending to approach Canaan from the southeast.

The place-name Hormah (root, hrm, destruction) is etymologically explained as is also, incidentally, the institution of the herem (root, hrm), in which the enemy is totally destroyed as an act of devotion — or gigantic sacrifice to the deity (vv.

1-4).The bout with fiery serpents (vv. 4-9) is enigmatic: does it preserve the memory of actual casualties inflicted by serpents; or is it a cultic etiology to explain the presence of a bronze serpent in the Jerusalem temple in Hezekiah’s time (II Kings 18:4); or is it distantly related to ancient, primitive cultic use of the serpent symbol?

Do not miss the ancient Song of the Well, happily preserved here, nor the also very old, if puzzling, song of verses 27 ff. Of several possible interpretations, the lines are most naturally and simply interpreted as celebrating a victory of the Amorites (Sihon the king, and Heshbon the capital) over Moab, and incorporated in Israel’s story with the sentiment that what Sihon conquered becomes an imputed conquest of those who conquer Sihon, namely, Israel (see vv. 25-31).

If we give literal, historical credence to the narratives of Israel’s approach to the land, we can only wonder whether the present sequence is not disordered, with the conquest of Ammon to the north of Moab, and still further north, Bashan (vv. 33 ff.), before the encounter with Moab represented in Numbers 22 ff.

Balaam, Moab, and Israel

22:1-24:25

Moab hears of what Israel has done to Bashan and Ammon, and a man of vast renown for his powers of efficacious blessing and cursing, Balaam from Aram, is summoned by Moab’s king, Balak. Internal conflict in the very charming Balaam story has been conventionally explained in terms of its JE composition: in J, for example, Balaam sets out without Yahweh’s consent; but in F (v. 20) permission has already been given.

The speaking animal is a prevalent theme in antiquity (one remembers the classic example in the Iliad of Achilles’ horse Xanthus); but in the Old Testament it occurs only here and in the Garden story (Gen. 3). It is intentionally humorous here. The story says brilliantly that even a man as gifted as Balaam may possess powers of spiritual discernment considerably less than those of an ass. In this connection I recall the finest example I have ever seen of the not uncommon foggy relationship between an undergraduate student and the subject-matter of the course. On an Old Testament quiz, I asked for a one-sentence identification of Balaam and received this answer:

Balaam was an ass that went about doing good. Not quite in touch — but almost.

Four remarkable, pro-Israel oracles stand in Numbers 23-24. In the first of these Balaam declares

How can I curse whom God has not cursed?

How can I denounce whom Yahweh has not denounced? (23:8)

With increasing impatience Balak, king of Moab, tries to secure from Balaam a formal curse against Israel. But twice more (23:18-24 and 24:3 9) the forthcoming oracle takes the form of magnificent, lyrical blessing:

For there is no enchantment against Jacob,

no divination against Israel;

Now it shall be said of Jacob and Israel,

"What has God wrought!" (23:23)

This phrase did not, of course, originate on the wireless, or was it the telegraph?

Humor underlies the whole story. Balak’s exasperation is comic when he cries, "Neither curse them at all, nor bless them at all," which, after all, puts the matter very courteously (23:25). Balak’s patience nevertheless endures a third oracle; but Balaam’s fourth is, from Balak’s point of view, utterly gratuitous (24:15-19).

The three short oracles in 24:204 are of other and later origin than the four major oracles, which (conventionally seen as E or JE) are certainly not later than the eighth century, betray characteristics of the tenth-century monarchy, and may rest on still older oracular models. From a purely theological point of view, the second oracle is distinguished for its early and profound definition of the Word, the Yahweh-Word:

God is not man, that he should lie,

or a son of man, that he should repent.

Has he said, and will he nor do it?

Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfil it? (23:19)

The sense of the Word as efficacious entity accomplishing itself is further expressed in the next verse:

Behold, I received a command to bless:

he has blessed, and I cannot revoke it! (23:20)

This is the Word that made the covenant that sustained the faith by which Israel survived.

Occupation as Fulfillment of Promise: Joshua 1-12, 23-24

From a literary point of view, the first major unit of the Old Testament is not the Pentateuch but the Tetrateuch (Genesis-Numbers). The literary framework is superficial, that is, imposed, and is unmistakably a priestly framework. Upon these four books as literary phenomena the priesthood of exilic and postexilic Judaism has exercised the final, formative influence.

In determining the actual contents and limits of the Old Testament from a canonical point of view, the first major unit is, of course, the Pentateuch (Genesis-Deuteronomy). A fifth book is added to the literary unit of the Tetrateuch on the strength of the Mosaic tradition; these five books are "the five books of Moses." In the process of the formation of the Old Testament canon, they fulfill the "rule" of acceptance ("canon"), and so constitute the first unit to achieve canonical status (c. 400 B.C.?).

But the first theological unit is the Hexateuch. Everything in the Pentateuch is in anticipation of the attainment of the land, the fulfillment of divine promise, which is recounted in Joshua. Canonically, Joshua introduces the second major division of the canon (Law, Prophets, Writings). Joshua is the first of the Former Prophets — Joshua, Judges, Samuel. Kings (the Latter Prophets are the prophets proper — Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and the twelve Hosea through Malachi). Judged by the literary norm, Joshua belongs to the Deuteronomic Work, Deuteronomy-Kings — so designated because of its characteristic dominant deuteronomic editorial framework and cast. As priests have employed older sources, including their own, in the Tetrateuch, so deuteronomists have worked (and apparently more self-assertively than the priests) with the likes of J and E, and their own Deuteronomy, in the Deuteronomic Work. Theologically, we repeat, Joshua is the last scene of the first great act of the Old Testament story, the completion of the first great event, the total event of Egypt-Sinai.

These chapters mark the outline of Joshua. Deuteronomic editors working in the sixth century under the strong influence of the seventh-century Deuteronomic Code (the original Deuteronomy, probably Deut. 4:44-30:20) collected stories of conquest in Joshua 2-11 and added to this collection their own introduction (ch. 1) and conclusion (11:21-12:24). Tribal boundaries and lists of cities dating from the tenth to the seventh centuries comprise, for the most part, Joshua 13-22. The last two chapters of Joshua purport to be the final words of Joshua.

We shall look at some of this in more detail in Part Two, to which we are about to turn. It is essential here only to remind ourselves that the shape of the full Hexateuch is theologically and cultically determined, and that a people’s memory thus articulated and preserved vastly simplifies and radically idealizes the remembered events. Yahweh’s "gift" of the land is theologically dominant in the event and cultically celebrated. Accordingly the book of Joshua, while here and there acknowledging a slow, long-sustained process of occupation-acquisition, understandably emphasizes a total and utterly decisive conquest of the entire land by force of arms. The question of the relationship of this view to the probable course of events will return. We simply record here our understanding and appreciation of Israel’s faith. What is affirmed in Joshua is true of Israel’s internal history as it is made articulate in the expanded credo in Joshua 24 — the summary, confessional statement of the First Event of Israel’s existence. The Old Testament story which we have surveyed thus far is compressed in the credo, with the sharp, tight eloquence of economy, to a half-page recital of Yahweh’s creation of Israel.

Let the reading of this recital (24:2-13) round out our review of the Old Testament story’s First Event.



NOTES:

1. Cf. W. F. Albright, The Biblical Period, Pittsburgh, 1950, pp. 1-6; John Bright, A History of Israel, Philadelphia, 1959, Pp. 60-91. This conservative judgment is opposed by M. Noth, The History of Israel, trans. S. Godman (from Geschichte Israels, 2nd ed.), New York, 1958, pp. 120 ff.; and Supplement Vetus Testamentum VII, Oxford, 1959.

2. Cf. H. Gunkel, The Legends of Genesis, trans. W. H. Carruth, Chicago, 1901; and B. 0. Napier, From Faith to Faith, New York, 1955, pp. 71 ff.

3. Here as well as in 18:18 and 28:14 the form of the Hebrew verb is niph’al, permitting either a passive ("be blessed") or receive ("bless themselves") reading. In two other occurrences of the covenant promise of universal blessing, 22:15-18 and 26:2-5, the verb form hithpa’el requires the reflexive. From a theological point of view, the distinction is immaterial.

4. See further, Napier, op. cit., pp. 88-92.

5. Ibid., pp. 105 ff.

6. On the whole of Exodus 19, see the recent form-critical study by H. Wildberger, Jahwes Eigentumsvolk, Zurich, 1960.

7. On the relationship between the Old Testament sabbath commandment and the Christian observance of Sunday, see B. D. Napier, Exodus, in the series The Layman’s Bible Commentary, Richmond, 1962.

8. Ibid.

9. Cf. A. Alt. "Die Ursprunge des Israelitischen Rechts," in Kleine Schriften, vol. 1, pp. 278 ff.

10. Cf. G. E. Mendenhall, Law and Covenant in Israel and the Ancient Near East, Pittsburgh, 1955.

11. Cf. G. von Rod, Theologie des Alten Testaments, Munich, 1957, vol. I, p. 233.

12. This section on Exodus 32-34 was first written for Exodus, in the series The Layman’s Bible Commentary and is used here, somewhat altered, with the permission of the John Knox Press.

13. See M. Noth’s recent commentary Exodus, in the series Las Alte Testament Deutsch, Gottingen, 1960.

14. Al. Steinberg, Basic Judaism, New York, 1947, pp. 130 f.

15. On holiness and the Holiness Code, see R. Pfeiffer, Introduction to the Old Testament, New York, 1941, pp. 239-250; E. Jacob, Theology of the Old Testament, New York, 1958, pp. 87-93; Napier, From Faith to Faith, op. cit., pp. 178 f., 197 f.

16. See Lev. 19:11-13.

17. Cf. Pss. 114, 135.

18. E. Kautzsch, quoted in A. R. S. Kennedy, Leviticus and Numbers, in the Century Bible Series, Edinburgh, n.d.

Chapter 2: Lord and World

CREATION: Genesis 1-2

Let us make man.

Gen. 1:261

The Context

Anyone acquainted with political life, even merely as observer, knows how viciously a public figure may be maligned by his own words lifted out of context. The treacherous device of damning by out-of-context quotation has served in the past and unhappily continues to serve effectively un the disastrous defamation of persons in public life.

One commonly hears it said, with a shrug, "You can prove anything in the Bible." And in a sense this comment is true: interpret the biblical verse or the brief narrative or in a couple of instances even the Old Testament book in isolation and it becomes in meaning something totally different from what was clearly its intent in context.

This is pointedly true of the whole Genesis story. Source critics see here the same three primary strata of tradition — J, F, and P — which we have already seen in Exodus; but we will do well to remind ourselves again that these symbols represent by and large the collection and arrangement of smaller units of oral and/or written material some of which, at least, were already long in existence. There can be no doubt that what we identify in the Tetrateuch (Genesis-Numbers) as P employs and incorporates in the fifth century some material as old or possibly older than J. And J in the tenth century may well have had as a primary source an earlier effort to bring together coherently a wide assortment of stories deemed to have significant bearing on the life of the people Israel.2 Certainly individual units in the J corpus had been in existence for centuries before they were integrated; and beyond any doubt these units were often strikingly modified in meaning in the context of the J work.

We must always interpret the part in the light of the whole. We will read the whole book of Genesis in the context of the faith of the people of Israel — a people who, as we have seen, deem their life to be the gift of Yahweh and their destiny the subject of his Word. And the varied components of the present book of Genesis we will read as for the most part purposively and meaningfully related to the whole work.

In briefest outline, Genesis falls into two parts. The pivotal point is chapter 12, the call of Abraham — at once the climax and interpretive key to the first eleven chapters, and the opening, thematic scene of the second division of Genesis, chapters 12-50. The J work no doubt supplied Genesis with its earliest outline and its profound theological bearing. But the form of this remarkable introduction to the life of the people of Israel remained fluid from the tenth century to the fifth century and the final Genesis story may with all justification be termed a meditation on history. It is as such both an informed and an informing introduction; which is simply to say that like any good introduction, it is informed by that which it introduces and is therefore also informative to that which it seeks to present meaningfully.

The first section, 1-11, intends to set the particular story of Israel against the background of all creation and in the midst of universal human existence. It has commonly been termed the "primeval history," but this overemphasizes the quality of "wasness." The faith of Israel, the interpretation of her historical life in Yahwism, inevitably poses the question: If the Word of Yahweh thus creates, shapes, and informs our life, if the life of Yahweh thus impinges effectively upon human history, what is his relationship, and ours, to the wide world? In the first two chapters of Genesis Israel affirms in two totally different ways that all order in the universe is both introduced and maintained by Yahweh, and that the meaning of human existence, and indeed of all lower forms of life, derives solely from him. Creation is the control of chaos and the gift and support of meaning. It always is, however much we may say it was.

Chapters 3-11, to which we will turn in the next section, demonstrate in full context the intention to affirm in faith that all men (not excepting Israel, obviously) contend, in one way or another, from one false presumption or another, that order and meaning are not thus created and sustained, but are subject to man’s arbitrary manipulation. This results in a state of existence intolerable both for man and God — a state of existence into which Yahweh introduces his Word through Abraham and Israel for the restoration of creation. "In you all the families of the earth will be blessed" (12:3 RSV margin).

The Creation Stories

Israel’s Yahwism was from the beginning in tension or even sometimes in bitter conflict with the widespread indigenous fertility cults of Canaan. Local sanctuaries abounded enshrining the male deity, Ba’al, and often his consort, ‘Asherah (later and elsewhere. Astarte, Ishtar, etc.). Fertility rites, practiced in the interests of securing fertility and productivity both human and natural, involved cultic prostitution — the sex act performed with cult personnel to bring efficacious union with the deity and the consequent guarantee of fertility of field and body.

Against this widely prevailing understanding of the "creation faith" we suspect that in Yahwistic circles the very term "creation" may have been a dirty word and that the development and discussion of Israel’s creation faith was suppressed as part of the long, anguished struggle against religious syncretism and the loss of the distinctly moral-ethical-historical character of the Yahweh faith. It is in any case a fact that Israel’s creation faith — certainly a basic element of the structure of Yahwism from early times — receives scant specific mention (apart from the J story of Gen. 2:4b ff.) until relatively late, and no absolutely unqualified elaboration and application until the latter part of the sixth century (in Isa. 40-66), when also, at the earliest, the creation story of Genesis 1 became a part of the accepted cultic instructional idiom.

1:1-2:4

For this is what it is. The style is strongly didactic. A few phrases occur repeatedly: And God said, and God saw, and God called, and God made, and God created, and God blessed. The story is a precisely ordered piece, with each of its six creative acts rounded out with the same refrain: and there was evening, and there was morning, one day, a second day, a third day, etc. (in ancient Israel as in the practice of Judaism now the course of a day is marked from evening to evening). No word is anywhere wasted, no phrase ill conceived, unpondered. And the climax? It is the verification of the Sabbath institution, the ultimate authorization:

So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all his work which he had done in creation.3 (2:3)

Yet this story’s origin is emphatically not full-blown out of the demands of a revitalized cultic-religious program centered in the rebuilt city and temple of Jerusalem in the closing years of the sixth century. The story had its dim beginnings and it betrays its distant involvement in an ancient myth of creation out of the Near and Middle East which survived in various forms but best and most fully in the Babylonian Enuma Elish (a title derived from its opening words, "When on high").4 Here chaos is represented in the goddess Tiamat, a name perhaps echoed in the Hebrew word for "deep" tehom (1:2). Creation is effected when the god Marduk-Bel, with the assistance of lesser gods, carves up Tiamat’s carcass to form from it the earth and its arching canopy, the firmament. Neither the Hebrew nor the Akkadian (Babylonian).accounts envisage creation out of nothing, since in both creation results from the radical transformation of a prior chaos.

