In the Arms of Biblical Women 9781463202316, 1463202318

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In the Arms of Biblical Women

Biblical Intersections

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This series explores biblical literature as a product and a reflection of the world in which it was produced. In addition to studies that take an historical approach, monographs and edited collections also examine the biblical text from alternative perspectives, including social-scientific, theological, literary, and cultural studies approaches.

In the Arms of Biblical Women

Edited by

John T. Greene Mishael M. Caspi

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34 2013

Gorgias Press LLC, 954 River Road, Piscataway, NJ, 08854, USA www.gorgiaspress.com Copyright © 2013 by Gorgias Press LLC

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise without the prior written permission of Gorgias Press LLC. 2013

‫ܙ‬

9

ISBN 978-1-4632-0231-6

ISSN 1943-9377

A Cataloging-in-Publication Record is Available from the Library of Congress.

Printed in the United States of America

TABLE OF CONTENTS Table of Contents ..................................................................................... v Abbreviations .......................................................................................... vii Prolegomenon. With Sudden Passion, Sudden Pain: In the Arms of the Biblical Women ............................................. 1 Mishael M. Caspi and John T. Greene Creating Eve: Feminine Fertility in Medieval Islamic Narratives of Eve and Adam ................... 27 Zohar Hadromi-Allouche Hagar as a Bad Mother, Hagar as an Icon of Faith: The Hagar Narratives from the Islamic and the Christian Traditions Discussed among Muslim and Christian Women in Norway ........................................................................ 65 Anne Hege Grung The Biblical Matriarch Sarah as Conceived by Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí in His Work Me’am Lo’ez (1730)— A Ladino Commentary on the Book of Genesis ..................... 79 Alisa Meyuhas Ginio On Naming and Blaming: Hagar’s God-talk in Jewish and Early Christian Sources ........................................ 97 Marianne Bjelland Kartzow The Concubine of Gibeah: The Case for Reading Intertextually .........................................121 Naomi Graetz Convert, Prostitute, or Traitor? Rahab as the Anti-Matriarch in Contemporary Biblical Interpretations ................................145 Suzanne Scholz Guilty Pleasures: Hearing Susanna’s Story Intoned by Leonard Cohen .......................................................179 Ruthanne Wrobel Mothers of the Nation as Pounds of Flesh ......................................195 Azila Talit Reisenberger v

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That’s What She Said: A “One-Flesh” Dynamic in Genesis 12–22 .........................................................................213 Sophia Magallanes Daring Women .....................................................................................221 Mishael M. Caspi Judah’s Tamar Through a Psychological Lens, The Testimony of the Bible and Qur’an..................................249 J. Harold Ellens Virginity as Sagacity and Wisdom ......................................................249 John Tracy Greene Why Didn’t Ruth the Moabitess Raise Her Child? “A son is born to Naomi” (Ruth 4:17) ....................................281 Yitzhak (Itzik) Peleg Lilith and the Future of Biblical Humanism ...................................301 Anthony Swindell Hannah’s Song of Praise As Paradigm for the “Canticle of the Virgin” (Magnificat) ..........................319 Max Stern

ABBREVIATIONS KJV L.A.B. b. Sanh. b. Zabim. Gen. Rab. Yal. ’Abot R. Nat. LXX Pirqe R. El. RSV YHWH PBUH Tanach

The Holy Bible, King James Version Liber Antiquitatum Biblicarum (Pseudo-Philo) Babylonian Talmud Tractate Sanhedrin Babylonian Talmud Tractate Zevabim Genesis Rabbah Yalkut (Shimoni) ’Abot de Rabbi Nathan The Septuagint Pirqe de Rabbi Eliezer The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version The tetragrammaton or Four Letters that signify the holy name of God Peace Be Upon Him (Said by Muslims after the name of the Prophet Muhammad has been pronounced) Torah, Nevi’im Uketuvim (the Hebrew Scriptures/Bible)

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PROLEGOMENON WITH SUDDEN PASSION, SUDDEN PAIN: IN THE ARMS OF THE BIBLICAL WOMEN MISHAEL M. CASPI AND JOHN T. GREENE A. SHE WAS JEALOUS Sarah was crushed and cruel a woman when her womb was soft with son call her the laughing one Edna Aphek, “Sarah,” Yishai Tobin tr. in David Curzon, ed. Modern Poems on the Bible: An Anthology, (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1994.)

The Bible revolves around people and their passions. Passionate love, passionate jealousy, faith, beauty, and betrayal. The characters portrayed there are as full of contemporary emotion and confusion and equally as pertinent as any figure in Western tradition— historical, fictional, or mythic. Two sisters vie for the love of a man. A widow transformed her solitude into the birthright of kings. A mother comes between brothers to empower her beloved son, and find there the image of a beautiful young girl. A mistress misleads her lover in order to avenge her nation and above all of these women who dare to go their own way for the sake of their people and even for all of humanity. In fact stories from the Bible make for a great series of epic sagas or even soap operas. 1

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Each of these women is a unique person. She takes part in the narrative; named or unnamed, she is fully present. Even when the narrator mentions her a propos, she is present. This is her power as heroine. Yet, it is hard to write about her. There are different characters and their role in the plot is also different. We cannot compare the role of Sarah to that of Rebecca, or the role of Michal, the daughter of King Saul, to the role of another princess, Tamar. However, one can find some similarities between them. Sarah wanted her son, Isaac, to be the heir and stood against her husband, requesting him to cast out the son of the other woman, Ishmael. The storyteller does not say anything about her cruelty. To help him, he brings God to the scene stating: … in all that Sarah hath said unto thee, hearken unto her voice; for in Isaac shall thy seed be called. (Gen 21:12)

Jewish sages could not see Sarah as an evil and cruel person who is willing to cast out a woman and her child to the unknown. Thus, they searched for reasons which would be easier for their contemporary hearers to comprehend. They interpret Sarah’s action saying: … R. Akiva expounded: The verse (m.21:10) implies that Sarah saw Ishmael build altars, catch locusts and offer them with incense to an idol … Simon b. Yohai expounded: Ishmael’s “making sport” (metsa-heq, Gen 21:9) has to do with inheriting Abraham’s estate.1

In Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, we read another reason for casting out the woman and the child. Ishmael was born with a bow, as it is said, “And God was with the lad and he grew … and he became an archer” (Gen 21:20). He took bow and arrow and began to shoot at the birds. He

Bialik and Ravnitzky, W. Brande, tr. The Book of Legends/ Sefer HaAggadah, (New York: Schocken, 1992), p. 39. See also Gen. Rab. 53:11. 1

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saw Isaac sitting by himself and he shot an arrow at him to slay him. Sarah saw and told Abraham.2

In this way, Sarah was not the cruel one, but one who protected her son either from following the way of idol worship or from death by the villainous Ishmael. The sages also point out her modesty and her beauty. With the birth of Isaac, God added brilliance to the world and the planets rejoiced. This was the way the sages viewed Sarah’s life and they went out of their way to make her the most righteous woman. In fact, the biblical storyteller does not offer us any of this. In his story, Sarah is quite a submissive woman, who plays a role only in two scenes. One scene is when she lied to God: Then Sarah denied saying, I laughed not, for she was afraid … (Gen 18:15)

No one among the sages pointed out her lying to God. Some scholars have mentioned her merit in speaking directly to God, while we see this not as a merit, but as an act of deceiving God. The other roles she plays are related to her relationship with Hagar. In the first one (Gen 16), the storyteller accentuates Sarah’s role in the dialogue between the two, as he presents: S … go unto my maid; it may be that I may obtain children by her … (and he went in unto Hagar … her mistress was despised in her eyes.) S. The wrong done me be upon thee, I have given my maid into thy bosom … I was despised in her eyes, the Lord judge between me and thee. A. Behold thy maid is in thy hand, do to her as it pleaseth thee (And when Sarai dealt hardly with her, she fled from her face.) (Gen 16:2,5,6)

Indeed, by law, Hagar was a part of Sarah’s property. As such, she had the right to cast her out. But here, Hagar avoids this by becoming a fugitive. The righteous woman described by the sages is not presented to the reader of the biblical text. 2

Pirqe R. El. 30. See also, Yalkut, Gen 94; Gen. Rab. 53:11.

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MISHAEL M. CASPI AND JOHN T. GREENE In the New Testament we read: Now I say that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing from a servant, though to be lord of all … Tell me, ye that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law? For it is written, that Abraham had two sons, the one by a bondmaid, the other by a freewoman. But he who was of the bondwoman was born after the flesh; but he of the freewoman was by promise. Which things are an allegory: for these are the two covenants; the one from the mount Sinai; bearing children for bondage, which is Hagar. For this Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia, and answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children. But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all. (he-tis es-tin me-ter hemwn) (Gal 4:1,21–31)

In his allegorical interpretation, Paul saw Sarah and Hagar as the two covenants, Israel and the true Israel. Sarah, the free woman, is the true Israel. Does he accentuate the split between Judaism and Christianity or does he speak especially about the Galatians who included both Jews and pagans? In many ways, he follows the Jewish tradition which accepts the idea that Sarah and Hagar are two matriarchs of two people. He emphasizes: Nevertheless, what saith the scripture? Cast out the bondwoman and her son: for the son of the bondwoman shall not be heir with the son of the freewoman. So then, brethren, we are not children of the bondwoman, but of the free. (Gal 4:30,31)

In the 3rd century CE, Tertullian responded to Paul’s interpretation, stating: … the one from Mount Sinai referring to the synagogue of the Jews … in all this the apostle has clearly shown that the noble dignity of Christianity has its allegorical type and figure of the

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son of Abraham born of a free woman, while the legal bondage of Judaism has its type in the son of the bondmaid. 3

It is clear that Tertullian identifies Sarah with the Church, and as such, he views Hagar as identified with the synagogue. Thus, his view serves as an image of the subordination of Judaism to Christianity. In the same way, Origen brings to light the idea that the Church is replacing the people of Israel: the New Israel is replacing the Old Israel. He also uses the same allegory: Christianity is Sarah and Judaism is Hagar. Both negative perceptions presented above accentuate the separation between Judaism and Christianity. But for our presentation of Sarah, from the polemics of Tertullian and Origen, Sarah is the model of grace and a symbol of goodness. Rabbinic interpretation, as we stated above, sees Sarah as a most beautiful woman, generous and kind. But in some midrashic literature, the sages view the change of her name as representing a promotion from being a princess in her own nation to being a princess for the whole world (Sa-rai to Sarah). In the Talmud (b. Bab. Mez. 86b–87a), we have interesting information as to how the sages viewed Sarah, as a modest woman, and in other sources, they discuss her beauty (b. Sanh. 39). On the verse, “… among all her lovers, she had none to comfort her.” (Lam 1:2), the midrash says: R. Levi said whenever it says ein lah, ‘hath none,’ it indicates that there would be in the future. And Sarah was barren, she had no child, (ein lah va-lad), but she did have one later, as it is said, ‘And the Lord remembered Sarah’ … similarly she is Zion, there is none that careth for her (ein de-resh lah) (Jer 30:17), but she will have one later as it is said: And a redeemer will come to Zion (Isa 59:20) (u-ba le-tzi-yon go-el).4

Tertullian, The Five Books Against Marcion, Book V in Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 3, Alexander Robert, ed., (Edinburgh: Hendrickson, Pub., 1994). 4 Lam. Rab. 1:2, 26. 3

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Does Sarah, in this midrashic text, symbolize the future redemption of the people? Clearly it is so, but she is specifically the symbol of redemption for the people of Israel. Another midrashic text expands on the verse in Gen 21:6. And Sarah said: God hath made joy for me. Every one that heareth will rejoice with me. R. Berakhiah … in the name of R. Samuel b. R. Isaac said: If Reuben has cause to rejoice, what does it matter to Simeon … But when the matriarch Sarah was remembered, many other barren women were remembered with her … R. Levi said: She increased the light of the lumination …5

In Islamic literature,6 we read that after Allah saved Abraham from the furnace, he migrated and took with him his nephew, Lot, and married his cousin, Sarah, then journeyed in search of a place where he could serve Allah. Sarah was a beautiful woman, the most beautiful of all women. She was obedient to Abraham, devoted to him, and followed his words wholeheartedly. Allah, thus, granted her beauty, grace and nobility. The story continued that a man came to the king and said that a man with a beautiful woman had arrived.7 In al-Rabghuzi, we read that whenever a beautiful woman was found, King Dhu l’Arsh commanded that she be brought to him. So they brought Sarah to him. In both texts, Sarah is described as beautiful. Abraham presents himself to the king by the name “Abdallah” (the servant of Allah) and presents Sarah as his sister. Al-Rabghuzi’s story is longer and has more details, but in both texts, when the king approached Sarah, his arms withered up to his neck (in al-Tha’labi, Gen. Rab. 53:3. All of the quotations below are taken from: Al-Kisa’i, The Tales of the Prophets of al-Kisa’i, T W.M. Thackston, tr., (Boston: Wayne Pub. 1978); AlRabghuzi, The Stories of the Prophets: An Eastern Turkish Version, Vol. I, H.E. Boeschoten et. al. trs., (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1995); and Al-Tha’labi, Qisas alAnbiya, (Beirut: Dar al-Rakiyyah Al-Kutub al-‘Arabiyya, [n.d.]). 7 Here, the story follows the Hebrew-Jewish story and the biblical text which states that Abraham was afraid of being killed and thus, he said, ‘she is my sister.’ 5 6

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up to his chest). Three times, the king stretched out his arms to touch Sarah and his arm withered. Sarah prayed to Allah and the king was cured. As a reward, Sarah was given a maidservant, the daughter of the king of the Maghreb, descended from the Prophet Salih.8 Christian texts view Sarah as a woman full of grace and a symbol of the Church. There is no text that views her as evil or cruel. Judaism, as such, has also emphasized her beauty, her generosity and thus, made her the matriarch of the Jewish people. Islam brings to light her special characteristics, a beautiful woman devoted and obedient to her husband. She also has the power to inflict people with discomfort and to cure them. These texts accentuate the power of her prayers. However, it is remarkable that they also comment on other characteristics, such as jealousy and her desire to harm Hagar. But then, she repented and instead she pierced her ears.9 Al-Kisa’i tells a very short story about Sarah. She was brought before the king of Jordan, Zadok, who wished to marry her, but Abraham spoke up and said: “She is forbidden to marry an infidel, for she is a believer.” Then, Abraham prayed to Allah and Zadok’s hand withered and stuck to his neck. Sarah responds: “This is your just retribution because you were wrathful toward the friend of God and his wife.” 10 In the Testament of Abraham, (long recension A), Sarah witnesses the death of Abraham. She has a quality in this text that is not mentioned elsewhere. Hearing the guest speaking, she recognizes him as an angel of God. The author of the Testament tells us about the miracle, reminding Abraham of the event at the oak of Mamre:

According to al-Rabghuzi, in the story of Abraham, the king killed her father and took her as a captive and made her the mistress of all female slaves, so she knew everything about the king’s wealth. When Abraham refused to take the king’s wealth, Hagar took all of it. 9 Thus, the custom remained among women to pierce their ear and to place an earring in the pierced ear lobe. 10 Al-Kisa’i, Al-Thalabi, and Al-Rabghuzi, op. cit. 8

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MISHAEL M. CASPI AND JOHN T. GREENE … when you slaughtered the unblemished calf and set a table for them. After the meal had been eaten, the calf got up again and exultantly suckled its mother. (Test.Ab.6)

Again, in all texts, Sarah appears beautiful, graceful and in some of them, even wise. In one Islamic text, we find that she was also a jealous woman who at one point had evil thoughts about Hagar. Only the biblical narrator presents us with her wrong-doing in harshly treating her maidservant (Gen 16, 21). Only at one point does the storyteller mention that Abraham complemented the beauty of Sarah, saying: “Behold, now I know that thou art a fair woman to look upon (Gen 12:11). In fact, he tells her that she is: “ki issha ye-fat Mar-eh at.” Of the Egyptian view, we have this verse: “The Egyptians beheld the woman that she was very fair” (Gen 12:14) (ki ya-fa hi me-od). These descriptions of Sarah’s appearance are the only positive characteristics conveyed to us by the biblical storyteller. Later Hebrew literature, in some ways, expands on the qualities of Sarah, and in one work, even the biblical narrative is changed. Yisrael b. Moshe Najarah from the 16th century (d.1625 Gaza), was a liturgical poet who wrote a poem recited on Sabbath of the weekly portion (23–25:18), entitled “Sarah.” Here, he followed the midrash (Lam. Rab.), where Sarah symbolizes redemption: Her crown and tiara / place upon our nation’s head Instead of being/ exiled and lonesome … Bring her back / to Temple and citadel As yore be to her / crown and glory.

Ya’akov Cahan (1881–1960), a playwright and author, wrote a short literary piece about Sarah entitled Ei-fah ve-ei-fah (“Unjust Measure or Double Standard”). This work presents a dialogue between Abraham and Sarah. The biblical narrator relates that the dialogue was between God and Sarah, but in this literary piece, the author changes the story to read: … And the voice said “wherefore did Sarah laugh, is anything too hard for the Lord?” And Abraham became resentful, grumbling, rebuking Sarah, but she denied it: “I laughed not,” for she was afraid. Filled with great anger, he cried: “But you did laugh.” … And he thought, what has happened to me, why

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did I have that anger toward Sarah, indeed also, I had laughed, hearing this tiding.”

B. Mordechai (Mordechai Bartana 1909–1986) wrote his poem, “Sarah,” in which he describes the protagonist’s complaint as to why the herald came so late while to others he came early, in the spring of their lives. Before sunset the sun peers toward the tent And Sarah hears but does not know, to hear not to bless, not to curse, but to wonder And my lord being old also.

And she complains: Why the herald only now, now he came? (Bartana 1993)

The reaction of Sarah as a sorrowful, barren woman has no traces in the biblical narrative, nor does the poet reflect on her cruelty towards her maidservant. Again, Sarah is a matriarch and as such, she is glorified.

B. SERVING THE KING She lay, and serving-men her lithe arms took, And bound them round the withering old man, And on him through the long sweet hours she lay, And little fearful of his many years.11 Now King David was old and stricken in years, and they covered him with clothes, but he could not get warm. (1 Kgs 1:1)

The Pentateuch is divided into weekly portions read in the synagogue every Saturday morning. The part in Gen 23–25:18 is known as Hayye Sarah, (“The Life of Sarah”). This portion relates to the death of Sarah and introduces to the readers two new figures: Rebekah, who is to be a mother of two nations, and Keturah, the Rainer Maria Rilke, “Abishag” in Contemporary German Poetry, selected and translated by Jethro Bithell, (London: The Walter Scott Publishers, 1909), p. 165–166. 11

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second wife of Abraham, who bore him six more sons. Each weekly portion has a passage taken either from the historical books or from the prophetic texts, read as a finale, relating to the piece of the Pentateuch. The reading for the above-mentioned weekly portion is 1 Kgs 1. The new character introduced to the readers is named Abishag. No discussion of this story is possible without taking into consideration the strong woman in King David’s palace, named Bathsheba. … and the woman was beautiful to look upon. And David sent and enquired about the woman. (2 Sam 11:2–3)

This story does not appear in 1 Chronicles. Probably, the writer was from the house of David and wished to protect the king (or David’s house/dynasty) from any suggestion of evil. Since Bathsheba was the wife of one of David’s heroes, Uriah the Hittite, and the daughter of nobility, the grand-daughter of Ahithophel, we can assume that she was very familiar with David’s court and when she became the king’s wife, she gained power and even the respect of the Prophet Nathan. The help she received from him highlights the power she accumulated during her years as a queen. It also suggests that Bathsheba was very familiar with the court’s intrigues and the power struggles within. Her complicated plans to make her son the heir and the support she receives from people close to the king announce to the reader that from the beginning Bathsheba was crowned with success and with accumulated power to control the king’s court and direct the decisions of the elderly king. Rabbinic literature attempts in its special way to solve some of the difficulties mentioned above. The rabbis depicted biblical personalities as a part of their own milieu, and they were therefore motivated to disregard certain stories or to retell the biblical narrative. This is very evident with the personality they depict for David. Since he was in their mind the rightful and the chosen founder of the royal house of Israel and the progenitor of the Messiah, there was no need to explain David’s relationship with Bathsheba and with Abishag. They identified the king with the psalmist and the source of future redemption, the Messiah, thus, they saw no need to relate much about his conduct with Bathsheba and her husband, Uriah. According to them, the king could not be

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weak, humanly frail, or evil. They extricate his offence by the following explanation of 2 Sam 11. On the one hand, R. Simeon b. Yohai said that King David was not the kind of man to act the way the text stated. According to his interpretation, God predestined the incident in order to teach the people of Israel the power of repentance.12 On the other hand, R. Nahman objected to the fact that David had sinned. According to his perception, interpreting the verse “And the Lord was with him” (1 Sam 18:14), it is impossible that such a person would transgress. Moreover, he suggests that all the soldiers who went to war in those days, and among them, Uriah, wrote a get, a bill of divorce for their wives.13 Another source suggests that Bathsheba was destined to become the king’s wife from the creation of the world, but he took her when she was not matured.14 The Jewish sages were, in their discussions, engaging in the assimilation of biblical stories into the rabbinic environment. Such literary assimilation is clear in their interpretations of the story of David and Bathsheba. Rabbinic literature could not accept that David himself seduced Bathsheba and then, to cover her pregnancy and their adulterous act, sent the hero, her husband to his death. Was she flattered by the king’s attention, or was she unable to resist him, submitting herself out of fear? In contrast to rabbinic perceptions, Josephus presents the story wherein Bathsheba challenges the king to conceal her sin. … he saw a woman washing herself in her own house; she was one of extraordinary beauty, and therein surpassed all other women … So he was overcome by the woman’s beauty and was not able to restrain his desire, but he sent for her, and lay with her. Hereupon, she conceived with child, and sent to the king, that he should contrive some way for concealing her sin …15

Yal. 2 Sam 11:8. b. Shab. 56a. See b. Shab. 56a; b. Ketub. 9b; b. Kidu 43a; Yal. 2 Sam 148. 14 b. Sanh. 107a. 15 Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews, 7,7.1. 12 13

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Note that Josephus clearly casts all blame on the woman. Bathsheba is introduced as the one who initiated the plot to hide her adulterous act. Such an accusation is also found in the works of the Church Fathers. In Reply to Faustus, Augustine argues the typology of David and Bathsheba: It must have been on account of this inspection of the depth of David’s heart by the spirit of God that when on being reproved by the prophet, he said, I have sinned. He was worthy to be told, immediately after this brief confession, that he was pardoned, that he was committed to eternal salvation.16

Many other interpretations relate to the power of repentence.17 Literary works contain many similes and metaphors. The most complicated of those are found in poetry, and these historically revolve around the image of the lover, his appearance and his way of relating to the beloved. This theme is central to the process of poetry, and has been effectively stated by A. Lewis: “the single poetic theme of life and death … the question of what survives the beloved.”18 In medieval poetry, these images sometimes hide or obscure the figure of the lover, sometimes bring him close to the beloved, at other times, distancing him from her. The respective closeness or distance therefore become a device for pointing out the difficulties placed between the lover and the beloved. Submitting herself out of fear? How does this apply to Abishag? Was it because of his position as king or because of his old age? This is a unique story. In some ways it is a narrative which deals with the intrigues in the king’s court. It also brings forth views of David as a womanizer. When he was advised to look for a Augustine, “Reply to Faustus the Manichean,” in Nicene and Post Nicene Fathers, (Buffalo: the Christian Literature Comp. 1887), 22:68, 87. 17 For more readings, see: Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, translated and annotated by P. G. Walsh, (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1990), vol. 1, p. 493; vol. 2, pp. 34, 365; also “Apocalypse of Sedrach,” in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, (New York: Doubleday, 1985), vol. 1 pp. 605 ff. 18 Quoted in Robert Graves, The White Goddess, (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1948), Intro. p. 21. 16

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young virgin to lay in his bosom to “communicate warmth to him,” as it was put by Josephus, the storyteller does not present the king’s response. Does this mean that he agrees with the idea? Was he incapable of forming an answer? Or does it mean that he does agree? The story of Abishag begins with the description that David was old and as much as they covered him with clothes, he could not get warm. Therefore he asked: Let there be sought … a young virgin … let her cherish him and let her lie in thy bosom. (1 Kgs 1:1–2)19

The search for such a young virgin took place all over Israel and such a damsel was found in Shunem. It was in some ways a form of beauty contest. Why a young, beautiful virgin? The storyteller emphasizes the fact that they were looking for a “fair damsel” (na-arah ya-fah), and they found “a very exceedingly fair damsel” (na-a-rah ya-fah ‘ad me-od). Indeed, the first beauty pageant in the Bible. Josephus tells us another version of this “beauty pageant,” as follows: David was now in years, and his body by length of time was become cold and benumbed in so much that he could get no heat by covering himself with many clothes; and when the physicians came together, they agreed to this advice that a beautiful virgin chosen out of the whole country, should sleep by the king’s side and that this damsel would communicate heat to him, and be remedy against his numbness. Now there was found in the city one woman of superb beauty to all other women, who, sleeping with the king, did no more than communicate warmth to him, for he was so old he could not know her as a husband knows his wife.20

The name Abishag is mentioned three times in the Bible: Once here in connection with the “beauty pageant.” Secondly, when Bathsheba enters the king’s chamber to secure the promise regarding her son, Solomon’s, investiture, and finally when Pay attention to the change in the pronoun lo “to him” and be-heqkha “in your bosom,” in the Hebrew text. 20 Josephus, A.J. 7, 14.3. 19

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Adonijah asks Bathsheba for Abishag as a wife (1 Kgs 2:13–22). In this final episode, Abishag is no longer the king’s “ministering companion” (so-khe-net) but she is a possible object through which Adonijah could seize the throne. This is a key to Abishag’s identity. A common girl brought because of her beauty and youth into the court of the king, familiarizes herself with the court’s intrigues and now becomes part of the plot to seize the throne and become a new queen. The struggle between the two women is there, yet the storyteller avoids it. Close reading of the few verses reveals a harsh struggle between the two women. As a queen who has the support of the Prophet Nathan, Zadok the priest, and Benaiah, son of Jehoiada, commander of the king’s personal guard, to whom the king swore that her son would sit upon the throne, Bathsheba, indeed, has the upper hand. Now, following the advice of Nathan the prophet, when Bathsheba went to speak to the king regarding his promise to pass the throne to her son Solomon, the narrator reports: And Bathsheba went in unto the king into the chamber. Now the king was very old and Abishag, the Shunammite was ministering unto the king. (1 Kgs 1:15)

Bathsheba, the queen, enters the king’s chamber and Abishag is there, ministering or “cherishing” (me-sha-rath).21 For the first time in this narrative, the two women face each other; an aging queen, well schooled in the intrigues of the court and familiar with royal life, faces a young girl, most likely a peasant, planning her move into the royal life as well. Abishag is young and beautiful, yet we know from prior verses that Bathsheba, as a young woman was very beautiful as well (2 Sam 11:2). But in her old age, even if some of this glamour remains, it cannot compete with the fresh beauty of the young woman. Here, the narrator presents the readers with two powers struggling for the favour of the king: Bathsheba in order to retain her power, and Abishag, accumulating new powers. Indeed, Bathsheba feels hurt and is threatened by this young woman who has gained a foothold of strength by entering into the chamber of

21

Note that this is a masculine form; the feminine form is me-sha-re-tet.

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the king as his so-khe-net.22 At this crucial moment in her life, with her determination to make her son the crown prince, Bathsheba enters the innermost chambers of the king. And there she is met by a young girl ministering to the king. At this instant, the narrator stops to remind the reader that “the king was very old.” Is there any reason for this aside? With it, is the narrator attempting to avoid any interpretation by the readers that could suggest a sexual connection between Abishag and the old king? The narrator continues his story by concentrating on Bathsheba presenting her case before the king. We do not know Abishag’s role, nor do we pay attention to her absence. Yet, it will appear that she probably had a role in the attempt to crown Adonijah. Solomon was crowned and he promised not to harm his brother Adonijah, as long as “no wickedness shall be found in him” (1 Kgs 1:52). According to the custom of the times, cohabiting with the king’s wife or concubines meant having the right to take the throne. Jewish sages reject the possibility that the king lay with Abishag. In the rabbinic literature, we find a dialogue between Abishag and King David: And the damsel was very fair, and she became a companion to the king and ministered to him: she said, “Let us marry.” But he said, “Thou art forbidden to me.” “When courage fails the thief become virtuous” she gibed. Then he said to them [his servants]; “Call me Bathsheba.” And we read: “And Bathsheba went in to the king unto the chamber.” R. Judah said in Rab’s name: on that occasion Bathsheba dried herself thirteen times.23

In The Didascalicon of Hugh of St. Victor, Abishag is portrayed as an adulterous woman: None but Abishag the Shunamitess warmed the aged David, because the love of wisdom, though the body decay, will not desert her lover. “Almost all the powers of the body are changed in aged men, while wisdom alone increases, all the rest 22 23

Metaphorically, the chamber of the king is the heart of the king. b. Sanh. 22a; Yal. 1 Kgs 166.