But gone from the Hebrew account is any suggestion of "biological" relationship between chaos and God. Gone is the long gory struggle. Gone is the stupendous effort of Tiamat’s defeat. Genesis 1 does preserve the notion of creation by work in the frequent use of the verb "make" and the thrice-repeated verb "create" (of "the heavens and the earth," v. 1; of "every living creature that moves," v. 21; and of man, v. 27). But the measure of the story’s theological refinement is nowhere more conspicuous than in its confident, if subtle, superimposition of creation by Word — the Word which, effortlessly spoken, effortlessly calls into being that which was not. "‘Let there be light!’ And there was light."

Not creatio ex nihilo but creation conceived in terms analogous to Israel’s own creation. Israel was prior to the call of Moses, but she was chaos. She was without order, meaningless. She was in the onomatopoetic phrase of verse 2, tohu vavohu, "formless and void." God called her into being (not from nonbeing but from "antibeing"5) by his Word. So, analogously, Israel understands and articulates her faith in the world’s and man’s creation: all that now exists is brought into being by Yahweh and his ‘Word out of chaos and continues in non-chaotic existence only in and by the creating-sustaining Yahweh. Creation, in Israel and the world, is continuous. In the faith of Israel the story of creation always is.

2:4b-24

The origins, background, and history of the second creation story remain obscure. It was apparently available to the J work in the tenth century and was there appropriated to J’s uses as the opening chapter of the corpus. It became stabilized, so to speak, very early and therefore displays a spontaneity, charm, and naivete which contrast sharply with the preceding story. The ordered sequence of Genesis 1, the specific citing of the range and depth of creation, the refined theological concept of creation by Word, and any institutionally motivated purpose (Sabbath)—all this is absent. There is concurrence that Yahweh God (2:4b ff.; but "God," ‘Elohim alone, in 1:1 ff.) worked "in the beginning" (1:1), that is, "in the day that Yahweh God made earth and the heavens" (2:4b) from pre-existent matter — chaos (an earth formless, void, engulfed in darkness, 1:2) or, and this is part of the concurrence, an earth utterly barren, a sterile world (2:5). Both stories understand creation as essentially transformation. The thought of ancient Israel is always characterized by the nonspeculative. One rarely encounters in the Old Testament any disposition to probe beyond time, concrete existence, matter, and history. There is even syntactical concurrence: the two stories open with sentences similarly structured:

When God began to create [RSV margin] the heavens and the earth, [when] the earth was without form and void, . . .then God said. . .

In the day that Yahweh God made the heavens, when no plant of the field was yet in the earth, . . . then the Lord God formed man. . .

But perhaps the most fundamental contrast is also here apparent: the J story proceeds at once to the creation of man (literally, "formation" for this story does not use the word "create"). The language is raw, earthy, concrete, and pictorially three dimensional. Here it is not the conceptual "created . . . in the image of ‘Elohim" (1:27) but the graphic "formed (moulded) of dust from the ground." And this lifeless but shaped mass of clay is now animated by Yahweh’s breath, the breath of life, blown without benefit of any intermediate devices into the cold clay nostrils of the sculptor’s figure.

Here is a primitive, even crude etiology (a creation myth explaining present, persistent phenomena of existence). This was its intentional meaning in the centuries of its circulation before J employed it. As such, it is interesting as one in the growing collections of ancient mythologies, but it is now irrelevant, if not also aesthetically and theologically unpalatable. But we must ask after the story’s J-meaning, its Israel-meaning. What intentional interpretation is imparted to the story contextually? How does the J-work understand the story? Why do Israel’s traditionists through the centuries retain the story and hold it inseparably joined in the unit Genesis 1-2 and the larger unit Genesis 1-11?

The quality of naivete is capable of great depth and subtlety. The present intention of the story is to give expression to what J and all true Yahwists in Israel deemed to be the essence of the relationship, not as in Genesis I between God and all creation, but pointedly and existentially, between Yahweh and man. The one essential, universal datum of man’s life is his immediate, direct, total dependence on Yahweh. Yahweh gives him form out of the formless ground. Yahweh imparts life to the lifeless form. Yahweh gives the productive environment in which his life is set with only the one condition (symbolized in the story in the forbidden tree) that men acknowledge his status as creature by observing this single restriction to his freedom imposed by the creator. Aside from this, his autonomy is complete and includes full jurisdiction over all lesser creatures, as is testified to in his naming these creatures and so assuming toward them the superior and controlling relationship of the namer to the named.

And this creation-faith is articulated in Israel always in terms analogous to the exodus experience of formation out of the lifeless ground of Egyptian slavery, animation by Yahweh’s breath and Word in escape, and autonomy, unqualified save by the creator-creature relationship, in Canaan’s productive environment.

An etiological story out of the common fund of Middle Eastern mythologies becomes in the context of Israel’s life and faith profoundly theological. Thus, not once but twice in the opening lines of Israel’s long, intimate story she declares her faith that her story, which is to follow, is inseparably related to the world’s story; that the world and her own role in it have meaning only in the proposition that the earth and all who dwell in it are Yahweh’s; and that the stuff of chaos rendered unchaotic by the creative power of Yahweh alone nevertheless resides in all, restrained only by the living God and his living Word.

ALIENATION: Genesis 3-11

Where are you?

Gen. 3:96

The Condition of Man

Briefly surveyed, this block of chapters is comprised of four major narrative units and two extended genealogies in chapters 5 and 10. The self-contained tales of the Garden (3), the Brothers (4), the Flood (6-9), and the Tower (11) all bear the marks of a pre-J origin and history and, with the exception of the Flood which is now combined with a strong P strand, appear substantially as selected and employed by J. E has a part in Genesis only beginning, probably, in chapter 15. Genealogies are offered by both J (4:17-25; 5:29; 10:8-19,21,25-30) and P (5: 1-28,30-32; 10:1-7,20,22-23,31-32). J’s are colorful, anecdotal and etiological (e.g., Jubal "was the father of all those who play the lyre and pipe," 4:21), while P’s are boringly businesslike with only slight relief from the enumerated weight of human years and procreation. Both J and P thus testify to Israel’s historicizing of these timeless tales, originally disjointed, single, homeless, and dateless, but always relevant and deemed in Israel’s faith to describe the universal human situation, the perennial condition of man.

We may term the block of chapters, then, JP, a designation which serves at least to remind us that the work is composite and that it reflects the meditation and faith of Israel over a good five-hundred-year span, from the Yahwist in the tenth century to the priests of the fifth century. The latter, through whose hands the whole Pentateuch finally passed before it was elevated to the relatively unmodifiable status of holy canon, are responsible for the superficial editorial framework of Genesis. It is P that would divide Genesis into sections by use of the formula "These are the generations of . . . ," or a coin-parable phrase at 2:4 (perhaps originally standing before 1:1 and introducing "the generations" of heaven and earth?); 5:1, Adam; 6:9, Noah; 10:1, sons of Noah; 11:10, Shem; 11:27, Terah, Abram, Lot; 25:12, Ishmael; 25:19, Isaac, Esau, and Jacob; 36:1, Esau; 37:2, Jacob. But certainly the basic sequence and structure of Genesis — the arrangement of its principal components — still derives from the J work.

As Etiology

It was not many decades ago that serious discussion (and heated debate) still commonly centered in the question of the literal truth of these tales, including, of course, the creation stories. Defenders of the truth of the Bible, who erroneously assumed that the truth of a narrative is precisely in the measure Of its literal accuracy, were constrained to interpret so as to substantiate the objective reliability of the account. For example, to bring Genesis 1 into conformity with more scientific theories viewing creation as a developmental-evolutionary process over vast eons of time, the word "day" was arbitrarily interpreted to mean just that, eons of time! And this despite the fact that this same word, in Hebrew yom, is habitually used with great frequency for the span of time from evening of one day to evening of the next.

Happily, this debate has appreciably subsided, although in certain quarters there are still those ready to tilt to the death on behalf of what is, alas, an idol — a deified book representing the reduction of Israel’s Yahweh (and in the New Testament Christ’s God and Father) to a particular combination of ink letters preserved on lifeless sheets of paper bound together between a pair of cardboard or leather covers and known as the Bible. In Judaism as in Christendom, the area in which this old debate can now be revived is greatly reduced. With characteristic British understatement and with admirable humor (intentional or not), the ghost of the argument for objectivity was firmly laid in the clipped accents of Professor A. S. Peake of the preceding generation of Old Testament scholars, in address to the tale of the flood:

The question of the historical character of the narrative still remains. The terms seem to require a universal deluge, for all the flesh on the earth was destroyed (6:17; 7:4, 21-23), and "all the high mountains that were under the whole heaven were covered" (7:19 f.). But this would involve a depth of water all over the world not far short of 30,000 ft., and that sufficient water was available at the time is most improbable. The ark could not have contained more than a very small proportion of the animal life on the globe, to say nothing of the food needed for them, nor could eight people have attended to their wants, nor apart from a constant miracle could the very different conditions they required in order to live at all have been supplied. Nor, without such a miracle, could they have come from lands so remote. Moreover, the present distribution of animals would on this view be unaccountable. If all the species were present at a single centre at a time so comparatively near as less than five thousand years ago [dating by genealogical tables returns a date for creation around 4000 B.C. and Noah and company about a thousand years later], we should have expected far greater uniformity between different parts of the world than now exists. The difficulty of coming applies equally to return. Nor if the human race took a new beginning from three brothers and their three wives (7:13; 9:19) could we account for the origin, within the very brief period which is all that our knowledge of antiquity permits, of so many different races, for the development of languages with a long history behind them, or for the founding of states and the rise of advanced civilizations. And this quite understates the difficulty. . .7

The flood story of course may preserve the memory of not infrequent inundations in the Tigris-Euphrates valleys, as is also no doubt the case in the somewhat parallel Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic (whose Noah bears the grand name of Utnapishtim). But the story is taken over into biblical use not from what in any sense we could call "historical" form, but from a prior and predominant etiological function — to give, in charming, interest-holding narration, an "explanation" of such common phenomena as the rainbow (9:13), the cultivation of wine (9:20f.), "racial" distinctions and divisions (9:24-27), the occurrence of men of abnormally large stature (in the originally separate and probably truncated tale of the sons of God and the daughters of men which now introduces the account, 6:1-4), and many other etiologies more blunted in present form.

The same is true of the three other tales which form the main body of the section Genesis 3-11. We list some of the most conspicuous etiologies: pain of childbirth, 3:16; the relative position of man and woman in society, 3:16; the intractability of man’s natural environment and the consequent necessity of his hard labor, 3:17-19; man’s irrevocable consignment to death, 3:19; the antipathy between the nomad and the agriculturalist and perhaps also the origin of violence in human relationships in the Brothers, 4:1-16; and the frustrating fact in the human situation of fundamental communication thwarted by plurality of speech and wide geographical dispersion, 11:1-9.

The stories do not appear to have been radically altered in the course of their appropriation into the biblical corpus. It has been aptly remarked that, for example, the Yahwist’s "editing" is hardly more than the placing of accents of refinement on the story in the use, say of the name Yahweh where earlier some amorphous term for deity stood in the story.8 And in the formation of JP it is obvious that editors regard it as essential that the distinctive forms of both existent flood accounts, for example, be retained, a fact accounting for present "discrepancies" in the tale in the form of duplicates and contradictions.9

As Theology

What is editorially — and theologically — affirmed first by the Yahwist and tacitly by all subsequent handlers of the tradition (since they do not see fit to make any radical alteration in the Yahwist’s outline) comes about not from the heavy-handed use of the red pencil, so to speak, but by the much more subtle editorializing achieved by the selection, arrangement, and juxtaposition of stories originally independent of one another. The stories thereby play a different role and say something very different. Israel shares with her neighbors the fascination of etiology and certainly she continues to delight in the charm of the stories at this level. But clearly in the J work, the P work, and the JP work, emphatically in the context of the history of Israel, in this subsequent level of the life and interpretation of these etiological tales, the character and quality of the etiological is transformed to make of the scattered individual etiologies a single, all-embracing explanation — an etiology conceived not in the area of prescientific observation but in profound faith. In Israel and the world Yahweh’s good intent in creation is thwarted and his good order tragically disfigured. In the faith of Israelite Yahwism, this is an empirical fact. If creation has not yet reverted to chaos, divine order and meaning are nevertheless woefully disfigured. The single, characteristic, and comprehensive biblical etiology, the etiology of all etiologies, is concerned with the how and why of distorted, aborted creation. It attempts to answer this one vast theological phenomenon of existence with the explanation, alienation. The problem of man’s life, out of which all of the problem of the human situation issue, is the chasm by which man is separated from God, the creature from the creator. It is a condition epitomized in Yahweh’s first address to liberated, autonomous man, "Where are you?" (3:9). "Who told you that you were naked" (3:11), that you must run from me and hide from me, that you must separate yourself from me, so that we are alienated and estranged? "Have you eaten of the [forbidden] tree" (3:11), the only symbol limiting your freedom and denoting so long as it is inviolate your acknowledgment of your creatureliness? ‘What is this that you have done" (3:13) in the role of creature with which I endowed you?

The primitive etiology becomes in the JP-Israel story a profoundly theological etiology. All men willfully violate the favorable and, on the whole, nonrestrictive terms of human existence. When the terms are violated in an act of alienation, the conditions of man’s tenure in creation (the Garden) are so altered that he must be expelled. The good order and clear meaning of creation become obscured, and though existence continues under Yahweh’s sustenance, scrutiny, and concern, it is now beset with the bitter fruits of man’s rebellion against Yahweh, against God’s creation, and against man’s status within it.

Of course, we do not suppose that the Yahwist in the tenth century B.C. would or could thus have analyzed his purposes in the composition and unification of these tales. But we think this is nevertheless the essence of even the Yahwist’s interpretation of Israel and the world. And we are sure that the maturing Yahweh faith in subsequent Israel interpreted the sequence of Creation, Garden, Brothers, Flood, and Tower as the only key to understanding her own story: God called Abraham out of Haran (11:31) and Israel out of Egypt in order to bless the alienated families of the earth, to effect the healing of the estrangement of man and God, creature and Creator, and the restoration and redemption of the order and meaning of creation. This is the etiology — the explanation in terms of origins that are, not were, that extend not vertically but in comprehensive horizontal fashion over all time and history. This is the etiology of the one great phenomenon of existence, that fact of the relationship between Israel, the Word of Yahweh, and the world.

The etiological story can be set, then, without violence to Israel’s essential understanding, in our own terms. The four tales of Garden, Brothers, Flood, and Tower are progressive variations on a theme. Man is creature. He rebels (in four different modes) against his status in an act of pride by which he wittingly defies the Creator. The resulting alienation is perforce responded to by Yahweh, since the conditions of creation have in any case already been altered; or perhaps there is a sense in which the ensuing alienation is itself the positive judgment of God.

In the Garden man’s sin (which is the expression vis-a-vis God of unwarranted and/or rebellious pride) takes the form of trust in his own understanding in defiance of the Word. The one tree from which he may not eat and by not eating may, as it were, glorify God, he observes is good for food, a delight to the eyes, and much more, conveys to the eater the gift of wisdom (3:6). His consequent reasonable (to him) appropriation of all creation, his calculated denial of essential status, and the implicit arrogation to himself of the prerogatives of creator bring the Creator’s unhappy response of judgment. What existence might be, it is not.

In the Brothers, as in all of the tales, the very naivete is made to serve the profounder uses of theology. All men are in Cain and Abel. All men are brothers responsible to and for one another (4:9 f.). All men are Yahweh’s, ultimately responsible to him. But one arrogates to himself prerogatives in the very nature of creation that are Yahweh’s. He acts in violence against his brother and in judgment suffers alienation not only from his lost brother and from the human community, but from Yahweh as well (4:14).

The Flood presents a tale different in character from the other three. It is not only longer, but much more complex, diffuse, composite. and, in its long history, much more heterogeneously motivated. Nevertheless it is made to conform to the same essential theme of sin and judgment — man’s violation of creation and the necessary response of the creator. Here human depravity is cited, that condition of man in which the thoughts of his heart are only evil (6:5). The cataclysmic judgment this time is destruction. But as Yahweh is concerned for man in the Garden and man in the Brothers, here also the story affirms a positive theology: the divine response in judgment is not without continuing mercy, since man is now given a fresh beginning. Alas, how quickly it comes to grief (9:20-27), even in the very person of Noah, "a righteous man, blameless in his generation," who "walked with God" (6:9). At Israel’s level of interpretation the story would remind the listener-reader that the strength of sheer righteousness is inadequate and that the estrangement of man in creation can be met effectively only with faith — a motif we shall see made central in the cycle of stories about Abraham.

11:1-9

In the last of this sequence of stories, the Tower, all mankind is represented as a single clan or tribe wandering aimlessly over the East — or through history. To manipulate their own security, they will build themselves a tower to reach into heaven and so guarantee control over that sphere; they will build the imperishable city; and they will establish for themselves the indestructible name. "And Yahweh came down" utterly un-invoked, unmentioned, ignored. >From Yahweh’s point of view this is willful alienation of the most painful sort. The terms of creation are not defied. They are simply ignored. This is the ultimate act of rebellion and estrangement in which all the controls of creation and existence are unhesitatingly assumed by the creature. This is the final expression of apostasy by which trust in ultimate security is to tally transferred from God to man, and man becomes apostate to himself and to his own devices.

If there is a climactic quality in this fourth variation on the theme of sin, the response of judgment is also more enduringly bitter. Only in this one of the four stories is the judgment unmediated by any expression of Yahweh’s continuing grace. The human situation is (apparently) irremediably afflicted with the accursed quality of the divisive, both in language and in geographical dispersion.

And yet it is just here that the primeval story is inseparably linked to the story of salvation: Abraham is called out of the multitude of peoples "in order that in him all the families of the earth may be blessed." So it is that the introduction of the story of salvation [in the call of Abraham, Gen. 12] answers the unresolved question of the primeval story — the question of God’s relationship to the totality of peoples. This point where the story of salvation is brought in, Gen. 12:1-3, is not only the conclusion of the primeval story — it is the only real key to its interpretation. In thus inseparably uniting primeval story and salvation story the Yahwist expresses the meaning and goal of the function of redemption which Yahweh has charged to Israel. He gives the etiology of all etiologies of the Old Testament . . . on grounds neither rational nor documented by particulars, he proclaims that the ultimate goal of salvation effected by God through Israel’s history is the overcoming of the chasm between God and all men everywhere.10

 

NOTES:

1. Cf. Pss. 8, 104.

2. Noth calls the hypothetical, but very plausible, pre-J source G for Grundlage. meaning "basic source" (Ueberlieferungsgeschichte des Pentateuchs, Stuttgart, 1948).

3. Cf. G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments, Munich, 1957, vol. 1, p. 152; and Genesis, trans. J. Marks (from Das Erste Buch Mose, in the series Das Alte Testament Deutsche, vol. II) Philadelphia, 1961, pp. 59 ff. See also the monograph by E. S. Jenni, Die theologische Begrundung des Sabbatgebotes in Alten Testament, Zurich, 1956.

4. For the translated text of the seven tablets, by E. A. Speiser, see James B. Pritchard, ed., Ancient Near Eastern Texts, 2nd ed., Princeton, 1955, pp. 60 ff.

5. The term is suggested by N. H. Gottwald. See his discussion of the creation motif in Babylon and Israel in A Light to the Nations, New York, 1959, pp. 455-463.

6. Cf. Ps. 29.

7. "Genesis," Peake’s Commentary on the Bible, London, 1937, p. 143.

8. Cf. von Rid, Genesis, op. cit., pp. 30 ff.

9. Cf. B. D. Napier, From Faith to Faith, New York, 1955, pp. 48 -52.

10. von Rid, Genesis, op. cit., pp. 23.

Chapter 1: Lord and People

Israel in Egypt: Exodus 1-2

Jacob and his children went down to Egypt.



Josh. 24:4

The story of Israel as a people begins here. Everything of enduring significance that ancient Israel became, believed, and proclaimed is ultimately influenced not only by what actually occurred in the time of the exodus, but by the story of the exodus — the story as it was first remembered and repeated; the story as it assumed relatively fixed classical forms in different areas, in the North or South; the story as its multiple versions, written and oral, were compared, mutually "corrected," and finally composed into the single, unified narrative that is before us now. It is not alone the event of the creation of order and meaning out of chaos that conditions the mind and faith of Israel, but also her own sustained, fluid reading and interpretation of the event.

It is important to add that in the tradition of biblical faith, historical revelation, which is the self-disclosure of God in history, is never deemed to inhere simply in the event as event, but also in the interpretation of the event. The motion picture industry fails utterly and with almost unexceptional regularity in its stupendous efforts to reproduce segments of the biblical story because it assumes a self-validating character in the divine disclosure and is apparently unable to deal with the admittedly difficult, illusive, and profound factor of interpretation. The significant biblical event is always the event as faith sees, remembers, tells, and celebrates it. That God discloses himself in the event — if he discloses himself in the event — is an affirmation made possible only because he discloses the fact of his self-disclosure in the faith of human interpreters of the event.

We hold that it was precisely not demonstrable that God was in any direct, causative, and purposive way related to the exodus events. Any impartial observer — for example, an ancient counterpart of a United Nations representative — would surely have been astonished at Israel’s subsequent claims about this epoch. We can only assume that the Egyptians, some of whom were participants or even victims, regarded the Egyptian chapter of the exodus event very differently. Indeed, Egypt thought so lightly of the whole episode as to make no mention of it anywhere in the rather extensive Egyptian records thus far discovered.

In the Old Testament the Israelite participants, actual or empathic, impute to the event of the exodus the actual relationship of deity to human event, the responsibility of God’s Word in and through the total event. Recall only that Israelites were able to say, generation after generation, "We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt; and the Lord brought us out. . . ." Were they right or wrong in this interpretation of the event? Were they inspired or deluded? Was this affirmation itself revealed or was this fundamentally the prideful projection of a people’s self-image? These and other questions can, of course, be answered only according to one’s own interpretation of the biblical interpretation of the biblical event, that is, according to one’s own position vis-a-vis the life of faith. But all must interpret the interpretation; and all must acknowledge and respond to the role of interpretation in the Bible’s claim to be a historical revelation of God. And whatever we may ultimately judge to be the historical nature and structure of the biblical event, we must reckon with Israel’s reading of it if we are to understand historical Israel.

1:1-7

Seventy persons into Egypt — no doubt a round number,1 but no doubt accurately recalling a small group, hardly more than a large family in the East’s fashion of families. Twelve names representing twelve tribes — how idealized is this? There is no doubt that David’s kingdom embraced twelve dominant tribal groups, nor any doubt that many or all of these tribal entities were earlier involved in one or several confederations of tribes. Question: were the progenitors of these subsequently confederated tribal groups all present in pre-exodus Israel? Or does the story spontaneously idealize by reading back into its origins the numbers and entities of its subsequently developed components? We pass, and advise you to do the same. Equally competent scholars answer emphatically yes, emphatically no, and emphatically no one can know. But if we are not permitted to pass, then we stress what appears to us to be the probability that many, or even most, of Israel’s components were not biologically represented in Egypt. How much the more remarkable that subsequently all Israel espoused, confessed, and lauded the exodus event. But then, men of faith in all time have so confessed and appropriated the exodus event. Men of faith in all time find something profound in their own existence given articulation in the words, "We were Pharaoh’s slaves and the Lord redeemed us." The image and language of the exodus faith is timeless.

Five phrases (v. 7) stress the initial benign environment of Egypt. Let the story have its head. The land was full of Egyptians, not Israelites, of course; but how more effectively can the story make its point?

1:8-14

This is Israel’s story. Egypt’s words are as Israel heard them, 1:8-14 or thought she heard them, or wanted to hear them. If they do not instruct us in the language of Egypt, they are marvelously penetrating in the language and thought of Israel.

It is the story’s way, and a part of its gift, to be imprecise. On the basis of multiple lines of evidence (as convincing as such evidence can be), the "new king over Egypt" refers either to Seti I (c. 13 10-1290) or his son, Ramses II (c. 1290-1224). These two kings of the Nineteenth Dynasty (c. 1310-1200) were both ambitious builders, and work probably started by Seti, at Pithom (modern Tell er-Rerabeh?) and Ramses (Tanis, in the eastern Delta), was completed by Ramses. Perhaps there was, for varying reasons, a growing antipathy between Israelite and Egyptian (v. 12); but work became for the slaves more intense and bitter because Egypt now embarked on a program of building to the glory of Egypt and the Nineteenth Dynasty, and more pointedly, to the glory of Ramses the Great! Certainly the story is idealized and condensed, but it vividly highlights the essence of the crisis: the life of Israel — of whatever size and constituency — was now made bitter with hard, rigorous service (v. 14).

1:15-22

The term "Hebrew" appears prominently now (1:15, 16, 19; 2:6, 7, 11, 13) to remind us of the nature of this group in relation to the life of the ancient Near East. Elsewhere — in the archives of the kings of Egypt of the Eighteenth Dynasty of the fourteenth century — we read of ‘Apiru, a term probably related to "Hebrew," denoting not a state or political unit, but rather a widespread type of communal existence. The term represents the character of the groups who were not permanently identified with the area of their occupation, not indigenous to the territory. They were aliens who nevertheless were able on occasion to move with effective force on their own behalf.2

2:1-10

The Old Testament story recalls realistically this quality of Israel’s origin, quite without apology. Indeed, the story here stresses with satisfaction the contrast between the physical constitution of the Hebrew and the Egyptian. In this exodus chapter the total resources of the Hebrew are pitted against the total resources of the Egyptian. It is, of course, the divine resource which is to be the decisive factor; but the form of the story betrays Israel’s vast sense of enjoyment of sophisticated Egypt’s embarrassment and humiliation through the instrument of the rough Hebrew, the mixed Jacob-Joseph ‘Apiru.

The critical reader will observe here (and over and over again throughout the Old Testament story) a logical contradiction, an item suspicious, if not incredible, if judged from the standpoint of factual probability. Would an absolutely autocratic master administration, involved in gigantic building operations, voluntarily and radically reduce its potential male slave labor? From a practical point of view, the answer would, of course, be no. Then what is the relationship of the narrative to the actual historical episode?

Let us acknowledge, not apologetically but positively, that this is not a pedestrian enumeration of mere factual details. We know that the factual details cannot be reconstructed from the present story. Rather, what appears here is only that which is essential to the theme — the astounding victory of Israel over Pharaoh. Pharaoh had at his disposal all the wealth, power, and resources that man, the earth, and the Egyptian gods could create, while Israel, a sad segment of ‘Apiru, had only her deity, unknown to man, the earth, and the gods.

What precipitated the action that resulted in the creation of the people of Israel from a band of ‘Apiru existing on Egypt’s edge around 1300 B.C.? The appearance of a death motif in the answer to this question is inevitable. Stated symbolically in terms of killing the first-born, the fact is that for these people existence was no longer life, but living death. Human life was reduced to subhuman existence and was deprived of all human expressions — freedom, leisure, exercise of choice, opportunity to be creative. In essence, if not in fact, Egypt decreed death. Thus, the relationship between story and event, narrative and fact, is much closer than the superficially critical eye discerns.

The Figure of Moses

We must remember that we are dealing with a text which assumed its present form over a period of about eight centuries, that is, roughly between 1200 and 400 B.C. In the course of this development, it has drawn from many sources, both oral and written, which were produced or modified in different times, in different geographical areas, and therefore, from different perspectives. The mechanical process by which the present exodus story developed explains some of the characteristic features of the text.

Beyond a doubt, the image of Moses in these pages of the Bible is much more than a simple, "unretouched photograph." Moses appears in the story as something more than a mere man. But it could not possibly be otherwise in view of the fact that in the subsequent life, recollection, and meditation of Israel, he was more than a man. For the continuing generations of Israel no "photo" could convey the form, stature, achievement, and "immortality" of Moses. In Old Testament Israel, he rightly remains the first man, the unique man, the prophet par excellence, the peculiarly God-like man playing the role of human Creator-Sustainer-Redeemer in the first epoch of Israel’s life. Ordinary facts of birth, life, and death (Deut. 34:6) cannot contain, nor indeed adequately represent, the "truth" of the man and his enduring meaning to those whose existence he shaped and to whom, in a sense, he gave life.3

We know, of course, that Moses was a man (in this sense "only" a man), and in the story he is so represented on occasion (e.g., Ps. 106:32-33 in reference to Num. 20:10 ff.; cf. Ex. 17:1-7). But to present him in this manner consistently would inevitably be false to his status and his meaning in the life of Israel. It is no wonder that a corporate, intensely subjective, and adoring memory should produce the image of Moses as it now appears.

The Old Testament story has its inconsistencies and contradictions. These are inevitable in the nature of the story and were certainly evident to those involved in its development. We should not be overly concerned with internal ambiguities, remembering the underlying multiple sources and the relatively fluid status of the developing text; and remembering too that they who developed the story were not primarily concerned with factual details, but rather with the dominant themes and their enduring meaning in the life of the people of Israel.

The initial episode in the "life" of Moses echoes a familiar theme in the lore and traditions of ancient peoples. Here is a part of a comparable account of the origins of Sargon I, king of Akkad about twelve hundred years before the time of Moses.

Sargon, the mighty king, king of Agade, am I.

My mother was a changeling, my father I knew not

............................

My changeling mother conceived me, in secret she bore me.

She set me in a basket of rushes, with bitumen she sealed my lid.

She cast me into the river which rose not (over) me.

The river bore me up and carried me to Akki, the drawer of water.

Akki, the drawer of water, lifted me out as he dipped his ewer.

Akki, the drawer of water, [took me] as his son (and) reared me.4

We cite this parallel to show the similar theme, but note the contrast between the two accounts — the relative tenderness and intimacy of the Moses story, the implicit quality of deep human compassion, the unspoken but acute sensitivity to human relationships. Above all, we see the irony which contributes so forcefully to the central theme of Moses-Hebrew versus Pharaoh-Egypt, the fascinating "accident" by which all of Egypt’s richest gifts and endowments are lavished upon him who is to conduct the campaign ending in Egypt’s abysmal frustration.

We have stressed the close relationship between the Old Testament story and the cultic life of Israel, the institutionalized devotional expression. Remember that relationship especially through the first fifteen chapters of Exodus. Israel’s corporate memory of Moses, God, and the Hebrews in Egypt is certainly shaped and accented in devotional use, in the annual celebration and re-enactment of the glorious event of divine creation in the triumphal exodus from Egypt, much in the fashion of the Church’s annual memorialization of the birth, crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ.5

The character of the story is better defined in the word "tradition," than in the word "history." Tradition, while not necessarily divorced from all implements of history, is nevertheless fundamentally determined in Israel by the mind of faith which is theology and by the worship institution which is the cultus. We can see the result in this idealized, simplified story of Moses’ birth and rearing. The form is dictated by the primary concern of both faith and cultus to render praise to God. The story is in intention a powerful affirmation: in God’s grace the very princess of Egypt is brought into the service of Moses and the Hebrews!

The name Moses is Egyptian. It means "son" and is compounded in Egyptian names like Tutmose and Ahmose. But rather characteristically, the story must find a Hebrew etymology; and it comes up with a naming-narrative (v. 10) tying the Egyptian name to a Hebrew word meaning "to draw out." The story gives a passive reading to the name: Moses is the one "drawn out" from the water. But to make this etymology legitimate, the Hebrew form of the name can only be the active participle, a fact certainly not lost in the story’s implicit understanding. The name "Moses," adapted from the Egyptian into the Hebrew, means the

one who executes the "drawing out," and so points to the essence of Moses’ life, his role of leadership in the deliverance of Israel.

2:11-15

Moses’ identification with his future role of deliverer is made clear in verses 11-1 15a. The great act of deliverance is foreshadowed as he acts decisively and violently in sympathetic identification with the abused, as Hebrew is tormented not only by Egyptian (v. 11), but by fellow Hebrew as well (v. 13). The episode affirms his compassionate character (cf. Num. 12:3).