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MISHAEL M. CASPI AND JOHN T. GREENE fade away” … the greatness of judgement in elderly men is aptly inferred from the interpretation of that very name ‘Abishag’ which I mention above. For ‘Abishag’ means ‘father mine, superabounding’ … whence it is most abundantly shown that, with the aged, the thunder of divine discourse tarries beyond human speech. For the word ‘superabounding’ here signified fullness, not redundance. And indeed, ‘shunamitess’ in our language means ‘scarlet woman’ an expression aptly enough signifying zeal for wisdom.24

The sages were also familiar with the custom that it was unlawful for any man to marry the king’s wife or concubine except for the (new) king. So, in an attempt to solve the problems arising in the episode of David and Abishag, they offer the following explanation: R. Jacob said in R. Johanan’s name: Abishag was permitted to Solomon [in marriage] but not to Adonijah, for he was a king, and a king may make use of the king’s sceptre, but she was forbidden to Adonijah, for she was a commoner.25

However, in another teaching, we find a hint that David probably did have sexual relations with Abishag: R. Shaman b. Abba said: Come and see with what great reluctance is divorce granted. King David was permitted “yihud” (sexual intercourse) with Abishag, but not divorce [from one of his wives].26

The sages were debating the issue of whether or not David was permitted to marry Abishag. Moreover, they strayed far from the text to find a solution to a difficult question: did the king have sexual intercourse with Abishag? The question is valid, especially given Solomon’s encounter with his mother, Bathsheba. It seems The Didascalicon of Hugh of St. Victor, trans. Jerome Taylor, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 3:14, pp. 498–499. See also notes 70, 71, 78, p. 215. 25 b. Sanh. 22a; Yal. 1 Kgs 166. 26 b. Sanh. 22a. 24

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that a hidden struggle is at work in the biblical text. Abishag imposes herself upon the king and requests marriage from him. This young woman appears here as a calculating individual, manipulative and wielding a sharp tongue. But how do we know that the king had sexual relations with her? Indeed, Abishag vanishes from the narrative. Then, what was her fate? Is it possible that she remained in the palace, unmarried and childless? As an exconcubine of the king, she would be unable to marry. Nevertheless, we can conjecture, since she is not mentioned again until Adonijah appeals to the queen mother. Then, was Abishag part of Adonijah’s plan to seize the throne? Indeed, Solomon was enthroned, as the biblical narrator says: “Then sat Solomon upon the throne of David his father and his kingdom was established greatly” (1 Kgs 2:12). He assumed power but still there were threats to the monarchy. The most obvious rival was Adonijah. The episode in 1 Kgs 2:13–25 illustrates this threat. Is it possible the queen mother now had an opportunity to play out her revenge against the young girl from Shunem? Adonijah came to speak to Bathsheba, and asked her for a favour. Before reaching the main point of his request, he reminds the queen that the kingship would have been his, both by birthright as well as by political sway, except for her and her son, as he put it: “The kingdom is turned about, and is become my brother’s, for it was his from the Lord” (1 Kgs 2:15). Couched in these terms, he asks the queen to plead his case to Solomon and to allow him Abishag as a wife. So Bathsheba went before the throne, sat at the right side of the king, and asked for “one small petition.” The king responded: “I will not refuse you.” But when she proffered her request to give Abishag to Adonijah, Solomon became outraged and in contrast to his earlier promise, answered: And why dost thou ask Abishag the Shunammite for Adonijah? Ask for him the kingdom also; for he is mine elder brother … (1 Kgs 2:22)

This outrage is understandable. Solomon knew the custom and knew the danger. But was Bathsheba, a woman well-schooled in royal life, not aware of the trap Adonijah had set for Solomon? We suggest that she was very well aware of it and that she understood that Abishag was a part of this plot. Thus, the queen set out to take revenge on this young commoner to pave the way for her son and

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to protect him and the kingdom from a potential rebellion. If so, the queen mother proved herself to be a figure of power and authority, manipulating the highest levels of the kingdom and the court for her (and her son’s) benefit. On the one hand, Adonijah does not seem to be aware of the danger of placing such a petition in the hands of the queen mother. At this point, we can assume that either Adonijah was remarkably unfamiliar with the political intrigues of the court, or that he considered Bathsheba to be both naive and simpleminded. His pleading with the queen points out that he was, indeed, tediously dull, looking to (re)gain the throne in the wrong way through the wrong channels. On the other hand, Solomon’s wrath at this incident can have only one meaning. He knew that if he were to give Abishag to Adonijah, he would be giving up his claim to the throne. He also knew that Abishag was viewed as David’s concubine with whom the king had sexual relations, not as the narrator tells us: “but the king knew her not” (1 Kgs 1:4). It also suggests that Solomon’s anger directed toward his mother presents an image of a king potentially fearful and uncertain in his new role. Yet, it also highlights that Solomon, a young man, did not understand his mother’s “one small petition.” He was unable to see how shrewdly and cunningly his mother played her hand. She delivered Adonijah (with Abishag) to him as a rebellious man who was attempting treason against the king. The narrator concludes by stating: And the king Solomon sent by the hand of Benaiah, the son of Jehoiada and he fell upon him [Adonijah] that he died. (1 Kgs 2:25)

Josephus brings us another story as follows: But Adonijah, who, while his father was living, attempted to gain possession of the government, came to the king’s mother, Bathsheba, and saluted her with great civility … and bade him tell her if that were the case … he also said that he was contented to be a servant under him and pleased with the present settlement, but he desired her to be a means of obtaining a favour from his brother to him, and to persuade him to bestow on him in marriage, Abishag, who had indeed slept by his father, but because his father was too old, he did

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not lie with her, and she was still a virgin … She entreated him to grant that his brother Adonijah might marry Abishag. But the king was greatly offended at these words and sent away his mother, and said that Adonijah aimed at great things; and that he wondered that she did not desire him to yield up his kingdom to him, as to his elder brother, since she desired that he might marry Abishag …27

Josephus presents new aspects to the narrative which have not been mentioned in the biblical story; for example, he has Bathsheba encourage Adonijah to ask for her assistance. At this point, we can assume that she wanted to trap Adonijah and, as we suggested above, to clear the path for her son to reign. But it is possible, according to Josephus’s text, that she did not understand the danger of Adonijah’s request. What we can conclude from this episode is that David, indeed, did have sexual relations with Abishag. Solomon knew it, and was Bathsheba aware of this too? Being brought to the king’s palace does not elevate Abishag’s status. She is still the peasant girl from Shunem. Yet, despite the social barriers between the king and the peasant girl, there is a special charm and allure in the relationship’s simplicity. Abishag gives up family life with someone of her “own kind” to nurse the king in his old age. Jacob Glatshteyn, (Glatstein, 1896–1971), in his poem “Abishag” assumes that the biblical narrative introduces us to a minute and incomplete part of the relationship between the young maiden and the old king. He completes the gaps by creating a dialogue between the two. From this dialogue, it is clear that Glatshteyn was aware of the sages’ interpretation that David was allowed “yihud” with Abishag. The poet develops this relationship throughout the text to its conclusion: Abishag, little, young, warm Abishag … Sleep my king. The night is still. We are all your slaves. Abishag. Little village girl, Abishag. Throw my crown to the street. Whoever wants may catch it. 27

Josephus, A.J. 8, 1.1–3.

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MISHAEL M. CASPI AND JOHN T. GREENE King David has lost all his servants. Just one maidservant left. Doze, my king. The night is dead … Abishag. Little, sad Abishag. A small kitten thrown into the cage of an old, toothless lion. It befell my old age to expire in the lap of your lamenting, young years.28

Jacob Cahan, (1881–1963), in his short story Once Upon a Time, describes Abishag in two scenes: one with the king, telling him about her family, her life as a shepherdess and her caring for the family’s herd. She also tells about her little brother chasing a bear and killing it. Her words remind the king of his own experiences with such events. This scene ends with: “Indeed, once, long ago.” The second scene occurs fifty years later. Abishag is a widow surrounded by her grandchildren, telling her story of life in the king’s palace in Jerusalem. The protagonist introduces Abishag’s story by hinting that she was not ministering to the king but was his mistress. Moreover, in this scene, Adonijah is mentioned three times; once, when her childhood friend comes to take her home after the death of Adonijah and twice describing the glorious, handsome Adonijah. The story ends: And the eyes of the old woman glanced but could not see more at dusk. Only her tired head slowly moved and her lips sadly whispered, “Those were the days.”29

Robert Frost, (1874–1963) wrote his poem “Provide, Provide,” where an old cleaning lady, once noticed by people for her beauty, is named Abishag. The witch that came (the withered hag) To wash the steps with paint and rag Was once the beauty Abishag Jacob Glatstein, “Abishag” in Benjamin Harshav and Barbara Harshav, eds., American Yiddish Poetry, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986), pp. 220–221. 29 Jacob Cahan, “Abishag” in Israel Zmora ed. Nashim ba-Tanakh, (Women in the Bible), (Tel Aviv: Mahbarot Lesifrut, 1964), pp. 204–205. 28

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This poem has little to do with the biblical narrative except the name of the old, cleaning woman: The picture pride of Hollywood Too many fall from great and good For you to doubt the likelihood.

This poet, who is known as a poet of nature, chides readers in these lines where he criticizes the superficiality and dishonesty in the world. He advises us to provide for a dignified old age any way we can, since memories of youth or fame offer no comfort in the end.30 Tom Donlon (2010) wrote a poem entitled “Abishag,” which does follow the biblical story. This poem aims to teach the biblical stories through poetry and songs. Abishag the Shunammite kept King David warm at night She lay along his aged length to rekindle embers to his strength …

In this poem, the author presents biblical characters; Goliath, Adonijah, Uriah and Bathsheba, all of whom play a role in David’s life.31 Ada Aharoni (b. 1933) wrote a poem entitled “Real Abishag.” The motifs of death and old age are conveyed by the simile of bad breath: What Abishag really thought, blossoming fifteen year-old lying taut wide-eyed on a kingly bed silent

Robert Frost, The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems, (New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1969). Online: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/provide-provide/ 31 Tom Donlon, “Abishag.” Conference on Christianity and Literature, Volume 59, Issue 4 Summer 2010. Online: http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1G1–237064527.html The full poem may be read at: findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_hb049/is_4_59/ai_n5225143 30

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MISHAEL M. CASPI AND JOHN T. GREENE at the side of old king David, was—“What bad breath he has!”

This simile of bad breath appears a few times in the poem. The protagonist was chosen out of all the beauties to warm the king, but they told her nothing about the bad breath. In some way, she blames her parents for keeping that fact from her: Father bade me hold my tongue and go to the King in Jerusalem. Mother wiped my tears with soft words said I should be proud to be the chosen one among all beauties of the land to warm royal bones but they didn't tell me what breath King David has!

Note that this theme of complaint is very strong in the oral poetry where a young girl expresses her disgust at marrying an old man, as we read in the following poem. I do not want an old man Even if he shaves his beard And his moustache he cuts … I wish to have a young one to squeeze all the bones in me.32

The speaker in Aharoni’s poem continues with this simile and strongly describes the smell as: The poor King smells like the carcass of the once noble beloved horse in our neighbour’s field in Shunem. Before it died …

Here, we are close to the concluding part of the poem when the speaker tells us: It smothers me, it chokes, his breath mother, it strangles me, I shall die, O God! Will it ever, ever stop? Mishael M. Caspi, Daughters of Yemen, (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1982), pp. 187–193. 32

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Stop. In the morning just after golden dawn— King David was no more.33

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926), wrote a poem entitled “Abishag.” In the first section Abishag is serving the king. With her graceful arms, she holds the old man. The contrast is between the withered king of many years and young Abishag. She lay, and serving-men her lithe arms took, And bound them round the withering old man, And on him through the long sweet hours she lay, And little fearful of his many years.

In the second section, the poem ends with the king’s thoughts. The king seems to see Abishag in a different way through these long hours spent with her beside him: But many times, as one in women skilled, he through his eyebrows recognized the mouth Unmoved, unkissed; and saw: the comet green Of her desire reached not to where he lay. He shivered. And he listened like a hound, And sought himself in his remaining blood.34

The realization that she was not truly with him, but thinking of other places, other people, leads him to listen like a hunting dog, tracking by scent, desiring her for himself (or perhaps desiring youth or life itself instead of cold, old age.) So Abishag, a peasant girl from Shunem, found a place in the canonized text, only in 1 Kgs 1–2. In all ages, interpreters have tried to understand her role in the king’s court. Some view her as a scarlet woman, some as the one who channelled warmth to the old king, as we have mentioned above. St. Jerome viewed her as an ideal figure of wisdom: Ada A. Aharoni, “Real Abishag,” in The Pomegranate: Love and Women Poems, Online: http://tx.technion.ac.il/~ada/love.html#abishag 34 Find Rilke’s poem online: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/abishag/ 33

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MISHAEL M. CASPI AND JOHN T. GREENE Who then is this Shunammite? She shall give To thine head an ornament of grace, a crown Of glory shall she deliver.35

Yiddish literature related to Abishag in a different way. While Jacob Glatstein sees her as a trembling little girl in the king’s chamber, Itzik Manger (1901–1989) is his poem, “King David and Abishag,” writes: She is the royal warming-flask And warms the old man’s bed. She had supposed—such notion as a country girl conceived a country girl conceived Often at night, sees her fate, and silently, she grieves.36

According to Manger, Abishag read her story in the Bible and she is aware that as a biblical figure, she would have only one line— shura: A line for her young flesh the years of her youth. A line of ink in parchment for the whole long truth.37

In her sleep, she laments her life: Abishag sleeps, she breathes quietly, But listen—in her sleep she speaks, and from her dream she breathes, the scent of calves and sheep.

See, Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature, David Lyle Jeffrey, general editor. (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans Pub., 1992). 36 Itzik Manger, “King David and Abishag,” in Lid un Balade, (NewYork: Peretz, Publishing, 1952). 37 Itzik Manger, “Abishag Writes a Letter Home” in Ruth Whitman, ed. An Anthology of Modern Yiddish Poetry, (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1995), p. 127. 35

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Her words are carried from the king’s bed, her longing for her village, while the king listens to her haunting tone: … a sad and haunting tone homesickness that draws the king from his psalter and becomes its own song.38

See Murray Baumgarten, City Scriptures: Modern Jewish Writing, (Boston: Harvard University Press, 1982), Ch. 4. 38

CREATING EVE: FEMININE FERTILITY IN MEDIEVAL ISLAMIC NARRATIVES OF EVE AND ADAM ZOHAR HADROMI-ALLOUCHE KING’S COLLEGE ABERDEEN, SCOTLAND INTRODUCTION In the Islamic sources, the expulsion from Paradise is presented in a different context than in the Bible. Whereas the biblical narrative (Gen 3), and in particular the post-biblical literature, emphasise the role of the feminine element in the temptation process, the Qur’ānic Paradise narrative lacks the temptress female motif altogether. Extra-Qur’ānic literature, while familiar with the biblical and post-biblical literature, situates the Paradise episode in a new, Islamic context: that of the biography of the Muslim prophet Adam, and the origins of Islamic practices. Within this context, the expulsion episode becomes less significant, while other episodes in Adam’s life are further highlighted; that is, the Islamic sources make a shift from emphasising the temptation and expulsion, to Islamic practice and prophecy. Despite this shift, the extra-Qur’ānic sources also reflect themes similar to those emerging from the biblical and post biblical narratives, such as Eve the temptress, demonization of the feminine body and spirit, degradation of feminine characteristics and general feminine inferiority. These themes endure in the Islamic Eve and Adam narratives, and are even further developed, despite the authors/compilers’ evident awareness of more positive references to Eve.

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In order to demonstrate the use and development of these themes in the Islamic context, this essay will focus on one such a theme: the construction of feminine inferiority through degradation of feminine fertility. This essay explores how Muslim tradition constructs the placement of legitimate fertility potential with the male. Through analysing references to fertility in the Eve and Adam narratives in the Bible, Qur’ān, and extra-Qur’ānic literature, it will examine the means by which this construction is achieved. It will conclude by exploring possible explanations for the use and preservation of this motif in the Muslim context, and suggest that this was the result of a deliberated, conscious choice by the compilers and authors of the medieval Islamic sources.

A.BACKGROUND: THE BIBLE AND THE QUR’ĀN 1. The biblical narrative In the biblical context, the expulsion from Paradise is understood as the climax of the Adam and Eve story. According to Reeves, “[…] ancient, medieval and modern Christian interpreters have invested […] enormous theological weight with [… the] story of Adam and Eve’s misadventure in the garden.”1 The significance of this specific episode is also implied through its textual location in Gen 3, which is the middle link in the chain of biblical narratives concerning Adam and Eve (Gen 1–5). Within the expulsion episode itself, Eve has a major role. As the interface between the snake and Adam, transmitting the temptation from its original initiator to its ‘end user’, she also serves as the middle link within the narrative. It is her choice of actions that is the climax of the story, since once she chooses to eat the forbidden fruit, there is no way back. Her role is ambivalent, as she can be understood both as one being tempted and as a temptress; and liminal, since her status in the narrative is that of a middle person, not just through her mediatory role but also since

1

Reeves, p. 55.

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her role in the narrative is not quite defined: she is not completely the tempter (as the snake is), nor just being tempted (as Adam).

Paradise and fertility The creation of Eve (Gen 2) and the Paradise story (Gen 3) both contain several references to the theme of fertility. According to Gen 2:19, all creatures were created from earth, as was man (Gen 2:7). The woman, however, was created from Adam’s body, from his zela, a word often translated as “a costal rib.” This description has the female as originating from within the male body, opposite to the way of nature, where it is usually the other way around. Indeed, the way of nature is reflected in the etymology of the name Eve (Ḥava) in Gen 3:20 as “the mother of all living.”2 However, Gen 2:23 represents the notion that the woman is created from man, when it has Adam say, “And this one should be called a woman (ishsha), for she was taken from man (īsh).” Furthermore, Gilbert and Zevit suggest that the word zela, which in Biblical Hebrew could also mean “a structural support beam,” should be understood in this context as the baculum, or penile bone, that most male mammals have, but humans lack.3 This reading puts Adam in the closest position possible (so far) to giving birth to Eve, since it suggests that Eve originated from Adam’s genitals. It represents Adam’s independent, unilateral fertility, which requires no feminine partner, whether actual or symbolic (such as Earth). The baculum also stands for the physical aspect of Adam’s creative power towards Eve. It completes his literal/ spiritual creative role in her creation, that is demonstrated through Adam’s naming of Eve (a power exercised twice—in Gen 2:23 and Gen 3:20). Eve’s fertility, on the other hand, appears for the first time in Gen 3, in the context of the transgression in Paradise. It is defined as a punishment for the transgression, and thus as sad and All translations are my own, unless otherwise indicated. Gnostic literature also has it that Adam named Eve “Ḥawa” since she breathed life into him. Caspi and Jiyad, p. 119. 3 Gilbert and Zevit, pp. 284–285. 2

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miserable. Eve’s sexuality is also considered a weakness, leading to her being dominated by the male figure, rather than being a source of life and creation.4 Similarly, the other feminine entity in this context—Earth—is also deprived of her effortless fertility.5 Whereas in Gen 3:16 Eve, whom God created from man, was punished for her own act of transgression, in the case of Adam it was Earth that suffered for the deed of the man, who had been created of it. Earth’s punishment is similar to that of Eve, in that its fertility is affected: it will now grow “thorn and thistle.” Whereas Eve is to be ruled by Adam, Earth is to be consumed by him, that is: it is given to his domination (Gen 3:16–18). This view is continued in post-biblical literature. Over the years, Eve came to be seen as the main cause for the Fall.6 2. The Qur’ānic narratives In the Qur’ān, the expulsion from Paradise is related in three chapters: 2, 7 and 20. In all three chapters it appears as a textual continuation to the fall of Satan.7 Indeed, in the Qur’ān it is Satan, rather than the snake, who is the tempter in Paradise. Whereas Adam (Ādam) is mentioned in all three passages (as well as in other places in the Qur’ān), none of these references mention the name Eve (or any other name) for Adam’s spouse. She thus remains nameless in the Qur’ān. According to Q 2:35–38, after the fall of Iblīs (Satan), God told Adam to dwell in the garden with his wife; but warned them to “stay away from that tree.” Satan tempted Adam and his wife. They Gen 3:16. See also Pregill, p. 235. 6 For example, through having intercourse with the snake/Satan. Caspi and Jiyad, p. 124. Becking, pp. 2–3. 7 According to the Qur’ān, after God created Adam, He commanded the angels to prostrate themselves to the new creature. Iblīs refused, and for this he was banished from heaven, thus becoming Satan. Whereas Q 2:30–34, 7:11–18 and 20:116 narrate the Paradise story as continuation to this episode, the fall of Iblīs also appears independently in the Qur’ān: Q 15:26–44, 17:61–65, 18:50, and 38:71–85. 4 5

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were thus sent down to earth. God gave Adam words and forgave him. Q 7:11–24 gives a very similar description; whereas the account in Q 20:115–127 is slightly different, mainly in that Satan tempted Adam alone. Both Adam and his spouse ate of the tree, and were banished from the garden. Adam disobeyed God, but later God chose him, forgave him and guided him. Adam is also mentioned in other contexts in the Qur’ān, as one of God’s chosen ones (Q 3:33), with whom God made a covenant (20:115). God created him (Q 7:11) to be His viceregent on earth (Q 2:30). He taught Adam the names (of all creatures, 2:31–33) and commanded the angels to prostrate themselves to Adam (Q 2:34, 7:11, 20:116). Iblīs failed to follow this command, and thus became Satan (Q 2:34, 7:13). As opposed to these numerous references to Adam, Adam’s spouse is explicitly mentioned in the Qur’ān only in the context of the transgression in Paradise—temptation, consumption and deportation. Unlike the Bible, the Qur’ān does not regard Adam’s spouse as having particular responsibility for the fall. Neither does it mention additional punishments for this transgression, other than the expulsion from the garden. Since the Qur’ān gives no name for Adam’s spouse, there is no reference to who named her, or an etymology of her name. Neither is her creation process treated specifically in the Qur’ān.8 Fertility, too, is absent from the Qur’ānic Paradise narratives. In short, the Qur’ān shows little interest in the figure of Adam’s spouse, except for her participation, together with Adam, in the transgression in Paradise. This implication questions the scholarly view that the Qur’ān presents an “egalitarian” version of the Paradise narrative.9 Indeed, Verses such as Q 4:1, 39:6, and 7:189, which describe the creation of humanity by God (“Your Lord created you from a single soul and of it created its spouse…”) are often understood as referring to Adam and his spouse. However, these verses do not actually mention Adam or his spouse by name. For further discussion of this matter, see below. Q 6:98 also speaks of the creation of humanity from a single soul, but does not mention the spouse. 9 See for example, Smith and Haddad, pp. 135–144; Calderini, pp. 46– 63; Spellberg, pp. 305–324. 8

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the increased feminine responsibility for the fall is absent from the Qur’ānic text; but so is almost every other aspect of Adam’s spouse.10 3. Extra Qur’ānic literature Extra Qur’ānic literature can be categorized according to genre, each with its own goals and characteristics. For the present study the genres examined include Qur’ānic commentary (tafsīr), tales of the prophet’s works (qiṣaṣ al-anbiyā’), historiographical works and legal ḥadīth (prophetic tradition) compilations.11 It is noteworthy that in their discussion of Adam and Eve texts, most of these works use motifs that reflect the Paradise narrative of Gen 3 and post-biblical literature. Perhaps most evident of this tendency is that, starting with the earliest Islamic sources available to us, such as Ibn Isḥāq’s (d. 150 AH/ 767 CE) Kitāb al-Mubtada’ and the commentary of Muqātil b. Sulaymān (d. 150 AH/ 767 CE), all Islamic sources know Adam’s spouse’s name to be Eve, or Ḥawwā’. These sources often situate the Paradise story within the Islamic context of Adam’s extended biography. Adam is regarded by Islam as a prophet and the progenitor of the Prophet Muḥammad. His Islamic biography introduces a number of specifically Islamic and polemic themes, such as Adam as the first I hope to further elaborate on this matter in a future study. Commentaries on the Qur’ān aim at interpreting the word of God; “Stories of the Prophets” literature collects stories of prophetic figures in Islam. It often has narrative and legendary characteristics, and contains traditions of Jewish and Christian origin (Isrā’īliyāt). Muslim historiographical works often start at the beginning of the world and continue up to the author’s lifetime. Their underlying assumption is that Muḥammad’s message is the climax of history. Finally, collections of legal ḥadīth, or Prophetic tradition, document deeds and sayings that are related to Muḥammad, often in the form of short passages. Their function is to serve as a textual basis for Muslim jurisprudence. This genre is more selective and of a less narrative character. The different goals of each genre often influence the choices made by the authors, or compilers, to include or omit certain texts. 10 11

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link in the chain of prophets (of which Muḥammad is the last), Adam’s prophetic mission and covenant with God, Islam as the primeval religion and the legitimisation of Islamic religious and social practices.12 Within this context, the theme of transgression and expulsion from Paradise becomes but one among many other themes. It is no longer the main focus of Adam’s story; so much so that several sources omit this episode: some ignore it altogether,13 whereas others refer to it briefly, between their discussions of the events in Adam’s pre-fall and post-fall life.14 Several sources that do discuss the transgression and expulsion, only dedicate to it a rather limited space within the entire Adam story.15 This is especially typical of the historiographical sources, perhaps due to their focus on Adam’s prophecy and his connection with Muḥammad. Jazā’irī, for example, locates the whole story in the context of the five pillars of Islam, as he connects the origin and/or practice of each of them, as well as other Islamic practices, to the life of Adam, either before, during or after the transgression in the garden. Jazā’irī, pp. 22–59. 13 Of the sources consulted for the present study, these include Ibn Sa‘d, Mas’ūdī and Rāwandī. Pregill notes that this is also the case with Ibn Qutayba, in his discussion of the sources of the transmitter Wahb b. Munabbih for the Adam and Eve account. Pregill explains the omission in that Ibn Qutayba was influenced by the account related by Wahb; but this seems questionable, as Ibn Qutayba’s purpose was to correct Wahb’s account in accordance with the biblical one. Pregill, pp. 244–245. Also Bayḍāwī, in his popular Tafsīr, ignores this scene. Stowasser relates it to the concise nature of his work, and diminishes the importance of this omission, as the texts are already existent in other sources; however, the choice to ignore this episode, especially considering the concise nature of Bayḍāwī’s work, seems significant. Stowasser, pp. 33–34. 14 Ya‘aqūbī (d. 292 AH/ 905 CE) refers to the manner of temptation, but does not relate to the actual eating, or to any curses which followed it (pp. 7–8). Ibn Kathīr mentions it briefly in a few sentences (pp. 54–55), out of his vast discussion of Adam (pp. 9–70). 15 For example, Ṭabarī in his Ta’rīkh, discusses the temptation and fall in four pages (pp. 75–79), whereas his discussion of Adam expands over forty-one pages (pp. 67–108). 12

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At the same time, within the Islamic context and alongside the Islamic themes, the extra-Qur’ānic sources also maintain (or respond to) themes that are familiar from the biblical and postbiblical literature concerning the expulsion from Paradise. Intriguingly, such themes are present both within Islamic sources that elaborate on the transgression episode,16 as well as those that do not. Most noticeable among these themes are those concerning Eve. For example, while legal ḥadīth compilations do not narrate the Paradise story, they allude to this story through references to Eve’s creation from Adam’s rib, a theme that is not found in the Qur’ān. That is, while familiar with the biblical transgression story, the compilers chose not to include it in their collections. Nevertheless, they acknowledged it as valid, and assumed that their audience, too, was familiar with it.17 Indeed, many of these themes are gender-related. The discussion below will focus on one such theme, namely feminine fertility and its deficiencies. It will demonstrate how medieval Islamic sources construct the inferiority of the feminine fertility potential through presenting Eve as the deficient archetype of this potential. This will be achieved through an examination of representations of Eve’s fertility potential in the following contexts: (1) the secondary creation of Eve; (2) presenting Eve as a secondclass fertility agent; (3) negation of feminine fertility attributes; (4) Rejection of Eve as nurturing; (5) masculine domination over feminine fertility; and (6) masculine independent fertility potential.18

Kisā’ī and Tha‘labī both give elaborate and generally misogynist descriptions of the Paradise events. 17 Spellberg, p. 311. In the six authoritative compilations of ḥadīth, Eve is only mentioned by name four times. For further discussion of Eve’s representation in legal ḥadīth see below. 18 However, the complex question of Eve’s motherhood, which in Muslim tradition covers much more than Cain, Abel and Seth, is not discussed in the present paper. I hope to deal with this issue in another study. This question is briefly touched upon by Spellberg. See: D. A. Spellberg, “Writing the Unwritten Life of the Islamic Eve: 16

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B. POLITICS OF POWER: MASCULINE-FEMININE FERTILITY RELATIONSHIP 1. Eve as a secondary creation Extra Qur’ānic sources contain numerous references to the creation of Eve and its further implications. Although the Qur’ān does not deal directly with the creation of Adam’s spouse, most medieval sources, starting as early as Muqātil b. Sulaymān, express the view that Eve was created from Adam’s rib.19

a. Creation from the rib The sources connect this view with the Qur’ānic description of humanity as having originated from a single soul (nafs wāḥida) created by God. From this soul God created its spouse (zawj).20 Commentators of the Qur’ān often explain these verses as referring to the creation of Adam (the “single soul”),21 and the “spouse” Eve, whom God created from Adam’s rib.22 The whole episode is thus understood to have occurred within the Paradise context. Feminist and modernist commentators such as Riffat Hassan note that this understanding is not necessarily self-evident from the text, but a matter of choice. Grammatically, the Arabic word nafs (soul) is feminine, so it could relate to a feminine being. It could also mean a coinciding creation of the masculine and feminine at the same time from that single (hermaphrodite?) soul. Hassan thus argues that the understanding of the “single soul” as masculine is a manly-created and maintained interpretation.23 Furthermore, this Menstruation and the Demonization of Motherhood,” International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 28 (1996): 305–324. 19 Muqātil, vol. 1, p. 213 (sūra 4:1); Rāzī, vol. 13, p. 88 (sūra 6); Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 230 (sūra 2:35). 20 Q 4:1, 39:6, and 7:189. 21 Muqātil, vol. 1, p. 32 (sūra 6:98), vol. 1, p. 428 (sūra 7:190), Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 4, p. 224 (sūra 4:1), vol. 11, p. 562 (sūra 6:98). 22 Muqātil, Vol. 1, p. 42 (sūra 2), Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, Vol. 4, p. 224 (sūra 4), Jazā’irī, p. 53 (quoting Rāzī). 23 Hassan, “Women in Islam,” pp. 8–22.

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phrase does not refer specifically to Adam and/or his spouse, nor to the way in which either the “soul” or its “spouse” were created. That is, this concept is read into the Qur’ānic text, using the authority of the Qur’ān to promote the view of superior masculine fertility, by dating it back to the creation of Eve. Indeed, the notion of the creation of Eve from Adam’s rib became so prevalant in the Islamic context, that it even dominates genres that do not at all record the Paradise story, such as legal ḥadīth literature. As noted above, legal ḥadīth scholars such as Bukhārī (d. 256 AH / 870 CE), Muslim (d. 261 AH / 875 CE) and Ibn Māja (d. 273 AH / 887 CE), whose compilations are considered highly authoritative among Sunni Muslims, refrain from discussing the Paradise story in their works. Nevertheless, all three scholars record in their compilations reports that explain women’s attributes and religious practices through the creation from the rib.24 Such reports assume that the reader is familiar with the story of Eve’s creation from Adam’s rib, and with the identification of Eve as a feminine archetype.

b. Implications of creation from the rib The very idea of Eve’s creation from Adam’s rib implies that the female originated within the male body, thus identifying the male as the origin and symbol of fertility. Gilbert and Zevit’s understanding of the biblical “rib” as the baculum fits well into this context. The Islamic sources develop the rib motif further, indicating that the rib under discussion was Adam’s shortest, left (hence sinister) and/or most crooked rib.25 However, in the Islamic context the rib has further implications as well, regarding feminine general nature, physiology, social status and impurity.26 See below. Ibn Isḥāq, p. 58; Ibn Sa‘d, vol. 1, p. 34; Hamdānī, p. 27; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 75; Kisā’ī, pp. 31, 50; Tha‘labī, p. 45; Jazā’irī, p. 53; Ibn Māja, p. 174, report 525. 26 See, for example, the prophetic ḥadīth declaring that women were created of a crooked rib; by trying to fix this crookedness, one might break the woman; it is thus best to let her be, and enjoy her despite her crookedness (Bukhārī, vol. 3, p. 1212, report 3153; Muslim, vol. 2, 24 25

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One such implication is evident through a report that is recorded by Ibn Māja in his Sunan. Although this collection of ḥadīth reports does not narrate the Paradise story in itself, it echoes the rib motif in the context of purity laws. The specific context is the unlucky event of a suckling baby urinating on another person. Several reports communicate the Prophet’s opinion, that in such a case, if the baby is a boy, one should only spray some water over the affected place; but if it is a girl, a full cleansing is necessary.27 The jurist al-Shāfi‘ī (d. 204 AH/ 820 CE) explains the difference in that the urine of a boy originates in water and dust, whereas a girl’s urine comes from flesh and blood—since Eve was created from Adam’s rib.28 Blood as a component in the creation of Eve is not mentioned in the Bible or the Qur’ān, and Spellberg points out that this report suggests that the female is “born ritually unclean.”29 That is, through moving fertility from female to male, women are defined as originating from men, being essentially different, and naturally impure. Through an expansion of the original creation process the primordial creation is re-lived constantly, and includes humanity as a whole. All men are “Adam figures” and created from earth (rather than born from a woman), and all women are “Eve figures,” created from men’s bodies. This serves as an enduring aetiology for gender relationship at the time of the authors. p. 1091, report 1468. See also Tha‘labī, p. 45). Ibn Ḥajar (d. 852 AH / 1449 CE) suggests that “breaking” here means a possible divorce (Ibn Ḥajar, vol. 9, p. 252). He thus implies that “crookedness” has to do with behaviour; whereas Rāzī (d. 604 AH /1207 CE) quotes a report in which “crookedness” is understood as a physical curvature in the feminine body, in which one might find joy (Rāzī, vol. 9, p. 140, sūra 4). Furthermore, women tend to get ugly as years go by, since they were created of flesh, which corrupts over time; men, on the other hand, were created of earth, which improves over the years. Therefore time only adds to their beauty (Tha‘labī, p. 45). Another report, recorded by Nawawī, states that due to the creation of Eve from the rib, women’s brains are weak, and their characters crooked (Nawawī, vol. 10, p. 57). 27 Ibn Māja, p. 174, reports 522–525. 28 Ibn Māja, p. 174, report 525. 29 Spellberg, p. 313.