As a result of the episode, Moses seeks refuge in the land of Midian (vv. 15b-22). Midian is only vaguely defined, partly because the Midianites were a seminomadic people. But the general area is sure — near the northern shores of the Gulf of Aqabah, south of and adjacent to the territory of Edom (cf. I Kings 11: 14-18). Moses fled east from Egypt, across the Sinaitic peninsula.

An example of the use of realistic detail of symbolic importance is found in the story of Moses by the well. Obviously, this cannot be proved factually, but the story’s sense of reality is sound. In the semidesert, in all parched lands, life literally flows to and from the source of water (cf. the role of the place of the well of the Jacob story, Gen. 29). What transpires is (as in the Jacob scene) romantic; but the episode again emphasizes Moses’ character as deliverer.

Corporate memory recalls Moses’ adopted home in Midian as the home of a priest. Moses is subsequently called upon to be not only premier-commander, but prophet-minister-priest as well, and so here another role is foreshadowed. Indirectly (and directly, see 18:1-27) Moses is indebted to his father-in-law for his administrative skills, "civic" as well as religious. However, in Midian, Moses is but a "sojourner in a foreign land" (v. 22), and this episode ends with a return to the theme of Egyptian oppression and the task which he cannot, even if he would, avoid (vv. 23-25).

It is the function of the concluding verses of chapter 2 to make clear what has gone before and what is about to take place — the call and commission of Moses. If the story is correct in recording the death of an Egyptian pharaoh during Moses’

stay in Midian, we suspect it was Seti I, who died about 1290, although it could be Ramses II, about 1224. Evidence of varying sorts points preponderantly to a thirteenth-century date for the exodus, and perhaps favors a date earlier rather than later in the century. We shall here assume that the "new king over Egypt" of 1:8 was Seti I (c. 1310-1290) under whose administration the lot of all ‘Apiru in Egypt grew less tolerable; and that following his death (2:23) and the accession of Ramses II (c. 1290-1224) the existence of slave and semislave laborers degenerated still further, precipitating the exodus of the group under Moses.

Moses’ people are in hard bondage. Israel — it is Israel now — has cried out to God. God hears, God sees, God knows, God also "remembers." He remembers his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Now, we do not suppose that in this preexodus time the confessional formula of patriarchal covenant was invoked, since the formula itself is dependent upon the exodus event and the subsequent identification of Israel as a covenant people. The story verbalizes the faith that the exodus event is in meaning consequent upon what God had purposed long ago in Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Thus, the story impresses on the hearer or reader the enormous dimensions implicit in what is happening. This is an act of covenant fulfillment; God is "remembering" and performing his covenant program. And this act has universal implications, for the promise to Abraham and the patriarchs is a promise ultimately to all the families of the earth (see Gen. 12:3). It is a promise to all men who are "in Egypt," who are in bondage, that God hears, sees, knows, and remembers! The story affirms its own universal and timeless significance.

MOSES IN MIDIAN:

I sent Moses.

Josh. 24:5

Three words in the first two verses of chapter 3 raise questions about the framework of the story. In these verses Moses’ father-in-law is Jethro, but in 2:18 he was Reuel. The: sacred mountain, "the mountain of God," is called Horeb, a name used less than twenty times in the Old Testament, but it is called Sinai — quite apparently the same mountain — about forty times. In the first two chapters of Exodus God is designated only by the Hebrew word ‘Elohim, which also underlies the word "God" in 3:1. But in 3:2 ff. another term appears, "the Lord," in Hebrew originally simply four consonants YHWH. For centuries Hebrew was written without vowels. The probable pronunciation is Yahweh, although in Israelite-Jewish tradition this specific and particular name of God was commonly deemed too sacred to be pronounced. The reader or speaker simply said ‘Adonai, meaning the Lord. The term "Jehovah" is a hybrid, combining the consonants YHWH with the vowels of ‘Adonai.

Jethro-Reuel (and perhaps also called Hobab, see Num. 10:29; Judg. 4:11); Horeb-Sinai; ‘Elohim-Yahweh. These variants point unmistakably to different sources in the oral tradition, the first writing, and later "editorial" stages. Through the nineteenth century of our era and into the twentieth biblical scholars have worked productively at the analysis of the Old Testament by means of a documentary hypothesis — the theory (supported by many variants such as these) that multiple documents or sources were employed and combined in the present text. We see no reason to abandon this theory if the hypothesis is not rigidly or arrogantly employed; if we remember that often it is impossible to untangle the "sources"; if we recognize that there is artistic, even theological, meaning in the way in which the sources have been combined; and if we recall that what we choose to designate as a single source may itself be the product of multiple lesser "sources."

The patriarchs of documentary analysis are three nineteenth-century German scholars, Graf, Kuenen, and Wellhausen. Early in the twentieth century S. R. Driver (Literature of the Old Testament, 1913) gave mature and now classical formulation to their essential position; and more recently Robert Pfeiifer in this country (Introduction to the Old Testament, rev., 1948) and Otto Eissfeldt in Germany (Einleitung in das Alte Testament, rev., 1956) continued to analyze and interpret the Old Testament in the tradition of literary criticism.

Other scholars use more radically modified methods of literary criticism proceeding from the basic assumption of multiple sources; and in Germany in the past few decades interest has shifted to a different approach known as form criticism which asks different questions of the text. The "literary" critic first attempts to determine the source, its extent, date, and even authorship. The form critic addresses himself first to questions of the community which produced a given segment of Old Testament text, the possible role of that segment in the life of the community, and such insights into the faith of ancient Israel as may be derived from the passage. But the form critic utilizes the work of literary critics, for example, in the inspired work of the father of form criticism, Hermann Gunkel, in the early decades of this century, and G. von Rad now in the middle decades.6 Only relatively few, notably among Scandinavian scholars, have completely abandoned the presuppositions of literary criticism.

We will use here the standard symbols, J, F, and P, to designate the three most conspicuous narrative strands interwoven in Exodus (as well as in Genesis, Numbers, and perhaps. Joshua). The symbol J represents the source in which Jahweh-Yahweh is the preferred style of the divine name, and which seems to have originated in the south (Judah). It is generally taken to he the record of traditions current and fluid down to the tenth century, when the J-work was done, and it appears to he the work of an individual.7 The symbol F represents not an individual’s work of collection and editing, but a varied, unintegrated assortment of stories and traditions circulating in the north (Ephraim) and preferring the divine name ‘Elohim. Drawn from the traditions current in Israel to perhaps the eighth century, it was combined with the material in J to augments supplement, or pose a significant variant to the J body of tradition. P (for the characteristic priestly perspective), the latest process of collection to attain a fixed form, also draws from the common mine of tradition until its development was arrested in the fifth century when it was combined with JE, probably by the same continuing community of priests who formed it.

The Call of Moses

3:1-10

Exodus 3 is JE, but F is dominant since the term "God" (‘Elohim) occurs more frequently than the term "the Lord" (Yahweh). Exodus 4-5 (including 6:1) is also JE, but here J dominates. P, following brief appearances in chapters 1 and 2 (1:1-5, 13-14; 2:23-25), first takes over the exodus story in 6:2-7:13. This description of the text before us now explains some of the superficial phenomena of the story as it stands, but it also speaks of the relationship of the story to the total life of ancient Israel.

The scene is Horeb (E and Deuteronomy) or Sinai (J and P). We are not positive about its location. The traditional site is the mountain Jebel Musa in the southern Sinai peninsula; but if Jethro and the Midianites were here, they had ranged rather far out of their customary orbit east and perhaps north of the Gulf of Aqabah. In part on the strength of the proposition that the description of God’s appearance on the sacred mountain in Exodus 19 presupposes volcanic phenomena (a view supported by the guiding cloud and pillar of fire?), some would locate Horeb/Sinai in the territory of Midian proper where alone in the whole area there is evidence of volcanic action. Still others would find the sacred mountain to the north and west of the northern extremities of the Gulf of Aqabah in the area loosely defined as the wilderness of Paran.

This location satisfies the inference from a number of passages that Horeb/Sinai was not far removed from Kadesh-barnea (‘ain el-Qudeirat?) which, while not positively identified, was surely situated just south of the Negeb (Canaan’s southernmost territory) and considerably to the northwest of the tip of Aqabah. We incline to this third alternative.

We may now dispense with the minor problems of internal ambiguity, for we understand the structure of the story. For example, one of the story’s components identified the reality behind Moses’ vision as an angel, the authorized representative of Yahweh (v. 2), but another as Yahweh himself (v. 4). There is nevertheless unity in the narrative in its central affirmation — that Moses knew beyond any possible doubting the firm call of Yahweh/God to "bring forth my people, the Sons of Israel, out of Egypt!" On the strength of what is recorded, we do not presume to reconstruct the "facts" of the event. We take this as testimony of Israel’s faith in Yahweh and Moses. We take this for nothing more nor less than the way Israel remembered.

Israel remembers the texture of this encounter between Yahweh and Moses — the texture rather than the concrete structure. The quality rather than the literal substance of Moses’ overwhelming and ultimately indescribable experience of the Call is reproduced. Moses’ tiny space, the world of a moment, is exploded by the invasion of the Fullness of Time. His word is in conversation with the Word — Moses, Moses, you may not walk here with shoes, since this, being ground of Meeting, is holy ground. Do not walk here with shoes, since in this place of holiness your uncovered feet acknowledge that you, Moses, stand uncovered and naked in the holy place, this island, this enclosure, this tomb of your existence now entered by the Word of Yahweh!

Israel remembers the essence of the Call; the word of Moses is in conversation with the Word; the person of Moses, bared to the soul, is engulfed in Glory. And to what end, the Call? That My people, the sons of Israel, may be delivered from their bondage in Egypt!

Moses’ Four Protests

3:11-12

I will send you to bring all of this to pass. And Moses responds, in effect, By all means, Lord, bring it to pass, but not through me.

1. Moses’ first protest is essentially — Who am I to do this? Child of Israel-Egypt; fugitive; priest’s son-in-law, and Midianite shepherd. This is my identity. I am obviously disqualified. But he is answered that he must now identify himself in terms of his relationship to God, "I will be with you."

Moses’ problem when confronted by the Word is every man’s problem who believes himself to be so confronted. The story of Moses always "is" however much we may be concerned with its "wasness." The coin which reads "Faith" on one side and "Unfaith" on the other is universal. The two faces may not be separated or significantly altered, even by a Moses.

3:13-22

2. Moses is willing, for the sake of argument, to accept this definition of true identity. But to define himself in terms of a relationship to another, he must know the other. He must again protest and ask, in effect — Who are You, Lord? Tell me your Name, lest when they ask me, as ask me they will, I will have no name, and having no name, no real knowledge of Who or What You are, to say nothing of who and what I am.

Six possible interpretations of the name are given. The J work — as we have suggested, the earliest identifiable collection of Israel’s stories and traditions — takes for granted the knowledge of the divine name, Yahweh, from earliest times (Gen. 4:26). In F and P, the personal name, as opposed to the titles by which God was known, was first revealed to Moses. This is the view of verses 3:13-22 (traditionally assigned to E) as well as of 6:2 (P). Now it may well be, as a matter of fact, that God was worshiped in the south (J’s provenance) by the name Yahweh long before the Moses-Joshua group entered Canaan bringing with them the sacred name which only then became normative in the north. It may also be, as a number of competent scholars have maintained, that Jethro the Midianite was a Kenite, a clan related to tribes long in residence in south Canaan; and that the form, structure, and even the terminology of Moses’ faith was influenced by the relationship. It is certain, as we shall see (ch. 18), that Moses was significantly indebted to Jethro.

However varied may be the historical details related to this question, the story is unequivocal in its most crucial point. Moses has a fresh, immediate, and unprecedented encounter with God, out of which new and deeper insights into the nature of the deity are gained.8 In response to the question, "Who are You, Lord?" we are given six possible meanings of the name.

I am who I am or I will be what I will be (v. 14)

I am or I cause to be (all that comes into existence!)

YHWH (v. 15) here related to the verb "to be" but possibly derived from a root meaning "to blow" or perhaps "to sustain, to maintain"

God of your fathers

God of Abraham
. . . Isaac . . . Jacob

Gob of the Hebrews
(v. 18)

The uncertainty as to the derivation of the name YHWH results in a total remarkable confession of faith: the God of the Hebrews, these particular ‘Apiru enslaved in Egypt, is the fathers’ God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who is and will be, who causes to be, who manifests his power (blowing), who sustains all life. This is the God of the fugitive Moses and the Hebrew slave!

4:1-9

3. But there is a third protest — will he be believed? A note of impatience creeps into the divine response as the Lord reveals to Moses the power he now possesses to perform the magician’s acts. Here again the Old Testament story shapes itself according to the principle of essential meaning, subordinating details of events and the external forms of the past. Was there an actual contest between Moses and Pharaoh’s magicians? We cannot say. But in the essential contest between Yahweh-Moses-Israel and Pharaoh-Staff-Egypt, Egypt is defeated on her own terms — the magician’s apparent power over objects of the environment — and the story highlights and augments this thematic motif.

4:10-17

4. The story moves to Moses’ fourth protest. "I am not eloquent, . . . I am slow of speech and tongue."

Yahweh’s answer is double-pronged. The story presents in Yahweh’s words a stirring affirmation of the biblical creation-faith — God is the creator and sustainer of the life and time and total environment of man. This is all implicit in the rebuke,

"Who has made man’s mouth?" And this sharp response is accompanied by the promise, "I will be with your mouth!"

Now Moses breaks Yahweh’s patience. The RSV translates, "Oh, my Lord, send, I pray, some other person" (v. 13). The sense of the Hebrew is much stronger: Send whom you jolly well please. I’m not your man! The story acknowledges Yahweh’s surging anger against Moses, but nevertheless represents the long-suffering Yahweh still countering a recalcitrant Moses, this time with the assurance that eloquence can be had in the person and service of Moses’ brother Aaron.

Reaction and Response

4:18-23

The significant events between Moses’ call and his program of deliverance (ch. 5) are culled from sources both ancient and primitive, and late and sophisticated. There has been a considerable time lapse since Moses came to Midian (v. 19). His recently acquired powers of magicianship will not effect deliverance and inferentially faith declares that only Yahweh can bring this about (v. 21). Pharaoh is to be informed (vv. 21 ff.) that Israel is Yahweh’s first-born son (cf. Hos. 11:1, "my son"); and the demand theme, which is to be the refrain in the following chapters, is sounded — "Let my son go that he may serve me!" If the demand is refused, retaliation will be in kind — "If you refuse to let him go, behold, I will slay your first-born son."

4:24-26

The form of this strange little narrative of Moses’ near brush with death probably reaches back to a time not far removed from the exodus era. It is impossible to say precisely what facts gave rise to the account. Moses must be circumcised. Is his uncircumcision an affront to the deity? Or more positively, is it now essential that Moses seal and affirm by circumcision his own covenant with Yahweh just described in his call? The narrative may represent something of both. In any case, since Moses, near death, is physically unable to tolerate the rite, it is performed vicariously upon Moses’ son, and this act of covenant-making effects the cure of Moses’ sickness-unto-death.

Finally the story records Israel’s response to Moses of unqualified faith: "And the people believed; . . . they bowed their heads and worshiped."

It is the Word of Yahweh which effects Israel’s deliverance from bondage, from chaos, from meaninglessness. But it is also unmistakable in the story that this deliverance followed only upon the response of faith from within the life of bondage, chaos, and meaninglessness!

ISRAEL OUT OF EGYPT:

I brought you out.

Josh. 24:59

We must again repeat that we are here commenting on a story which cannot be taken for objective external history. It is, in a manner of speaking, internal history; it portrays a people’s inner life, self-understanding, and faith. The inescapable questions of possible correspondence between the inner and outer history must ultimately be answered by each individual reader and interpreter of the story.

The Preliminary Meetings

5:1-7:13

The issue is joined. Pharaoh is confronted with the Word’s demand. His natural response is: Whose word is this? Who is Yahweh? I never heard of him and the answer is no.