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c. Creation from earth Alongside the creation of Eve from Adam’s rib, Muslim sources, in particular Shi‘ite works of Stories of the Prophets, are also aware of other possibilities. Jazā’irī (d. 1112 AH / 1701 CE) and Rāwandī (d. 573 AH / 1178 CE) both record reports narrating that Eve was created from earth (like Adam). This notion is reminiscent of the Gnostic view expressed in the Apocalypse of Adam (2nd century CE), that Adam and Eve were created of earth, together.30 However, in the Islamic context this motif is re-interpreted so as to maintain the status of Eve as a secondary creation, in all aspects. According to a report that is recorded by both Jazā’irī and Rāwandī, after God created Adam, He created Eve as new creation (ibtada‘a lahu khalqan).31 That is, the creation of Eve was an independent act by God, rather than as an appendage to Adam. Nevertheless, the creation of Eve is still secondary in terms of chronology. Furthermore, the report goes on to narrate how, after creating Eve, God put her at the cleft between Adam’s thighs, so must she follow Adam. That is, although Eve is regarded as a new creation, she is still perceived as a secondary creature, made to follow man and obey him. This report might also be regarded as supportive of Gilbert and Zevit’s identification of the biblical rib with the baculum, in that this location could indicate the limb from which Eve was created, and perhaps also Eve’s role as replacement for this bone. That Eve is a secondary creation is made explicit in another report, recorded by Rāwandī (d. 573 AH / 1178 CE). This report states that after God created Adam, he made him sleep, and created Eve from the leftovers of the earth that He used for the creation of Adam.32 Jazā’irī furthermore attempts to harmonise this view with the rib version, as he suggests that Eve was created from the earth that has been designed for the creation of Adam’s left rib.33 The Caspi and Jiyad, p. 132. Rāwandī, pp. 57–58; Jazā’irī, p. 52. 32 Rāwandī, pp. 69–70. 33 Jazā’irī, p. 28. 30 31

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sleep motif also reflects the biblical story of Gen 3, where the Adam’s sleep is part of the process of creating Eve. Thus, although technically Eve did not originate in Adam’s body, the secondarycreation concept is very much present in these reports as well, despite the “egalitarian” context of creation from earth. Finally in this context, the leftover clay also served God for the creation of the palm tree, which is thus honored as the “aunt of the believers.”34 That is, not only was Eve created from the remainders, her creation took such little substance that enough was left for another creation which, despite being vegetation, has equal value to Eve. The persistence of the secondary creation theme is also demonstrated through another report recorded by Jazā’irī. This report interprets Q 25:54, which glorifies God for the creation of humanity: “It is He [God] who created humans (basharan) from the water.” However, whereas the verse speaks of humans in general, the report explains the verse as referring to the creation of Adam and his spouse in particular. The “water” is understood as fresh water (al-mā’ ‘al-adhab), and as the essence from which Adam was created. On the other hand, Adam’s spouse (Eve) is regarded as having been created from the rancid leftovers of this water (min sanakhihi).35 Here, too, although not regarded as emerging from Adam’s body, Eve is considered as secondary to Adam, in terms of chronology (order of creation), origin (created from remnants of Adam’s essence) and quality (rancid, rather than fresh, water). Such reports suggest that the replacement of the rib for earth (or water) is but a technical change, rather than a conceptual one. Eve is perceived as originating from Adam, one way or another. The motivation for alternatives to the rib creation-story does not evolve from an attempt to present Eve in a better light. Rather, these reports are aimed at protecting the images of the masculine figures in the creation story: God’s omnipotence and Adam’s dignity. Jazā’irī quotes a prophetic ḥadīth stating that “it would be

Kister, pp. 143–144. Kister also quotes further references to this theme within Islam, especially from Shi‘ite sources. 35 Jazā’irī, p. 27. 34

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impossible that God has created Eve from Adam’s rib.”36 To begin with, it is indicated that, being almighty, God could have created Eve however He desired—why of all things would He have to use Adam’s rib? This is seen as inexplicable and degrading for God.37 Furthermore, if Eve were created from Adam’s rib, this would imply that whenever Adam and Eve were having intercourse, Adam (a prophet, and the progenitor of all men—including the traditionists themselves) would be having intercourse with himself. This is seen as extremely repulsive and disrespectful of Adam.38 Indeed, the figure that is usually described in Muslim tradition as having intercourse with himself is Iblīs (Satan), who reproduces his demonic offspring (jinn and shayatin) in this manner. Sometimes this trait is also related to the snake.39 Still, the existence of recorded alternatives for the creation of Eve indicates that in the Islamic context the rib-explanation was far from self-evident. Its popularity with medieval Islamic scholars was not necessarily a result of it simply being the “available narrative” in the cultural milieu of the Near East at the time, as suggested by Spellberg.40 Other alternatives were available as well. Rather, the dominance of the secondary-creation theme within the Islamic sources should be seen as the result of a choice made by the compilers of traditions and authors of such sources.

d. Naming Eve: Islamic etymology Once created, the feminine human creature was given a name, either by God41 or Adam,42 for, according to the Qur’ān, it was

Jazā’irī, p. 28. Jazā’irī, pp. 52, 53. 38 Jazā’irī, pp. 28, 52. 39 Tha‘labī, p. 62. Jazā’irī, p. 57. 40 Spellberg, p. 320. 41 Kisā’ī, p. 31; Rāwandī, p. 58; Jazā’rī, p. 52. 42 Muqātil, vol. 1, p. 213 (sūra 4:1); Jazā’irī, p. 23; Tha‘labī, p. 45; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, pp. 74–75; Ibn Kathīr, p. 20; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 229 (sūra 2:35); Rāzī, Vol. 3, p. 3 (sūra 2), vol. 9, p. 140 (sūra 4). 36 37

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God who taught Adam all the names (Q 2:31).43 Her name was Ḥawwā’ (Eve). Medieval Islamic sources know two etymologies for this name. A report recorded by Ibn Sa‘d (d. 230 AH / 845 C.E) derives this term from Eve’s role as the “mother of all living (ḥayy).”44 It is similar to the biblical etymology of Eve (Ḥava) in Gen 3:20, where Adam names his wife “Eve” (Ḥava) since she is the mother of all living creatures. This etymology reflects Eve’s fertility potential, and her role as a source of life. However, in the Islamic sources this derivation is quite rare. I have only been able to find it in a single report. The other derivation for Ḥawwā’ is far more prominent. A number of sources record reports suggesting that Eve was thus called since she has been created from a living (ḥayy) being.45 This derivation, too, has a biblical parallel. However, in the Bible it is used to explain the Hebrew word ishsha (a woman) as originating in that the first woman was “taken from a man” (īsh; Gen 23).46 This etymological twist has been noted by Riffat Hassan.47 Indeed, by explaining “Ḥawwā’” as originating from a living creature, rather than the mother of all living creatures, the Islamic sources replace her key role in the creation of life, for the idea of a masculine origin to Eve (and thus to all living). The creative power is thus moved from Eve to Adam. This reversed derivation might also reflect antiGnostic polemics for, in Gnostic texts, Eve is described as breathing the spirit of life into Adam. Her name is understood to mean “the one who gives life.”48 Unlike Gen 2:20, where Adam is said to have named all creatures himself. 44 Ibn Sa‘d, vol. 1, p. 34. 45 Muqātil, vol. 1, p. 213 (sūra 4:1); Jazā’irī, p. 23; Tha‘labī, p. 45; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, pp. 74–75; Ibn Kathīr, p. 20; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 229 (sūra 2:35); Rāzī, Vol. 3, p. 3 (sūra 2), vol 9, p. 140 (sūra 4). 46 Such a derivation for the Arabic word for “woman” (imra’a) exists as well. It is said to derive from that woman (imra’a) was created from man (imru’). 47 Hassan, “Issue,” p. 75. 48 Pagels, pp. 30–31; Caspi and Jiyad, p. 19. 43

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2. Eve as a second-class fertility agent Another aspect of Eve’s secondary fertility potential in relation to Adam is evident through the inferior nature of creative activities in which she is involved. For example, several reports discuss the implications of Eve and Adam’s fall on the growth of vegetation. Kisā’ī (d. 6th century AH / 11th century CE) records a report describing how, following the expulsion from Paradise, Adam and Eve wept. Of Adam’s tears God created the agarwood, ginger, Sandal wood, camphor, incense and all kinds of perfumes; and the valleys filled with trees. Of Eve’s tears God created carnation and other sexually-arousing plants.49 Here the creation through Adam is Kisā’ī, p. 51; Ibn Manẓūr, roots ‘-w-d, r-†-b, q-m-r. Another plant enlisted in the text is al-ghirghir, which is a kind of praiseworthy herb that grows in the spring in the mountains. It also has medical uses. However, I could not find its English name as other than Ibn Manẓūr (root gh-r-r) other dictionaries usually only give the other meaning of this word (which is “a turkey”). There is uncertainty regarding what exactly God created from Eve’s tears: carnation and - ?. Different manuscripts give different variants for this word, although all variants seem to evolve from the root q-w-y, or a distortion of it: (1) Eisenberg’s edition of Kisā’ī (p. 51; it is this edition that is generally used throughout the present study) gives the word al-afārigha (‫)األفارغة‬, which might very well be a distortion of al-aqāwī (‫)األقاوي‬. This word is not found in Arabic dictionaries, although the form al-afārigha is used in North African and Iranian oral pronunciation of the word “Africans” (al-afāriqa). This, however, is an oral form only, and one would not expect to find it in formal writing. Furthermore, the narrative context of the report speaks of vegetation, rather than of the living. (2) The Al-Ṭāhir b. Salma (Tunis, 1998) edition has the word wa-aqāwiya (p. 128). The editor comments that he also saw in a single manuscript the form al-aqāwa (note 1). (3) MS Leiden 14.027, which is an extended rework of the Qiṣaṣ of Kisā’ī, has the word ‘ūd (‫)عود‬, but this is probably also a distortion of the root q-w-y (‫قوي‬/‫ ;)عود‬for ‘ūd (agarwood) is already enlisted among the things that God has created of Adam’s tears (f. 15a). The above translation is based on reading this word as al-aqāwiya, or alaqāwa, as a rare plural form of muqāwin. In Arabic, muqāwin ‘alā al-jamā’ means a sexually-arousing material, and carnation is considered such a material. Therefore, this translation fits with the context of the entire 49

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superior in terms of both quality and quantity. Against the long list of trees and plants created of Adam’s tears, only one specific plant is named as being created through Eve: the carnation. Regarded as sexually stimulating, it is typical of the other plants that were created through her, thus implying Eve’s sexual and tempting function. In another report the prophet Muḥammad is asked about the origin of non-fruitful trees. He thus explains that whenever either Eve or Adam praised God, a tree was created. Adam’s praising made fruitful trees develop, whereas Eve’s grew fruitless trees.50 Eve’s deficiency is thus made clear: although she participates together with Adam in a lawful and desired activity, the outcomes of her actions are defective, non-fruitful and inferior to those of Adam. Through these trees Eve’s status as secondary creation is maintained and reproduced. Similarly, a report recorded by Tha‘labī (d. 427 AH / 1035 CE) informs us that after the expulsion to Earth, angel Gabriel gave Eve and Adam wheat grains for sowing. Whereas Adam received two grains, Eve only received one.51 Here the inferiority is indicated through quantity rather than quality. At the same time, it is also implied that Eve should have a lesser involvement in the whole process of bringing plants into being. Indeed, in other reports the grains are given to Adam alone.52 This last aspect is further and explicitly emphasised through another report, recorded by Jazā’irī, regarding the origin of barley. Here Eve’s involvement in cultivation is not only inferior, but also unauthorised. The lesser product of her work is caused not just by her deficient nature but also by her transgression. In this report the Prophet explains the origin of barley in that after the expulsion report as in the case of Adam, too, all the enlisted plants related to the general kind given at the end of the list: kinds of perfumes. I would like to thank Roberto Tottoli, Daniel Varisco and Ahmed Idrees for their valuable help in exploring this matter; and in particular Housni Shehada, who offered the direction for the above solution. 50 Jazā’irī, p. 27. 51 Tha‘labī, p. 57. 52 E.g., Kisā’ī, pp. 64–65.

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from Paradise, God commanded Adam to cultivate the earth. The angel Gabriel brought Adam wheat grains, so that he could sow them. But Eve took some of these (unlawfully). Although Adam forbade her to sow them, she went ahead and did that. Thus, whereas the grains sowed by Adam produced wheat, Eve’s produced barley.53 This report considers Eve’s activity as a fertility agent not only inferior, but also forbidden and transgressive. Her transgression leads not just to the appearance of lesser plants (as in the case of non-fruitful trees), but to the corruption of an otherwise good creation, as wheat (a superior cereal) turns into barley (an inferior cereal). That barley is considered inferior is evident from a report which regards its origins in the bran that was left after Adam sifted flour for the first time.54 As we shall see below, the wheat/ barley motif also has further implications in Muslim narratives regarding Adam and Eve in terms of nurturing and dominance over fertility. In the current context it is sufficient to note that these reports complete the former ones in that they supply reasons for Eve’s inferior fertility potential in terms of essence and quantity. 3. Negation of feminine fertility attributes Further inferiority of the feminine fertility potential is demonstrated through reports that present this potential as essentially negative, originating in a curse and a cause for further trouble. One of the motifs in Gen 3 that is nearly missing from the Qur’ān is divine curses. The Bible narrates that following the transgression, God cursed the snake, Eve and Adam, and then banished them.55 The Qur’ān, however, only speaks of banishment and “mutual enmity” among the participants in the transgression: Adam, his spouse and Satan (the Islamic counterpart of the snake). Extra-Qur’ānic sources, however, go well beyond the Qur’ānic text. They tell of additional punishments for the transgression, Jazā’irī, p. 27. Tha‘labī, pp. 57–58. 55 Gen 3:14–19. 53 54

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particularly concerning Eve. In that the Muslim sources seem to follow not only the Bible, but also the Talmud. Indeed, whereas in Gen 3 God curses Adam, Eve and the snake, some Talmudic sources further elaborate on Eve’s punishments, and extend these to include, for example, procreation and child raising, head covering, menstruation and isolation from the public. Such sources come close to the idea of “original sin,” and are part of the “ten curses of Eve” literature.56 Similarly, extra Qur’ānic sources also speak at length of Eve’s curses. For example, Tha‘labī records a lengthy report, which lists no less than ten curses that were set upon both Adam and Satan. Eve, however, was punished by fifteen curses.57 These refer to her (and women in general) inferiority in a number of domains, including physiology, cognition, religion and society. Her physical inferiorities refer mainly to aspects of feminine fertility.58 For example, pregnancy, child-birth pangs and monthly menstruation are all seen as the results of the curses brought upon womankind by Eve’s misconduct.59 Another implication of this, as noted by Spellberg, is that Eve is the “progenitor of women only.”60 Menstruation in particular attracted the traditionists’ attention. Whereas other punishments are considered as caused by the The exact number and nature of curses change among the sources, though. Ottenheijm, p. 160. 57 Tha‘labī, pp. 48–52. 58 See for example Kisā’ī, pp. 42–43; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 78; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 235 (sūra 2:36). The long list of Eve’s curses includes her deficiency in terms of intelligence, religion, testimony, inheritance, characteristic and social activities; as well as menstruation, harsh pregnancy and birth pangs. 59 Kisā’ī, p. 43; Tha‘labī, pp. 50–51, 64–65; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, pp. 78, 93–94; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 235 (sūra 2:36). Although its exact role in the fertility cycle only became fully understood in modern times, the connection between monthly menstruation and pregnancy has long been known to humanity. See for example: “A woman can only absorb the semen after her menstrual impurity, or close to that.” Va-Yiqrā Rabba (5th/6th century), parasha 14:5. 60 Spellberg, p. 314. 56

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transgression in general, menstruation is given a more specific cause. Ṭabarī (d. 310 AH / 923 CE) records a report explaining that God punished Eve for the transgression using the “eye for an eye” approach. By taking the forbidden fruit of the tree, Eve caused the tree to bleed. In return, God made her bleed each month. Furthermore, she was also inflicted by stupidity and painful childbirth.61 That is, the reports refer to menstruation as impure and consider it as an act of pouring blood, thus associating it with murder. Furthermore, a report recorded by Rāwandī notes that the first blood to have ever been spilled onto Earth was not that of the murdered Abel, but Eve’s menstrual blood.62 That is, Eve’s fertility potential is identified as lethal, and Eve herself is implicitly regarded as a murderess. This also connotes with, and re-interprets, the angels’ protest in the Qur’ān against God’s intention to create humanity, as a species that “would shed blood” (Q 2). Shedding blood is seen as a characteristic of Eve. It is also noteworthy that the tradition’s treatment of Adam’s bleeding is strikingly different: Tha‘labī relates that when Adam descended from Paradise he sneezed, and his nose bled. This made Adam terrified, and God sent an angel to comfort him.63 No allusions to impurity or killings are made. Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, pp. 77, 78; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 237 (sūra 2:36), vol. 12, pp. 355–356 (sūra 7:22). See also Tha‘labī, pp. 50–51. See below for further discussion of the bleeding motif and its equivalents in Jewish sources. Other explanations for the origin of menstruation are just as negative. According to a report mentioned by Bukhārī, it only started at the time of the Israelites. Ibn Ḥajar records an elaborated version, narrating that the Israelites used to pray together. Since during prayer women would watch men lustfully, God made women menstruate. (Bukhārī, vol. 1, p. 113, bāb kayfa kāna bad’ al-ḥayḍ; Ibn Ḥajar, p. 400). Furthermore, the black stone of the Ka‘ba, which descended from Paradise together with Adam, used to be white. It only turned black during the time of jāhiliyya (pre Islamic period of religious ignorance), as the result of being touched by women affected by menstrual impurity. Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 90. 62 Rāwandī, p. 59. 63 Tha‘labī, p. 53. 61

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Eve the murderess This perception can be found in Jewish sources as well, which relate women’s menstruation to Eve’s causing Adam to die.64 According to midrashic sources, women have to observe menstrual purity since Eve “spilled the blood of the world (i.e., Adam).”65 In Islam this became the blood of the tree, thus presenting Eve in a less severe manner. The Life of Adam and Eve also knows the motif of Adam’s expelling Eve from his death bed, accusing her of causing his death by feeding him the forbidden fruit.66 This motif is known in Islam, too. According to a prevalent report, when it became Adam’s time to die, God sent angels to purify him and collect his soul. Eve realised the purpose of their visit, and tried to approach Adam. But Adam sent Eve away, accusing her of bringing death upon him.67 By eating the Paradise fruit and feeding it to Adam, Eve is thus considered to have brought death into the world. She is turned into the antithesis of a creative, life-giving power, and becomes unworthy of the etymology “mother of all living.” This contradiction is typical of the ambivalence of life and death in the context of feminine fertility. This is evident, for example, also through the mishnaic use of the word “tomb” (qever) to signify a “womb” (reḥem).68 This tension is demonstrated through the efforts of the texts to diminish feminine fertility in the face of the natural reality of feminine pregnancy and child birth. Feminine characteristics as a blessing? The above reports seem to express a rather negative viewpoint of feminine physiology and fertility. However, Muslim tradition is also

Palestinian Talmud, Seder Moed, tractate Shabbat, p. 20a, ch. 2. Ottenheijm, pp. 160–161, quoting Aboth deRabbi Nathan, version b 9; Tanhuma, parashat Noah (beginning), Yalqut Shimoni, 3.31. 66 Life of Adam and Eve, 31:4, 14:3. 67 Ibn Isḥāq, p. 65; Ibn Sa‘d, vol. 1, pp. 22–34; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 105; Ibn Kathīr, pp. 68–69. 68 Mishnah, Oholoth, 7:4. Halivni, p. 128, n. 58. 64 65

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familiar with other viewpoints, as suggested by the following report, recorded by Kisā’ī: Following the expulsion from Paradise, Adam asked God for ways of protection against Satan. God responded to his request, but Adam was not satisfied. He asked for more; God responded to that as well. There came Satan, and similarly negotiated with God certain allowances for the punishments and curses which God has set upon him. God responded to his request, but Satan (like Adam) was not satisfied. He asked for more. God agreed. This made Adam ask God for further compensation, and God granted him these. Adam still was not satisfied. Thus God gave him further powers against Satan. Finally, there came Eve. She asked God to give her something similar to what He has given Adam and Satan, considering the fact that her curses were so numerous. But God rejected her request. He explained that “I have given you already life, mercy and kindness; whenever you make ritual purity after menstruation or childbirth, I write a reward for you such that if you saw it you would be pleased. If a woman dies during child birth she will be considered a martyr.” Eve was satisfied with that.69

This report is of interest since it underlies a very different view of feminine fertility and its accompanying traits. Unlike her masculine counterparts, Eve was satisfied with what God had given her, although He did not actually add anything new to what she had already been given (that is, as “curses”). This suggests a positive character, as Eve is satisfied with little. Furthermore, this report also presents Eve’s “curses” in a reversed manner: when Eve asks God to compensate her for the curses, God reminds her of what He has already granted her through these curses—life, compassion and kindness. These things are regarded here as feminine characteristics that are not only positive, but also difficult to surpass. Furthermore, Eve’s other “curses,” such as monthly menstruation and harsh childbirth, are presented as opportunities rather than barriers. Through them women can achieve an elevated 69

Kisā‘ī, pp. 48–50.

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status with God. This ambivalent presentation of the “curses” is reminiscent of the biblical narrative of Gen 3:14–19, where God curses the participants in the transgression. God informs each of them of the outcomes of their misconduct; however, whereas in His speech to the snake and Adam God uses the word “accursed” (arūr/arūra), this word is absent from His speech to Eve.70 4. Rejecting Eve’s nurturing capacities Nurturing is another trait of fertility that is often presented in Muslim sources as negative, transgressive, and dangerous—as long as it remains in the feminine domain. This becomes evident, for example, through the aforementioned report regarding the unauthorized sowing of wheat grains that were meant for Adam. These grains grew up as barley.71 Adam forbade Eve to planting them, but she disobeyed him (transgression # 1) and initiated an independent feminine act of fertilizing, regardless of the masculine claim for domination (transgression # 2). Eve thus re-lives the Paradise transgression as she takes a fruit that was not meant for her, and despite the fact that it was proscribed to her by the masculine lawgiver. Furthermore, she uses it to transgress into realms that have now become beyond her limits. But the outcome of these transgressions was the creation of a mutilated fruit. Furthermore, this prohibition could also be regarded as evolving from the Paradise prohibition: since Eve’s previous act of nurturing (feeding Adam the forbidden fruit) had such a disastrous effect, she is not to participate in such activities any longer. The wheat/barley motive is absent from most Jewish and Christian sources regarding Adam and Eve. However, Brian Murdoch mentions a 13th century Welsh poem about the fall of Adam and Eve, which relates a very similar motif. In this poem, the angel Michael gives Eve wheat grains and orders her to give them to Adam; but Eve also takes some grains for herself, and sows them surreptitiously. These grains turn into black rye, whereas 70 71

McCabe, pp. 12–14. Jazā’irī, p. 27.

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those sowed by Adam grow as wheat.72 Like barley, rye, too, is considered a second-grade cereal. In the poem the negative nature of Eve’s actions is further emphasised through the black colour of the rye. Murdoch explains this as a criticism of Eve’s unauthorised use (stealing) of the grain. The “stealing” motif is also hinted through one of the reports regarding wheat as the fruit of Paradise. This report narrates that Eve took seven stalks of the tree of Paradise: one of these she ate, one she kept for herself, and five she gave to Adam to eat.73 By taking the fruit Eve transgressed twice: once in breaking God’s command not to eat of the tree, and a second time in hiding one of the stalks, potentially for a future fertilising use (sowing), perhaps in a Promethean manner (stealing a heavenly resource and passing it on to humanity). Her feeding Adam with the forbidden fruit is thus coupled with her principal potential of nourishment. However, the use of the wheat-barley motif in the above reports seems to have further significance. Stealing is only one aspect of the transgression. Furthermore, another explanation for the origin of barley is the original transgression in Paradise. A report recorded by Jazā’irī explains that the tree of Paradise was wheat. It is from this tree that wheat as we know it originated. However, the place from which the fruit consumed by Eve and Adam had been taken was transformed, and started growing barley instead.74 Barley is therefore regarded as originating in disobedience to God. Indeed, the Islamic sources often identify the fruit of Paradise as wheat. While other identifications for the forbidden fruit exist as well, wheat is the most prominent among these.75 This is a Murdoch, p. 625. Kisā’ī, p. 39. 74 Jazā’irī, p. 42. 75 The Paradise tree produced wheat: Ibn Isḥāq, p. 62; Kisā’ī, p. 39; Tha‘labī, p. 46; Jazā’irī, p. 39; Muqātil, vol. 1, p. 42, (sūra 2), vol. 1, p. 386 (sūra 7:19); Ibn Kathīr, p. 21; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 88; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 231–232 (sūra 2:35); Rāzī, vol. 3, p. 7 (sūra 2). According to another version, the tree produced both wheat and grapes—another symbol of fertility. Rāwandī, p. 44; Jazā’irī, p. 39. Other suggestions 72 73

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particularly Islamic trait. Whereas similar discussions also exist in Judaism, for example, the sages (probably echoing Gen 3:7) generally agree that the tree of Paradise was a fig tree.76 Thus, it was through wheat that the first feminine transgression took place, through the stalks that Eve took from the forbidden tree.77 Several cultures link crops, nurturing and femininity with fertility and fertility-goddesses. For example, Demeter, the Greek goddess of fertility, was also the goddess of the earth and bread. Furthermore, one of the ingredients in the rites dedicated to her was barley. The ten-day celebrations in her honour could only be attended by women.78 In the Islamic context, however, feminine domination of wheat, cultivation and fertility is considered harmful; and barley is seen as a mutilated form of wheat. The strong presence of the wheat motif and the question of dominance over it might, therefore, indicate a polemic discourse in the Muslim tradition with the myth of the goddess, as the traditions transfer the control over fertility, nurturing, earth and bread to the male. Some reports further describe Eve’s manner of feeding Adam the fruit as impure and devious. A rather prominent report has it that, in order to make Adam eat the forbidden fruit, Eve got him drunk first.79 According to another report, Eve enticed Adam sexually, by demanding that he eat of the tree as a pre-condition for having intercourse.80 Thus Eve not only breached the divine command, but also abused her traditional feminine role of nourishing.

include, for example, camphor (Jazā’irī, p. 39 and Tha‘labī, p. 46), fig (Jazā’irī, p. 39; Ibn Kathīr, p. 21; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 232; Rāzī, vol. 3. p. 7) or vine (Rāzī, vol. 3, p. 7; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 232; Tha‘labī, p. 46). 76 Caspi and Jiyad, p. 61. 77 Kisā’ī, p. 39. 78 Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, pp. 959–961; Fink, p. 105. 79 Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 78; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 237 (sūra 2:36); Rāzī, vol. 14, p. 3 (sūra 2); Ibn Isḥāq, pp. 61–62; Tha‘labī, p. 48. 80 Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 78.