Following the story’s colorful and imaginative development of the plot (to 5:21), Moses reacts to Egypt’s increasingly oppressive measures and the animosity of his own people as he is to react in the face of bitterness again and again. He turns to Yahweh. He appeals to the Word. And on the final outcome, at least, he is reassured (6:1).

It is the P stratum of the story (6:2 ff.) which now reports its own memory" of Moses’ call; or if, in the unified story’s intent, this is a reiteration at a critical moment of the call experience, it brings to mind the earlier episode of the mountain of God, the burning bush, and the holy ground (JE 3:1-6). There are differences in the two accounts. The scene here is Egypt. There is no attendant vision. The sense of awe and mystery in the earlier encounter gives way here to a relatively developed theology; it is here a highly articulate Word giving eloquent expression to the nature and purpose of Yahweh. And where in JE the sense of covenant is only implied, however emphatically, in P the term "covenant" itself is explicit.

It is nevertheless the same covenant. It is the same Word. It is the revelation of the same divine name YHWH (6:3) for the first time to Moses. It is a brilliant and realistic stroke to repeat Moses’ transforming encounter with the Word at Horeb Sinai at this moment of abysmal discouragement following the first appearance before Pharaoh and the bitter verbal abuse of the Israelite foremen. The story understands and would have us understand that Moses is able to continue only on the strength of a renewal of purpose effected by a vivid reappropriation of the Word which first moved him from Midian to Egypt.

If the P stratum has its dull genealogies (e.g., 6:14 ff.), if it embraces large blocks of legal material, if it sometimes exercises an unnecessarily minute interest in the external accouterments of institutionalized religion, it also incorporates some of the Old Testament’s most beautiful and eloquent lines. Read aloud the content of the moving Word to Moses in 6:2-8. It ought to be read aloud. Its form strongly suggests that it existed for generations first as a spoken liturgy or confession of faith, habitually recited in the round of formalized worship, that is, in the cultus. Note that the quality of divine compassion, mercy, and grace comes through here as it has not previously in Exodus; that this is a recital of faith in the mature and purpose of God (observe the emphasis even more: pronounced in Hebrew, on the divine "I" and compare the same feature in Joshua 24); and that all this is an expansion of the simple, eloquent theme which opens and closes the recital — "I am Yahweh" — conveying in the very name all the essential meaning of the divine life.

The Moses-Word dialogue breaks off at 6:13 to resume at 6:28 continuing through 7:9. The intervening verses (6: 14-27) constitute (except vv. 14-15; cf. Gen. 46:9 ff.) Levite genealogy concerning Moses and Aaron but more particularly Aaron, through whom the line of the institutional priestthood is derived (vv. 23, 24).

Now Moses repeats his self-deprecation: his lips are uncircumcised. This time the Word responds (7:1, cf. 4:14-16), "I will make you as God to Pharaoh" (‘Elohim, not Yahweh), that is, Moses will possess vis-a-vis Pharaoh certain attributes of deity; "Aaron your brother shall be your prophet," that is, Aaron is to be his spokesman. The story here pays magnificent tribute to Moses.

As evidence of the story’s use of variant traditions, Aaron now (7:8-13) wields the rod endowed with magical powers, not Moses (as in 4:2-4). This is P, and priestly tradition understandably magnifies the role of the father of priests. Aaron’s act with the rod is promptly duplicated by the whole complement of Egyptian magicians; but it is quickly added, with the humor and zest of a good story, that Aaron’s rod-into-serpent swallowed up the Egyptian equipment.

Still Pharaoh’s heart was hard (7:13), might remained unmoved, power remained corrupt. Still, as it were, the world turned a deaf ear to the cry of faith. The preliminary meetings were all abortive.

The Plagues

7:14-13:16

Literary critics see the three major source-strata all intermingled here. No single source appears to have embraced all ten plagues. Some plagues may well be duplicates, for example, plagues 3 (gnats, 8:16-19, P?) and 4 (flies, 8:20-32, J?) are both plagues of insects. At the same time, form critics remind us that any interpretation must take into account the confessional form of the story, that is, its present structure, intent, and emphasis as derived from its cultic use, as imparted from its repeated recitation throughout Israel’s generations on the occasion of the annual celebration of the great deliverance. The entire unit, Exodus 1-15, is the product of a multiform literary tradition, but a relatively uniform cultic-liturgical tradition — a fact which again leaves quite beyond recovery the external-objective structure of the event.

What is preserved is the fact and the quality of the faith of the participants — the actual or sympathetic participants (probably both, but who can say in what proportions?). It is the central affirmation of the story that calamities falling with such severity upon Egypt were occasioned and controlled by the purposive Word of Yahweh. The event, this sequence of disastrous episodes, is interpreted as revelatory event, disclosing the nature and intent of Yahweh — his nature as Lord of creation and his intent to make of Israel a people.

All else is subordinated to this theme. Thus, the present form of the story is obviously unconcerned with consistency. For example, is all of Egypt’s water affected (7:19, P?) or only the Nile waters (7:17-18, J?)? Or, in general, who is the immediate agent of the wonders produced, Yahweh (J?) or Moses (F?) or Aaron (P?)? As another consequence of the story’s preoccupation with the faith-meaning theme, the major roles are unmistakably drawn in idealized and simplified fashion, more according to theological than to historical function. Most conspicuous in this regard is, of course, Pharaoh, representing "unfaith," brought repeatedly to the brink of submission but never persuaded, and therefore ultimately the victim of crushing defeat.

What of the Pharaoh’s actual role, whether Ramses II, his successor Merneptah, or, in more remote possibility, some predecessor of Ramses? This is simply an impossible question. The overwhelming significance with which the event of the exodus is charged in the story obviously and appropriately reflects Israel’s estimate, not Egypt’s. Since the episode is mentioned nowhere in contemporary Egyptian records thus far uncovered, we assume that from Egypt’s perspective it was nothing remotely resembling the momentous event it seemed to Israel. But this is Israel’s birth as a people, her very creation out of formlessness and void, and therefore the varying strands of tradition must represent this event as of consequence to the very person of the Pharaoh of Egypt.

Essential truth and bare fact are not necessarily coincident, coextensive, identical. It may well be, as some astute Old Testament historians maintain, that 14: 5a preserves the historical fact that Israel fled without Pharaoh’s knowledge and was pursued only subsequently when he was for the first time informed of her escape. But in the internal sense of faith, the fundamental significance of what is conveyed is profoundly true. To the mind of faith, Pharaoh’s role and response in this event are authentic. "Let my people go, that they may serve me!" (7:16; 8:1,20; 9:1,13; 10:3; cf. 3:12; 4:23,10:7). The answer of Pharaoh — the epitome of human "unfaith" and pride — is in faith forever true: These are not your people, but mine, and they shall not serve you but me.

11:1-13:16

In the round of the Old Testament cultic year, the most prominent and probably the oldest festival is the passover. From the time of Moses on, it was celebrated in the spring of the year, commemorating the exodus and particularly the "passing over" of the Israelite homes (12:23) when death invaded Egypt and claimed her first-born. But the festival appears to have had a pre-exodus history among pastoral folk as a spring celebration of the birth of the lambs with attendant rites for the consecration of the flocks and probably a communion meal shared by the shepherd group and the deity. Exodus 5:1 may refer to this parent festival of the passover.

Together with the tenth and decisive plague, the exodus story includes the full prescription for the passover celebration (12: l-13,21-27,43-49) A second closely associated festival, the feast of unleavened bread, is similarly given its first prescription here (12:14-20; 13:3-10). In subsequent centuries when Israel had become a settled people, this agricultural festival also commemorated the exodus (12:17; 13:8). A third cultic rite is also introduced — the rite of the dedication of the firstborn (13:1-2,11-16). It is introduced here because of its natural association with the moving "first-born" theme which dominates these chapters.

The first simple passover was no doubt in a real sense celebrated in the episode of the last plague, which was considered by the Israelite participants to be decisive to their escape. This seems probable whatever the external structure of that moment of time. But the present story gives us a form of celebration developed over the seven or eight following centuries (12:21-27 appears to derive from the older J stratum; but 12:1-13, 43-49 is of the P character). And this is as it should be in the case of all three rites, since the story is concerned primarily with the meaning of the episode in the life of Israel. Only the developed matured rites could effectively convey what Israel understood to be the meaning of her birth-night: that Yahweh, in this event, made himself known as Lord of life and creation, of time and history. In converting (certainly long after entrance into Canaan) an agricultural festival of unleavened bread celebrating the fertility of nature and a nature-deity into a rite memorializing the action of Yahweh and his Word-to-Moses in history, Israel underscores her faith in the purposive, effective reign of God in time and history. And in relating the rite of dedication of the first-born to that same momentous night, she declares this meaning in her deliverance from Egypt — that the same Yahweh who brought her forth out of Egypt also gives and sustains, and so rightfully owns and possesses, all life.

The Crossing

13:17-14:31

We can be very sure that this little band of escaping ‘Apiru I did not go out "equipped for battle" (see RSV, v. 18). We probably ought to read the text here "by fifties" or "in five divisions." It is a point of the story and surely a fact of the real event that the escape was won in spite of the complete vulnerability of the escapers.

In the Hebrew text, there is no reference to the Red Sea but to the Reed Sea, mentioned first in 10:19, again in 13:18, and repeatedly thereafter. The sea in question, then, was never purported to be the present Gulf of Suez. Unhappily. we have as yet no consensus as to where and what it was, other than the remarkably astute observation that it must have been a body of water in which reeds commonly grew. Was it Lake Sirbonis, east of Egypt and adjacent to the Mediterranean? Or is it not more likely that the crossing took place at the northern end of Lake Timsah or the southern tip of Lake Mensaleh, both bodies of water being situated along the course of the present Suez Canal? We cannot be sure, in part because as yet we have been unable to identify Etham (13:20), Pihahiroth, and Migdol (14:2).

We shall not here attempt to reconstruct Egypt’s pursuit (14:5-21),10 save to insist that the whole episode has been dramatically heightened in keeping with Israel’s sense of its overwhelming significance. It was, by the story’s own admission, "a mixed multitude" (12:38), a conglomerate lot of hangers-on to Egypt’s relatively lush land, some of whom must have been to Egypt more liability than asset. That Ramses II or any other pharaoh of the Eighteenth or Seventeenth Dynasty, put himself in person at the head of his entire complement of chariotry (14:7,9) is, to say the least, improbable.

The story nevertheless comprehends and intends to highlight the tensions of faith and unfaith. We were Pharaoh’s slaves! We lived and we continue to live and relive that experience. We remember the tension because we know the tension now. We recall what we felt, what we always existentially feel — our freedom to serve God is only a dim possibility, the pursuit of which means the abandonment of such security as we have. How can we face the quest of freedom in God’s service when the quest propels us into an existence that is a vacuum, devoid of all the familiar symbols of security, ground to walk on, means of subsistence, and some reasonable assurance of continuity? Let us go back to Egypt. Let us return to life and meaning tangibly supported by human means and human devices, even Egyptian. In the life of faith this tension always exists.

Source critics long ago divided the scene of the dramatic crossing (14:10-31) into J and P (F figures here insignificantly if at all):

J P

21b. And Yahweh drove the sea 21a,c. Then Moses stretched

back by a strong east wind all out his hand over the seas,

night, and made the sea dry and the waters were divided.

land.

24. And in the morning watch 22. And the people of Israel

Yahweh looked down upon the went into the midst of the sea

host of the Egyptians. on dry ground, the waters

25. And clogged [or bound, or being a wall to them on their

caused to bog down] their right hand and on their left.

chariot wheels so that they 23. The Egyptians pursued, and

drove heavily; and the went in after them into the

Egyptians said, "Let us flee midst of the sea, all

from before Israel; for Yahweh Pharaoh’s horses, his

fights for them against the chariots, and his horsemen.

Egyptians." 26. Then Yahweh said to

27b. And the sea returned to Moses, "Stretch out your hand

its wonted flow [the inference over the sea, that the water

is clear: the wind abated and may come back upon the

the water returned to its Egyptians."

customary level] when the 27a. So Moses stretched forth

morning appeared and Yahweh his hand over the sea.

routed the Egyptians in the 28a. The waters returned and

midst of the sea. covered the chariots and the

horsemen and all the host of

Pharaoh.

In J the event is recorded as crucially conditioned by "natural" phenomena — an abnormally low water level at one end of the lake produced by uncommonly strong winds, the return of the water, the Egyptian chariots rendered inoperable by the now miry shallows, and the necessary abandonment of the chase. While P represents an event more impressed with the quality of the miraculous, it is important to acknowledge the fact that both interpretations affirm with equal insistence the decisive role of Yahweh. Essentially the same two interpretations are to be seen combined in the account of the plagues. Incidentally, we shall encounter this motif of the phenomenally dry crossing again in the story of Israel’s entrance into Canaan (Josh. 3:1 ff.; cf. II Kings 2:8).

15:1-21

The climax of the crossing is unambiguous in the present text. This bitterly suppressed people, this company of the lost, this weak, diffuse body suddenly given unity and entity by Yahweh himself, all break forth into a spontaneous hymn of praise, more shout than song, more chant than anthem, more cry of ecstasy than artistic creation (15:21, cf. 15:1):

Sing to Yahweh for he has triumphed gloriously;

The horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea!

The Song of Moses or Miriam (15: 1-18) has usually been taken as a later expansion of the original, very ancient two lines attributed to Miriam in 15: 21, although some have more conservatively maintained the originality and antiquity of the long poem.11 In any case, we affirm its relative antiquity, subject of course to modification (for example, to accommodate the reference to the tenth-century temple in Jerusalem, vv. 13b,17), and its immediate relationship from the beginning to the cultus, to the annual celebration and re-enactment of the event.

In the Wilderness

15:22-17:16

We cannot trace the route of march, nor can we hope to reconstruct the sequence of events. We are unable to define the geographical limits of the wilderness of Shur (15:22) or the wilderness of Sin (16:1, from the name Sinai?).12 And as we have seen, the location of the sacred mountain itself, Sinai/ Horeb, remains uncertain.

The story employs four somewhat random narratives to emphasize the quality of Israel’s existence upon first emerging from Egypt. The first days in the wilderness were days of intense anxiety and crisis over survival. In near panic the first cry — always the first cry in parched lands — is, "What shall we drink?" (15:22-27). It must have been raised repeatedly in the wilderness years (17:7; Num. 20:1-2). This band of escapers also faced the problem of hunger, and the second narrative centers in the cry, "What shall we eat?" (16:1 36). The third episode recounted to illustrate the crisis of survival repeats the motif of the people’s thirst but puts a more sweeping question, "Is Yahweh among us or not?" (17:1-7). The fourth in this series concerns another basic threat to existence, attack from hostile forces (17:8-16).

Was Moses in fact knowledgeable in the art of "healing" unpalatable waters? Did Israel on occasion gather quail near the Mediterranean shore, when, as still happens, they had flown south over the sea to fall exhausted on the ground of northern Sinai? Was their "bread" (manna, RSV 16:15, note; and cf. bdellium, Num. 11:4-9) on occasion a sweet substance found adhering to the tamarask tree, a honey-like sap sucked out by insects to form a fragrant edible gum? Did Moses, wise in nature’s ways, uncover or make available the waters of a natural rock spring? Did he in fact possess the powers of the primitive medicine man, to gain or seemingly to gain by magic means the victory over Amalek?

We cannot but ask these questions, even though no answer is forthcoming. These four episodes have been employed, apparently deliberately in this sequence, for primarily theological reasons — to illustrate simply and effectively the Yahweh-Moses-Israel conquest of the fundamental threats to Israel’s existence in her first breath of independence following her hazardous birth out of Egypt.

18:1-27

Now the story turns, as Israel must have turned, to the crucial matters of consolidation and organization.

Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law, was a Midianite, and more specifically, apparently a Kenite (Judges 1:16). Whether and to what extent the religion of Moses was initially borrowed from the Kenite priest Jethro (a theory long maintained under the designation, the Kenite hypothesis) remains unresolved. But there can be little doubt, in view of chapter 18, that Jethro gave Moses significant advice in matters of civil administration. The parallel, though differing, account in Numbers 11 places full responsibility for this action on Moses and Yahweh; Jethro is not even mentioned. Now if Jethro, the Midianite-Kenite, never served in such a relationship to Moses, it is difficult to understand how and why tradition (in tendency always disposed to magnify the stature of Moses) would create an account giving so decisive a role not simply to another man, but to a non-Israelite. The fact that Moses followed the advice of Jethro (18:13-27) lends support to the general proposition of Israelite Yahwism’s ultimate (if unmeasurable and indefinite) indebtedness to the faith and cultus of Jethro.13

Jethro takes his leave of Moses (18:27). (The parallel narrative in Numbers 10:29-32 records Moses’ urging his father-in-law to stay with them — "you will serve as eyes for us" in the wilderness — thus agreeing in the very positive estimate of Jethro and his relationship to Moses and Israel.) The exodus story now moves on to a block of material centering in events and experiences at the sacred mountain. The act of Israel’s creation-deliverance, offering initially a miserable prognosis and fulfilled against seemingly insuperable odds, is rounded out with the establishment of some order and stability. Yahweh and Yahweh’s Word through Moses have effected the impossible — deliverance from Egypt; salvation from the threats of extinction by thirst, famine, and sword; and now a workable administrative structure adequate to the needs of a group increasingly involved in the problems of a new people, with a new freedom and a new and uneasy responsibility.

 

NOTES:

1. It is essential that the Bible be read in conjunction with this book, since constant reference is made to specific words and passages.

2. Cf. M. Greenberg’s thesis, The Hab/piru, in the American Oriental Series, vol. 39, New Haven, 1955; and A. Alt, Kleine Schrif ten zur Geschichte des Volkes Israel, Munich, 1953, vol. I, pp. 168 ff., 291 ff.; 1959, vol. III, pp. 162 ff.

3. For a description of the continuing modification of the character of Moses in tradition, see G. von Rad, Theologie des Alten Testaments, Munich, 1957, vol. I, pp. 288 ff.

4. From the translation in James B. Pritchard, ed., Ancient Near Eastern Texts, 2nd ed., Princeton, 1955, p. 119. The brackets indicate the translator’s reconstruction of the original text; the parentheses he adds simply for clarity. The translator notes that the meaning of the Akkadian word for "changeling" is doubtful.

5. Cf. J. Pederson, Israel, Copenhagen, 1940, vols. III-IV, pp. 728 ff. Pederson sees Exodus 1-15 as "obviously of a cultic character" aiming at glorifying the god of the people of the paschal (Passover) feast through an exposition of the historical event that created the people" (p. 728). He first expounded this view in "Passahfest und Passahlegende," Zeitschrift fur die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft, 11 (1934), pp. 161-175.

6. Cf. H. Gunkel, The Legends of Genesis, trans. W. H. Carruth, Chicago, 1901; Genesis, in the series Handkommentar zum Alten Testament, 3rd. ed., Göttingen, 1910; What Remains of the Old Testament, trans. A. K. Dallas, London, 1928; and with J. Begrich, Einleitung in die Psalmen, Gottingen, 1933. See, in English, G. von Rad’s Studies in Deuteronomy, in the series Studies in Biblical Theology, London, 1953; and other works of his already cited.

7. M. Noth, Ueberlieferungsgeschichte des Pentateuchs, Stuttgart, 1948. Noth argues convincingly for a pre-J collection of traditional materials.

8. On the name and nature of Yahweh, see W. F. Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity, New York, 1957, pp. 15 ff.; D. N. Freedman, "The Name of the God of Moses," Journal of Biblical Literature, LXXIX (June, 1960), 151 ff.

9. Cf. Pss. 77, 81, 105, 106.

10. Cf. B. D. Napier, Exodus, in the series The Layman’s Bible Commentary, Richmond, 1962.

11. Cf. F. Cross and D. N. Freedman, "Song of Miriam," Journal of Near Eastern Studies, XIV, no. 4 (October, 1955). Cross and Freedman argue that the long poem is in its entirety the "Song of Miriam" and in its original form dates from a time no later than the twelfth century B.C.

12. The two wildernesses of Sin (17:1 and Num. 33:11-12) and Zin (Num. 13:21; 20:1; 27:14; 33:36; 34:3; Deut. 32:51; Josh. 15:1,3) may in reality be one and the same, located south of Judah and embracing Kadesh. The Septuagint assumes the identity of the two.

13. This proposition, the Kenite hypothesis, has had wide acceptance among Old Testament scholars for about a century. For bibliography and an able defense of the hypothesis, see H. H. Rowley, From Joseph to Joshua, London, 1950, pp. 149 ff. For arguments in rejection of the view, see Martin Buber, Moses, New York, 1958 (first published, 1946, pp. 94 ff.)

Introduction

Thus says the Lord.

The Old Testament is a story. It is an expression of the full range of human emotions from exalted or passionate love to bitterest hate. The story has been narrated and written in prose and poetry, song and hymn, liturgy and prayer; it uses allegory, humor, irony, hyperbole, and all other devices to convey its meaning.

It is the story of a people — ancient Israel’s history over a period of some fifteen hundred years. But it is not merely a record of the past, for as the people of Israel told and wrote the story it was continuously re-created as a commentary on the meaning of Israel and the life of its people. Although the events related took place in the centuries long before our era, the meaning Israel found in her own history has had persistent relevance to all subsequent human existence, not only to Judaism but to Islam and Christianity.

It has been common to label the Old Testament as literature, history, or theology, but it is all three and cannot be categorized so simply as to its purpose and form. It offers examples of consummate literary skill; parts can be ranked with the best of the contemporary ancient histories; and nowhere else in all the world’s literature and history is God so consistently and passionately the center of action and contemplation.

But to call the Old Testament literature is to obscure its relationship to the life and faith of a people. The term literature conveys the impression of a single individual independently creating in his own art form. The Old Testament is the product of many individuals using many forms, and the content must be identified not merely with individuals but with an entire people and their faith, for the Old Testament developed out of a spoken "literature," much of it anonymously, corporately, and even spontaneously formed.

To call the Old Testament history distorts its true character, if we think of history as simply a record of the past. Thomas Mann said of myth that, "It is, it always is, however much we may say, it was." And history, too, is recounted and compiled not simply for its "wasness" but for its "isness." A record of the past for its own sake, a past that is not continuous with the present or that has no meaning for the present, is a denial of the true character of history. The Old Testament was created to give expression to a people’s self-understanding, to convey the meaning of their existence. The event of the past evokes little interest in itself, but is recorded as a clue to the meaning of the present.

Old Testament history is even further removed from the rubric of history by the emphasis on the event as a witness in Israel to the one in whom all life has meaning, to whom belong the earth and its fulness, the world, and they who inhabit it. Ancient Israel takes for granted in her story that the determinative factor in all human events and in all creation is outside and above event and time. There is no history merely of men and events, since these are determined by the impingement of God’s life and will on the plane of human history. Thus the Old Testament remains essentially existential and suprahistorical.

Then why not give the Old Testament the primary designation of theology? Even here the emphasis may be misleading. The term suggests a self-conscious preoccupation with the discipline of one "science" or with one organization of reality as opposed to others. In the Old Testament there is no "other." Our distinctions, with their common connotations, of mind and soul, secular and religious, would be incomprehensible in ancient Israel with her prevailing emphasis on the oneness of personality and experience. Man is God’s creature, inhabiting his world, subject to his laws. When the total category of experience is theological, the use of the term becomes misleading.

Thus the Old Testament is literature, history, and theology, and more than these three. Based on faith in the knowledge of God, it is a story of ancient Israel’s life as given form, coherence, and meaning by the life and purpose and power of God — by what the story characteristically calls the Word of God.

The Framework of the Story

The story of the people and the Word tends to group its varied events and numerous components, spanning two thousand years, around four central events, each one radically affecting Israel and, always at least implicitly, the world as well. Each of the four events is seen as a disclosure of the nature and purpose of God acting through the instrument of his Word. Three events are concrete. They occur and are treated in the story in detail from anticipation to realization to reflection.

The first event is the exodus from Egypt. The nucleus of this event is the actual escape of a group of slaves from Egypt in the thirteenth century B.C. But the total event also included the expansive prelude (composed in its final form in full knowledge of the event) and the more expansive sequel, the consequences of the exodus leading finally to the settlement and domination of a new land.

The exodus found a brief "confessional" formulation very early in Israel’s life as a people. "Confessional" is used here in an affirmative sense, as a declaration of faith and recitation of firm belief:

"We were Pharaoh’s slaves in Egypt; and the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand; and the Lord showed signs and wonders, great and grievous, against Egypt and against Pharaoh and all his household, before our eyes; and he brought us out from there, that he might bring us in and give us the land which he swore to give to our fathers. (Deut. 6:21-23)

A similar credo appears in Deuteronomy 26:5-9, with only one significant difference. The second credo begins, rather than ends, with reference to the fathers of Israel, the Patriarchs, and therefore more closely retains the present form contained in the first six books of the Old Testament, from Genesis to Joshua.

A wandering Aramean was my father; and he went down into Egypt and sojourned there, few in number; and there he became a nation, great, mighty and populous. And the Egyptians treated us harshly, and afflicted us, and laid upon us hard bondage. Then we cried to the Lord the God of our fathers, and the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression; and the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great terror, with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.

These are two forms of Israel’s earliest credo. Both forms had wide and continued use at Israel’s sanctuaries as a confession of faith defining Israel’s existence as the purposive creation of God and her present relatively secure environment as his gift to her. (A third, longer variation of the same essential confession of God’s crucial relationship to this event appears in Joshua 24.) The credo constitutes a Hexateuch in miniature (Genesis to Joshua), and provided the original nucleus and outline for the centuries-long process of the production and completion of the Hexateuch.1

The second central event of the Old Testament story is the establishment of the monarchy under David in Jerusalem. If, for the sake of creating convenient chronological pegs, we center the total exodus event in the date 1200 B.C., we can date the David-Jerusalem (or David-Zion) event about 1000 B.C. Saul, from one of the northern tribes in the confederation of Israelite tribes, formed an uneasy and incomplete monarchy in Palestine in the eleventh century B.C. with the help of the prophet-priest Samuel. But it was David, of the southern tribe of Judah, who completed the consolidation and organization of the tribes and took the last hostile Canaanite fortress city, Jerusalem, with its hill of Zion. The actions of David’s son Solomon led to the tragic division of the monarchy with the original tribes seceding from the union with Judah and the Davidic monarchy. The Kingdom of Judah no doubt continued to acknowledge the event of the exodus, but the David-Zion event was celebrated more prominently, and sometimes exclusively, as the primary, creative event by which God indicated his purposive choice and election of his people and in which he established an indestructible covenant.

The David-Zion event was also given expression in the cultus, that is, in the liturgies of the Jerusalem temple which Solomon built upon the hill of Zion. The Lord:

. . .rejected the tent of Joseph,

he did not choose the tribe of Ephraim;2

but he chose the tribe of Judah,

Mount Zion, which he loves.

He built his sanctuary like the high heavens,

like the earth, which he has founded for ever.

He chose David his servant,

and took him from the sheepfolds;

from tending the ewes that had young he brought him

to be the shepherd of Jacob his people,

of Israel his inheritance.

(Ps. 78:67-71)

The Psalm does not question the relationship of David and Mount Zion to all Israel3 In its moods of deepest despair, the Old Testament story finds hope for the future of all Israel in the certainty that God would realize his purpose in the David-Zion covenant with the re-establishment of that rule in some form.

I will establish his line for ever

and his throne as the days of the heavens.

..............................

I will not violate my covenant,

or alter the word that went forth from my lips.

..............................

His line shall endure for ever,

his throne as long as the sun before me.

(Ps. 89:29 ff.)

The third dominating event represents the Word of God effecting harsh judgment in the apparent demise of all Israel. The northern segment of the severed monarchy suffers political execution at the hands of Assyria in the last quarter of the eighth century B.C., and Judah at the hands of resurgent Babylon in the first quarter of the sixth century B.C. In prophetic utterance of that time and in later cultic liturgy, the catastrophe was deemed to be (no less than exodus or Zion) the disclosure and effects of God’s will and power.

Therefore thus says the Holy One of Israel,

"Because you despise this word,

and trust in oppression and perverseness,

and rely on them;

therefore this iniquity shall be to you

like a break in a high wall, bulging out, and about to collapse,

whose crash comes suddenly, in an instant;

and its breaking is like that of a potter’s vessel

which is smashed so ruthlessly

that among its fragments not a sherd is found

with which to take fire from the hearth,

or to dip up water out of the cistern."

(Isa. 30:12-14)

In cultic language, the event is recalled in abject misery in the same Psalm which extols the grace of God in the David-Zion covenant:

Thou hast renounced the covenant with thy servant;

thou hast defiled his crown in the dust.

Thou hast breached all his walls;

thou hast laid his stronghold in ruins.

All that pass by despoil him;

he has become the scorn of his neighbors.

Thou hast exalted the right hand of his foes;

thou hast made all his enemies rejoice.

.....................................

How long, O Lord? Wilt thou hide thyself for ever?

How long wilt thy wrath burn like fire?

(Ps. 89:39 ff.)

The fourth event is and is not a concrete event. It is of an elusive nature. When the story appears ready to identify and affirm this fourth event, it dissipates as event and any affirmative word in the story is projected into the future. The fourth event is concerned with fulfillment, completion, consummation. If God acted and covenanted with Israel with grace and steadfast love in the events of exodus and Zion; if, in order to purify rather than to punish Israel, he put her through the furnace;4 what and when is the end of all this? If this is the story of Israel and the Word, what has this to do with the world? What of the promise, even expectation, of Israel’s blessing to the world? What of the covenant with Israel and the world that cannot really be broken? What of healing, God’s healing — the healing of hate, bitterness, animosity, alienation, hostility, fear, terror, anguish? Can this be the end — a broken Israel in a broken world, with a broken God?

The fourth event never quite comes. Israel’s existence as a political, though not autonomous, entity is re-established in the closing decades of the sixth century B.C., and for a brief moment the event of reconstitution is hailed with eloquent rapture as the fulfilling event (Isa. 40 ff.). And yet at the same time this particular identification of the event is rejected.

Still this undefined consummation remains. It is affirmed in prophetic faith-knowledge even before the third event — the purification. The Word of fulfillment has been spoken:

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,

and return not thither hut water the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,

giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I propose,

and prosper in the thing for which I sent it.

(Isa. 55:10-11)

And what is the nature of the event? The blessing of the families of the earth (Gen. 12: 3). A man "upon the throne of David, and over his kingdom, to establish it, and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore" (Isa. 9:7). The healing of the world’s internal estrangements (Isaiah 11:6-9). The bridging of the chasm between God and man in a redefined and re-created covenant (Jer. 31:31 ff.). The restoration of God’s creation of man symbolized and allegorized in the words:

In that day Israel will be the third with Egypt and Assyria, a blessing in the midst of the earth, whom the Lord of hosts has blessed, saying, "Blessed be Egypt my people, and Assyria the work of my hands, and Israel my heritage."

(Isa. 19:24-25)

And, equally incredibly, the cessation of all fear:

For out of Zion shall go forth the law,

and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.

..........................

nation shall not lift up sword against nation,

neither shall they learn war any more;

but they shall sit every man under his vine and under his fig tree,

and none shall make them afraid;

for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken.

(Mic. 4:2 ff)5

Will this fourth event occur? Can it have real existence in any meaningful form? Is there a real sense in which the fourth event was and is accessible? Has the fourth event an "isness" as well as a "to-be-ness"? The Old Testament answers with a powerful affirmative. If the fourth event is only the stuff of dreams, the three preceding events around which the whole story revolves are meaningless, and the God who speaks and in speaking acts in these events is not only dead — he never was.