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Devious feminine nourishment is also presented in a report recorded by Jazā’irī, regarding the role of the tree itself in the transgression. According to this report, Adam was about to take a fruit of the tree when suddenly he remembered the divine prohibition, and changed his mind. But as he was about to get away, the tree (al-shajara—a grammatical feminine in Arabic) grabbed Adam’s head and dragged him to her, saying: “You will not be freed until after you eat of me.”81 In this report, the tree takes Eve’s place as the feminine seducer. Although it is Adam who approaches the tree (rather than Eve), still the blame is not put on him, but on a compelling feminine being. In this context it is also interesting to note Charlesworth’s indication that snakes are sometimes represented in texts and visual arts in the form of trees.82 A similar motif of a malevolent tree appears, although in a reversed context, in a report recorded by Ṭabarī. Following the transgression, Adam tries to run away and hide his shame, but a tree pulls his hair and refuses to let him go.83 The malevolent feminine beings keep presenting Adam with obstacles and forcing him into undesirable actions. Feminine fertility potential should thus be put under male domination. 5. Masculine domination over feminine fertility potential As has been demonstrated above, Eve’s involvement in nurturing, cultivating and creative activity is regarded as inferior, dangerous and illegitimate. Masculine control over it is achieved in a number of ways. The Qur’ān assures its readers that “no woman carries a child or gives birth without God’s knowledge” (Q 35:11). In addition to declaring God’s omnipotence, this verse uses a very specific example, confronting women’s fertility with God’s knowledge, and confirming the subordination of feminine fertility to God. The need for such a confirmation could perhaps indicate that this subordination was still being questioned in Late Antiquity. Jazā’irī, p. 45. Charlesworth, pp. 189, 224, 349. 83 Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 8, p. 142 (sūra 7:22). 81 82

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More specifically to Eve, masculine domination over her fertility potential is demonstrated as soon as God creates her. According to a report recorded by Kisā’ī, immediately after God created Eve, He married her to Adam. Only then did He put the couple in the Garden.84 That is, Eve was completely denied any opportunity to act independently outside her binding relationship with Adam. Another aspect of this male domination over feminine qualities is demonstrated through references to wheat, cultivation and the production of food after the expulsion. Such reports usually relate to Adam all tasks that have to do with the production of bread, in an almost exclusive way.85 These include all phases of bread making, from ploughing to threshing, sorting, grinding, sifting and baking. One might have expected that at least some of these tasks would be related to Eve; indeed, Ṭabarī in his Ta’rīkh records a single report which says of Eve that she used to spin, weave, knead and bake bread “and do all the things women do.”86 Strangely enough, though, this description comes as the last sentence in a report regarding the death of Adam, which preceded the death of Eve by one year. It is thus not clear whether the above description refers to Eve’s works in general, or just through this one year. Even so, this single report and its phrasing (“all the things women do”) only emphasises the exceptionality of the view presented in all the other reports, regarding Adam as the sole producer of bread, from grain to loaf. Another report, recorded by Kisā’ī, allows Eve the collection of stalks after the harvest; all other activities concerning bread production are again related to Adam.87 Eve’s role here is reminiscent of the wheat stalks that she collected in Paradise, and mediated to Adam; however in the context of the present tradition, her role is neutralised and limited. Her actions are

Kisā’ī, p. 31; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 1, p. 230 (sūra 2:35). For a similar idea in Jewish midrash see Gen. Rab. 18:1; 18:12; quoted by Caspi and Jiyad, pp. 54, 137. 85 Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 87; Tha‘labī, p. 58. 86 Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, pp. 105–106; Smith and Haddad, p. 140. 87 Kisā’ī, p. 65. 84

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legitimate, and she does not harvest the stalks herself, nor does she process them or feed them to anyone. Indeed, once the danger of leaving wheat (fertility) at the hands of Eve (as in the case of the Paradise fruit) becomes evident, wheat is put under masculine control (Adam’s work) and considered exclusive for men. The role of nourishment is also transformed from Eve (in Paradise) to Adam (on earth). So is Earth itself, which after the transgression becomes cultivated, hence dominated, by Adam. Thus, these symbols of feminine fertility, wheat and earth, become identified with male domination. The detachment of Eve (and women) from the land is further achieved through the theme of creation from Adam’s rib. This is further stressed in a report that is recorded by Jazā’irī. According to this report, men were created from earth, whereas women were created from the rib. It is thus that men crave for the land, whereas women crave for men.88

Legal implications of Adam’s domination over feminine fertility Adam’s control over wheat also has legal implications. According to a report recorded by Jazā’irī, the fruit of Paradise was wheat. During the transgression Eve took a stalk of it, which contained three grains. One grain she consumed herself, and the other two she gave Adam to eat. Since Eve had half the share that Adam had of the forbidden fruit, women get half the share men get of the inheritance, according to Muslim law.89 Another report also regards wheat as the cause for this legal difference. A report recorded by Tha‘labī suggests that this unequal division was determined after the actions of the angel Gabriel. When Gabriel brought Eve and Adam wheat grains for sowing, he gave Eve only one grain, whereas Adam received two. It is thus that women’s share in inheritance is half that of men.90 Jazā’irī, pp. 27, 37. Jazā’irī, p. 40; where another version is also recorded, which speaks of eighteen grains, twelve eaten by Adam and only six by Eve. 90 Tha‘labī, p. 58. 88 89

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Curiously, while both reports relate the laws of inheritance to primordial times and, more specifically, to the use of wheat by Adam and Eve, each report has a different angle. The latter speaks of a fruit acquired legitimately, from an angelic source. Its division, too, is dictated—and thus legitimised—by a celestial decision. The former report has wheat as the forbidden fruit of Paradise. Its acquisition and use by Eve (and Adam) are illegitimate: it is the cause of the original transgression. Surprisingly, however, the causal relationship between consuming the forbidden fruit and an enlarged inheritance is positive, rather than negative. Rather than be punished, Adam is rewarded for consuming a larger portion of the forbidden fruit. This is very different to the presentation of the transgression and its outcome in other reports, where disobedience (by Eve) leads to the corruption of God’s creation (wheat). It could be that in their attempts to legitimise social inequality between men and women, Islamic scholars and traditionists would go as far as to reverse the original meaning of a given narrative in order to make it suitable for their purposes. Another possible explanation would be the significance of domination over the wheat grains. Their origin or the way through which they were acquired does not matter, since the grains carry within them the potential for extended rights, in this case: for inheritance. It is also notable that whereas Eve is punished for taking the forbidden fruit and giving it to Adam, Adam himself is here rewarded for accepting the fruit and consuming it. It seems that the tradition is more tolerant of Adam than of Eve. 6. Independence of masculine fertility potential Whereas Eve’s fertility is presented as inferior and even dangerous, Adam is considered not only as superior but also independent of Eve in terms of fertility potential, that is, capable of creating new life without involving Eve. This perception is used in the exegesis of Q 6:98: “He [God] created you from a single soul.” In line with the aforementioned tendency of commentators to identify this “single soul” with Adam, they also consider the creation of

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humanity as evolving from him alone.91 One application of this theme can be found in reports regarding the covenant (mithāq) which God made with Adam and his descendants. In the process of the covenant, God brought forth from Adam’s loins all his future offspring.92 Eve is not mentioned. More explicitly, Adam’s independent potential for procreation is demonstrated in a report recorded by Nawawī (d. 675 AH / 1277 CE) in his exegesis of Muslim’s Ṣaḥīḥ. This report relates the origin of Gog and Magog to the mixture of Adam’s ejaculation with earth, from which God created them.93 The implication of this report is that not only is Eve created of Adam, but that Adam also has an ability to reproduce independently. It might be argued that Gog and Magog are perhaps not the children anyone would wish for, thus indicating the advantages of procreating in a more traditional way. Indeed, Jewish tradition makes this claim explicit, as it declares that Adam’s ejaculation created demons. Lurianic Kabbalah, however, considers Adam’s “independent” offspring as loftier than his children with Eve, since the origin of the former is purely spiritual and masculine, whereas the latter are a mixture of spirit and matter (feminine).94 Generally speaking, it would seem that the notion of a masculine independent fertility potential was rather prevalent in the ancient Near East. Egyptian mythology related that humanity came to be after the god Amon ejaculated. His seed fell to the ground, and this mixture was the origin of humanity.95 In Greek mythology this principle is applied in particular to powerful feminine goddesses: Aphrodite, a goddess of motherhood and fertility, was created from the sea foam that gathered around Uranus’ genitals; Muqātil, vol. 1, p. 362 (sūra 6:98). See also Muqātil, vol. 1, p. 428 (sūra 7:190); Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, vol. 4, p. 224 (sūra 4:1) and vol. 7, p. 286 (sūra 6:98). 92 Kisā’ī, p. 58. The idea of God showing Adam all future generations also appears in Jewish sources. Caspi and Jiyad, p. 55. 93 Nawawī, vol. 3, p. 98. 94 Magid, pp. 58–59. 95 Parker and Stanton, p. 292. I would like to thank Helen Lynch for suggesting this direction. 91

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and Athena, the goddess of wisdom, was born out of Zeus’ forehead.96 It is worth noting in this context that Eve, too, is sometimes identified as Sophia (wisdom).97 Finally, this independent creative power is also typical of other masculine figures in Islam. Tha‘labī records a report regarding the bulls that Adam used in order to plough the earth; of their secretions millet, chickpeas and lentils sprouted.98 Even the negative—yet masculine—figure of Satan is granted a creative potential. As mentioned above, Muslim tradition has it that Iblīs fertilises himself. It is thus that his descendants, the demons, are born. Furthermore, according to a report recorded by Jazā’irī, dogs were created after Iblīs’ spittle fell to the ground and was mixed with earth.99 This process is rather similar to the creation from earth and semen that was mentioned above. Kister quotes from Ṣaffūrī another version: As Iblīs saw the earth meant for the creation of Adam, he spat on it, and hit the part meant for the navel. The angels cut out this bit of earth, and of it the dog was created.100 Here, the text suggests a triple connection between Iblīs, Adam and the dog, as the navel is the connection between the fetus and its mother; only here it is a male’s navel. Thus, even the fertility potential of Satan, the enemy of God and an ultimate negative figure, is regarded as superior to Eve’s.

A thread of one’s own: spinning as a reminiscent representation of Eve’s life-giving potential Nevertheless, a remnant of Eve’s life-giving power remains in reports discussing the production of clothing by Adam and Eve after the expulsion from Paradise. These reports usually describe Adam as weaving and sewing; however, Eve is the one who

Fink, pp. 69, 81. See for example, Pagels, p. 54. 98 Tha‘labī, p. 57. 99 Jazā’irī, p. 49. 100 Kister, pp. 163–164, quoting Ṣaffūrī. Kister also quotes other etiologies regarding dogs, all related to the tension between Satan and Adam. 96 97

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spins.101 Spinning alludes to the thread of life. In Greek mythology the goddesses of destiny are those who thread (and cut) it.102 In the folktale “sleeping beauty,” a misuse of the spinning wheel almost takes the princess’ life; and in “Rumpelstiltskin” the spinning wheel transforms essence (straw into gold), as well as life (the miller’s daughter into a queen); but also requires life (of her future son). The spinning motif thus has a strong connotation to the wheel of life. Eve’s spinning skill is one of the few instances in Muslim traditions concerning Adam and Eve where Eve is regarded as participating in production (here: of clothing). That this is not selfevident is illustrated through a report that is recorded by Kisā’ī, where it is Adam who is regarded as spinning, too.103 Indeed, as has been shown above, such skills are usually associated with Adam alone. The empowering nature of spinning for Eve is demonstrated through another report regarding the clothing of Adam and Eve. In this report, recorded by Ibn Kathīr (d. 774 AH / 1373 CE), after the expulsion from Paradise, Adam cried, and told Eve that he was being disturbed by this. Gabriel then descended upon them; he taught Eve how to spin, and Adam how to weave.104 Unlike most other reports in Islam concerning Eve and Adam, here a verbal communication takes place between them. Adam is described as weak and needy, and seems to turn to Eve as some kind of a motherly figure of power, in expectation of a solution; which is then provided.

SUMMARY Although the question of fertility and related themes is not part of the Qur’ānic Paradise narrative, this and related motifs are rather prevalent in extra-Qur’ānic narratives concerning Adam and Eve. In the particular context of fertility, these sources often relate, develop and/or respond to themes that were already present in the Ibn Sa‘d, vol. 1, p. 31; Ṭabarī, Ta’rīkh, vol. 1, p. 85; Tha‘labī, p. 56. Fink, pp. 172–173. 103 Kisā’ī, p. 63. 104 Ibn Kathīr, p. 32. 101 102

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Near Eastern cultural and religious milieu, such as the Greek, Jewish, Christian and Gnostic traditions. Although some reports present Eve in a positive light, sources often focus on her image as negative, inferior and dangerous. Why would that be? Calderini suggests that the Muslim sources’ portrayal of Eve in a negative light and as the main cause for the expulsion from Paradise was motivated by an attempt to protect Adam’s image. Considered in Islam as a prophet, Adam was regarded as infallible (ma‘ṣūm). Therefore, all responsibility for the transgression and expulsion had to be removed from him, and laid at Eve’s door.105 However, as has been shown above, Islamic sources found other solutions for this matter, for example by suggesting that the expulsion was predestined by God (maqdūr), or simply by omitting the whole episode. According to Spellberg, in their attempt to further exegete and elaborate on the concise texts of the Qur’ān, Muslim scholars would use Jewish and Christian narratives since they were “close at hand.”106 However, as has been demonstrated by Rubin in the context of Muḥammad’s biography, Muslim tradition was not necessarily meant to expand the Qur’ānic text.107 Furthermore, as seen above, other themes were available (and used) as well, such as Greek tradition. Indeed, it seems that Islamic scholars made conscious choices in their constructions of the Adam and (especially) Eve narratives and images. Of the several narratives available, they chose to elaborate and emphasise the one which best served their purposes (such as formation from the rib rather than of earth, or maintaining Eve’s creation as secondary, whether from rib, earth or water). In the context of Eve, Adam and fertility, these purposes include supporting the patriarchal social structure. Furthermore, in order to Calderini, pp. 46–63. Spellberg, p. 320. 107 See for example, Uri Rubin, “The life of Muhammad and the Quran: The Case of Muhammad’s Hijra,” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam, vol. 28 (2003): 40–64. [Reprinted in: Uri Rubin, Muhammad the Prophet and Arabia, Variorum Collected Studies Series (Farnham, Surrey, England; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2011), no. VIII]. 105 106

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maintain the myth of superior male fertility potential, a myth that is not necessarily in line with the natural reality, a constant repetition and expanding of it is required. Curiously, a similar process of selection seems also to affect modern scholarship. All studies of Eve in Islam (including the present one) tend to focus on the negative image of Eve. Many studies completely ignore reports which depict her in a positive manner, such as the ones mentioned above. Perhaps the time has come to turn our heads towards the bright side of Eve.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Becking, Bob. “Once in a Garden: Some Remarks on the Construction of the Identity of Woman and Man in Genesis 2–3.” In Becking, Bob and Susan Hennecke (eds.). Out of Paradise: Eve and Adam and their Interpreters. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2010, pp. 1–13. Bukhārī (al-), Muḥammad bin Ismā‘īl Abū ‘Abdallāh al-Ju‘fī. Ṣaḥīḥal-Bukhārī. Muṣṭafā Dīb al-Baghī (ed.). Beirut: Dār Ibn Kathīr, al-Yamāma, 1987. Calderini, S. “Woman, Sin and Lust.” In Hayes, M.A., Wendy Porter and David Tombs (eds.).Religion and Sexuality. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998. Studies in Theology and Sexuality 2, pp. 46–63. Caspi, Mishael and Mohammed Jiyad. Eve in Three Traditions and Literatures: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 2005. Charlseworth, James H. The Good and Evil Serpent: How a Universal Symbol became Christianized. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2011. Fink, Gerhard. Who’s Who in der Antiken Mythologie. Hana Livnat, trans. Israel: Maariv, 1998 [Hebrew]. Gilbert S.F. and Z. Zevit. “Congenital Human Baculum Deficiency: The Generative Bone of Genesis 2:21–23.” American Journal of Medical Genetics Vol. 101 (2001): 284–285. doi: 10.1002/ajmg.1387 Halivni, David. Midrash, Mishnah and Gemara: The Jewish Predilection for Justified Law. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1986.

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Hamdānī (al-), Abū Muḥammad al-Ḥasan b. Aḥmad b. Ya‘aqūb. Kitāb al-Iklīl li-Lisān al-Yaman. Muḥammad b. ‘Alī al-Akwa‘ (Ed.). Cairo: Maṭba‘at al-Sunna al-Muḥammadiyya, 1963. Hassan, Riffat. “The Issue of Woman-Man Equality in the Islamic Tradition.” In L. Grob, R. Hassan and H. Gordon (eds.). Women’s and Men’s Liberation: Testimonies of Spirit. New York: Greenwood, 1991, pp. 65–82. Hassan, R. “Women in Islam and Christianity: A Comparison.” Concilium, 3 (1994): 18–22. Ibn Ḥajar, Aḥmad bin ‘Alī Abū al-Faḍl al-‘Asqalānī al-Shāfi‘ī. Fatḥal-Bārī: Sharḥ Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī. Muḥammad Fu’ād ‘Abd alBāqī and Muḥibb al-Dīn al-Khaṭīb (eds.). Beirut: Dār alMa‘rifa, 1379 AH [1959 CE]. Ibn Isḥāq, Muḥammad. Al-Mubtada’ fīQiṣaṣ al-Anbiyyā’. Muḥammad Karīm al-Kawwāz, (ed.). Beirut: Arab Diffusion Company, 2006. Ibn Kathīr, Abū al-Fidā’ Ismā‘īl. Qiṣaṣ al-Anbiyā’. Beirut: Dār alFikr, 1992. Ibn Māja, Muḥammad bin Yazīd Abū ‘Abdallāh al-Qazwīnī. Sunan Ibn Māja. Muḥammad Fu’ād ‘Abd al-Bāqī (ed.). Beirut: Dār alFikr, n.d. Ibn Sa‘d, Muḥammad b. Manī’ al-Hāshimī al-Baṣrī. Al-Ṭabaqāt alKubrā. Beirut: Dār al-kutub al-‘lmiya, 1997. Jazā’irī (al-), Ni‘matallāh. Al-Nūr al-Mubīn fī Qiṣaṣ al-Anbiyā’ walMursilīn. Beirut: Dār al-Andalus, n.d. Kisā’ī (al-), Muḥammad b. ‘Abdallāh. Qiṣaṣ al-Anbiyā’. Isaac Eisenberg (ed.). Leiden: Brill, 1922. Kister, M. J. “Ādam: A Study of Some Legends in Tafsīr and Ḥadīth Literature.” Israel Oriental Studies. XIII (1933): 113–174. Life of Adam and Eve (Apocalypsis Mosis). Mordechay Haq (Trans.). In Kahana, Avraham (ed.). Hasefarim Haḥizoniyim. Tel Aviv: Masada, 1956. Vol. 1, pp. 1–18. [Hebrew] Magid, Shaul. From Metaphysics to Midrash: Myth, History and the Interpretation of Scripture in Lurianic Kabbala. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2008. Mas’ūdī (al-), Abū al-Ḥasan ‘Alī b. al-Ḥusayn. Murūj al-Dhahab waMa‘ādin al-Jawhar. Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1997. McCabe, Elisabeth. “Answers to Unresolved Questions: A Closer Look at Eve and Adam in Genesis 2–3.” In McCabe, Elisabeth (ed.). Women in the Biblical World: A Survey of Old and

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New Testament Perspectives. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2009. Ms. Leiden 14.027. Muqātil b. Sulaymān. Tafsīr Muqātil bin Sulaymān. Ahmad Farid, (ed.). Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 2003. Murdoch, Brian. The Medieval Popular Bible: Expansions of Genesis in the Middle Ages. Suffolk: Boydell and Brewer, 2003. Muslim bin al-Ḥajāj Abū al-Ḥusayn al-Qushayrī al-Naysābūrī. ṢaḥīḥMuslim. Muḥammad Fu’ād ‘Abd al-Bāqī (ed.). Beirut: Dār Iḥyā’ al-Turāth al-‘Arabī, n.d. Nawawī (al-), Abū Zakariyyā Muḥyī al-Dīn bin Sharaf. TahdhībalAsmā’ wal-Lughāt. Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1996. Ottenheijm, Eric. “Eve and ‘Women’s Commandments’ in Orthodox Judaism.” In Becking, Bob and Susan Hennecke (eds.). Out of Paradise: Eve and Adam and their Interpreters. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2010. Pagels, Elaine. The Gnostic Gospels. London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1980. Parker, Janet and Julie Stanton (eds.). Mythology: Myths, Legends and Fantasies. Lane Cove, Australia: Global Book Publishing, 2003. Pregill, Michael. “Isrā’īliyyāt, myth and Pseudepigraphy: Wahb b. Munabbih and the Early Islamic Versions of the Fall of Adam and Eve.” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam. Vol. 34 (2008): 643–659. Rāwandī (al-), Quṭb al-Dīn Sa‘d bin Hibatallāh. Qiṣaṣ al-Anbiyā’. Ghulām Riḍā ‘Irfanyān al-Yazdī, (ed.). Beirut: Mu’assasat alMufīd, 1989. Rāzī (al-), Muḥammad Fakhr al-Dīn b. Ḍiyā’ al-Dīn ‘Umar. Tafsīr alFakhr al-Rāzī. Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 2005. Reeves, John. “Some Explorations of the Intertwining of Bible and Qur’ān.” In Reeves, John C. (ed.). Bible and Qur’an: Essays in Scriptural Intertextuality. Society of Biblical Literature Symposium Series 24; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003, pp. 43–60. Rubin, Uri. “The life of Muhammad and the Quran: The Case of Muhammad’s Hijra,” Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam, Vol. 28 (2003): 40–64. [Reprinted in: Uri Rubin, Muhammad the Prophet and Arabia, Variorum Collected Studies Series (Farnham, Surrey, England; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2011), no. VIII].

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Smith, Jane I. and Yvonne Y. Haddad. “Eve: Islamic Image of Woman.” Women’s Studies Int. Forum. Vol. 5, no. 2 (1982): 135– 144. Smith, William, Sir (ed.).A Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology. Ann Arbor, Michigan: University of Michigan Library, 2005 (Print source; Boston: Little, Brown and Col, 1867). Available from: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ACL3129.0001.001 [accessed: 18/09/2012]. Spellberg, D. A. “Writing the Unwritten Life of the Islamic Eve: Menstruation and the Demonization of Motherhood.” Int. J. Middle East Stud. Vol. 28 (1996): 305–324. Stowasser, Barbara. Women in the Qur’ān, Traditions, and Interpretation. New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994. Tahir b. Salama, (ed.). Qiṣaṣ al-Anbiyā’ li-Kisā’ī. Tunis: 1998. Tha‘labī (al-), Abū Isḥāq Aḥmad b. Muḥammad b. Ibrāhīm alNaysābūrī. Qiṣaṣ al-Anbiyā’ al-Musammā ‘Arā’is al-Majālis. Muḥammad Sayd (ed.). Cairo: Dār al-Fajir lil-Turāth, 2001. Thackston, Wheeler M. Jr. (Trans.). The Tales of the Prophets of alKisā’ī. Translated and annotated by W.M. Thackston Jr. Boston: Twayne, 1978. Ṭabarī, Muḥammad bin Jarīr Abū Ja‘far. Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī. Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1405 AH [1984 CE]. Ṭabarī (al-), Abū Ja‘far Muḥammad b. Jarīr al-Ṭabarī. Ta’rīkh alṬabarī. Ṣadīq Jamīl al-‘Aṭṭār (ed.). Beirut: Dār al-Fikr, 1998. Midrash va-Yiqra in Midrash Rabbah Bereishis Shemos Vayikra. New York: 1960. Ya‘aqūbī (al-), Aḥmad b. Isḥāq b. Ja‘far b. Wahb b. Waḍiḥ alBaghdādī. Ta’rīkh al-Ya‘aqūbī. Khalīl al-Manṣūr (ed.). Beirut: Dār al-Kutub al-‘Ilmiyya, 1999. .

HAGAR AS A BAD MOTHER, HAGAR AS AN ICON OF FAITH: THE HAGAR NARRATIVES FROM THE ISLAMIC AND THE CHRISTIAN TRADITIONS DISCUSSED AMONG MUSLIM AND CHRISTIAN WOMEN IN NORWAY ANNE HEGE GRUNG UNIVERSITY OF OSLO

INTRODUCTION The figure of Hagar is known in the Jewish and Christian tradition from the Bible’s narratives about Abraham and his family. In the Islamic tradition, Hagar appears as Ibrahim’s wife and is central in the traded narrative of the Hadith when Mecca is established as Islam’s most central space of pilgrimage. Although the JudeoChristian and the Islamic tradition portray two different Hagars concerning her role in the Abrahamic family and have given the figure different statuses on this background, they share that Hagar is the mother of Abraham/Ibrahim’s oldest son Ishmael, and they share the most significant elements in the dramatic part of the narratives about Hagar and Ishmael alone in the desert, situated in a life-threatening situation without any supplies of food and water. In both traditions they are miraculously rescued by divine intervention: Genesis 21 When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. 16Then she went and sat down opposite him

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ANNE HEGE GRUNG a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot; for she said, “Do not let me look on the death of the child.” And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. 17And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, “What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. 18Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.” 19Then God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.1

Al-Bukhari, Vol. 4, Book 55, Number 583 When the water in the water-skin had all been used up, she became thirsty and her child also became thirsty. She started looking at him, tossing in agony: She left him, for she could not endure looking at him, and found that the mountain of Safa was the nearest mountain to her on that land. She stood on it and started looking at the valley keenly so that she might see somebody, but she could not see anybody. Then she descended from Safa and when she reached the valley, she tucked up her robe and ran in the valley and reached the Marwa mountain where she stood and started looking, expecting to see somebody, but she could not see anybody. She repeated that (running between Safa and Marwa) seven times. The prophet said: “This is the source of the tradition of the walking of the people between them (i.e.Safa and Marwa).” When she reached Marwa (for the last time) she heard a voice and she asked herself to be quit and listened attentively. She heard the voice again and said: “O! You have made me hear your voice; have you got something to help me?” And behold! She saw an angel at the place of Zam-zam, digging the earth with his heel (or his wing) till water flowed from that place.2 The text read in the group was from Bibelen 1978, by the Norwegian Bible Society. Cited here is the New Revised Standard Version (1989). 2 The text read in the group was a Norwegian translation of the Hadith narrative printed in a textbook of Islamic source texts by 1

HAGAR AS A BAD MOTHER, HAGAR AS AN ICON OF FAITH 67 When these two texts were taken as a starting point for a shared discussion between Muslim and Christian women in Norway, interesting interpretative patterns surfaced.3 A closer investigation of these patterns and reflections over what they may entail for Muslim-Christian co-exploration of the Hagar figure is the focus of this contribution. The shared readings and discussions I present below took place when I established material for the PhD project Gender Justice in Muslim-Christian Readings (Grung 2011). Together with the texts from Sura 4:34 in the Qur’an and 1 Tim 2:8–15 in the New Testament, the Hagar narratives from Genesis and the Hadith provided the textual frame for my investigation of how Muslim and Christian woman readers engaged with interpretative strategies of their canonical texts. An important point in the study was the comparative and interactive element of bringing people from different religious backgrounds together in an interpretative community. The Hagar narratives were selected because they provide the shared figure between the traditions of Christianity and Islam.4 Even if Hagar has a more prominent role in the Islamic tradition and traditionally is interpreted more as either a background figure or a negative figure (for instance in the New Testament in Paul’s letter to the Galatians: Gal 4: 22–31) in the Christian tradition, the narratives themselves as they have been traded share many of the same elements. There have been earlier explorations of Hagar as a shared figure between Christians and Muslims, for instance by Mukti Barton, who investigated how Hagar as a scriptural figure was used for shared empowerment of Christian and Muslim Bangladeshi women (Barton 1999). But Thomassen and Rasmussen, 1999, pp. 198–99. The text cited here is from an English translation of the Hadith by Al Bukhari: Center for MuslimJewish Engagement, 2008–9. 3 In the project itself, a more extensive part of the Hagar narratives were read. The dramatic part where Hagar and Ishmael are alone in the desert that is referenced here is, however, the part to which I shall relate most in the discussion. 4 The particular Jewish aspect was not included in the project, and provides a future possibility to explore the figure of Hagar even broader among readers from the three, not only two, traditions.

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Hagar has mainly been focused upon by Christian and Islamic feminist/womanist theologians and religious scholars separately: Delores Williams in her book Sisters in the Wilderness explores how Hagar has inspired Afro-American Christian spirituality and womanist theology (Williams 1993), and Hibba Abugideiri portrays Hagar as a historical model for what she calls “Gender Jihad” (Abugideiri 2001). Williams emphasized Hagar’s struggle for survival, as opposed to her struggle for emancipation when she ran away the first time from the Abrahamic family into the wilderness, but returned to her slave position on God’s command—in order to survive. She also claims that the situatedness of “being in the wilderness” as an important experience where Hagar has an encounter with God can be interpreted into the experience of Afro-Americans in the USA, historically speaking. Abugideiri claims that Hagar is referred to not only as a mother, but as a spiritual leader in the tradition of Islam, initiating the ritual of sa’y, and taking responsibility alongside Ibrahim for the fulfillment of God’s commandments. Robert Crotty reflects over how the Hagar figure in the JudeoChristian tradition, particularly in Western sources, has potential to represent a negative image of Islam and Muslims, and he encourages the reader to revisit the Hagar figure as she is interpreted in the Islamic tradition. He finds that this could be a way to fill a gap between the Judeo-Christian (Western) traditions and Islam today, overcoming stereotypical images of Muslims in general. Crotty claims that the Judeo-Christian tradition has rejected Hagar, and that this may be interpreted as a rejection of Islam as a tradition, and of Muslims. He suggests that Hagar today represents a model of motherhood and of true leadership (Crotty 2012, 166). According to Crotty, a more coherent reading of Hagar through the three traditions in a balanced, dialogical way may pave the way for a new story of the Abrahamic family that can serve as a contemporary request for peaceful coexistence of people from the three faiths (Crotty 2012, 183). So, what may happen when an actual co-reading takes place? The participants in the project that is the framework for this essay read the texts related to Hagar from Genesis and the Hadith together and shared an interpretative space in the discussions following the readings. The hermeneutical situation established became complex and dynamic, marked by the religious differences

HAGAR AS A BAD MOTHER, HAGAR AS AN ICON OF FAITH 69 among the participants. The participants’ various cultural backgrounds were also presented. We may ask, therefore: What new perspectives on the figure of Hagar may appear through the co-reading in the shared interpretative space?

SITUATING THE READERS AND PRESENTING THE METHODOLOGY OF THE PROJECT I shall now briefly present the group of readers and the methodological context of the project, before I turn to the presentation and analyses of selected cases from the discussions. The group established in the project consisted of five Muslim and five Christian women with various cultural backgrounds, all living in the Oslo area in Norway. Among the Muslim participants, both the Sunni and Shi’a traditions were represented, and among the Christians there were Lutherans and Roman Catholics. The Christian participants did not all have a solely Norwegian cultural background; the group included Christians with a Middle Eastern and an African background as well. Among the Muslim participants were people with Pakistani, Iranian and Moroccan backgrounds, all of whom had lived several years in Norway. The variety in religious and cultural backgrounds of the participants created a complex web of interpretative traditions and resources which came into play in the discussions over the texts. To map the interpretative terrain was thus a challenging task in itself, both for the participants and for me as researcher when I analyzed the material later on. The participants basically had three things in common in addition to all participating in the same project: (1) They lived in Norway, (2) they were involved in activity in their religious communities and had a certain level of knowledge of their religious traditions, and (3) they were women. The language used in the group was Norwegian, and the canonical texts were read in their Norwegian versions, because this was the only shared language. The participants met altogether six times, two of them devoted to discussing the Hagar narratives. There was a certain drop-out among the participants, but a core group of four Christians and two Muslims were present at all the

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meetings. This created a certain numerical imbalance between the Christians and the Muslims, but culturally, no particular background had a numerical majority.5 The meetings proceeded in the same manner: We started by sharing a light meal, then the texts were read aloud, one from each tradition. After this, the discussion was free, facilitated by one of the participants (alternating between Christian and Muslim participants). The meeting lasted three and a half hours, and included one or two breaks where more informal conversations took place. My own role during the meetings was, apart from organizing food and the general planning, to observe the discussion, apart from the two first meetings where I was the facilitator. But the reading, the discussions and the meaning-making effort was also left to the participants in these two meetings.6

MAPPING THE HERMENEUTICAL SITUATION: PLURAL ENCOUNTERS Making the figure of Hagar through the Hagar narratives the starting point of a Muslim-Christian conversation represents comparative challenges from the beginning, as I touched upon earlier. Some of these challenges arose from the different understandings of the figure of Hagar itself in the two traditions; Hagar has a higher status and a more crucial role in the Islamic tradition as the mother of Ishmael and the instigator of the ritual of sa’y, where the pilgrims in Mecca run seven times up and down the heights of Safa and Marwa before they go to the well of Zam-zam in remembrance of Hagar’s struggle. In the Judeo-Christian tradition Hagar is written out of the story rather quickly, although she also receives a promise from God just as Abraham did (Gen 16: 10–12) and is the first to give God a name (Gen 16: 13). In the Christian tradition Paul uses Hagar as a negative mirror for the Christian freedom from the law, as already mentioned above For a thorough discussion on this and other crucial methodological issues, see Grung 2011, pp. 107 ff. 6 This was the choice I made in order not to contribute to the material I would later analyze. See a further discussion on the methodological advantages and disadvantages of this in Grung 2011, pp. 110–112. 5

HAGAR AS A BAD MOTHER, HAGAR AS AN ICON OF FAITH 71 (Gal 4). But the hermeneutical challenge for such a co-reading is also related to the establishment of an inter- or trans-religious and cultural interpretational encounter as such. To read canonical scriptures in both the Christian and the Islamic traditions is different from reading any random text, and the question of the representation of one’s tradition and of interpretative authority over the scriptures may emerge. It implies different systems of meaning-making that may or may not communicate. But the most crucial point when embarking on Muslim-Christian co-reading of canonical texts in the contemporary West is perhaps the contextual view on Christianity vs. Islam as interpretative systems of meaning. When interpreting canonical texts related to women and gender issues, for instance in the Norwegian context where gender equality is seen as a fundamental value in the dominant public discourse, communication between systems of meaning where gender roles and gender is interpreted differently may be challenging. As Crotty and many others suggest, there is also a certain cultural and political rejection of Islam representing a valuable system of meaning in the contemporary West. To describe the encounters present in such a co-reading, there are at least four perspectives of encounter: (1 & 2) Between the texts themselves (pre-textual, inter-textual), (3) between the religious and the cultural traditions represented, and finally (4) between the individuals doing the actual reading and speaking. The latter may include the encounter between different social classes or statuses, different gender, education, and personalities. In the following, all these levels are present in the hermeneutical situation through the participants’ meaning-making: They draw on their textual knowledge, their religious and cultural experiences and references, and their individual resources. The encounters between all these create a dynamic, interpretative situation, where the meaning-making is marked and developed through the conversation across differences.

FIGURATING AND REFIGURATING HAGAR IN THE DISCUSSIONS: BAD MOTHER OR ICON OF FAITH? The discussion and meaning-making of the parts of the Hagar narratives in Genesis and the Hadith presented earlier moved

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between different foci. I shall now share some quotations from the conversation showing the most significant figuration and refiguration of Hagar that emerged from the reading of these texts in the group. The reader may well read the two earlier cited texts from Genesis and the Hadith again in order to follow the discussion more easily. Eva, a Lutheran Christian with a Norwegian background, had this immediate reaction after both texts had been read aloud: There is one thing I find very strange in both texts. It is that both Hagars (…) in the biblical text and in the qur’anic text, abandon their child (…) I don’t believe this for a minute. (…) This must have been written by a man. So, if I had a small child who was crying, would I leave him under a bush and walk away? (Grung 2011: 163)

Then Rima, a Roman Catholic Christian with a Norwegian-MiddleEastern background replied with the following: She walks away from him to find water, doesn’t she? (Grung 2011, 166)

And Aira, a Sunni Muslim with a Norwegian-Pakistani background, followed up: I cannot watch the boy die without doing anything: I will go up and find him some water (…) Because if you understand it … she went there to find water, and she looked in that direction many times. I will tell you (…) when we perform our pilgrimage (…) as it says here, this is sa’y. (Grung 2011, 167,169)

Eva then replied: No, I mean, when he is lying there, dying, then you would want to hold your child until it dies—you don’t leave him (…) The kid is shivering down there, and you climb the mountain? (Grung 2011: 174)

This discussion, which went on for several hours, centered on how Hagar’s narrated actions in the desert with Ishmael was to be understood. Eva strongly suggested that either the narrator was not to be trusted, because he was a man without insight into how mothers generally felt and acted, or Hagar was a bad mother. Rima

HAGAR AS A BAD MOTHER, HAGAR AS AN ICON OF FAITH 73 and Aira, on the other hand, suggested both that Hagar’s actions were well within the frames of good motherhood, and Aira claimed that she rather acted as a forefigure of faithful action. The arguments on both sides were developed, and the participants did not reach an agreement as to how Hagar was to be figurated. What was at stake for Eva was the trustworthiness of the narrator, and the moral standard of Hagar as a mother. For Aira and the other Muslim participants present, the status of Hagar and the legitimization of the ritual of sa’y, as well as the status of both canonical texts, were at stake. But were there any shared interpretative tools in use between them in spite of their different interpretations? At a hermeneutical level, the way these readers made meaning of the narratives was marked by analogical reasoning and ethical critique/moral enrichment of the texts. The first can be a premise for the second in a meaning-making process.