 

NOTES:

1. This view of the relationship between credo and Hexateuch originated with G. von Rad in his Das formgeschichtliche Problem des Hexateuch, Munich, 1958, pp. 9 ff. Also see von Rad’s Genesis, trans. J. Marks (From Das Erste Buck Mose, in the series Das Alte Testament Deutsch, vol. II) Philadelphia, 1961, pp. 13 ff.; and M. Noth, Ueberlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien, Tubingen, 1943, pp. 180-182.

2. Joseph and Ephraim represent the tribes of the seceding North.

3. Cf. Ps. 132 and Ezek. 34:23 f.

4. Cf. Isa. 1:25.

5. Cf. Isa. 2:2-4.

Preface

In the common but not the technical sense of the word, this is an introduction to the Old Testament. I have tried to restrain my professional instincts by constant address to the question, "What is essential to a genuine understanding of the Old Testament?" This is a short introduction; and, since every "problem" of Old Testament study is faced only in the context of the Old Testament itself, the method is always inductive. As a short, inductive introduction the emphasis is on meaning and especially on the meaning of the ancient text in the life and faith of that ancient people, Israel.

I hope I have made some suggestions which will be profitable or stimulating to my colleagues in the biblical field. But in writing this book I have had in mind primarily the formal student, both the college and the seminary student. I have also found myself looking into the faces of that diversified company of informal students embracing, for example, my colleagues teaching in other fields, as well as those other friends from all walks with whom I spend sustaining nonworking hours and who, ever and again even in the midst of play, put me back to work with "simple" innocent questions about the Bible. I have also remembered former students at Judson College, Alfred University, the University of Georgia, Wesleyan University in Middletown (in a gratifying interim), the hundreds of men in Yale College who elected Religion 21 a in the decade of the fifties and the more than a thousand men and women at Yale Divinity School who have had no choice. I have remembered gratefully all of these who "saw the movie" and who may have some interest now in "reading the hook." 1 have thought of still others in writing this: Sunday school teachers, that brave breed, who give so much and are so often given too little; and that wonderful, ubiquitous "man in the street" who wants his questions answered without theological indoctrination and in such fashion as to be spared from professional initiation. And always I have found myself in conversation with the working clergyman whose hard and rewarding role I have known in my own parishes and to whom biblical meaning is of the essence.

Whoever reads this must know that it is not and cannot be a substitute for the Old Testament. The reader’s time and my own effort are wasted if this is attempted. The book is conceived and written as a "companion" (that abused word), a knowledgeable companion whose sole reason for existence is to aid in understanding the text of the Old Testament. In the life of learning nothing is so injurious as the usurpation of the role of the subject of instruction by the medium of instruction, whether the medium be the lecturer on the subject or the book about the subject. Here is another reason why this is, as such books go, a short introduction. Many a student in many a course has been discouraged from reading adequately in primary sources by the sheer bulk of the secondary material pushed in his direction. Courses in Bible are, alas, all too often courses about the Bible. Let Old Testament study be the study of the Old Testament.

The reviewer of a previous book of mine very kindly complimented my total appearance in the book but regretted that my "Christian slip was showing." I suspect this condition persists — which is only to say, or which is at least to say, that I affirm the essential continuity of Old and New Testaments. I also insist that the Christian is fundamentally ignorant of the New Testament who does not know and understand the Old. On the other hand, and most emphatically, I have tried here not to reduce the Old Testament — as it never should be — simply to an introduction to the New Testament. For the most part I have left the reader to draw his own conclusions on the relationship in meaning of the Old to the New. The story of ancient Israel is a story worth knowing in and for itself, and the most ardent Christian interpreter does himself and his own faith a disservice if he fails to see this and acknowledge it.

My debts are so extensive as to defy specific acknowledgment, but the range is from my own instructors here, my family, my present colleagues, this university and its students to men in the biblical field in scores of cities in this country, this hemisphere, and around the world.

B. DAVIE NAPIER

Yale University

New Haven, Connecticut

Christmas, 1961

THE SONG OF THE VINEYARD

Let me sing for my beloved

a love song concerning his vineyard:

My beloved had a vineyard

on a very fertile hill.

He digged it and cleared it of stones,

and planted it with choice vines;

he built a watchtower in the midst of it,

and hewed out a wine vat in it;

and he looked for it to yield grapes,

but it yielded wild grapes.

And now, O inhabitants of Jerusalem

and men of Judah,

judge, I pray you, between me

and my vineyard.

What more was there to do for my vineyard,

that had not done in it?

When I looked for it to yield grapes,

why did it yield wild grapes?

And now I will tell you

what I will do to my vineyard.

I will remove its hedge,

and it shall be devoured;

I will break down its wall,

and it shall be trampled down.

I will make it a waste;

it shall not be pruned or hoed,

and briers and thorns shall grow up;

I will command the clouds

that they rain no rain upon it.

For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts

is the house of Israel,

and the men of Judah

are his pleasant planting;

and he looked for justice,

but behold bloodshed;

for righteousness,

but behold, a cry!

ISA. 5:1-7

In that day:

"A pleasant vineyard, sing of it!

I, the Lord, am its keeper;

every moment I water it.

Lest anyone harm it,

I guard it night and day;

I have no wrath.

Would that I had thorns and briers to battle!

I would set out against them,

I would burn them up together.

.............................................

In days to come Jacob shall take root,

Israel shall blossom and put forth shoots,

and fill the whole world with fruit.

ISA. 27:1-5,7

Chapter 4: The Question of Destiny and Some Concluding Comments

A

In this concluding lecture we begin with a discussion of the views of two process-thinkers, Whitehead and Hartshorne, in respect to the destiny of man and what is usually called "immortality". In what way does man and his personality have for these thinkers a permanent place both in the on-going process of creation and in the Divine Activity which undergirds and works through that process? Is it possible to speak in their language of an assurance of "life beyond death"? More generally we shall consider whether a process-thinker can make room for some sort of immortality for men. Or in a better way of putting the question, "Does eternal life have any meaning in terms of process-thought?"

On this subject, there is in fact a great variety of opinion among thinkers whose writing can be placed in the category of process-thought. For example, there is Père Teilhard, who spoke as a convinced Roman Catholic although he was also a distinguished representative of the sort of evolutionary thought we have been expounding. It has been said that Teilhard could not accept in any genuine sense the position of his communion on these matters. I do not believe this to be accurate. Both in The Phenomenon of Man and in The Divine Milieu, Teilhard indicated his conviction that the "end" for which man is intended -- and not only man in the racial sense but each man specifically -- was a relationship with God, conceived as the Omega-point or the goal and end of the creative process as well as the transcendent origin and initiator of that process. This relationship, he claimed, would establish for personality an existence through and beyond the termination of the particular finite existence it now enjoys. He envisaged this destiny for persons as accomplished through union with, but not (as some seem to think he meant) absorption in, "the Christ who is to be". The cosmic Christ will "include" within himself all things and all persons who thus become his "body", but they will not be "lost" in him; in "the end" they are to be the truly personal means through whom he expresses himself as the fulfillment of all in all.

Again, Lloyd-Morgan, who was also an avowed Christian, in the last chapters of his Gifford Lectures affirmed that the individuality which emerges at the human level is not an ephemeral phenomenon in the cosmos. On the contrary; for through the ongoing Nisus of the creation, which for him is the work of the Eternal Word or (in our language) the Divine Activity, there is a realization of the full potentiality of each individual. Lloyd-Morgan did not discuss the problem at length but it may be said that his view certainly leaves the door open for some conception of immortality. How the conception would be spelled out we do not discover.

We turn now to Professor Whitehead. We find a fairly full statement of his views in the Ingersoll lecture on Immortality, which has been included in the volume Essays in Science and Philosophy. (A.N. Whitehead: Essays in Science and Philosophy (Rider & Co. London. 1948).This lecture we shall summarize in a few minutes. But we should note that Professor Charles Hartshorne, the outstanding contemporary exponent of Whiteheadian thought, is himself not prepared to concede that Whitehead’s position, nor his own development of that position, lead necessarily to the belief in a personal immortality. Hartshorne cannot be said to rule out this belief, but he feels that there are serious problems in it; we shall also speak of these later. His considered treatment of the question of destiny and immortality may be found in his contribution to the Tillich festschrift(["A Philosopher’s Assessment of Christianity" in Religion and Culture: Essays in Honor of Paul Tillich, Ed. W. Leibrecht (S.C.M. Press, London, 1959; Harper & Row, New York]) and in a chapter entitled "Time, Death, and Everlasting Life" in The Logic of Perfection.

Whitehead’s approach to the question is made through an analysis of the two "realms" of "activity" and of "value". We have seen in a previous lecture that process-thought is not content with the kind of dichotomy between fact and interpretation which has long been popular in some rationalist circles. Whitehead is clear on the point. He insists on the importance of the "feeling-tones", the aesthetic element in all experience, and the reality of human experiences of value. For him these are a genuine part of total experience, quite as real and quite as significant as the experience of the so-called primary qualities. Furthermore, he is highly critical of the sort of philosophical procedure which would abstract these interpretative elements from our confrontation with given fact. In the sheer given-ness of presentational immediacy coupled with causal efficacy -- in things as we actually experience them -- both fact and meaning are given together. Or as he puts it, there is no such thing as entirely uninterpreted fact, any more than there is any such thing as an "action" in the world which has no valuation judgement attached to it in the complex reality of human experience.

Since this is true, it is also apparent that when the occasions which appear or occur in the world-process make their contribution to the divine experience, by being received into the consequent aspect of deity, they are received as much more than mere abstractions or bare data without valuational warmth. In the actual and concrete event of their occurring, they have carried with them in their organic richness the worth that they have been thought or found to possess: that is intrinsic to their very occurrence. They have been "valued" because in some sense they were "valuable". ‘They have served a purpose which included an aesthetic element. Further, they have known some genuine satisfaction of their subjective aim. When therefore they are taken into the consequent aspect of deity, to be used in the furthering of God’s purpose in creation, they are not bare "things", but full and rich and "valuable" occasions -- and routing of occasions -- in one degree or another. It is true that the world is characterized by what Whitehead called "the perishing of occasions"; that is, the specific concrete events of which the world is made up do not abide as such. They have played their part in the process and have been employed to provide the opportunity for further advance; they no longer can be said to "exist", once this task is accomplished. Yet there is something that does abide. This is the worth of such occasions; and it must be remembered that that worth is itself not abstract or "ideal". Value is not, so to say, naked or unclothed -- for all value requires factuality for its existence, just as all factuality is possessed of value.

Thus Whitehead can speak of what has been called by Hartshorne the "divine memory". There is of course "objective immortality" in the sense that the several occasions, as they have come into being, realized their aim, and then "perished" as the process moves on, have made their specific contribution to the enrichment of the whole process and have been used by the Divine Activity in establishing fuller good in wider participation. Beyond this, in the life of God himself -- that is, in his consequent aspect which is always in deepest inter-relationship with the world in its becoming -- these several occasions or events, with all their worth or value -- and also with recognition of whatever "unworth" or dis-value may have marked them -- are not altogether lost. They are "remembered", and this in the most serious sense. For God to "remember" does not mean anything like a simple recollection of that which is now past and done with. On the contrary, it means that those events and occasions have so much entered into and so much become part of Deity in his consequent aspect -- providing new possibilities for relationship, new opportunities for creative advance, new chances for the bringing into actuality of genuine and richer good- -- that they are in some deep and real sense integral to the divine life itself.

The further question, of whether this kind of "memory" which preserves the reality of such valued data in the divine life, also carries with it what we might describe as subjective immortality, is not discussed in Whitehead’s essay. It is true that in Religion in the Making Whitehead remarked that his doctrine "is entirely neutral on the question of immortality" in the subjective sense.(Religion in the Making, p.111.) It is also true that in the Dialogues, Price quotes Whitehead as saying,

"Insofar as man partakes of this creative process does he partake of the divine, of God, and that participation is his immortality, reducing the question of whether his individuality survives the death of the body to the estate of an irrelevancy."(Lucien Price: The Dialogues of Alfred North Whitehead, pp. 370f. [Frederick Muller Ltd. London]).

But as we shall see, a more positive view is possible.

Something of this sort does come under consideration by Professor Hartshorne. He accepts the Whiteheadian position that in the sense we have noted occasions never wholly perish and that they make their specific contribution to the ongoing process as this is gathered up in, and used by, God in the furthering of his purpose of shared good. He feels that there are no compelling philosophical arguments which would lead one to move on to, or on the other hand to reject, the conception of subjective, or as he calls it "personal", immortality for men. But he is himself inclined to reject personal immortality on the ground that to wish for it is to indulge in a kind of selfishness which refuses to accept and rejoice in any accomplishment of goodness or truth or beauty unless "I" can have a personal share in its triumph. For Hartshorne, much of the usual argument for personal immortality seems to reduce to a sort of "dog-in-the-manger attitude to the universe; and since the basic drive through the entire created order is unselfish action towards fuller good, this attitude appears to him to be in flat contradiction to the purpose of creation. The sheer fact of the achievement of the good, linked as it is with the wonderful enrichment of the divine experience through such achievement, ought to be enough. The achievement is "for the greater glory of God" as being himself supreme and all-inclusive love. A man who sees this accomplished and delights in God’s "greater glory" should be sufficiently satisfied, Hartshorne thinks, without wishing that he himself "continue" and thus that he too may enjoy the beatitude which has been achieved.

It seems to me that Hartshorne has here permitted his justifiable dislike of certain popular ways of envisaging the possibility of immortality to dominate his thinking. The sort of approach which he condemns is indeed self-centered to an unfortunate degree and may even be said to be self-condemned. Yet there may be other ways of thinking of immortality. May not "eternal life" provide a better conception? In any event, keeping entirely on the level of speculative discussion, is it not possible to follow consistently the line of thought advanced by Whitehead and accepted by Hartshorne himself and then go on to say something like the following? Precisely because God is love and precisely because the achievement of greater good, especially through the activity of such personalized occasions as man may be said to be, is in itself a good, may not the achieved good include the agency by which it was achieved? May not the satisfaction of the subjective aim which is specifically human include as a necessary consequence some sort of persistence of the creaturely agent, and cannot this persistence itself enhance the ongoing process? Will not this in fact provide more ways in which the creative good can be both expressed and enjoyed?

This certainly should not mean a crudely individualistic notion of "glory for me", such as we associate with some sectarian Christian groups. It might very well suggest the rich conception of a "communion of saints" in which there is a joy that is shared in "widest commonalty", in and with God, as he rejoices in the growing good that thus becomes the further occasion for delight not only to himself but to other subjects of experience.

However this may be, it is apparent that there is not now, there never has been, and there never will be, any strictly logical demonstration of what the Christian is talking about when he speaks not so much of immortality as of "eternal life" and above all when he declares his faith in "resurrection". Process-thought, however, has made a very useful contribution by indicating that in one sense at least "there shall never be one lost good", since God accepts into himself, distils the worth or value from, and is able to use for his own loving purpose, every actual occasion in the created world. God participates intimately in his world and his world makes its contribution to God. This double movement delivers the creation from frustration and futility. Obviously (so I think) Christian faith must say something more; but the more that it says is not in contradiction to this conception of human and cosmic destiny. Rather it gives that conception an even fuller significance and a wider application.