MEANING-MAKING TOOLS: ANALOGICAL REASONING AND ETHICAL CRITIQUE/MORAL ENRICHMENT OF THE TEXTS Analogical reasoning can be expressed as engaging with a text by juxtaposing the space and experience of the reader with the texts and its context. The meaning of the text is tested on the reader’s perception of reality and her experiences, as well as on her reasoning. The information this produces in the reader, expressed as thoughts, feelings and understandings, becomes the premises for the meaning-making of the text (Grung 2011: 48). Analogical reasoning presupposes engagement with the text on a personal and existential level, and it may produce a new narrative where the textual meaning and the readers reasoning at different levels merge. This new narrative could be harmonious or disharmonious, as a kind of counter-narrative. Ethical critique and moral enrichment of canonical texts is a further, normative hermeneutical step where the reader’s ethical reflections are engaged in the interpretation. This could be shaped as a counter-narrative, a formulated critique of the text, or as a further development of the text’s apprehended meaning. Ethical critique of biblical texts was established as a term by Elizabeth Schlüssler Fiorenza, and is derived from the quest to critically read, for instance, patriarchal biblical texts in a way that prevents the interpreter from conveying and reinforcing the

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patriarchal message (Schüssler Fiorenza 1988). Oddbjørn Leirvik has reflected on the term in inter-religious hermeneutical usage, and poses the important question “Who is to decide what ‘ethical’ would imply, particularly when people with different ethical models and frameworks meet?” (Leirvik 2011: 342, 349) The term “moral enrichment” of the text was established by Khaled Abou El Fadl (Abou El Fadl 2002). He claims that the Qur’an itself requires that the reader make meaning of the qur’anic text through the reader’s own moral universe. He claims that the reader’s ethical obligation is to interpret the text in a way that morally enriches it. This places a strong obligation on the reader (Grung 2011: 49). The two terms, ethical critique and moral enrichment, derived from a Christian and an Islamic theological tradition respectively, can thus be recognized as aligned with the two traditions’ different view of their canonical scriptures. On the one hand, Abou El Fadl is not questioning the status of the Qur’an, but is challenging the responsibility of the reader. Schüssler Fiorenza, on the other hand challenges the texts themselves. Despite these differences, the two terms may require much of the same hermeneutical process from the reader, particularly if the reader applies an ethically centered analogical reasoning. The discussion referred to above shows that the readers in this case situated themselves as authoritative readers and interpreters of the texts they discussed. This does not necessarily mean they suggested that their authority as readers reached beyond themselves as individuals, but it does mean that they felt enabled and authoritative enough to make a meaning of the texts among themselves. They used time and space in their interpretation, to establish a connection with the contents and the meaning of the narratives about Hagar in the desert. Regarding time, Aira and partly Eva spoke as if there was no time distance between them and the narrated time—Aira even spoke as if she herself was the Hagar figure. Eva related Hagar’s actions to her own perception of motherhood, without considering the time gap. This hermeneutical perspective thus establishes a close engagement with the narratives where these readers used their own experiences and reasoning to make meaning of the text. For Eva, however, there was simultaneously a reflection over the time gap: when she addressed the narrator and questioned the trustworthiness of the narrative. The critical point for her was the

HAGAR AS A BAD MOTHER, HAGAR AS AN ICON OF FAITH 75 gender of the narrator, she assumed the narrator to be a man, and that his gender limited him from being able to present a mother’s actions in an accurate way. Aira brought in the ritual of sa’y in her interpretation, also for explaining why Hagar had to leave Ishmael. Hagar left in order to find water, and the knowledge that water is to be found is integrated into the ritual of the remembrance of Hagar’s struggle. Later in the discussion it became clear that Aira had participated in the ritual of sa’y during her performance of hajj in Mecca. Aira experienced that she identified closely with the Hagar figure during sa’y: So, today when we perform sa’y, it is only a way of remembering the struggle of that day, the struggle of Hagar. Because all the pilgrims, men and women, everyone runs seven times. (…) I ran seven times from Marwa to Safa. Then it was just as if I had the same worries that Hagar had, and when you look at it, you feel God’s presence, and feel that… God said, I am here for you, I have heard the boy’s cry (…) we feel that in remembrance of that day we run seven times (…) Then we feel that God will listen to us too. (Grung 2011: 188)

Through analogical reasoning both Eva and Aira established a close engagement with the Hagar narratives. For Eva, this meant that she made a critical moral evaluation of Hagar’s actions as a mother, and established a kind of counter-narrative about good motherhood— moving into ethical critique of the text. For Aira, this implies that she used her pre-knowledge of the ritual of sa’y, as well as her own experience of the ritual, to establish Hagar as an icon of faith. The different interpretation Aira had about good motherhood— suggesting that leaving Ishmael in order to find water is responsible and required—comprehends the status Hagar has in the Islamic tradition. The example and analysis of a co-reading of the Hagar narratives has so far been on a detailed micro-level, in order to trace the hermeneutical patterns in the meaning-making process in the group related to the part of the narratives where Hagar is in the desert alone with Ishmael. Broadening the perspective a bit, but still staying within the frame of the group’s discussions on the Hagar narratives, I shall briefly describe what the participants found to be the core message of the narratives related to Hagar.

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MEANING-MAKING OF THE HAGAR NARRATIVES: WHAT IS SEEN AS THE CORE MESSAGE(S)? Expressing what was the most important message in the Hagar narratives differed between the participants, most significantly between Muslims and Christians, but also related to various cultural backgrounds. The Muslim participants suggested throughout the discussions that the explanation of the background for the ritual of sa’y was a significant part of the texts’ meaning. Sa’y is perceived as a ritual marked by human equality and trust in God’s faithfulness. Secondly, they stated that the schism in the Abrahamic family that arose from the splitting of the two mothers with their sons Isaac and Ishmael was a positive, divine message. They interpreted it as God’s approval of the religious plurality between Judaism, Christianity and Islam. God’s faithfulness to all the family members connected to Ibrahim should be interpreted as an obligation to avoid “family conflicts” between them, in history as well as in the present. The Christian participants found the narratives about Hagar more disturbing. Firstly, they were confronted with a lack of pre-knowledge about Hagar they regretted, and blamed on their own tradition—overlooking Hagar. Hagar’s encounter with God, and God’s promise to Hagar in Gen 16 was a surprise to them. Secondly, they were shocked by the treatment Hagar received from Abraham in the Genesis narratives. They viewed the narratives as shaped by a patriarchal society, and contrasted this with what they perceived as the message from the Jesus-narratives in the New Testament about the equality between men and women. They also contrasted it with contemporary Norwegian gender equality legislation. Throughout the discussions, more often than not the two Hagar-narratives from the Bible and the Hadith merged in the participants’ discussion. It seemed that they did not see the point in bothering to keep them separate, even if there were differences between them. One of the participants, Maria, a Lutheran Christian with a Norwegian-African background, summarized the core of the narratives in a more religiously inclusive way when she not only merged the two traditions’ figures of Hagar, but also attributions of the figure of the divine, when she claimed that the Hagar narratives show the following:

HAGAR AS A BAD MOTHER, HAGAR AS AN ICON OF FAITH 77 (…) that God keeps promises with no difference between the Bible and the Qur’an. (Grung 2011: 199)

CO-READING—CAN IT CHANGE ANYTHING IN CONTEMPORARY MUSLIM-CHRISTIAN RELATIONS? The examples from the co-reading of the Hagar narratives show that it did not result in a shared view of Hagar as a figure among the Christian and Muslim participants. It does show, however, that the readers and discussants, despite their different religious and cultural backgrounds, shared some hermeneutical strategies. They all situated themselves as readers and interpreters at a certain level of authority, they connected self-reflection and textual reflection through analogical reasoning, and among the contextual resources used by these readers were ethical reflections. One of the salient questions is whether the coevalness the readers establish with the Hagar narratives is transmitted to the actual encounter between the Muslim and Christian contemporary readers. To establish coevalness in communication is to establish a certain level of equality, despite differences. Throughout the shared reading and the shared interpretative tools, an interpretative community arises in the group, even if the Hagar figure is evaluated in very different ways.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Abou El Fadl, K. et al. The Place of Tolerance in Islam. Boston: Beacon Press, 2002. Abugidieri, H. “Hagar: A Historical Model for Gender Jihad.” In Daughters of Abraham. Haddad, Y. and J. Esposito. eds. Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 2001, pp. 81–107. Barton, M. Scripture as Empowerment for Liberation and Justice: The Experience of Christian and Muslim Women in Bangladesh. Bristol: The University of Bristol Press, 1999. Crotty, Ronert. “Hagar/Hajar, Muslim Women and Islam: Reflections on the Historical and Theological Ramifications of the Story of Ishmael’s Mother.” In Lovat, T. Ed. Women in Islam: Reflections on Historical and Contemporary Research. Dordrecht: Springer Science, 2012, pp. 165–184. Fiorenza, Elisabeth Schlüssler. “The Ethics of Biblical Interpretation.” Journal of Biblical Literature 107 (1988): 3–17.

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Grung, A. H. Gender Justice in Muslim-Christian Readings. Christian and Muslim Women in Norway Making Meaning of Texts from the Bible, the Koran and the Hadith. Oslo: Unipub, 2011a. Leirvik, O. “Interreligious Hermeneutics and the Ethical Critique of Scriptures.” In Interreligious Hermeneutics in Pluralistic Europe. Between Texts and People. Ed: David Cheetham et al. Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2011, pp. 333–352. Williams, D. Sisters in the Wilderness. The Challenge of Womanist GodTalk. New York: Orbis, 1993.

THE BIBLICAL MATRIARCH SARAH AS CONCEIVED BY RABBI YA’AKOV KHULÍ IN HIS WORK ME’AM LO’EZ (1730)— A LADINO COMMENTARY ON THE BOOK OF GENESIS ALISA MEYUHAS GINIO TEL AVIV UNIVERSITY

The Me’am Lo’ez: is a Ladino commentary on eleven out of the twenty-four books of the Hebrew Bible, composed between the years 1730–1899, by nine different authors, who commented, each one separately, on one or more of the books of the Hebrew Bible.1 The title Me’am Lo’ez [from a people of strange language] is taken from Ps 114:1: “When Israel went out of Egypt; the house of Jacob from a people of strange language.”2 The idea to write a commentary on the Bible in Ladino and not in Hebrew—the traditional ancestral language of the Jewish people—was initiated

A. Meyuhas Ginio, “The History of the Me’am Lo’ez: A Ladino Commentary on the Bible,” European Judaism. A Journal for the New Europe, Leo Baeck College, 10\2, (2010): 117–125; hereafter: The History. Idem, “The Meam Loez. History and Structure,” Proceedings of the Conference JudeoSpanish (Ladino) Sephardic Culture and Tradition: Present, Past and Future, Livorno, Salomone Belforte, 2007, pp. 155–164. 2 The Ladino translation of this verse reads: la casa de Ya’akov de puevlo de linguage estranio or: de puevlo enladinado. In Hebrew, La’az means a language other than Hebrew. 1

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by Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí (Jerusalem c. 1689—Istanbul/Kushta,3 1732). Rabbi Khulí was a famous Hebrew scholar in his time: he edited the Hebrew works of both his grandfather, Rabbi Mosheh ben Haviv and of his mentor Rabbi Shelomoh Rozanes.4 Therefore, there is no doubt that he could have written his commentary in Hebrew, had he chose to do so. Yet, Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí decided to write his commentary in Ladino—the written language, alongside Hebrew, of the Sephardim—Jews of Sepharad5—expelled from the lands of the Iberian Peninsula in the years 1492–1498. Ladino (the name is derived from “Latin”) —a written language—was used for translations of Jewish sacred literature—such as the Passover Haggadah—from Hebrew to the vernacular; whereas rabbinical treaties were written mostly in Hebrew. The spoken language of the Sephardim in the Iberian Peninsula prior to the expulsion and of their descendants in the Eastern Mediterranean Diaspora after the expulsion and until the mid-twentieth century, when most of their communities in the Balkans were exterminated during the Holocaust, had been JudeoSpanish: Jewish Spanish, Judeo espanyol or Judezmo.6 The exiled Sephardim established the Oriental Sephardi Diaspora in the Mediterranean, under the benevolent rule of the Ottoman Empire, either by forming new kehalim [congregations] or by integrating into existing kehalim in the local Jewish communities. Throughout the sixteenth century, new centers of Jewish life and learning came into being: Salonica, Kushta, Edirne [Adrianople] and Safed. Each one became a site where rabbanim, yeshivot and a local court of law [beit din] presided over Jewish community life. The expelled Sephardim carried along with them into exile their sacred books, their Kushta—Kushtandina is the Hebrew and Ladino name of the city of Istanbul [until 1453, Constantinople]. 4 The History, p. 119. 5 Sepharad—see: Obad 1:20—is the Medieval Hebrew name of the Iberian Peninsula. In Modern Hebrew the name: “sepharad” means “Spain.” 6 D. Bunis, Judezmo. An Introduction to the Language of the Sephardic Jews of the Ottoman Empire, (Jerusalem: the Magnes Press, Hebrew University, 1999), pp. 17–49 (in Hebrew). 3

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rabbinical traditions of Jewish Halakha [Law and Jurisprudence], of moralist literature [Musar] and holy ritual, all written in Hebrew. At the same time, those Sephardim adhered to their ancestral, customarily oral, tradition of the Romanciero, the Coplas and the Cancionero in their everyday Romance dialects. This is the source of the everyday spoken language of the Sephardim: Judeo-Spanish. After the rupture caused by the Expulsion, Ladino and JudeoSpanish developed independently of the peninsular dialects. Especially in the lands of the Ottoman Empire—Anatolia, the Balkans, and from 1517, the Middle Eastern coastlands, including Eretz Israel—the Sephardim became the dominant group among their fellow Jews and their Jewish-Spanish language became the prevailing language spoken by the Jews.7 During the sixteenth century, the Sephardi Diaspora experienced a renaissance of Hebrew rabbinical literature: Rabbi Yosef Karo (1488–1575) authored his great halakhic works in Safed. His Shulḥan Arukh became the leading authority in Jewish Halakha for centuries to come. Rabbi Israel Nadjara (c. 1555–c. 1625), a poet and Kabbalist, wrote his Hebrew piyyutim there. As early as 1493, Sephardi Jews established a Hebrew printing house in Kushta, soon to be followed by similar establishments in Salonica and Edirne. Alongside the existing printing houses in Italy, this is where the newly-written Hebrew works were published. As early as 1512, Midrash Rabbah was printed for the first time in Kushta; subsequently Pirkei de Rabbi Eliezer (1514) and Midrash Tanḥuma (1520) appeared there. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí, in his time, made extensive use of talmudic midrashim in his Me’am Lo’ez. Yet, at the same time, in the course of the sixteenth century, the knowledge of Hebrew was slowly declining in the Mediterranean Sephardi Diaspora: A Ladino translation of the Bible was published in 1547. Rabbi Mosheh Almosnino’s Rijimiento de la vida was published in Salonica in 1564. Ḥovat ha-Levavot [Duties of the Hearts] by the Ibid. See also: L. Minervini, “El desarollo histórico del judeoespañol,” in: Revista Internacional de Lingüistica Iberoamericana 8 (2006), pp. 13–30; Id., “Formación de la lengua sefardí,” in: E. Romero, Iacob Hassán (coord.), Sefardíes: literatura y lengua de una nación dispersa, Cuenca, 2008, pp. 25–49. 7

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eleventh-century author Baḥya ibn Pauda was translated into Ladino by Tsadik ben Yosef Formon. These works are explicitly referred to by Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí in his Me’am Lo’ez.8 Extracts of the Shulḥan Arukh were translated into Ladino under the title Meza del Alma and published in Salonica as early as 1568. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí referred to this Ladino translation of the Shulḥan Arukh in his Me’am Lo’ez as a proof of how the Sephardi Jews were no longer able to read Hebrew.9 The tendency to have recourse to Ladino instead of Hebrew became increasingly manifest in the course of the following seventeenth century. Moreover, the study of philosophy, famous and flourishing among the Jews of Sepharad throughout the Middle Ages, gave way to homely devotion and the study of mysticism and Kabbalah. The devastating impact of the seventeenth-century Shabbatean catastrophe took a heavy toll on Sephardi Jewry and brought about a gloomy period of decadence. This was matched by the economic decay of the textile industry in I read the edition of the Me’am Lo’ez, printed in Kushta, 1823, hereafter: ML. See, for example: ML, 7. Ladino was written in Hebrew letters at least until the beginnings of the twentieth century, when, sometimes, it was written in Latin or Cyrillic letters. Ever since its first publication (Kushta, 1730), the Me’am Lo’ez has been published in Hebrew Rashi letters, used in the Iberian Peninsula even prior to the expulsion and beyond it, for commentaries located on the margins of the Scriptures, so as to differentiate between the sacred text and the commentary. Due to the unprecedented popularity of the Me’am Lo’ez, ever since its first publication in print, Rashi letters have become the common letters for the printing and publication of Ladino literary works. The Salonican Ladino newspaper ‫ איל מיסאז'ירו‬El Mesajero [The Courier] was published in Rashi letters as late as 1942. See: A. Meyuhas Ginio, “La prensa y la literatura en juedeo-español como agentes de modernización,” El Prezente. Studies in Sephardic Culture, 4 (2010): 49–59. For reasons of convenience, I use italicized Latin letters when quoting Ladino phrases out of the Me’am Lo’ez, following the usage indicated by the editors of the Ladino review Aki Yerushalayim. Revista Kulturala Djudeo-Espanyola, regarding orthography. The said review has been continuously published twice a year, in Jerusalem, Israel since 1969. 9 ML, 6–7. 8

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Salonica in particular and by the political decline of the Ottoman Empire in general. The eighteenth century was a turning point in the cultural history of Jewish-Spanish speaking communities in the Mediterranean Diaspora. This crucial juncture was reflected in the change of language used in rabbinical literature: it was now written in Ladino. This change was the necessary outcome of the severe gap that existed between the Hebrew-writing rabbinical élite and the rank and file Judeo-Spanish speaking and Ladino reading Sephardi public. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí wrote two introductions to his commentary on the book of Genesis: the first one in Hebrew,10 addressed to his fellow colleagues, the Jewish Talmidei ḥakhamim [Sages], explaining his reasons for writing his commentary on the Bible in Ladino; and the second one in Ladino, addressed to his intended reading public, the Sephardim living in the lands of the Ottoman Empire, discussing the author’s decision to write his commentary in Ladino.11 Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí explained that he had been obliged to write his commentary in Ladino because his intended public—the Judeo-Spanish speaking and the Ladinoreading Sephardim living in the lands of the Ottoman Empire— Turkiya, Anadol y Arabistan12—were no longer familiar with Hebrew and therefore could not follow the reading of the Torah [Pentateuch] in their synagogues nor study the Hebrew halakhic [jurisprudence] and musar [moralist] treatises composed by Jewish sages, throughout the ages. As a result, most of the Sephardi people were left without studying a lesson: ansi los mas de la dgente estan sin meldar ninguna lision.13 Moreover, Rabbi Khulí did not use the ornate Ladino of the Sephardi sixteenth-century sages, such Rabbi Mosheh Almosnino of Salonica,14 but opted for a more colloquial style, so as to make his work, the Me’am Lo’ez, comprehensible to his contemporaries. Indeed, Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí adopted the style ML, 3–5. Ibid., 6–16. 12 ML, 7: “la dgente de estas partes de Turkiya i Anadol i Arabistan…” [the people of these lands of Turkey, Anatolia and the Middle East]. 13 ML, 7. 14 Ibid. 10 11

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of a preacher and often addressed his public in the imperative voice: entenderesh [understand]; savresh [know]; veresh [see].15 Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí intended to comment on all twenty-four books of the Hebrew Bible; yet because of his premature demise, at the age of forty-four, he managed to comment only on the book of Genesis and the first half of the book of Exodus. Nevertheless he established a method of commenting on the Holy Scripture and instituted guidelines that served as a model for all eight sages, who—after Rabbi Khulí’s demise—took it upon themselves to continue his project.16 Each of the volumes of Me’am Lo’ez, including commentaries to any of the above-mentioned eleven biblical books, is comprised of two parts: the erudite explanation of the text arranged according to the parasha (perasha in Ladino)—the weekly portion of the Torah to be read in the synagogue; and the index [Llaves, keys], referring to the same and enlisting the issues discussed in each parasha.17 Furthermore, the commentary Me’am Lo’ez includes much more than explanations of the biblical text: many laws, regulations, midrashic and rabbinical traditions, as well as everyday usage and customs related to Judaism are discussed and elaborated upon alongside the commentary of the sacred text. Thus, following the story of Patriarch Abraham’s circumcision, the Jewish laws and customs related to this precept are mentioned.18 Narrating the story of Patriarch Ya’akov’s [Jacob’s] demise, the Jewish laws and customs of mourning are discussed.19 Regarding midrashic literature, it is noteworthy that the Sages of Israel of blessed memory—Ḥaz"al—were eager to elaborate on See: O. Schwarzwald, “Le style du Me’am Lo’ez: une tradition linguistique,” Yod 11/12: 77–112; hereafter: Schwarzwald, “Le style.” A. Quintana, “Formules d’introduction et structures discursive dans le Me’am Lo’ez de Ya’aqov Kuli,” Yod. 11\12: 113–140; hereafter: Quintana, Formules. 16 The History, pp. 122–124. 17 P. Romeu Ferré, Las llaves del Meam Loez. Edición crítica, concordada y analítica de los Índices del Meam loez de la Torá, (Barcelona: Tirocinio, 2000), pp. 9–46. 18 Gen 17:25–27; ML, 192–203. 19 Gen 49: 29–33; ML, 464–477. 15

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the concise biblical narrative and add their own explanations and discussions, thus broadening the scope of the succinct biblical history. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí did not pretend to introduce ḥidushei Torah [innovations in the biblical exegetic methods] in his commentary: he was first and above all a compiler, who carefully noted his sources in the margins of his commentary. Rabbi Khulí insisted that everything written by him had been taken out of the Gemara and Midrashim and translated into Ladino: tods las avlas de este livro son trezladadas de gemara i midrash ke lo ke ay alli en leshon ha-kodesh [the sacred language—Hebrew] lo trezladi aki en Franko.20 The Ladino language of the Me’am Lo’ez made this literary work accessible to the common people—hammon ha’am is the term used by Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí21—the majority of whom could neither read nor understand a Hebrew text, even when read aloud for them; yet were able to follow a Ladino text, once read in front of them. As a matter of fact, all over the Sephardi Mediterranean Diaspora, the Me’am Lo’ez was often read aloud in public, either in the synagogues, on Saturday, following the reading of the Torah, or in various family circles. Moreover, Sephardi women who, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, were generally not taught to read or write in any language, and who could not speak or even understand Hebrew, but spoke only Judeo-Spanish, would listen to the reading aloud of the Me’am Lo’ez and follow its Ladino text. Thus, such Sephardi women could pursue the directions included in this work regarding their everyday lives, their duties and obligatory manners. As a matter of fact, Sephardi women were not obliged to attend the weekly reading of the Torah in the synagogue; but if they did, they were able to follow the Hebrew readings, thanks to the information accessible for them, in their own spoken language, out of the pages of the Me’am Lo’ez. Consequently, this work soon gained an unprecedented popularity among the Sephardim in the Mediterranean Diaspora. Copies of books of the Me’am Lo’ez were printed, over and over again, in all four leading printing centers of the Sephardi world: Kushta, Salonica, Izmir and ML, 10. “Frankia” is Europe in Ladino; and “franko” means a European language: in this case the language is Ladino. 21 ML, 7. 20

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Livorno [Leghorn], in the prestigious folio format, regularly reserved for printing books of the Gemara.22 One or more books of the Me’am Lo’ez were kept in almost every Sephardi household and were given as a part of the dowry pertaining to Sephardi brides.23 For the student of Sephardi biblical exegesis, the crucial importance of Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí’s work, the Me’am Lo’ez, lies in its being the summa of biblical exegesis as known and accepted among the Mediterranean Sephardim until the eighteenth century. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí quoted Talmudic Midrashim and relied on the commentaries of Jewish medieval sages—mostly Rashí (Rabbi Shlomoh Yitshaki of Troyes, 1040–1105) or Ramban (Rabbi Mosheh ben Nahman; Nahmanides of Girona, 1194–1270). Nevertheless, the Me’am Lo’ez is important for anyone studying the history, culture and ways of life of the Sephardim, as this commentary molded generations of Sephardi men and women throughout their Mediterranean Diaspora for a hundred and fifty years, until the last decades of the nineteenth century, when trends of modernism arrived in the Ottoman Empire. Since Sarah, the first biblical Matriarch, is a major figure in the book of Genesis,24 it is interesting to examine Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí’s attitude towards her, as she was the model of righteous woman he presented to his fellow Sephardim. Commenting on the parasha ‫[ חיי שרה‬The life of Sarah], Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí turned to his readers, using the opening phrase savresh [know ye] and informed them that Sarah the Matriarch was blessed with four virtues or merits.25 Indeed, these merits constitute the major feminine qualities considered as virtues by the author of the Me’am Lo’ez.

A. Perez, data le-Navon. Seleksion de tekstos del Meam Loez Bereshit, (Edisiones del Instituto Maale Adumim, 2006), pp. XIX–XX. 23 E. Benbassa & A. Rodrigue, Histoire des Juifs sépharades. De Tolède à Salonique, (Paris, Éditions du Seuil, 2002), pp. 174–177. 24 One of the parashot of the book of Genesis is entitled ‫חיי שרה‬: The Life of Sarah (Chapters 23–25), following the opening verse of chapter 23: “These were the years of the life of Sarah.” 25 ML, 293: “I savresh ke la siniora de Sarah teniya 4 avantages…” See: Quintana, Formules, pp. 113–140; Schwarzwald, “Le style,” pp. 77–112. 22

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First among those merits was honor. During the lifetime of Sarah, a cloud [nube] was hovering at the entrance to her tent “because of her honor” [por su kavod ‫]כבוד‬. We may recall that the “…cloud of the Lord was upon the tabernacle by day…” (Exod 40:38]. The second virtue was the berakha [blessed abundance] placed on her household. Here Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí included a side remark, scolding womankind and reflecting his mistrust of them—a typical topos and a common approach manifest in rabbinical moralist writings. The Matriarch Sarah—wrote the author of Me’am Lo’ez—was not like other women, who do not care about the expenses of their households and give no thought to saving, only grabbing as much as they can from their husbands, so as to get their pleasures done. The third virtue was the love and peace [amor y paz] between husband and wife: never was there a quarrel [pleito] between them. The fourth virtue was that Sarah’s door was always wide opened and she gave charity [‫ [צדקה‬to the poor. The four feminine virtues cited by Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí are thus honor, saving and careful management of the family expenses, peace and love for one’s husband and donating charity. All four virtues are readily understood in the Sephardi milieu of Jerusalem and Kushta, in the beginning of the eighteenth century—Rabbi Khulí’s lifetime. Sephardi women were supposed to uphold their honor and keep to their homesteads. Life in Muslim cities, where women were generally confined to their homes, further strengthened this tendency. Poverty was common among the Sephardim and therefore women had to be prudent and careful with the family expenses on the one hand and donate charity to the poor and needy on the other. The story of Sarah is narrated in chapters 11—23 of the book of Genesis. Her name is first mentioned in chapter 11 of the book of Genesis relating the Descendants of Shem and then the Descendants of Terah: Nahor, Abram26 and Haran. And Abram and Nahor took them wives: the name of Abram’s wife was Sarai and the name of Nahor’s wife was Milcah, the 26

17:5).

Later to be known as: Abraham, “the father of many nations” (Gen

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ALISA MEYUHAS GINIO daughter of Haran, the father of Milcah and of Iscah. (Gen 11:29)

Whereas the name of the father of Milcah, Nahor’s wife, is mentioned—he was Haran, Terah’s third son, who had died before his father in the land of his nativity, in Ur of the Chaldees—there is no mention of Sarai’s family. Considering the importance of being “ija de famiya”—the daughter of a respectable family—while arranging a matrimonial match, a task performed in the Sephardi Mediterranean milieu by the fathers or older brothers of the young couple—Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí would not leave matters at that. He quoted Rashi’s comment that Iscah, the daughter of Haran, Abraham’s uncle, mentioned in Gen 11:30, “is Sarai,” thus providing the first biblical Matriarch with biographical data. Moreover, Rashi, citing the Babylonian Talmud,27 elaborated on the name “Iscah,” connecting it both with being gifted with ‫רוח נבואה‬ —the ability to prophesy—and with princely manners: Iscah is Sarah, because she was imbued in ‫ רוח נבואה‬and because everyone was impressed with her beauty—as was the case with Pharaoh’s ministers.28 Furthermore, the name “Iscah” implies princely manners—‫ ;נסיכות‬just as “the name ‘sarah’ that implies— ‫שררה‬ authority.”29 Rashi dedicated much attention to the position of the woman and her place within Jewish family life. His attitude towards womankind was far more benevolent and kind than that prevailing in Jewish post-biblical literature. Generally speaking, the position of Jewish women as reflected in post-biblical literature has deteriorated in comparison with their image in the Bible. Women were no longer entitled to have an independent opinion, let alone voice it. They became dependent on men’s patronage and were kept away from studies. Moreover, women were accused of many negative character traits. Jewish sages of the Talmud accused women of gluttony, eavesdropping, laziness and jealousy, even of Babylonian Talmud, Megillah, 14a. Gen 12:10–20. See also Gen 20:1–18, the story of Abimelech, king of Gerar. 29 Rashi on Gen 11:30. 27 28

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prostitution and theft.30 In his commentary on the Holy Scriptures and the Talmud, Rashi was careful to protect the honor and rights of women.31 Some historians claimed that Rashi’s benevolent attitude towards womankind was the result of his being solely a father of daughters; yet the historian Abraham Grossman rejects this opinion.32 Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí’s attitude towards womankind is far more severe and strict than Rashi’s in his time. Rabbi Khulí actually stated that on account of Eve’s [Ḥavah’s] mortal sin, a woman has to be a slave to her husband.33 Keeping in mind the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 39a, the expression ‘esklava de su

Rabbi Nehemia, Bereshit Rabah, 45, edition of (Tel Aviv: Mahbarot Lesifrut Publishing House, 1965), pp. 334–335; A. Shenhar-Alroy, Woman’s Voice. Women in the Bible, Talmud, Midrash and Modern Hebrew Literature, (Kineret: Zmora-Bitan, Dvir and Yizre’el Academic Press, 2008), p. 12 (in Hebrew); R. Elior, “Nokhehot Nifkadot. Teva domem ve’alma yafa she-ein la eina’im: leshe’elat nokhehotan ve-headran shel nashim be’leshon hakodesh, ba-dat ha-yehudit u-vametzi’ut ha’yisre’elit” in: Y. Atzmon (ed.), Will you listen to My Voice? Representations of Women in Israeli Culture, (Jerusalem, 2001), pp. 42–82 (in Hebrew). The Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 39a states that it was for man’s good that one of his ribs was taken away from him and he got a woman-slave to serve him. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí claimed that woman was to be her husband’s slave: esklava de su marido, ML, 112. 31 A. Grossman, Rashi, (Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center, 2006), pp. 25–27 (in Hebrew); Idem, Rashi: Religious Beliefs and Social Views, (Alon Shevut: Tevunot, 2008), pp. 306–328 (in Hebrew). Idem, “Rashi—The Man and His World,” in A. Grossman & S. Japhet (eds.), Rashi: The Man and His Work, (Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2008), pp. 11–31, esp. p. 14. 32 See: L. Landau, “sippurei Rashi ha-nidpas ba-talmud ha-bavli,” in Y. Blidstien, E. Yassif and Y. Salmon (eds), Eshel Be’er Sheva, 3 (1986), pp. 101–117. 33 ML, 112: “Es de ser esklava de su marido de tener kargo de aparejarle su komida dia i noge i lavarle su ropa i ke el marido podeste sovre eya ke no tenga orden de refuzar su palavra”[ she is to be a slave of her husband, has to prepare his meal day and night, wash his clothes and that man has full authority over her; she has no right to refuse his word]. 30

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marido’ used by Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí is therefore not surprising.34 Regarding the story of Dinah, the daughter of Leah (Gen 34), Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí cited Rashi who explained that the words “daughter of Leah” pointed out that Dinah, like her mother Leah, was ‫ ;יוצאנית‬but whereas Rashi left matters at that, Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí bluntly blamed Dinah for the disaster she had brought upon herself for walking out of her home: por salir de casa. Moreover, the author of Me’am Lo’ez severely admonished women not to stir from their homestead.35 The Jewish Bible commentators agreed that Sarah the Matriarch was blessed with the gift of prophesy, although there is no mention in the Scripture of her being a neviah [prophetess], as is the case with Deborah ha-neviah [the prophetess]36, or Ḥuldah haneviah.37 Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí quoted Rashi and stated that Sarai— later to be known as Sarah38—was Haran’s daughter.39 The author of Me’am Lo’ez further emphasized that Sarah was so pretty, that compared with her beauty, all other women, considered as good looking, appeared to be no more than apes.40 Rabbi Khulí went on to quote Rashi, stating that another cause for the name Iscah is that Sarah was a neviah, who, thanks to the gift of prophesy bestowed on her, could foresee whatever was to occur. The biblical verse further states: “But Sarai was barren; she had no child” (Gen 11:32). Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí explained to his readers the double mention of Sarai’s sterility—the Scriptures twice states that Sarai was barren and that she had no child, although one time would be clear enough—insisting that unlike ordinary women, Sarai-Sarah had no See: A. Meyuhas Ginio, “Esklava de su marido: Everyday Life of Sephardic Women According to the Me’am Lo’ez of Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí,” in T. Cohen and S. Regev (eds.), Woman in the East. Woman from the East. The Story of Oriental Jewish Woman, (Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University Press, 2005), pp. 9–22. 35 ML, 357. 36 Judg 4:4. 37 2 Kgs 22:14. 38 Gen 17:15. 39 ML, 153. 40 Ibid. 34

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uterus, where a fetus might have grown.41 This information, alongside claims that Abraham was considered as being a tumtum [hermaphrodite], were crucial in order to show Rabbi Khulí’s readers what a miracle was the birth of a son to this couple aged ninety years and more. Rabbi Khulí then argued why did not Abraham pray for his wife to have a child? The answer given by the author of Me’am Lo’ez was that the prayer of a just man [tsadik] helps others, but not himself.42 The author of Me’am Lo’ez emphasized, while commenting on the verse Gen 12:5: “And Abram took Sarai his wife and Lot his brother’s son…” that Abram-Abraham took his wife, talking sweetly to her and the lesson to be learnt is that a man may not force his wife to wander to another dwelling place; but needs to persuade her kindly showing good will.43 Moreover, wherever Abraham camped, he first set up a tent for Sarah and only then for himself. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí drew the conclusion that a man should do his best to honor his wife and treat her with generosity; indeed, she should be well dressed: “much better than himself.” Nevertheless, in this case, Rabbi Khulí included the condition that the wife would not demand from her husband that he buy her things that are beyond his means.44 Here we see Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí’s strict attitude towards womankind. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí insisted that men should not smite their wives—this being a ‫מעשה גויים‬: the usage of gentiles— not befitting a Jewish man. If a husband does strike his wife, the people of his community should stop him from doing this evil deed. A man should honor and cherish his wife, because the home is blessed on her account.45 Yet, in this case, there is a reservation: if the wife despises her in-laws in front of her husband, then the latter is allowed to strike her.46 When Abraham and Sarah arrived in

Ibid. ML, 163. 43 ML, 164. 44 ML, 165. 45 ML, 167. 46 ML, 167. 41 42

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Egypt, Abraham tried to hide Sarah in a case [kasha],47 fearing for his life, lest the Egyptians kill him and take her away from him for her beauty. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí then wrote that the Egyptians, “who were all black [pretos] and ugly [feos],” never in their lives saw such beauty as Sarah’s.48 When Sarah was discovered, Abraham insisted on introducing her as his sister. We do not know what was Sarah’s attitude to Abraham’s ideas. The biblical text does not mention Sarah’s wishes or opinion in this case. As a matter of fact, the feminine voice and the feminine narrative are absent from biblical history. Given the patriarchal nature of the society in which Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí was living, we should not expect the perception of women to be different. Sarah was taken to the royal palace and Abraham received many gifts in exchange. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí would not leave the matter at that: he wrote that Sarah prayed and entreated God to save her, saying that she and Abraham had obeyed God’s command and left their hometown, their family and friends. Abraham also entreated God to help him and his wife and free them from Pharaoh’s power. God then sent the angel Gabriel who stayed by Sarah all night long and would not let Pharaoh have his way with her.49 Finally we read in the Scriptures: “And the Lord plagued Pharaoh and his house with great plagues” (Gen 13:17). Pharaoh then released Sarah and gave the couple many presents. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí wrote that those presents included Pharaoh’s daughter Hagar, who was to become Sarah’s bondwoman: better—said Pharaoh, according to Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí—to be a bondwoman in the household of Abraham than a lady in my palace.50 Next we are told by Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí, that Sarah, who thanks to her ability to prophesy, realized that her sterility was the

Gen 12:11–20; ML, 166–167. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí cited Rashi and Aquedat Yitshak by Rabbi Yitshak ‘Arama (?1420–1494), author of Aquedat Yitshak, a collection of sermons on the Pentateuch. 48 ML, 166. 49 ML, 167. 50 ML, 168. 47

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outcome of a sin she had committed—por algun pekado ke izi51— suggested to Abraham: Behold now the Lord hath restrained me from bearing: I pray thee go in unto my maid: it may be that I may obtain children by her. (Gen 16:1–4)

Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí told his readers that because of her ability to prophesy, Sarah understood that this was the right way to be taken and persuaded her bondwoman to obey, saying that although Hagar was Pharaoh’s daughter and a granddaughter of Nimrod, the mighty hunter—who, in his time, persecuted Abraham—she, Hagar, should not decline Sarah’s idea. Sarah then pleaded with Abraham to free Hagar and take her for a wife. It is noteworthy that Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí’s interpretation of the biblical story places the emphasis on Sarah’s good will and kind intentions on the one hand and on Hagar’s ingratitude and impertinence on the other. Yet, Sarah was guilty of two major transgressions: first of all her attitude towards her bondwoman Hagar and her son Ishmael; then she laughed upon hearing the angel’s prophesy regarding the birth of a son, and worse: she denied having laughed.52 It is clear that the author of Me’am Lo’ez felt obliged to explain Sarah’s behavior in both cases. As for her harsh treatment of Hagar, Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí wrote that Hagar became pregnant the very first night she spent with Abraham. The biblical text tells us that when Hagar “saw that she had conceived, her mistress was despised in her eyes” (Gen 16:4). Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí gave his readers more detailed information: it was the custom of all the queens to come visit Sarah and enjoy her beauty and righteousness; yet Hagar would tell them that they had been deceived with Sarah and the proof was that for all the years the latter had been with Abraham, she could not conceive, whereas she, Hagar, did so the very first night she spent with the Patriarch. Sarah then complained to Abraham and said:

51 52

ML, 190. Gen 18:12.

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ALISA MEYUHAS GINIO My wrong be upon thee. I have given my maid into thy bosom; and when she saw that she had conceived, I was despised in her eyes: the Lord judge between me and thee. (Gen 16:5–6)

Abraham’s answer was: Behold, thy maid is in thy hand: do to her as it pleaseth thee. And when Sarah [Sarai] dealt hardly with her [Hagar], she fled from her face. (Gen 16:6)

Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí drew the conclusion that a wife may do nothing without her husband’s permission: Sarah would not chastise her bondswoman without getting Abraham’s permission first.53 Yet we certainly witness a marital pleito [quarrel], hardly a manifestation of love and peace between husband and wife. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí followed Rashi and explained Sarah’s harsh words as addressed to Hagar, her bondswoman and not to her husband Abraham. This conclusion is based on the fact that that the Hebrew word ‫ וביניך‬had two ‫ יוד"ין‬and that Sarah turned her head and addressed Hagar.54 In the end, Sarah insisted that Abraham drive Ishmael away from his home. She claimed that “kon su ‫[ דעת‬understanding],” Ishmael was not observing the right ways: “no kaminava en buenas kaminos.” Therefore: “the son of this bondwoman shall not be heir with my son” (Gen 21:9–14). Sarah thought that Ishmael was guilty of incest, idolatry and bloodshed. Abraham was hesitant, yet God had ordained that Abraham follow Sarah’s wish (Gen 21:8–14). Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí fully justified Sarah’s attitude towards Hagar and Ishmael. He ended the case, simply stating that as Hagar was of Egypt, “as we know from the parasha ‫לך לך‬, she went back to Egypt with Ishmael and had him marry [out] there.”55 When Abraham was circumcised and was ailing, three angels came to visit him. At this point, Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí elaborates on the importance of caring for the sick ]‫[בקור חולים‬. Following the

ML, 191. ML, 190. 55 ML, 248. 53 54

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Babylonian Talmud,56 Rabbi Khulí wrote that the three angels were Michael in the middle, Gabriel on the right hand and Refael on his left hand. Each angel was to perform a special task: Refael to cure Abraham; Michael to give good tidings to Sarah; and Gabriel to chastise Sodom. Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí told his readers that the Patriarch Abraham was eager to perform the precept of hospitality ‫הכנסת אורחים‬: Rabbi Khulí wrote that although Abraham was a rich man, he himself took care of the preparations to receive his guests and had his wife—who was, as befitting a respectable lady, confined to her tent—to help prepare a sumptuous meal for the guests.57 The angel then told Abraham that his wife Sarah was to give birth to a son. Upon hearing this message, “Sarah laughed within herself saying, ‘After I am waxed old shall I have pleasure, my lord being old also?’” and “Then Sarah denied saying I laughed not; for she was afraid.” (Gen 18:12,15). Obviously, Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí had to deal with a grave problem: how could Sarah doubt the power of God and how could she lie in front of God Almighty? Rabbi Khulí cited Ramban and wrote that Sarah heard the message from Abraham and thought that he was the one who had asked her why had she laughed, and once she understood who had been talking to her, she was afraid to admit the truth. Following Rashi, Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí wrote that Sarah received her punishment for the lie she told when Satan, disguised as an old man, told her that Abraham had sacrificed their son Yitsḥak [Isaac] and then denied these words, now claiming that Yitsḥak was safe and well. Sarah was so overwhelmed with emotions to hear the good tidings, that she passed away on the spot.58 Commenting on the story of the ‫[ עקדה‬self-sacrifice],59 Rabbi Ya’akov Khulí told his readers how Abraham was preparing to take his son Yitsḥak to Mount Moriah in accordance with God’s Babylonian Talmud, Yoma 37a. ML, 253–255. 58 ML, 231: “Savresh que la akeda ‫ עקדה‬fue kavsa de la muerte de la siniora de Sarah.” 59 Gen 22: 1–19. 56 57

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command. “Since the ‫[ שכל‬understanding] of women is poor”60— wrote Rabbi Khulí—Abraham decided not to tell Sarah the true purpose of his mission. Abraham suggested that Sarah prepare a grand meal [cena]. When Sarah inquired, somewhat grudgingly, or even suspiciously, what was the cause for celebration: who is newly born for us to feast? Abraham told her—according to the Me’am Lo’ez—that the boy, Yitsḥak, was going to study in a yeshiva in the city of Ḥebron and this would be the cause for the celebration. Sarah then prepared, with motherly care, fine clothing for her son; at the same time she was weeping: how was she to live without Yitsḥak? In the morning, Abraham got up very early so that Sarah would not wake up.61 The rest of the story is well known and need not be repeated here. We may think of the Sephardi women gathered back in the ‫[ עזרת נשים‬the section of the synagogue allotted to women] of the synagogue, or in the patio of their family home, knowing what was to happen and that in the end Sarah would die when she heard from Satan about the ‫ ;עקדה‬picturing to themselves the mother getting ready to part with her only child, and sympathizing with her. For all her obvious faults, Sarah the Matriarch is undoubtedly considered one of the four mothers of Israel. Moreover, she is the only one among the four Matriarchs who is considered by the Jewish commentators of the Bible to be a prophetess: neviah.

60 61

“…siendo el ‫ שכל‬de las mugeres es poko,” ML, 260. ML, 260.

ON NAMING AND BLAMING: HAGAR’S GOD-TALK IN JEWISH AND EARLY CHRISTIAN SOURCES MARIANNE BJELLAND KARTZOW UNIVERSITY OF OSLO

INTRODUCTION Ancient Jewish and Christian texts are replete with words about how to speak and talk, and what they say about Hagar and her encounters with God’s angel may represent a rich case study. Throughout the ancient Mediterranean world the speech patterns of individuals and groups were taken as indicators of their character. Whole essays were devoted to the appropriate content and quantity of speech; and even word order, vocabulary, and pronunciation were scrutinized. Given such realities, religious and philosophical communities stipulated how members of their groups were to speak. Right and wrong ways of speaking were inextricably intertwined with questions of gender, status, and ethnicity. In addition, talking about speech practices formed a central part of the repertoire of polemicists and panegyrists as they sought to denigrate or praise. Jews and Christians were no exception, developing their own complex rules for and discourses about speech.1 Some of these issues have been discussed in the SBL Program Unit “Speech and Talk: Discourses and Social Practices in the ancient Mediterranean world,” which Jeremy Hultin and I have been chairing from 2010–2012. I thank the participants of this consultation for giving useful comments on an early draft of this essay. 1

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Hagar Hagar is the only woman in the Bible given the chance to name God. Other naming conversations are mentioned in the Hebrew Bible, although the name Hagar gives God, El-roi (Gen 16:13), appears only here.2 I have also elsewhere paid attention to the fascinating character of Hagar, but her role as a talking character seems to me to need more investigation.3 The biblical figure of Hagar has a peripheral position of the collective memory of Europe.4 She is, however, an important figure in some other contexts: Hagar has become central for AfricanAmerican womanhood,5 she is a symbol within Israeli peace movements and scholarship,6 and she is the pioneer woman who

Adamo, David Tuesday, and Erivwierho Francis Eghwubare. “The African Wife of Abraham: An African Reading of Genesis 16:1–16 and 21:8–21.” In Genesis, edited by Athalya Brenner, Archie Chi Chung Lee and Gale A. Yee, 275–92, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press), 2010, p. 286. 3 See chapter 10 in Destabilizing the Margins: An Intersectional Approach to early Christian Memory, (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2012). 4 See Herbert Haag and Dorothee Sölle, et al, eds., Grosse Frauen Der Bibel in Bild Und Text, (Freiburg, Basel, Wien: Herder,1993), pp. 32–47. See also Lucia Faltin and Melanie J. Wright, The Religious Roots of Contemporary European Identity, (London: Continuum, 2007). Castelli talks about “the nagging persistence in the collective imagination of the West of the figure of Hagar,” in Elizabeth A. Castelli, “Allegories of Hagar: Reading Galatians 4:21–31 with Postmodern Feminist Eyes,” in The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament, ed. Elizabeth Struthers Malbon and Edgar V. McKnight, Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplement Series, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), p. 228. 5 Delores S. Williams, “Hagar in African American Biblical Appropriation,” in Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, ed. Phyllis Trible and Letty Russel, (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006), p. 176. 6 See the introduction to the first volume of the Israeli journal “Hagar: Studies in Culture, Polity and Identities.” http://hsf.bgu.ac.il/hagar/board.aspx. 2

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led the way to the establishment of a new civilization in Islam.7 Hagar (Hajar in Arabic) is not mentioned in the Qur’an, but in the Hadith (oral traditions of the Prophet Muhammad) she plays a prominent role as “the mother of monotheism.”8 All three religions share that Hagar is the mother of Abraham/Ibrahim’s oldest son Ishmael, and that she at one point together with her son was left alone in the wilderness struggling for their common survival. Hagar’s desert location and social mobility may function as a matrix to discuss intersections of gender, class, race, and religion.9 She has become a travelling concept that has moved out of the biblical and religious discourses and been given new meanings. The memory of Hagar highlights the multiple possibilities embedded in most social settings, while at the same time reflects the overriding impact of power and hierarchy. In this essay and in the framework of the shared topic of Biblical Characters in Three Traditions (the seminar co-convened by Professors Mishael Caspi and John Greene at international meetings of the SBL, and co-editors of the annual proceedings Riffat Hassan, “Islamic Hagar and Her Family,” in Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, ed. Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell, (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006), p. 154. 8 Ibid., 149. See also Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell, “Unto the Thousandth Generation,” in Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, ed. Phyllis Trible and Letty Russel, (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006), p. 10. 9 The social categories “gender,” “class” and “race” are contested; in a European context especially the two last terms may seem problematic, see Gudrun-Axeli Knapp, “Race, Class, Gender: Reclaiming Baggage in Fast Travelling Theories,” European Journal of Women’s Studies 12, no. 3 (2005). In this article these terms are used in order to relate to a specific theoretical discourse, although they have to be qualified: for example, “class” as understood in Marxist ideology hardly fit to describe the ancient discourse on slavery or the present power structures among AfricanAmericans. See also the editors’ introduction in Jorunn Økland and Roland Boer, Marxist Feminist Criticism of the Bible, (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008). 7

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volume), I shall pay attention to the scene in which Hagar talks to the angel of God in the wilderness when she is naming God. This theme is only a small fragment of an interdisciplinary research project on Hagar at the University of Oslo in which I am participating, together with Anne Hege Grung (see her essay in this book). In Genesis, Hagar is the main character in two different episodes. She is the slave girl from Egypt who appears as the solution because Sarah and Abraham are childless. But although her owners have the legal right to use her as a surrogate mother and adopt her son as their own, the relationship between Abraham, the two women and their sons Ishmael and Isaac, are troublesome, challenging and disharmonic from beginning to end. Hagar is mentioned in two separate stories, supposedly from the Yahwist and the Elohist, if we believe in such distinctions, and readers and interpreters throughout the ages have had a tendency to mix these two narratives up, especially the two scenes where Hagar is in the wilderness. In chapter 16:1–16 (Y) Hagar is fleeing from Sarah and Abraham, while she still is pregnant with Ishmael. God’s angel finds her at “a spring of water in the wilderness,” and asks her to return home to her owners. Then follows the scene where she encounters the angel and names God. She does as the angel tells her to and returns to Sarah where she gives birth to a son. In chapter 21:8–21 (E) Hagar and Ishmael are forced to leave they owners’ household, decided by Sarah but told by Abraham. They walk around desperate, and Hagar thinks they will die and starts crying. The angel then “opens her eyes and she saw a well of water.” I am interested in how these stories are remembered by early Jewish and Christian interpreters, highlighting the role of Hagar’s talk and naming of God in Genesis 16.

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THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK: INTERSECTIONALITY AND MEMORY Hagar is a woman, but the intersections of class, race, and religion are essential in order to understand her gender. For some years now New Testament scholars have employed the concept of “intersectionality” to read biblical texts,10 and I agree with Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, who, in a recent publication finds it “more than surprising” that scholarship of early Christianity has not embraced the “rich body of critical feminist work on intersectionality.”11 Intersectionality has become the primary analytic tool that feminist and anti-racist scholars recently have deployed for theorizing identity and oppression.12 The concept originates from AfricanAmerican women in the late ’80s.13 In order to talk about Hagar in Genesis, intersectionality offers a language to decode her marginal position: If gender is emphasized in isolation, we cannot explain the different positions of Sarah and Hagar since they both were women. But if only Hagar’s Egyptian origin or slave status is Marianne Bjelland Kartzow, Gossip and Gender: Othering of Speech in the Pastoral Epistles, vol. 164, BZNW, (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009), 22– 23. See in particular Marianne Bjelland Kartzow, “‘Asking the Other Question’: An Intersectional Approach to Galatians 3:28 and the Colossian Household Codes,” Biblical Interpretation 18 (2010). 11 See Schüssler Fiorenza, “Introduction: Exploring the Intersections of Race, Gender, Status, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies,” pp. 1– 23 (4–5). 12 Nash, “Re-Thinking Intersectionality,” pp. 1–15 (1). See also Kathy Davis, “Intersectionality as Buzzword: A Sociology of Science Perspective on What Makes a Feminist Theory Successful,” Feminist Theory 9 (2008): 67–83 (68). Leslie McCall, “The Complexity of Intersectionality,” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 30, no. 3 (2005): 1777. Note, however, that “Intersectionality” is not mentioned as a keyword in Sarah Gamble, ed., The Routledge Companion to Feminism and Postfeminism, Routledge Companions, (London, New York: Routledge, 2001). 13 See the book that is considered to represent the “breakthrough:” Kimberlé Crenshaw, ed., Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory, and Antiracist Politics, vol. 139, (University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989). 10

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highlighted, we miss the gendered structures that intersect with ethnicity or social status. Intersectionality offers tools to talk about complex issues of power and social relations, but I am also interested in what role these stories played in memory processes. Our research project has developed a combination of theoretical concepts that we can call “travelling memory.” This theory is made up from two central analytical figures within the social sciences and the humanities, “travelling” and “memory.” Like people, ideas and theories travel, from person to person, from situation to situation, from one period to another.14 The figure “travelling concepts” has for some decades been used to explain how ideas, practices or substances are moving around the world and given different meanings. It helps reflect upon how concepts that are transported across borders are shaped differently, at times to the point that they hardly are recognizable.15 Knowledge travels in academia too; a variety of concepts, such as meaning, metaphor, narrative and myth, may “travel” from one discipline to another.16 The image of travelling is already an interdisciplinary one. “Memory” is a complex, pluralistic, and labyrinthine analytical tool, and used in various ways and in different fields, and I am selective in its approach.17 I have at least two reasons for combining theories of collective memory with travelling:18 1) I want to highlight how stories and narratives from the past travel. Memory pays attention to more than analytical tools or Edward W. Said, “Travelling Theory,” in The World, the Text, and the Critic, (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1983), p. 226. 15 See “Travelling Concepts.Net.” 16 Mieke Bal, Travelling Concepts in the Humanities: A Rough Guide, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), esp. Chap. 1. 17 For an overview of recent perspectives, see the introduction in Rafael Rodríguez, Structuring Early Christian Memory: Jesus in Tradition, Performance, and Text, (London: T&T Clark, 2010). 18 On collective memory, see the new preface in Edward S. Casey, Remembering: A Phenomenological Study, 2 ed., (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 2000). 14

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concepts of cognition, highlighting religious and cultural practices related to bodies, storytelling and ritual.19 2) Memory theory offers a language to talk about the complex relation between “past” and “present.” What is travelling and remembered contribute to construct identity in a given time and place. Memory not only reflects the past, but also shapes the present reality by providing understandings and symbolic frameworks that help us make sense of the world.20 Memory concerns the past, but happens in the present, as Mieke Bal says.21 Hagar has travelled over time, from ancient sources to meaningmaking processes today, but it is not the same Hagar that arrives since the process of memory has transformed her. Memory theory indeed deals with power, status and struggle over canon.22 Accordingly, by combining intersectionality and the traveling memory of Hagar, my aim is not to judge which stories are closest to the original, or accuse interpreters for misunderstanding or misrepresenting. I take the various texts dealing with Hagar and all changes and nuances to be found as expressions of what always happens when memory travels: The stories are negotiated, adjusted and changed to serve purposes in new contexts, as part of a given See for example the various studies in Jan Assmann, Religion and Cultural Memory: Ten Studies, trans., Rodney Livingstone, Cultural Memory in the Present, (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2006 (2000)). See also Doron Mendels, Memory in Jewish, Pagan and Christian Societies of the Graeco-Roman World, Library of Second Temple Studies; 45, (London: T&T Clark Int., 2004). 20 Barbara A. Misztal, Theories of Social Remembering, Theorizing Society, (Maidenhead, Berkshire, England Philadelphia, PA: Open University Press, 2003), p. 13. See also Paul Connerton, How Societies Remember, Themes in the Social Sciences, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). 21 Bal, Travelling Concepts in the Humanities: A Rough Guide, p. 183. 22 See the “Introduction” to Mathias Danbolt, Jane Rowley, and Louise Wolthers, eds., Lost and Found: Queering the Archive, (Kopenhagen: Kunsthallen Nikolaj, 2009). See also Olick, “Products, Processes, and Josephus and Philo Practices; a Non-Reificatory Approach to Collective Memory.” 19

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cultural setting. Narratives are dynamic in the memory process. I shall use intersectionality to highlight the complex character of Hagar as she is remembered as a talking agent. To investigate the different ways of remembering a person who had a low position related to gender, class and ethnicity but who still was given a prominent role of talking and naming God is the main purpose of this essay.

THE TRAVELLING MEMORY OF HAGAR’S TALKING AND NAMING I shall begin with the Jewish historians, continue with some rabbis and end with the Church fathers. Rather than go deep into all these rich and complex texts, my aim is to present a few examples and search for some tendencies. Josephus and Philo The Jewish historians Philo and Josephus have their own particular ideas about Hagar. In their re-tellings of Genesis they highlight some elements of the narrative, while keep silent about others, as is a typical of how memory works. Josephus uses the story of the fleeing Hagar (Agar) and her encounter in the wilderness with an angel to address the slave’s obedience to her owners. The angel bade her to return and encouraged her not to be arrogant to Sarah or disobedient to God, according to Josephus. If she returns home, the angel promises her that “she would attain a happier lot through self-control” and that she would be the mother of a great son. Hagar returns and is forgiven by her master and mistress and gives birth to Ishmael (Jewish Antiquities, Book 1, 178–190). Hagar’s naming of God or the dialogue with the angel of God are not mentioned at all. Instead of dwelling with this scene, Josephus uses the opportunity to highlight issues of how slaves should behave towards their owners. Josephus does not present Hagar as evil, rather as “immature, ignorant, and misguided,” as Reinharts and Walfish argue (103). After Ishmael is born the trouble starts again between Sarah and Hagar, and she and her small boy are commanded to leave, as we know from the Genesis story (Gen 21). A striking difference in Josephus’ re-telling, however, is that after meeting the angel of God again who told her where to find water for her son who would be

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of great blessings, some otherwise unknown characters come to Hagar’s rescue. The promises of the angel gave her new courage, “and, meeting some shepherds, she through their care escaped her miseries.” (Jewish Antiquities Book 1, 217–219) At least this version of the story has something close to a happy ending for Hagar; she meets someone and they care about her. The next information Josephus gives is that Ishmael reached manhood, and “his mother found him a wife of that Egyptian race whence she herself had originally sprung” (Book 1, 220–222, cf. Gen 21:21). In these short passages from Josephus’, Hagar’s speech, talk or naming are not mentioned. The basic plot from Genesis is adjusted and reinterpreted, and the angel’s words to Hagar telling her to return to her mistress (Gen 16:9) dominate the passage completely. The scenes in which Hagar appears as a talking agent are not remembered. She is rather a person who needs to be told to be obedient and subordinate, and who needs others’ guidance and the care as she gets from the shepherds. Genesis 16 and 21 are not very central texts for Philo and are seldom used in his countless comments on the book of Genesis or on the forefather Abraham. Hagar does not play a prominent role in the allegorical reasoning so important to Philo. In his “Questions and Answers,” however, he comments on the text where Hagar talks to the angel of God, where she names God “the One who see” (Gen 16:13). Philo makes a parallel here between “the servant of God,” that is the angel who speaks, and Hagar, “the servant of wisdom.” In this text it is not Hagar’s role as a servant, slave or maid of Sarah and Abraham that Philo employs to construct meaning, he rather takes her conversation with God’s angel as a sign of wisdom (Philo, Supplement 1, Questions and Answers of Genesis 3:34). Within Philo’s allegorical universe this is perhaps a way of lifting up Hagar’s talk and her role vis-à-vis the angel of God. Rabbinic Literature In the rich body of Rabbinic literature a general impression is given that Sarah is superior to Hagar, but the rabbis are not blind to the moral dilemmas of the story, nor uniform in their judgment of the

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situation.23 Many rabbis focus on the problem of Sarah’s infertility, and some blame her for her bad treatment of Hagar.24 Sometimes Hagar’s national origin plays an important role, reflecting the ambiguous attitude to Egypt in Jewish thought.25 Hagar is depicted as a stranger, as Egyptian, but of noble decent, as being the daughter of Pharaoh (cf. Bereshit Rabbah 45:1).26 One interesting case comes from the Midrash Rabbah, Genesis (Lech lecha) XLV 10 (p. 387). The sentence under discussion is “And she called the name of the Lord that spoke unto her.” R. Judah b. R. Simon and R. Johanan in the name of R. Eleazar b. R. Simon said: The holy one, blessed be he, never condescended to hold converse with a woman, […] except with that righteous woman Sarah, and that through a particular case.