Finally, what can be said of "the end of all things"? The insistence of process-thought on the ongoing movement of creativity, with the new emergent occasions and the accomplishment of good in every part of the world in spite of (and even in a way because of) the lags, the backwaters, and the maladjustments, would suggest that there is in fact no end. As it is the nature of God to be creative and as it is the nature of the world to offer a creative possibility for the Divine Activity, we may conclude that for process-thinkers to speak of an "end", in the chronological sense, would be to deny the very presuppositions from which they start. But that this epoch -- this particular given process known to us in its particular configurations -- will come to an end would seem indeed to be highly likely. If and when this particular epoch has reached its conclusion, with all the good extracted from it that a living and loving God can put into it and get out of it, we might well envisage other epochs in which other kinds of good are to be achieved. All this, however, is in the nature of sheer speculation. What we know here is the "increasing purpose" which runs through our epoch; we may rightly presume that this purpose is the same as that which will run through any and every epoch which could or which may appear. For God is God, whatever his particular activity in this or that place and time, or epoch, may be. To say that God is God is to say that he is always active, living, "moving out" to express his nature, rejoicing in every expression of it, tenderly and compassionately entering into relationship with every finite occasion to give it a similar joy in actualizing all that may possibly be available for it, and accepting into himself all that is achieved in the world. If something like this may legitimately be asserted on the basis of a philosophical world-view such as process-thought has developed, we have reason to be grateful. If we are Christians, we have reason to think that such assertions have a very important bearing on the validity of the faith by which we live: that God is indeed Love and that he has manifested this love in Jesus Christ, to the end that we may live through him.

B

In these lectures we have been attempting a presentation of some of the major assertions of contemporary process-philosophy which have particular relevance for Christian faith. Our presentation has sought to be objective, so far as this was possible; at any rate no effort has been made to twist these assertions in a specifically Christian direction. Our concern has been simply to indicate what process-thought in a general way has to tell us about God, the world, the nature of man and society, coupled with some discussion of its references to the historical figure of Jesus and its way of envisaging the destiny of man both in and beyond his present mortal existence. It has been our contention, however, that this way of looking at things is of special interest to the Christian theologian; and now and again this has been noted in the context of some given assertion of process-thought. In concluding the lectures, I should like to suggest that process-thought requires supplementation from at least three other areas of contemporary study and to urge that this supplementation will make it even more interesting to Christian thinkers.

First, I believe that it must be related to the existentialist outlook which is so prominent today both in Europe and in North and South America. Here I have especially in mind the insistence of existentialism on the involvement of the self in every interpretation of the meaning of the world, a point with which existentialist thinkers from Kierkegaard to Jaspers, Marcel, Sartre, and Heidegger have been much concerned. We have all come to see that theoretical detachment or the attempt at that sort of "objectivity" which includes no personal commitment is not in fact possible for man in any of the ultimate situations of life. Now this necessity for commitment is in no way alien to the general line taken in process-thought. Professor Hartshorne, for example, in a notable essay(In the American Journal of Religion, April 1957.) has shown that there are many points of similarity between the thought of Whitehead and that of N. Berdyaev, the Russian existentialist thinker of the period between the two great wars. Furthermore, it can be shown, I think, that the insistence of process-thinkers on the "aesthetic" aspect in the world and in human experience, as well as the stress they put on the place of "decision" (at all levels from the sub-atomic to the human and divine) in bringing into actuality the various conceptual possibilities available for the world, represents a sort of metaphysical grounding for the more experiential insistence of the existentialists to whom we have referred. Teilhard is interesting here, with his talk of the "outside" and the "inside" of events. The importance in process-thought of inter-relationship and participation -- or an organic and societal view -- is another indication of similarity of outlook, for existentialism today (as in Heidegger) is emphatic on the "with-world" of our experience. We may conclude that in any use which is made of process-thought by Christian thinkers, due recognition must be given to the centrality of commitment for a viable statement of the meaning of man’s existence and the significance of the world of nature and history in which that existence occurs. Existentialist ideas are so well-known today that we need not dwell longer on this first point.

But the second emphasis, again one with which process-thought has many points of contact, will require longer discussion. I am now referring to the newer ways of understanding the meaning of history. There was a time when history was regarded as a cold and detached recording of events in the past; the job of the historian was to discover, so far as possible, "what had happened" and then to set this down in an appropriate series of entries in what really amounted to a kind of account-book. Today we find, however, that the nature of history is interpreted very differently indeed. History is no longer understood as a collection of dates, a dry series of chronicles; it is "the story of how we got this way", as I have often quoted from my old teacher Professor Frank Gavin. It is an entrance into the past, a re-living of the past, an imaginative participation in all the occurrences which have brought a given group or society, a given nation or culture, even the whole human race, to the place in which it now stands.

Still more interesting is the fairly recent discussion of the meaning of history which has pointed to something very like the ancient Jewish idea of "remembrance". We have known for a long time that the ancient Israelite believed that through certain actions or rites he was able to be present at, and actually share in, the events of the past which had created his people’s life and thus had made him what as a member of that nation he was: a man who belonged to "the chosen people of God". Thus at the annual Passover meal, for example, he did not simply join with his family to "look back" at the deliverance of the Jews from the hands of the Egyptians, with all that this may have involved as a matter of chronological record. Rather, at that meal he himself, as a member of the Jewish people, was being delivered afresh and was made a living participant in the event in the past which, as he understood it, God had wrought for his people. Much contemporary treatment of history has put just such an emphasis on anamnesis; much is said about the vital entrance of the historian into the past, a participation which has the effect of making that past come alive again in the present. This is not taken to mean that the historian need not at all concern himself with what were actually the facts as they occurred. He must endeavor to discover, so far as this is possible, the precise way in which those events in the past did take place. But the events are never "bare" events; they always have a meaning. Hence once he has recovered the events, the real historian must himself seek to enter into and live through those events, and in his writing about them he must seek continually to relate the meaning which they contain to the life of those who followed and indeed to man’s continuing experience up to the present day.

Furthermore, the contemporary historian is aware, as never before have historians been, of the remarkably complex nature of historical events. Indeed he may be said to share something of the process-thinker’s view that events are organic societies. No event has occurred in isolation. The sound historian must take account of what went before the event, of what was environmental to the event, of what was consequent upon the event. All this enters into the constantly expanding historical picture. It is impossible to understand in a serious fashion a specific historical occurrence -- say, the Norman Conquest of 1066 or the American Revolution of the 1770’s -- without the fullest awareness of the rich variety of contributory factors which provided the preparation for, were related to, and resulted from this or that particular or "dated" moment or happening. This is why the historian’s job is never completely finished and why new insight into historical events is continually leading to the writing of new "history". Once again, we are coming to see that events, in their remarkable richness, are societal in still another sense. Man is a "social animal" and what happens takes place in his social situation, with his fellows. Nothing in the realm of history happens to man as a "rugged individual", for no man is ever that. But it is also the case that events have a natural setting; there is, so to say, a geography of events. This cannot be neglected by the historian. Historical occurrences do not appear like the acting out of a drama on the neutral stage of nature, whatever certain recent biblical theologians may have seemed to suggest to the contrary. History and nature, nature and history, are inter-related most intimately and directly; and although much may be wrong with Professor Toynbee’s discussion of history, he is surely right in insisting that climate, situation, and natural phenomena in all their great variety have played a genuine role in what he describes as the "challenge-and-response theme which for him is the basic historical motif. It is hardly necessary to point out how all this is intimately related to the general position which, as we have seen, is adopted by process-thinkers.

Finally, as a third field of study with which process-thought must be related, I mention the new psychologies stemming from the work of Freud and Jung. Here I venture on a more detailed consideration, because these psychologies, despite their present differences and disagreements, have opened up to us a whole new dimension of experience and understanding which has to do with the profound depths of human existence in its emotional, valuational, conational, and intellectual aspects. We know a good deal more today about "what is in man" than we could claim to know half or even a quarter of a century ago. We have a better grasp of human motivations, the complex nature of human emotions, the development of personality and its dynamics, and the like. This new knowledge can be very disturbing, since it will not permit us to rest in older judgmental attitudes and demands of us new ways of evaluating the actions which spring from and are related to these startling "depths" in each human life.

Yet it is clear that any attempt to speak meaningfully of man and his place in the world must take this new material most seriously into the reckoning. And here again we find striking similarities with certain aspects of process-thought, especially in the stress which we have noted on "feeling-tones" and on the aesthetic element both in our experience and in the world at large. Furthermore, the portrayal in process-thought of man as an organism, inclusive of mental and emotional as well as physiological functioning, has a close relationship to the psychosomatic picture of man universally held by modern psychologists. It is impossible here to develop this theme more fully, nor is the lecturer competent to make the attempt; but we know that quite revolutionary changes in our traditional notions about human behavior have already taken place and even more revolutionary changes are likely to take place when the discoveries of depth-psychology and psycho-somatics have been given their proper recognition.

As a single example, we may mention one area which is already undergoing change. I refer to the meaning and modus operandi of man’s sexuality, to which we referred briefly in our last lecture. Our understanding of sex in the narrower sense of genital activity and in the wider sense of relationship with others has been so altered in recent years that the assumed fixity of thought in this area, with reference to auto-erotism, homo-erotism, and hetero-erotism, along with the related fixity which has been traditionally accepted in respect to judgements upon the right or wrong ways of sexual expression, has been shown to be indefensible by any intelligent standards. In consequence we find ourselves in a period of great fluidity in our understanding of moral criteria and their reference to man’s sexual life.

We have already discussed in our last lecture the emergent nature of man, the meaning of his subjective aim, and his intended destiny in terms of his self-realization under the loving action of God -- all this as understood in process-thought. A few comments may now be made about moral standards, as depth psychology illuminates that process portrayal of man; and our illustration, as we have indicated, will be from the area of man’s sexual expression.

The conception of God as primarily loving creative activity, so strongly emphasized in process-thought, fits in admirably with the dominant motif of much that psychology tells us about man’s sexual drive. If God is love, and has demonstrated this by his loving action in the world, the responsive action of men is also characterized by love. This love is indeed a response to God, but it is expressed not only and perhaps not chiefly directly towards him, but in human relations with fellow-men. Such relations have of necessity a sexual quality; this is made abundantly clear by psychological study.

The emphasis on love, with its sexual overtones, does not rule out the usefulness of moral law, but it most emphatically restricts such law to the role of guidelines or to a generally agreed consensus on ways in which love may best be expressed in human behavior and human relations. When one couples this with what we have said earlier about man’s freedom, the openness to the future which is before each of us and all of us, and the importance of decision as to choices made, the moral question is radically transformed from obedience to arbitrary command to willing acceptance of the invitation of love. In other words, much that is said by the so-called "new morality", so much denigrated by traditionalists, is closer to the facts about man in his actual human and cosmic situation than a morality which is essentially restrictive and negative. Recent writers on "situational ethics" and "contextual ethics" seem to have understood this; and we are much indebted to them for taking the first step in a reconception of the meaning of morality, a task which is as important and necessary as the reconception of Christian theology.

As we have said, it is very likely that the area of sexual morality is central here, not only because it has to do with a problem of such striking contemporary relevance but because it follows from the significant role which sexuality plays in the total pattern of human life. We have noted that we are witnessing today a violent revulsion from traditional sexual morality which it is felt did not do justice to the nature of man. It is inevitable that there will be confusion and uncertainty, perhaps for a number of years, before some agreement can be reached on what should replace that older morality. The meaning of sexual relations, within and outside marriage, as well as more unusual sexual attitudes and behavior, like homosexuality, will need to be reconsidered. What will be the final conclusion is by no means clear as yet. However, some points seem already to be obvious. The human expression of sexuality is always indicative of the personal quality of those who engage in such activity; and sexual acts which help to develop genuine personal life, but without destroying or damaging healthy human social relationships, must be evaluated in terms of the tenderness, mutuality, and faithfulness they display, even if they may seem to violate some inherited code. Such codes, like the Sabbath, were made for man, not man for the codes; and the final criterion of "rightness" must be the degree to which sexual self-expression in mutuality can play its part in freeing man from bondage to that which holds back or prevents his movement to realize the subjective aim of full manhood. Certainly in this context the family is always to be regarded as a means for the enhancing and not the restricting of human personality-in-relationship.

In other areas of human behavior, similar principles are beginning to emerge. The "welfare state", for example, is an expression of a wide concern for love in relationship, but always with freedom guaranteed to the persons who constitute the society. In still another area, the treatment of criminals and the steps necessary to remove delinquency (perhaps especially among young people), we see once again an awakening of the spirit of loving understanding, with the intention of amelioration where there cannot be some prior averting of antisocial conduct. The role of punitive justice and retribution is more and more rejected. Here, as elsewhere, many will say that this means that modern society is removing all rules and becoming merely "permissive". But as we are taught by our deepening insight into the dominant role of love in the world and the central place of man’s response to that love, and as a consequence of our better understanding of human nature in its psychological depths, we are beginning to see ever wider implications of the truth that God wills and works for men to become men and in freedom to act like men. This means to become and to act like God, who himself is love-in-action. The contribution of the psychological experts has been enormous here, and any sound statement of the meaning of human life, like any implementation of that meaning in personal existence and in social relationships, must be influenced by this contribution.

As we now come to the end of these lectures, let me then reiterate my belief that Christian theologians who are prepared to use process-thought in the task of reconception of Christian faith are required also to give due recognition to the three emphases with which we have just been concerned: to existentialism, to history in its new meaning, and to the insights of modern psychological enquiry. Perhaps it is fair to say that as a matter of fact it has been the theologians who adopt an evolutionary perspective who have also been most inclined to welcome this newer knowledge, although it is of course true that theologians of other persuasions have also been prepared to employ (to a greater or less degree) the findings of one or other of those schools of thought.

What is needed today, I believe, is the radical attempt to work Out a theological pattern for Christian faith which is in the main influenced by process-philosophy, while at the same time use is made of what we have been learning from the existentialist’s insistence on engagement and decision, the understanding of history as involving genuine participation and social context, and the psychologist’s awareness of the depths of human emotional, conational, and rational experience. It is to be hoped that those who engage in the task will remember that this attempt would necessarily be an essay in reconception, making no pretence to being conclusive or exhaustive. But a considerable number of such experiments would be of great value in furthering the perennial task of thinking-through once again what it means to "confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father".

Now what is this Christian faith? Here we must acknowledge our indebtedness to the work of theologians like Karl Barth, Emil Brunner, and others of the so-called "neo-orthodox" reaction of the years 1930-50. Some of us -- certainly I myself -- feel that their position is disastrously one-sided and their dismissal of philosophy incredibly narrow. Yet we must admit that through their work we have learned to take very seriously the total biblical story, reading with deeper insight the truths which are there stated not in propositions but in the events of history and in the response made to those events in the experience of men and women immersed in the ordinary affairs of daily life. And again, through the work of other scholars like Bultmann and Buri, with their frank recognition of the mythological element in the biblical story, we have come to see that the affirmations of Scripture have their abiding significance, not in spite of, but precisely because of their being stated in language which can only be described as highly metaphorical. We have learned to read with sympathy and understanding the meaning that is in and behind the "myth". We cannot rest content with the myth itself, in its literal sense; but we can get at what the myth was saying, and saying in a manner appropriate to its time and place. We have come to see, as a matter of fact, that religious assertion by its very nature is inevitably couched in such metaphorical, symbolical, if you will poetical, language; and that all deep faith must express itself in this way if it is to express itself at all.

Thus we are prepared to grant that the Christian faith is told through a story or drama. It is a story that has to do with the human life of Jesus Christ, understood in the light of all that preceded and prepared for his appearance, and apprehended for what it really signified through an awareness of what followed upon it and was nourished and empowered by his appearance in history. This faith, which sees Jesus as revelation of God in action in history, rests upon the commitment of men to the life which the story unfolds, or rather, to the person of Jesus himself -- grasped in the depths of each man s existence as being what Whitehead said it was: "the revelation of the nature of God and of his agency in the world".

The fact of Christ, thus known in total commitment, has led to a way of thinking, of feeling, of doing, of living, which is marked by his Spirit and informed by a sense of his continuing presence and power in the world. The implications of this commitment in faith to fact, or (as we might say) in engagement of life with the historic, crucified, and "risen" Lord, have been worked out in Christian theology within the context of the communal life of the Christian fellowship and through the worship and obedience which are the expression of Christian discipleship. It is this faith which requires theological reconception in our own day; and some of us are convinced that process-thought, coupled with the other contributions to which I have referred, is most likely to help us in this task.