The rabbi then starts reflecting on how Sarah, the righteous woman, conversed with God and laughed. It seems like the rabbis were struggling with the fact that the angel actually talked to Hagar. Accordingly, this text is very interesting for the issues dealt with in this essay. Hagar was a woman and the holy one “never condescended to hold converse with a woman.” In addition, Hagar was not righteous like Sarah was. This mixing of gender issues with complex intersections of class and religious/ethnic origin is striking. Within this hierarchy only specially selected persons could converse with the holy one: the first and foremost criterion dealt with gender. God did not talk to women. The only exception from this rule was Sarah, but she was special and she was righteous. Within this paradigm it was obviously challenging to come to terms with the Genesis scene in which Hagar operates as a talking agent. Reinhartz and Walfish, “Conflict and Coexistance in Jewish Interpretation,” p. 105. 24 See Russel, “Children of Struggle,” p. 189. 25 The ambiguous role of Egypt is discussed in Ilana Pardes, Countertraditions in the Bible: A Feminist Approach, (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992). 26 See Pabst 10. Midrash Rabbah, Genesis 1, p. 380. 23

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When Hagar’s words are referred in the following, however, both her seeing and speaking are highlighted in what the various rabbis say: She said: I have been granted not only speech [with the angel], but even with royalty too…. I was favored [to see the angel] not only when with my mistress, but even now that I am alone. (p. 387–88)

Some of the same logic appears here: What is striking is that she, as a fleeing pregnant slave on her own in the wilderness, without her righteous mistress, was able both to speak with and see the angel of God. Although the general rule is that God never talks to women, Hagar’s words as referred in this rabbinic text show that both gender and class could be negotiated in order to explain the meaning of Genesis. I find this reasoning very interesting since it uses the memory of Hagar to negotiate power intersections and images of God. Church Fathers Among the Christian Church fathers, Hagar and Sarah became codes for synagogue and church, building on the allegorical interpretation of Paul in Gal 4:21–31.27 As Origen sees it, those who are born according to the flesh, that is how Hagar’s son was born, fail in and lack many things.28 In Tertullian, Sarah represents “our mother, the holy Church,” and the Christians “are not children of the bondwoman but of the free.”29 According to Irene Pabst, “[t]he Church fathers were the first to interpret Sarah and Hagar as allegories for Christianity and Judaism, and made Hagar a symbol of the Jewish expelled ‘other’” Elizabeth A. Clark, “Interpretive Fate Amid the Church Fathers,” in Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, ed. Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell, (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006), p. 129. 28 See the discussion in Pabst, “The Interpretation of the Sarah-HagarStories in Rabbinic and Patristic Literature: Sarah and Hagar as Female Representations of Identity and Difference,” pp. 5–6. 29 Adversus Marcionem V,4,8. See also ibid., p. 3. 27

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(p. 5–6). For the Church fathers the story of Hagar primarily caused a problem because it portrayed the patriarch as guilty of extramarital relations. This could be solved by interpreting Genesis on an allegorical level, like Philo does, or Abraham could be justified since the law against adultery had not been given in his time. Abraham could also be excused for his relations with Hagar since he only had done his duty to society by guaranteeing posterity. Some also stressed that Abraham was not attracted to Hagar and felt no lust when Ishmael was conceived. Didymus the Blind discusses the relationship between the angel Hagar talks to and God. Angels are compared with prophets, and he argues: “[Since] the angel was speaking the words of God, Hagar called him God because of the one who lived in him.” Then the dialogue between Hagar and the angel is compared with Isaac, who, when he prophesies, speaks Gods words while elsewhere speaks in his own person. Also an angel who speaks with Moses was called God, Didymus continues. The purpose of this argument seems to be to explain the relationship between God and the angel. The choice of persons to compare with is nevertheless interesting: Isaac and Moses. It is never spelled out that Hagar has a role among such prominent men, but the effect of the argument is that this talking and naming scene categorizes her as one of the few in the history of the forefathers who gave God a name. In this passage there is no discussion of the problematic aspects of having such a character in conversation with God, like in Midrash Rabbah where both Hagar’s gender and slave status became a problem to be negotiated. The cruel episode when Hagar and her son are sent away into the wilderness seems to cause a moral problem, but allegorical interpretations help the Church fathers, like Paul in Galatians, to deal with the bad attitude and behavior of the matriarch Sarah and patriarch Abraham. The water she sees when the angel opens her eyes is compared to the living water of Jesus in the Gospels. In that respect Hagar’s need and desperation appear as Christian ideals more than her role as someone who names God and is worthy of two visitations from God’s angel. Like the rabbis, the Church fathers discussed the moral dimensions of how Hagar was treated. I shall end with the words of Eusebius of Emesa who in particular is concerned with Abraham. He finds creative reasons for why Hagar had to leave

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with her son, and legitimates Abraham’s behavior since it was not his fault; it was rather Sarah and God who told him what to do: But was the just Abraham inhumane in that he did not supply Hagar and the boy with a donkey, with all the cattle he possessed? Some say it was a gesture of kindness, so that she would not have to look after the donkey; others say that he did this believing that God would protect the boy. But why does he throw her out in the first place? Was it not that he wished to have peace with his wife? And indeed he did not really want to send her away at all, for it is written that the thing appear extremely harsh to Abraham. So he would not have done what he did except for the fact that God said to him, let not this matter trouble you…

Apparently, it is not only recent interpreters who struggle to cope with the treatment Hagar is given in the narrative of Genesis. Taking into account all the interest in Hagar in early Jewish texts and the Church fathers, Hagar and Sarah’s absence from the canonical Gospels and Acts in the New Testament is striking. In the New Testament, Hagar is only mentioned by name in the allegory in Gal 4:21–31. On its travel from Genesis to Galatians, some important elements of the story have been negotiated. Paul is not only labeling the agitators as slaves, but comparing them with a slave woman and her offspring.30 In Rom 9:6–13 Hagar can be identified as the mother who produces the children of the flesh, those who are not the children of the promise or counted as descendents.

CONCLUSION As we see, those who pay attention to Hagar as a talking character judge her role differently. A few of them pay attention to the challenging aspects of Hagar’s status and gender. It is also striking Tsang, From Slaves to Sons: A New Rhetoric Analysis on Paul’s Slave Metaphors in His Letter to the Galatians, 102. “…Paul used the metaphor of slave children to describe the agitators, making them illigitimate and thus unable to claim the inheritance of the Abrahamic promise.” (p. 136) 30

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that it is possible for many of these early commentators on Genesis to mention Hagar and some elements of the episodes in which she figures, but ignore her special role as naming God and talking to an angel. In what kind of contexts did the various authors try to construct meaning out of the scene where Hagar talks to God? The travelling memory of Hagar seems to be adjustable in many different ways:  Hagar’s slave status was highlighted instead of her angeltalk and god-naming  She is called a servant of wisdom vis-à-vis God’s angel, the servant of God  It is problematized that God encounters a slave woman who is not righteous (cf. Sarah)  Hagar’s talking and naming is listed together with the role of Isaac and Moses  She is presented as a character who needs care and protection and her talking and naming is downplayed The act of talking to an angel and naming God did not give Hagar any prominent position in Jewish or Christian memory, although we see some willingness to comment upon the scene or to explain the strange fact that a female slave from Egypt is given such a role. Although she is given the role of being the only woman who named God in the Bible, she is more often seen as a slave, blamed for her gender and social position. So what happened to the memory of Hagar and her role vis-àvis God in the centuries after? It is striking that the memory of her in Islam highlights a specific set of features of the story. As a matriarch, Hagar’s name and message came to be part of Islam’s sacred history and ritual.31 Her intersectional marginality; her slave status, gender or Egyptian origin, seem to be far less problematic.

31

87.

Abugideiri, “Hagar: A Historical Model for ‘Gender Jihad’,” pp. 85,

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In Islamic tradition, Hagar was not left alone in the wilderness, but Abraham kept on visiting her and her son.32 And since Hagar today continues to play a role in worldwide liberation movements and cultures, it seems like the memories of her still have huge potential. Although the early Jewish and Christian interpreters did not make too much out of Hagar’s speech and talk, it is fascinating that her voice continues to be heard today. Although female slaves were blamed for their gender and status, Hagar’s naming was never forgotten. The strong but controversial role she is given in Genesis, where she is presented as a marginal female character whose dialogue with the divine is recorded, is the reason why she is still remembered. It is her ambiguity that continues to challenge and fascinate. This confirms how unique the Egyptian slave girl and surrogate mother Hagar is in her role as a talking and naming character: Speaking and talking are essential to human existence and survival. The memory of Hagar seems to continue to travel.

ANCIENT SOURCES Gen 16:1–16, 21:8–21. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities, Book 1, 186–190; 215–220. Philo, Supplement 1, Questions and Answers on Genesis, Book 3, 34. Genesis Rabbah Church Fathers: Didymus the Blind; Eusebius of Emesa Gal 4:21–31; Rom 9:6–13

Hassan, Riffat. “Islamic Hagar and Her Family.” In Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, edited by Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell, pp. 149–67, (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006. S 155: “The dramatic story of Hagar’s life shows that class or color is not a deterrent to any person who has faith in God and is resolutely righteously in action. So Hagar does not see herself as a victim of Abraham and Sarah, or of a patriarchal, class- and raceconscious culture.” 32

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SECONDARY LITERATURE Abugideiri, Hibba “Hagar: A Historical Model for ‘Gender Jihad’.” In Daughters of Abraham: Feminist Thought in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, edited by Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad and John L. Esposito, 81–107. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2001. Adamo, David Tuesday, and Erivwierho Francis Eghwubare. “The African Wife of Abraham: An African Reading of Genesis 16:1–16 and 21:8–21.” In Genesis, edited by Athalya Brenner, Archie Chi Chung Lee and Gale A. Yee, 275–92. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2010. Ahmed, Leila. Women and Gender in Islam: Historical Roots of a Modern Debate. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1992. Al-Azmeh, Aziz, and Effie Fokas, eds. Islam in Europe: Diversity, Identity and Influence. Cambridge: Cambridge Uiniversity Press, 2007. Assmann, Aleida. “The Religious Roots of Cultural Memory.” Norsk teologisk tidsskrift [= Norweigan Journal of Theology] 4, no. 109 (2008): 271–92. Assmann, Jan. Religion and Cultural Memory: Ten Studies. Translated by Rodney Livingstone, Cultural Memory in the Present. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2006 (2000). Bal, Mieke. Loving Yusuf: Conceptual Travels from Present to Past. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2008. ———. Travelling Concepts in the Humanities: A Rough Guide. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002. Benyik, György. “The Formation and Interpretation of the Bible and of the Qur’an.” Studia Universitatis Babes-Bolyal LIII, no. 2 (2008): 36–58. Borge, Lars Ivar Owesen-Lein. Karneval I Xoxocotla : Bøddelens Festdag : Ritualer, Sladder Og Betydningen Av “Indianskhet” I Et Landsbyfellesskap I Sentral Mexico / Av Lars Ivar Owesen-Lein Borge. Oslo Universitetet i Oslo,2000. Borgen, Peder. “Some Hebrew and Pagan Features in Philo’s and Paul’s Interpretation of Hagar and Ishmael.” In The New Testament and Hellenistic Judaism, edited by Peder Borgen, Søren Giversen and Per Jarle Bekken, 151–64. Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1995.

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Burke, David G. The Poetry of Baruch: Reconstruction and Analysis of the Original Hebrew Text of Baruch 3:9–5:9, Septuagint and Cognate Studies. Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1982. Burrus, Virginia. Saving Shame: Martyrs, Saints, and Other Abject Subjects. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008. Byrne, Brendan. Romans, Sacra Pagina Series. Collegeville, Minn.: The Liturgical Press, 1996. Byron, Gay L. Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature. London: Routledge, 2002. Casey, Edward S. Remembering: A Phenomenological Study. 2 ed. Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 2000. Caspi, Mishael Maswari, in collaboration with Mohammad Jiyad. Eve in Three Traditions and Literatures: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2004. Caspi, Mishael Maswari, and Gerda Neu-Sokol in collaboration with Mohammad Jiyad, eds. The Legend of Elijah in Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and Literature: A Study in Comparative Religion. Lewiston: Edwin Mellen Press, 2009. Castelli, Elizabeth A. “Allegories of Hagar: Reading Galatians 4:21– 31 with Postmodern Feminist Eyes.” In The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament, edited by Elizabeth Struthers Malbon and Edgar V. McKnight, 228–50. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994. Clark, Elizabeth A. “Interpretive Fate Amid the Church Fathers.” In Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, edited by Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell, 127– 47. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006. Connerton, Paul. How Societies Remember. Themes in the Social Sciences. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Craffert, Pieter F. The Life of a Galilean Shaman: Jesus of Nazareth in Anthropological-Historical Perspective. Vol. 3, Matrix: The Bible in Mediterranean Context. Eugene, Or.: Cascade Books, 2008. Crenshaw, Kimberlé, ed. Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory, and Antiracist Politics. Vol. 139. University of Chicago Legal Forum, 1989. Crone, Patricia, and M. A. Cook. Hagarism: The Making of the Islamic World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977.

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Danbolt, Mathias, Jane Rowley, and Louise Wolthers, eds. Lost and Found: Queering the Archive. Kopenhagen: Kunsthallen Nikolaj, 2009. Davis, Kathy. “Intersectionality as Buzzword: A Sociology of Science Perspective on What Makes a Feminist Theory Successful.” Feminist Theory 9, (2008): 67–83. El-Azhary Sonbol, Amira. “Rethinking Women and Islam.” In Daughters of Abraham: Feminist Thought in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, edited by Yvonne Yazbeck Haddad and John L. Esposito, 109–46. Gainesville, Fla.: University Press of Florida, 2001. Esposito, John L. The Oxford Dictionary of Islam. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. Faltin, Lucia, and Melanie J. Wright. The Religious Roots of Contemporary European Identity. London: Continuum, 2007. Gamble, Sarah. Ed. The Routledge Companion to Feminism and Postfeminism. New York: Routledge, 2001. Glancy, Jennifer A. Slavery in Early Christianity. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Gordon, Tuula. Feminist Mothers. Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan, 1990. Grung, Anne Hege. “Gender Justice in Muslim-Christian Readings: Christian and Muslim Companions. London, New York: Routledge, 2001.Women in Norway Making Meaning of Texts from the Bible, the Koran, and the Hadith.” University of Oslo (Doctoral Thesis), 2010. Haddad, Yvonne Yazbeck, and John Eposito, eds. Daughters of Abraham: Feminst Thought in Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Gainesville University Press of Florida, 2001. Hassan, Riffat. “Islamic Hagar and Her Family.” In Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives, edited by Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell, 149–67. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006. Hendel, Ronald. Remembering Abraham: Culture, Memory, and History in the Hebrew Bible. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. Hirsch, Marianne, and Valerie Smith. “Feminism and Cultural Memory: An Introduction.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 28, no. 1 (Gender and Cultural Memory) (2002): 1–19.

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Hornsby, Teresa J. “The Annoying Woman: Biblical Scholarship after Judith Butler.” In Bodily Citations: Religion and Judith Butler, edited by Ellen T. Armour and Susan M. St.Ville, 71–89. New York: Columbia, 2006. Hunter, Shireen T., ed. Islam, Europe’s Second Religion: The New Social, Cultural, and Political Landscape. Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2002. Haag, Herbert, and Dorothee Sölle, et al, eds. Grosse Frauen Der Bibel in Bild Und Text. Freiburg, Basel, Wien: Herder, 1993. Ipsen, Avaren. Sex Working and the Bible. London: Equinox, 2009. Kahf, Mohja. Western Representations of the Muslim Woman: From Termagant to Odalisque. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999. Karim, Jamillah. “Between Immigrant Islam and Black Liberation: Young Muslims Inherit Global Muslim and African American Legacies.” The Muslim World 95, (2005): 497–513. Kartzow, Marianne Bjelland. “‘Asking the Other Question’: An Intersectional Approach to Galatians 3:28 and the Colossian Household Codes.” Biblical Interpretation 18, (2010): 364–89. ———. Destabilizing the Margins: An Intersectional Approach to early Christian Memory. Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2012. ———. Gossip and Gender: Othering of Speech in the Pastoral Epistles. Vol. 164, Beiheft Zeitschrift fuer die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft [= Bulletin of the Journal for New Testament Study]. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009. Knapp, Gudrun-Axeli. “Race, Class, Gender: Reclaiming Baggage in Fast Travelling Theories.” European Journal of Women’s Studies 12, no. 3 (2005): 249–65. Kvam, Kristen E., Linda S. Schearing, and Valarie H. Ziegler. Eve and Adam: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Readings on Genesis and Gender. Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1999. MacDonald, Margaret Y. Colossians and Ephesians. Edited by Daniel J. Harrington. Vol. 17, Sacra Pagina Series. Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2000. ———. “Slavery, Sexuality and House Churches: A Reassessment of Colossians 3.18–4.1 in Light of New Research on the Roman Family.” New Testament Studies 53, (2008): 94–113. Matsuda, Mari J. “Beside My Sister, Facing the Enemy: Legal Theory out of Coalition.” Stanford Law Review 43, (1990): 1183–92. McCall, Leslie. “The Complexity of Intersectionality.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 30, no. 3 (2005): 1771–800.

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Mendels, Doron. Memory in Jewish, Pagan and Christian Societies of the Graeco-Roman World, Library of Second Temple Studies; 45. London: T&T Clark Int., 2004. Misztal, Barbara A. Theories of Social Remembering, Theorizing Society. Maidenhead, Berkshire, England Philadelphia, PA: Open University Press, 2003. Mligo, Elia Shabani. “Jesus and the Stigmatized: Reading the Gospel of John in a Context of Hiv/Aids-Related Stigmatization in Tanzania.” Unipub, 2009. Moberly, R. W. L. The Bible, Theology, and Faith: A Study of Abraham and Jesus. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Moore, Stephen D., and Janice Capel Anderson. New Testament Masculinities. Vol. 45, Semeia Studies. Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003. Murad, Abdal-Hakim. “European Islam: The Reurn of Hagar.” http://www.opendemocracy.net/faitheurope_islam/article_1327.jsp. Musurillo, Herbert, ed. The Acts of the Pagan Martyrs. Acta Alexandrinorum. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1954. Nash, Jennifer C. “Re-Thinking Intersectionality.” Feminist Review 89, (2008): 1–15. Nzegwu, Nkiru. “Cultural Epistemologies of Motherhood: Refining the Concept of ‘Mother’.” Jenda: A Journal of Culture and African Women Studies (2004): 1–5. Olick, Jeffrey K. “Products, Processes, and Practices; a NonReificatory Approach to Collective Memory.” Biblical Theology Bulletin 36, (2006): 5–14. Osiek, Carolyn. “Female Slaves, Porneia, and the Limits of Obedience.” In Early Christian Families in Context: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue. Religion, Marriage, and Family. Edited by Carolyn Osiek and David L. Balch, 255–74. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2003. Osiek, Carolyn, and Margaret Y. MacDonald. A Woman’s Place: House Churches in Earliest Christianity, with Janet H. Tulloch. Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press, 2006. Pabst, Irene. “The Interpretation of the Sarah-Hagar-Stories in Rabbinic and Patristic Literature: Sarah and Hagar as Female Representations of Identity and Difference.” Lectio Difficilior 1, (2003): 11–19.

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Pardes, Ilana. Countertraditions in the Bible: A Feminist Approach. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992. Philpot, Elizabeth. “Old Testament Apocryphal Images in European Art.” Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, 2009. Ramadan, Tariq. “Europanization of Islam or Islamization of Europe?” In Islam, Europe’s Second Religion: The New Social, Cultural, and Political Landscape. Edited by Shireen T. Hunter, 207–18. Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 2002. ———. To Be a European Muslim: A Study of Islamic Sources in the European Context. Leicester: Islamic Foundation, 1999. Reinhartz, Adele, and Miriam-Simma Walfish. “Conflict and Coexistance in Jewish Interpretation.” In Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives. Edited by Phyllis Trible and Letty M. Russell, 101–25. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006. Rodríguez, Rafael. Structuring Early Christian Memory: Jesus in Tradition, Performance, and Text. London: T&T Clark, 2010. Russel, Letty. “Children of Struggle.” In Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives Edited by Phyllis Trible and Letty Russel, 185–97. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006. Said, Edward W. “Travelling Theory.” In The World, the Text, and the Critic, 226–47. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1983. ———. The World, the Text, and the Critic. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1983. Schnackenburg, Rudolf. Der Brief an Die Epheser. EvangelischKatholischer Kommentar Zum Neuen Testament: EKK. Zürich: Benziger, 1982. Scholz, Susanne. “Gender, Class, and Androcentric Compliance in Rapes of Enslaved Women in the Hebrew Bible.” Lectio Difficilior 1–33, (2004). Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth. In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins. London: SCM Press Ltd., 1983. ———. “Introduction: Exploring the Intersections of Race, Gender, Status, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies.” In Prejudice and Christian Beginnings: Investigating Race, Gender, and Ethnicity in Early Christian Studies. Edited by Laura Nasrallah

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and Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, 1–23. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009. ———. “Transforming the Margin—Claiming Common Ground: Charting a Different Paradigm of Biblical Studies.” In Still at the Margins: Biblical Scholarship Fifteen Years after Voices from the Margin. Edited by R. S. Sugirtharajah, 22–39. London: T&T Clark, 2008. Silverstein, Paul and Chantal Tetreault. “Hagar: Studies in Culture, Polity and Identities.” Middle East Repoirt Online: 6 No. 1 2005.(http://www.merip.org/mero/interventions/silverstein_ tetrault_interv.htm, accessed November 28, 2005) Smith, Jane I. Islam in America. New York: Columbia University Press, 2010. “Travelling Concepts.Net.” Trible, Phyllis, and Letty Russel, Es. Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives. Louisville: Westminster, John Knox Press, 2006. Trible, Phyllis, and Letty M. Russell. “Unto the Thousandth Generation.” In Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives. Edited by Phyllis Trible and Letty Russel, 1–29. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006. Tsang, Sam. From Slaves to Sons: A New Rhetoric Analysis on Paul’s Slave Metaphors in His Letter to the Galatians. New York: Peter Lang, 2005. Vander Stichele, Caroline, and Todd Penner. Contextualizing Gender in Early Christian Discourse: Thinking Beyond Thecla. London: T&T Clark, 2009. von Braun, Christina, and Ulrike Auga. “Beyond Boundaries: Introduction.” In Gender in Conflicks: Palestina, Israel, Germany. Edited by Christina von Braun and Ulrike Auga, 1–11. Berlin: Lit Verlag, 2006. Walker, Dennis. Islam and the Search for African-American Nationhood. Atlanta: Clarity Press, 2005. Williams, Delores S. “Hagar in African American Biblical Appropriation.” In Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives. Edited by Phyllis Trible and Letty Russel, 171–84. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006.

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———. Sisters in the Wilderness. The Challenge of Womanist God-Talk. Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1993. ———. Sisters in the Wilderness: The Challenge of Womanist God-Talk. New York: Orbis Books, 1993. Wolff, Janet. “On the Road Again: Methaphors of Travel in Cultural Criticism.” Cultural Studies 7, no. 2 (1993): 224–39. Yuval, Israel Jacob. Two Nations in Your Womb: Perseptions of Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages. Translated by Barabara Harshav and Jonathan Chipman. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006. Økland, Jorunn, and Roland Boer. Marxist Feminist Criticism of the Bible. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008.

THE CONCUBINE OF GIBEAH: THE CASE FOR READING INTERTEXTUALLY NAOMI GRAETZ BEN GURION UNIVERSITY OF THE NEGEV WHAT IS INTERTEXTUAL READING? The concept is usually associated with the early 20th century Russian literary critic, Michael Baktin, who introduced the idea that texts are in dialogue with each other. In France in the late 60s, Julie Kristeva followed this idea and substituted the term intertextuality instead of dialogicity. The major difference between the two, according to Ellen van Wolde, is that “Bakhtin is not only concerned with the relationship between texts but also with the relationship between text and reality, while Kristeva restricts intertextuality to the relationship between texts.” Van Wolde considers the concept of intertextuality as introduced by Kristeva to be “useful in clarifying the fact that a text is not only a selfcontained structure but a differential one as well, and it can be meaningful when its later conceptual vagueness and universalism is limited.” But van Wolde is more interested in demonstrating that “Intertextuality in a limited sense is confined to demonstrable relationships between texts.” 1

Ellen Van Wolde. “Intertextuality: Ruth in Dialogue with Tamar,” in Athalya Brenner and Carole Fontaine, eds. A Feminist Companion to Reading the Bible: Approaches, Methods and Strategies, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), p. 427. 1

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Van Wolde supplies the reader with a procedure for intertextual research in her well-known article “Ruth in Dialogue with Tamar”2 by suggesting three stages of analysis. I. The reader becomes aware of the similarities between two or more texts and hypothesizes an intertextual relationship. II. The reader lists the points of repetitions in the texts being compared: 1) stylistic and semantic: micro items like words, or macro units, similarities of themes, i.e., and 2) narratorological features: similar characters, actions and 3) rhetorical and pragmatic features. Van Wolde points out that “if sufficient repetition does not exist, then there is no basis for arguing for intertextuality.” (My emphasis, 433) III. Finally, she writes that “productive intertextual reading must be concerned not only with the meaning of one text (T1) in its encounter with another text (T2), but also with the new text created by the interaction of both texts.” (433) I would take issue with her point that if there is not enough repetition then there is no basis for arguing for intertextuality. I say this because if we look at rabbinic midrash we will see that often the rabbis use biblical texts and place them together in order to produce a new text and that often the relationship between the texts is slight or almost non-existent. Daniel Boyarin has written about this extensively in his book Intertextuality and the Reading of Midrash. He finds that intertextuality is how rabbis read biblical texts and is characteristic of all midrashic texts. The way it works is that the text is always in reference to an earlier text and it may be in dialogue with the previous text and that there are conscious and unconscious rules which produce the new texts. A reviewer of his book critiques his approach by saying that midrash on text is much simpler: “verse 1 (in need of interpretation); an interpretation of verse 1; verse 2 (clarifying the interpretation).”3 The following is paraphrased from this section on pp. 432–433. Herbert W. Basser. Boyarin’s “Intertextuality and the Reading of Midrash,” The Jewish Quarterly Review New Series, 81:3/4 (January-April 1991): 427–434. 2 3

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David Blumenthal writes that: “the traditional Jewish world view is an approach to text that is both logocentric and plurisignificant; it is univocal and multivocal at the same time. Text, even sacred text, is the result of intertextuality—with other preceding texts and contexts…Yet text always has authority…that provides intellectual, spiritual, and social coherence.”4

EXAMPLES OF INTERTEXTUAL READINGS There are many examples of intertextual readings. In my early work I used the term “internal commentary” which is what Michael Fishbane called what is known today today as intertextual reading. Fishbane juxtaposed the two texts about The Five Daughters of Tzelophad in Num 27: 1–11 and 36: 1–12 to show how they both commented on each other.5 Recently I have argued that in Lev 10, the bible itself is already engaging in internal commentary or intertextuality by juxtaposing the sudden death by consuming fire of Aaron’s sons Nadav and Avihu (vs. 2) with the following law: And the Lord spoke to Aaron, saying “Drink no wine or other intoxicant, you or your sons, when you enter the Tent of Meeting, that you may not die. This is a law for all time throughout the ages.” (vs. 8–9)

The dialogue between these two texts suggests that Aaron’s sons committed a grave sin by being drunk on the job—rather than allow the reader to ponder the inexplicability and unfairness of their death. Another example of intertextuality is the weekly Haftarah that is publicly read in synagogues which is almost always thematically linked to the Parshah (Torah portion) that precedes it. Not only is there on-going internal commentary on the text, but after a portion of the Pentateuch is read in the synagogue every week, there is an David R. Blumenthal, “Many Voices, One Voice,” Judaism 47:4 (Fall 1998): 465–474. 5 Michael Fishbane, The Garments of Torah: Essays in Biblical Hermeneutics, (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1989). 4

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additional reading of a portion from the Prophets, called the Haftarah, which serves to elucidate and comment on the weekly portion. The Haftarah for Lev 10 (the portion known as Shemini) is the reading from 2 Sam 6:1–7:17 which describes Uzzah, being struck down on the spot for having grabbed the Ark in an attempt to prevent it from falling. This text serves as a commentary on Lev 10: they are both tragedies which take place around the holiness of the tabernacle and the ark. Both texts deal with limnality, the dangers associated with the ark’s movement from one place to another, over ecstatic worship; joy eclipsed with sudden death, caused perhaps by carelessness. Rabbinic literature creates a new text (Tanhuma B’shallach 21) to bring these two disasters into dialogue and to proclaim that it is not the smoky incense or the holy ark that are objects of punishment and danger—but that Holy objects are “bivalent entities, affecting human life by the manner in which they are approached and used.”6 A third traditional approach can be that of reading entire books or passages of the Bible intertextually by reading the book of law in Deuteronomy as a tikkun, a repair of some of the narrative tales of Genesis. Moses Weinfeld, looking at the tale about Dinah in Gen 34, writes that the author of Deut 22 is “concerned with rectifying the moral and personal wrong committed against the maiden.”7 If a man comes upon a virgin who is not engaged and he seizes her and lies with her, and they are discovered, the man who lay with her shall pay the girl’s father fifty [shekels of] silver, and she shall be his wife. Because he has violated her, he can never have the right to divorce her. (28–29)

Thus, the seducer pays the father the money as a fine for violating the virgin, not as compensation to the father. Shechem was willing to obey the law of the land and behaved according to the norms in his willingness to marry Dinah. The brothers, according to Michael Fishbane. “Haftarah for Sh’mini,” Etz Hayim: Torah and Commentary, (New York: The Rabbinical Assembly, 2001), p. 644. 7 Moshe Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972), pp. 284–285. 6

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Deuteronomy, interfered with his obligation to marry her and were wrong to cut off her only chance of marriage. The law of Deuteronomy can thus be considered an internal commentary on the story of Dinah.

JUDGES 19: THE CONCUBINE (PILEGESH) AT GIBEAH In Judg 19, there are many biblical intertexts. Perhaps the most obvious and best known is that of Gen 19, the story of Lot’s offer to hand over his daughters to the angry men of Sodom to protect his guests, the angels, from being molested by the mob. Judg 19 is more than just an autonomous text because it is in an intertextual relationship to so many others. According to Kochin, “the story of the concubine in Gibeah is a crucial text for learning how to read the Bible….”8 There are many verbal echoes, such as “speak to her heart” (daber al lev) which link this text to others such as Gen 34 and Hos 2, or the knife (ma-achelet) used by Abraham in Gen 22 or the outrage (nevala) referred to in the rapes in Gen 34 and 2 Sam 13. There are also thematic issues, such as hospitality, encouraging war, vengeance, and trafficking in women,9 which can be compared and contrasted and linked to this text. Not only is Judg 19 a selfcontained text but when it dialogues with other texts, it gains new meaning as well as offering commentary on the intertexts. Although it is beyond the purview of this essay to look at the many literary intertexts which can relate to the dismemberment of the concubine of Gibeah such as Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus, and The Rape of the Sabine Women, found in Livy and Plutarch,10 they Michael S. Kochin, “Living with the Bible: Jean-Jacques Rousseau Reads Judges 19–21,” Hebraic Political Studies 2: 3 (Summer 2007): 308. 9 For a fascinating reading, on the pilegesh as a trafficked women, see Pamela Tamarkin Reis, “The Levite’s Concubine: New Light on a Dark Story,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament, 20, 1 (2006): 125–146. She does this by reading the keri of ‫( להשיבו ַלהֲשִׁ יבָּה‬vs 3) literally and thus sees the Levite as a pimp who goes back to bring the wife, his property, whom he whores back to him. 10 Robert Gnuse, “Abducted Wives: A Hellenistic Narrative in Judges 21?” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 22, 2 (2007): 228–240. 8

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are the “reality” to which Bahktin refers and so they are in the background as we look at the horror in our biblical text. Likewise, I shall not look at the general themes of sacrifice of daughters by fathers: Dinah, Jeptha’s daughter, the pilegesh, Michal, and Tamar who also serve as echoes as we read of the dismemberment and the political use of the concubine’s body. Finally, because of time constraints, I shall not discuss the use of rabbinic midrash to comment (or rather not comment) on Judg 19. In the Talmudic discussions of what texts are not appropriate for use as haftarot, this text is singled out.11 Yairah Amit, among others, has shown that there is clearly a polemic aspect to this story. Situated as it is at the end of the book of Judges and segueing to 1 Sam with the ascension of Saul, it is clearly both a pro-monarchial text and an anti-Saulian one. She and many others have noted that the cutting of the concubine into 12 pieces echoes Saul’s cutting of the bull into twelve as a call for the unity of the people. As such this is a crude parody of that story and shows the inadequacy of such a kind of chaotic leadership. I do not plan to focus on this either. She, too, notes the use of ma-achelet, as have many others, to note that there are echoes of the akedah story here. She writes that author’s “use of the word ma-achelet, meaning the consuming sword, for the knife” results in “the portrayal of Abraham as a slaughterer.”12 The knife he takes is also

For a discussion on whether to read this passage see Sefer Ha-Eshkol (Albek), Hilchot Kriyat Hatorah, 65:1. As to the rabbinic tradition about the husband being at fault and hinting at an abusive relationship see, B Gittin 6b and Yalkut Shimoni on Judges ‫ רבי אביתר אמר זבוב‬,‫ ותזנה עליו פילגשו‬+‫יט‬+ ‫ אמר ליה מאי‬,‫ אשכחיה ר' אביתר לאליהו ז"ל‬.‫ רבי יונתן אמר נימא מצא לה‬. ‫מצא לה‬ ‫ מאי קאמר אביתר בני כך‬,‫קא עביד קודשא בריך הוא? אמר ליה עסיק בפלגש בגבעה‬ ‫ א"ל ומי איכא ספיקא קמי שמיא?! א"ל אלו ואלו‬,‫ יונתן בני כך הוא אומר‬,‫הוא אומר‬ ‫ א"ר יהודה אמר רב זבוב‬,‫ נימא מצא והקפיד‬,‫ זבוב מצא ולא הקפיד‬- ‫דברי אלהים חיים‬ ‫ איכא דאמרי אידי ואידי‬.‫ סכנתא‬- ‫ ונימא‬,‫ מאיסותא‬- ‫ זבוב‬,‫ ונימא באותו מקום‬,‫בקערה‬ ‫ א"ר חסדא לעולם אל יטיל אדם אימה יתירה בתוך‬.‫ זבוב אונסא נימא פשיעותא‬,‫בקערה‬ ,‫ סוף בא לידי שלש עבירות גלוי עריות‬- ‫ שכל המטיל אימה יתירה בתוך ביתו‬,‫ביתו‬ )‫ (ילקוט שמעוני שופטים רמז עד‬:‫ וחלול שבת‬,‫ושפיכות דמים‬ 12 Amit, Hidden Polemics in Biblical Narrative, (Leiden: Brill, 2000), p. 69. 11

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127

the type used for animal sacrifice. Jeremiah Unterman13 has pointed to the differences between the two stories, as well as the similarities of language. The most obvious intertexts to me and others are of course the inverted hospitality of the people of Sodom and those of the Gibeans, and the attempted homosexual rapes in both scenes and the offering of women instead of the men. Of course Gibeah, the place associated with Saul, is a worse place than Sodom, because here the woman is actually raped and possibly left for dead and there is no deus ex machina to save her. Two less obvious intertexts are those of 2 Sam 13 and Gen 34 (which themselves comment on each other) which have rapes of innocent girls (Tamar by Amnon and Dinah by Shechem) and result in devastation and destruction. I have pointed elsewhere (as others have) to the commonalties in these three texts,14 but I want to focus on one phrase that unites these three tales (the pilegesh, Dina and Tamar) with Hos 2 and also comment on other important texts that use an almost identical expression, namely daber al lev, literally, speak on the heart, usually translated as speak to someone tenderly. Daber al lev Suzanne Scholz and others point out that the phrase daber al lev occurs only ten times. She writes that it occurs when a “situation is wrong, difficult, or danger is in the air.” [See Gen 34:3; 50:21; Judg 19:3; 1 Sam 1:13; 2 Sam 19:8; Isa 40:8; Hos 2:16; Ruth 2:13; 2 Chr 30:22; 32:6.] She writes that: Whenever the phrase appears, someone speaks to the “heart” of the fearful character to resolve a frightening situation in a larger context of fear, anxiety, sin, or offense, talk[ing] against a prevailing (negative) opinion. Jeremiah Unterman, “The Literary Influence of ‘The Binding of Isaac’ (Genesis 22) on ‘The Outrage at Gibeah’ (Judges 19),” Hebrew Annual Review 4 (1980): 161–166. 14 Suzanne Scholz, “Dinah the Daughter,” in Athalya Brenner (editor), A Feminist Companion to Genesis, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), pp. 306–317. 13

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Thus, she reads the Dinah story as Shechem’s attempt to change Dinah’s negative opinion and to make her accept his interests and reads the sentence as “He tried to soothe her.”15 She does not see any sensitivity or tenderness there, only a rapist speaking.

FAVORABLE AND UNFAVORABLE APPROACHES TO THE EXPRESSION Favorable Readings Scholars are divided as how to understand the expression daber al lev. Phyllis Trible reads the texts of Hosea, Dinah and the Pilegesh as follows: He went after her, says the Hebrew, “to speak to her heart (lev), to bring her back.” The words, “to speak to the heart,” connote reassurance, comfort, loyalty, and love. In other passages where this phrase describes the action of a man toward a woman, she may be either the offended or the guilty party. For example, after raping Dinah, the daughter of Leah and Jacob, Shechem found himself drawn to her; “he loved the young woman and spoke to her heart” (Gen 34:3). Yet in the prophecy of Hosea, Yahweh, the faithful lover, promises to restore his faithless bride Israel, to bring her into the wilderness and to “speak to her heart” (Hos 2:14[16]). Thus, the Levite’s speaking to the heart of his concubine indicates love for her without specifying guilt. The narrative censures no one for the concubine’s departure. Moreover, it portrays the

Suzanne Scholz, “What ‘Really’ Happened to Dinah, A Feminist Analysis of Genesis 34,” lectio difficilior 2/2001 (http://www.lectio.unibe. ch/01_2/s.htm) and Susanne Scholz “Through Whose Eyes? A ‘Right’ Reading of Genesis 34,” in Genesis: The Feminist Companion to the Bible (Second Series) ed. Athalya Brenner, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), p. 170. Her conclusions are based on Georg Fischer, “Die Redewendung ‫ דבר על לב‬im AT-Ein Beitrag zum Verständnis von Jes. 40.2,” Biblica 65 (1984): 244–50. 15

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129

master sympathetically. Be the woman innocent or guilty, he seeks reconciliation.16

Geoffrey Miller sees this as a case of: The Levite [who] has been denied sexual gratification to which he is rightfully entitled when his concubine runs away, but rather than succumbing to his immediate impulses, he waits four months before setting out in pursuit (Judg 19:2). He travels to Bethlehem, not with the intention of forcibly reclaiming his concubine, even though he may have had the right to do so, but rather with the intent to appeal to her with reason and persuasion (Judg 19:3). The Levite’s deliberation and control is contrasted with the Gibeahites’ frenzy, his use of reason and persuasion is contrasted with the Gibeahites’ use of force, and his legitimate claim to the concubine is contrasted with the Gibeahites’ theft.17

Tikva Frymer Kensky wrote, that: There is no major rupture in the social fabric here, just a minor difficulty. He goes in a conciliatory mood to speak to her heart to bring her back. Shechem spoke to Dinah’s heart (Gen 34:3), God will speak to Israel’s (Hos 2:16). The phrase describes the act of a superior who reassures his alienated or anxious subordinate partner. The Levite wants to restore his former situation, and his pilegesh doesn’t seem to mind. She brings him to her father….The Levite could have gone after her in a righteous rage, for qin’ah, ‘jealousy,’ or righteous indignation, is an appropriate response of the husband/master whose wife has broken trust. Alternatively, the girl and her father could have met him with hostility. But instead we have an amicable

Trible, p. 67. Miller, Geoffrey P. “Verbal Feud in the Hebrew Bible: Judges 3:12– 30 and 19–21,” Journal of Near Eastern Studies, 55, 2 (Apr., 1996): 111. 16 17

130

NAOMI GRAETZ scene of good fellowship. The story makes no mention of coercion.18

Another person who picked up favorably on the Levite was Jean Jacques Rousseau in his “Le Levite d’Ephraim,” written in 1762. He created a romantic persona for the Levite, one in which “the girl’s heart was touched by the return of her husband.”19 In this he may be following Josephus who portrays the Levite as “a loyal and kind husband who cannot bear the degradation brought upon his wife…” The Levite is “portrayed as a loving husband willing to meet his wife’s demands.”20 Josephus describes the Levite as follows: Now he was very fond of his wife, and overcome with her beauty; but he was unhappy in this, that he did not meet with the like return of affection from her, for she was averse to him, which did more inflame his passion for her, so that they quarreled one with another perpetually; and at last the woman was so disgusted at these quarrels, that she left her husband, and went to her parents in the fourth month. The husband being very uneasy at this her departure, and that out of his fondness for her, came to his father and mother-in-law, and made up their quarrels, and was reconciled to her, and lived Tikva Frymer-Kensky. Reading the Women of the Bible: A New Interpretation of Their Stories. (New York: Schocken Books, 2002), p. 120. 19Peggy Kamuf. “Author of a Crime,” in A. Brenner, ed. A Feminist Companion to Judges (1993): 204. See also Mieke Bal, “A Body of Writing: Judges 19,” in A. Brenner, ed., A Feminist Companion to Judges, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), pp. 208–30 and Michael S. Kochin, “Living with the Bible: Jean-Jacques Rousseau Reads Judges 19–21,” Hebraic Political Studies 2: 3 (Summer 2007): 301–325. 20 Louis H. Feldman. “Josephus’ Portrayal (Antiquities 5:136–174) of the Benjaminite Affair of the Concubine and its Repercussions (Judges 19–21),” Jewish Quarterly Review 90: 3–4 (January-April 2000): 271. Kochin also suggests Josephus’s influence on Rousseau in note 37 on page 317 “Rousseau may owe something on this point to Josephus’ retelling of Judges 19–21, also somewhat romanticized; see Flavius Josephus, Antiquities V, 137.” 18

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131

with them there four days, as being kindly treated by her parents. (Flavius Josephus, Antiquities V, 137)21

In her PhD dissertation, Frances Fite demonstrates “how positive interpretations of Shechem are perpetuated in authoritative guides to biblical interpretation.” She looks at H-J Fabry’s discussion of the idiom ‫ל־לב ִּד ֵּבר‬ ֵּ ‫ ַע‬in the Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. In reviewing his positive explanation of ‫ל־לב ִּד ֵּבר‬ ֵּ ‫ ַע‬, she maintains that he: interprets the idiom from the perspective of the speaker. This results in an interpretation of ‫־לב ִּד ֵּבר‬ ֵּ ‫ ַעל‬as representative of a well-intentioned speaker speaking with well-intentioned words to his addressee(s).22

She writes that: Fabry begins his discussion of ‫ל־לב ִּד ֵּבר‬ ֵּ ‫ ַע‬by referring to it as “a common idiom for wooing affection”… According to Fabry, Shechem “loves her and therefore speaks to her.” Fabry recommends comparing Shechem’s speech to Dinah to “the descriptions of how the Levite goes after his concubine (Jgs.19:3) and Boaz woos Ruth (Ruth 2:13).” Then Fabry asserts that “David speaks to his troops (2 S. 19:8 [7]),” Hezekiah to the Levites (2 Chr 30:22) and to the commanders of Jerusalem (2 Chr 32:6) “in this same seductive way.” According to Fabry, “In the LXX, in the other places where ‫על־ל דבר‬ ֵּ ‫ ב‬appears in the Hebrew text, these are the means by which the speaker tries to persuade the recipient(s) of his speech to accept his point of view.”23

She continues and states that:

(Online) for Judg 19–21 http://www.biblestudytools.com/ history/flavius-josephus/antiquities-jews/book–5/chapter–2.html?p=4. 22 Frances H. Fite, Bearers of a Narrative of Listening in the Age of Testimony: Determining Meaning for Genesis 34 (PhD Dissertation, Carol Newsome, Adviser), (Atlanta: Emory College, 2009), p. 356. 23 Fite, n. 92, p. 222. 21

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NAOMI GRAETZ Fabry’s emphasis on the idea that ‫ל־לב ִּד ֵּבר‬ ֵּ ‫ ַע‬represents seductive speech most likely arises from the fact that he regards Hos 2:16 as the locus classicus of the idiom. Fabry describes this verse as the LORD’s using “enticement… and seductive persuasion (dibber ‘al-lēb as the mode of speech used by lovers)… to bring [Israel] back to the wilderness, and there “speak to her heart,” restor[ing] the unbroken bond between Israel and Yahweh,” who are envisioned metaphorically as unfaithful wife and faithful husband.24

An Unfavorable Reading On the other hand, as Fabry notes, at the heart of the heart is memory and the prior abusive actions of the husband/LORD which she remembers all too well do not bode well for his actually living up to his promise that their future together will be characterized by compassion.25

I have written elsewhere about Hosea and concur with Fite and Fabry’s reading of the term as being fraught with abuse.26 Susan Niditch was among the first to point out the Levite’s insensitivity to his pilegesh, the fact that he does not communicate to her by speaking, that he does not take care of her. His behavior is “a microcosm of larger community relationships in Israel.”27 Most Frances H. Fite, Bearers of a Narrative of Listening in the Age of Testimony: Determining Meaning for Genesis 34 (PhD Dissertation, Carol Newsome, Adviser), (Atlanta: Emory College, 2009), p. 357. 25 Fite, p. 370, quoting Fabry (Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament 7: 421). 26 See Naomi Graetz, “The Haftarah Tradition and the Metaphoric Battering of Hosea’s Wife,” Conservative Judaism (Fall, 1992): 29–42 and “God is to Israel as Husband is to Wife,” in Athalya Brenner (editor), A Feminist Companion to the Latter Prophets, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), p. 126–145. 27 Susan Niditch, “The ‘sodomite’ Theme in Judges 19–20: Family, Community and Social Disintegration,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 44 (1982): 371. 24

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133

recent feminist readings of this text read the text as one in which the Levite could not care less about his concubine.28 In short, there is no heart in the Levite nor in the community when it comes to the pilegesh. The big question is which text comments on which? Is there an Urtext? And is an Urtext important at all? For instance, there is a clear intertextual basis between Gen 19 and Judg 19 and most commentators (except for Susan Niditch) agree that the former influenced the latter. If we lay the ten texts out, as I propose to do—can we say that each one hints at an ominous atmosphere? Are there exceptions—and if so why? As we look at the ten prominent places where the expression of daber al lev is found in the Tanakh, it would be interesting to see whether the later texts supersede, supplement, or exegete each other29—but that would mean going into dating, something which I am not prepared to do here. What I do hope to do after looking at these texts, is to show that whenever the expression daber al lev, speak to her tenderly, is used, we cannot believe that this is true, because all the texts do not end well, i.e., they foreshadow or forebode future violence or betrayal. It is an ominous term, and the translation of “speak tenderly” does not take into account the vibrato of the expression daber with all of its associations, which includes subjugation and extermination (compare two: 2 Kgs 11:1 and 2 Chr 22:10 when See Nehama Aschkenasy, “The Hapless Concubine,” Woman at the Window: Biblical Tales of Oppression and Escape, (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1998), pp. 62–78; Alice Bach, “Rereading the Body Politic: Women and Violence in Judges 21,” in A. Brenner, ed. Judges (1999), pp. 143–59; Mieke Bal, Death and Dissymmetry: The Politics of Coherence in the Book of Judges, (Chicago: U. of Chicago Press, 1988); Koala Jones-Warsaw, “Toward a Womanist Hermeneutic: A Reading of Judges 19–21,” In: A Feminist Companion to Judges, ed. A. Brenner (1993), pp. 172– 186. 29 The three words come from Ian Young’s, review of Hanne Von Weissenberg, Juha Pakkala, and Marko Marttila, eds., Changes in Scripture: Rewriting and Interpreting Authoritative Traditions in the Second Temple Period, Review of Biblical Literature. Online: http://www.bookreviews.org (2012): 2. 28

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NAOMI GRAETZ

Atalyah exterminates the seed of the Judaic kingdom).30 I would argue that either prior to, or following this expression, there is violence associated with this term. If we were to speak cinematically, there would be some horror music in the background whenever the term is used. Despite the fact that comfort (nechama) or promises of conciliation (teshuva) are also associated with this term, we have to look at all instances of daber al lev with a hermeneutics of suspicion in the classical sense, i.e., that this expression is dangerous for women and the people of Israel when portrayed as a woman. The very clear intertexts, as has been hinted at by Trible in a footnote, are Judg 19:3, Gen 34:2 and Hos 2:16. Here the contexts are of an abusive situation in both the background and foreground: the husband of the wife who has run away, the rapist of Dina and the abusive God/husband of the people Israel. Is Hosea, who definitely knows of the Judg 19 text—since there are clear references to Gibeah in Hos 9:9 and 10:931—hinting that when God tells him to “speak to her heart,” aware of the Levite husband/master of the concubine who also strayed and thus is unconsciously reminding the reader that Hosea’s God cannot be trusted? “As Fabry notes, at the heart of the heart is memory and the prior abusive actions of the husband/LORD which she remembers all too well do not bode well for his actually living up to his promise that their future together will be characterized by compassion.”32 I, too, have written elsewhere about Hosea and concur with the reading of the term as being fraught with abuse.33 ‫ וַתְּ אַ בֵּד ֵאת כָּל ז ֶַרע הַמַ ְמ ָּלכָּה‬and ‫ַועֲתַ ְלי ָּהּו אֵם ֲא ַחזְי ָּהּו ָּר ֲאתָּ ה כִּי ֵמת ְבנָּּה וַתָּ ָּקם‬ ‫וַתְ דַ בֵר ֶאת כָּל ז ֶַרע ַה ַמ ְמ ָּלכָּה ְלבֵית י ְהּודָּ ה‬ 31 “They have been as grievously corrupt as in the days of Gibeah; He will remember their iniquity, He will punish their sins.” (Hos 9:9) and “You have sinned more, O Israel, Than in the days of Gibeah. “There they stand [as] at Gibeah! Shall they not be overtaken by a war upon scoundrels 10) As peoples gather against them? …” (Hos 10:9–10a) 32 Fite, p. 370, quoting Fabry (Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament 7: 421) 33 See Naomi Graetz, “The Haftarah Tradition and the Metaphoric Battering of Hosea’s Wife,” Conservative Judaism (Fall, 1992): 29–42 and 30

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135

Does the idea of a comforting God to a people who have suffered and will suffer expulsion in the future in Isa 40:2 raise the hackles of the reader who associates the expression daber al lev with Dinah and the Levite? It should! “Comfort, oh comfort My people, Says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, And declare to her That her term of service is over, That her iniquity is expiated; For she has received at the hand of the Lord Double for all her sins.” There are those who would say that unlike Hosea, in Isaiah there is an apology and a promise made for a different nonabusive future. 34 And thus on the basis of that firm promise, God and Israel could safely resume their shared destiny. That is probably the reason why Isa 40 was chosen by the rabbis to be the first of seven “comforting” haftarot after the 9th of Av. Even the comfort offered is in relationship to the fact that the people sinned and were indeed overly punished, i.e. received double for her sins. Once again, God is the abusive master/husband of His people Israel or Jerusalem—God is comforting and promising never to do it again, like he did in Hosea. Israel is the weak woman, God is the angry one who almost destroys her. Can the people trust this God, when he says Nahamu, Nahamu, or his prophet who is told to speak tenderly to the people? All we have to do is read the book of Lamentations to get a reality check. I believe that the argumentation is even stronger if we add to this the two other references to daber al lev in 2 Chr 30:22 and 32:6 which take place during the same historical time frame. The running theme in this passage is man’s nothingness in relationship to God’s eternity and his words, speech. I believe that the argumentation is even stronger if we add to this the two other references to daber al lev in 2 Chr 30:22 and 32:6. The first reference is a peaceful lull when

“God is to Israel as Husband is to Wife,” in Athalya Brenner (editor), A Feminist Companion to the Latter Prophets, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), pp. 126–145. 34 Fite, p. 375, referring to Michael Thompson, Isaiah 40–66, (London: Epworth Press, 2001).

136

NAOMI GRAETZ Hezekiah persuaded all the Levites ‫וַ י ְַד ֵּבר ְי ִּחזְ ִּקיָּ הּו ַעל לֵּ ב ָּכל‬ ‫ ַה ְלוִּ יִּ ם‬who performed skillfully for the Lord to spend the seven days of the [Passover] festival making offerings of wellbeing, and confessing to the Lord God of their fathers.

The second reference is against the background of King Sennacherib of Assyria’s invasion of Judah and encampment against its fortified towns with the aim of taking them over. During this siege Hezekiah takes action and fortifies the City of David, and made weapons. He appointed battle officers over the people; then, gathering them to him in the square of the city gate, he rallied them ‫וַ י ְַד ֵּבר ַעל ְל ָּב ָּבם‬, 7 Be strong and of good courage; do not be frightened or dismayed by the king of Assyria or by the horde that is with him, for we have more with us than he has with him.

And it seemed to work, for “The people were encouraged by the speech of King Hezekiah of Judah.” Fite interprets what he had to say in 2 Chr 30:22 as encouraging—that he is a good king, who cares about his people.35 It is true there is a peaceful period, but later Hezekiah’s salvation and additional 15 years of rule did not end well and it was clear he did not really care about the people, for his attitude was après moi le deluge!36 Thus, I would argue that his speeches using the term daber al lev are suspect and possibly in his own self-interest. Fite, p. 379 referring to James Barr, The Semantics of Biblical Language, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961). 36 Isaiah cursed him and told him that “17 A time is coming when everything in your palace which your ancestors have stored up to this day will be carried off to Babylon; nothing will remain behind…18 And some of your sons, your own issue, whom you will have fathered, will be taken to serve as eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon.” 19 Hezekiah declared to Isaiah, “The word of the Lord that you have spoken is good.” For he thought, “It means that safety is assured for my time” (2 Kgs 20:17–19). And of course it did not end well for the people Judah, for as we know four chapters later in 2 Chronicles, and six kings later, Tzidkiyahu is blinded and sent off in chains to Babylon. 35

THE CONCUBINE OF GIBEAH

137

As to Joseph, should the brothers continue to suspect Joseph who speaks “tenderly” to them in Gen 50:21? Surely they have every right to continue to suspect him of future reminders of their guilt, in keeping with his payback to them and mental abuse of them in Egypt. If we look at the passage in Gen 50, we see that the brothers rightly worried about Joseph still bearing a grudge against them and taking revenge for all the wrong that they did to him in the past, now that their father was dead. They grovelingly begged Joseph to forgive them and his emotional answer was “Have no fear! Am I a substitute for God? 20 Besides, although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, so as to bring about the present result—the survival of many people. 21 And so do not fear. I will provide for you and your children.” Thus he comforted them, and spoke kindly to them.

Obviously, anyone who knows about sibling relationships would not trust Joseph’s so-called reassuring words. And notice that the brothers do not answer him; they simply listen passively and perhaps are in terror that they do not do anything which might tick him off against them in the future. Of course it is in his interest to reassure them—after all he is going to ask a big favor of them—to bury his bones in the land of Israel, but they don’t know that at the time and when he “comforts them” and “speaks kindly to them” he holds all the cards. As to the case of Hannah praying “in her heart” in 1 Sam 1:13, most commentators choose not to deal with this phrase intertextually.37 The early commentators Radak (Kimchi (1160– 1235), Metzudat David and Metzudat Tzion (Althschuler, 1753) change the al libah to et libah or el libah to make it more in keeping “In 1 Sam 1:13 Hannah is described as ‘speaking to her [own] heart.’ Since I am concerned with the meaning of ‫ על־לב דבר‬only as it refers to the speech of one person to another (or others), I do not address its presence in 1 Sam 1:13 further.” Frances H. Fite, Bearers of a Narrative of Listening in the Age of Testimony: Determining Meaning for Genesis 34 (PhD Dissertation, Carol Newsome, Adviser), (Atlanta: Emory College, 2009), footnote 16, p. 359. 37

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NAOMI GRAETZ

with the idea that she is positioning her heart to prayer, or speaking to her heart (silently) so that Eli cannot hear her. Although the text about Hannah praying “in her heart” in 1 Sam 1:13 seems to be unrelated to the texts I have read or studied, Yair Zachovitz writes in his commentary on the phrase in the book of Ruth, that if we position this text with Boaz’s words to Ruth: “You are most kind, my lord, to comfort me and to speak gently to your maidservant” ‫וְ ִּכי ִּד ַב ְר ָּת ַעל ֵּלב ִּש ְפ ָּח ֶתָך‬, and then notice, that Hannah too refers to herself as a shiphah, 5 verses after the phrase ‫וְ ַחנָּ ה ִּהיא ְמ ַד ֶב ֶרת‬ ‫ ַעל ִּל ָּבּה‬to describe Hannah’s frame of mind. According to Zachovitz, this shows her submissiveness or self-deprecation when she tells Eli “You are most kind to your handmaid” ‫ִּת ְמצָּ א ִּש ְפ ָּח ְתָך‬ ‫( ֵּחן ְב ֵּעינֶ יָך‬1 Sam 1:18).38 However, if we juxtapose the phrase medaberet al libah with the vow she makes to dedicate her unborn and yet to be conceived male child to God, we should note that her silent speech is directed to an all-powerful God and in the presence of the high priest Eli. Despite her agency, we have her background fraught with the anguish and distress she felt at being barren, and we have the foreshadowing of the possible abuse her unborn son will experience at the hands of Eli’s sons and the future conflict of Samuel and Saul. Thus we have another context for understanding medaberet al libah as a situation where a less powerful person/woman is in relationship to more powerful people (God/Eli). Note that Zachovitz has put at least 7 of our texts into dialogue. Eli, Boaz, God, Joseph, the Levite, Shechem and David/Joab are the adonim in the texts who hold the power and the ability to provide nurture and sustenance. This of course implies that they can take it away at will and hence the recipients (Hannah, Ruth, the people of Israel and Joseph’s brothers, the concubine) have a good reason to show subservience to the master figure. Zachovitz goes even further for he juxtaposes the combination of the phrases “lenachem” and ledaber al lev with Joseph’s words of comfort to his brothers (Gen 50:21), and with Isaiah’s in 40:1–2. Thus, Zachovitz has many of our texts into dialogue with each other. Eli, Boaz, God, Joseph, the Levite, My paraphrase of Yair Zachovitz, Ruth: Mikrah le-Yisrael, (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1990), p. 77. 38

THE CONCUBINE OF GIBEAH

139

Shechem are the adonim in the texts who hold the power and the ability to provide nurture and sustenance. This of course implies that they can take it away at will and hence the recipients (Hannah, Ruth, the people of Israel, Joseph’s brothers, the concubine, Dinah) have a good reason to show subservience to the master figure.

THE MISSING MENTION OF DABER AL LEV: 2 SAM 13 The one text that screams out to be heard in all of this discussion of daber al lev is the only one which does not include the phrase. Yet, it can serve as a commentary on so many of our texts. It is the one in which the victim speaks up and says she will not be silent or conciliatory and accuses the perpetrator of not having a heart. The irony is that it is the talking and plotting that got her into this situation. She is truly innocent,39 for unlike Dinah or the pilegesh, she stays at home and it is her father and brothers who betray her. She uses the vocabulary of the past, such as “such a thing should not be done in Israel;” “do not do this outrage,” (nebalah) reminding us again of Dinah and the pilegesh. Tamar speaks, but Amnon does not listen. In words that remind us of the rape of the pilegesh, Amnon grabs her, vayehezak bah and rapes her. Unlike the aftermath of the rape of Dinah, where Shechem tries to appease her and daber al lev, Amnon throws her out. Like the Master, after finding his ravished pilegesh on the doorstep, Amnon gives her an order, “get up, Go!” These words are eerily similar to the Master who says, “Get up and let’s go.” In Judg 19:30 we have a reminder of our phrase daber al lev, one that is often overlooked: :‫יה ֻעצּו וְ ַד ֵּברּו‬ ָּ ֶ‫ ִּשימּו לָּ ֶכם [לבבם] ָּעל‬, which is what “everyone who saw it cried out, ‘Never has such a thing happened or been seen from the day the Israelites came out of the land of Egypt to this day! Put your mind to this; take counsel and decide.’”(19:30) which Trible translates as “direct your heart to But see Pamela Tamarkin Reis, “Cupidity and Stupidity: Woman’s Agency and The ‘Rape’ of Tamar,” Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Studies 25 (1997): 43–60. She argues that Tamar is not innocent, just stupid and brought her rape upon herself. 39

140

NAOMI GRAETZ

her” (p. 81) apparently relying on the variant simu libchem (p. 400 Kittel). According to Heidi Szpek “He asks Israel to “consider it, take counsel and speak out.” She reads the “expression ‘consider it’ in Hebrew is literally “to place the heart” sim leb; however, in our verse the idiom has been truncated simu-the word ‘heart’ leb has been omitted. The Levite has most subtly omitted his heart, his compassion, his love for his concubine.”40 But Absalom gives Tamar the opposite advice: don’t do anything, be quiet: “For the present, sister, keep quiet about it; he is your brother. Don’t brood over the matter.” ‫יתי ֶאת לִּ ֵּבְך‬ ִּ ‫ַאל ָּת ִּש‬ ‫ ַל ָּד ָּבר ַהזֶ ה‬Her brother Absalom said, “Be quiet now, my sister… Don’t take this thing [matter] to heart” (v. 20). Absalom gambles that David will do nothing; so all he has to do is wait and so “[e]ach man did nothing, just as he hoped they would, leaving Amnon open to Absalom’s revenge.”41 21 When King David heard about all this, he was greatly upset. 22 Absalom didn’t utter a word to Amnon, good or bad; ‫כב) וְ לֹא ִּד ֶבר ַא ְב ָּשלֹום ִּעם ַא ְמנֹון ְל ֵּמ ָּרע וְ ַעד‬ ‫ טֹוב‬but Absalom hated Amnon because ‫ ַעל ְד ַבר‬he had violated his sister Tamar.

‫ִּכי ָּשנֵּ א ַא ְב ָּשלֹום ֶאת ַא ְמנֹון ַעל ְד ַבר ֲא ֶשר ִּענָּ ה ֵּאת ָּת ָּמר‬ ‫ פ‬:‫ֲאחֹתֹו‬ Thus, the Leitwort of daber al lev, now becomes inverted to al dvar, a motif that has been with us throughout all these texts.42

Heidi M. Szpek, “The Levite’s Concubine: The Story That Never Was,” Women in Judaism: A Multidisciplinary Journal (online) Vol. 5, No 1 (2007). 41 Trible, “Tamar,” p. 38 quoted by Fite, p.291 42 Jenny Smith, in her article “The Discourse Structure of the Rape of Tamar (2 Samuel 13:1–22),” Vox Evangelica 20 (1990): 41, ends her article with the following notation: “The concealed nature of Absalom’s hatred is encoded by welo’ on the main event line followed by a break in the waw consecutive. The more intense dibber is used rather than dabar to convey the idea that Absalom ‘said nothing’ to Amnon.” She is referring to McCarter, P. Kyle. II Samuel, Translation and Notes. The Anchor Bible 9. Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1984, p. 315. 40

THE CONCUBINE OF GIBEAH

141

Whereas Absalom counsels inaction, the tribes, in contrast, take action. The irony is that he and Amnon, the eater of the heart cakes, do not take into account the heart break that Tamar feels and of course as Trible points out that “long ago the [Levite] was supposed to speak to the heart of the woman, though he did not. Now Israel must direct its heart toward her, take counsel, and speak”43 ‫ ֻעצּו וְ ַד ֵּברּו‬. And unlike Absalom, who waits for vengeance, the people of Israel do respond with a mighty vengeance against the Benjaminites. Dinah’s brothers too in their cunning say we cannot do this thing to give our sister to the uncircumcised Shechem and use the word davar hazeh in their speech: ‫נּוכל ַל ֲעשֹות ַה ָּד ָּבר ַהזֶ ה ָּל ֵּתת ֶאת ֲאח ֵֹּתנּו‬ ַ ‫לֹא‬. And they take immediate action after the men are newly circumcised, they do not wait to take their vengeance and immediately slaughter the men of Shechem. So now we are ready to look at my final proof text which comes from 2 Sam 19:8 in which Joab berates David: I am sure that if Absalom were alive today and the rest of us dead, you would have preferred it. 8 Now arise, come out ‫קּום‬ ‫ ֵּצא‬and placate your followers! ‫ ַד ֵּבר ַעל ֵּלב ֲע ָּב ֶדיָך‬For I swear by the Lord that if you do not come out, not a single man will remain with you overnight; and that would be a greater disaster for you than any disaster that has befallen you from your youth until now.

As we know, Absalom had Amnon killed, Joab and his arms bearers killed Absalom (2 Sam 18:14–15), and David grieved mightily and excessively for his beloved son in public.44 The troops saved his kingdom and David did not thank them—he was not functioning at all and the people were also in despair and would probably overthrow him. Joab told the king that he had to do something: to speak in a convincing way to his people, or else things would go pretty badly for him and no one would stay with him and this would be the worst evil that had ever come upon him Trible, p. 82. My son Absalom! O my son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you! O Absalom, my son, my son!” (2 Sam 19.1) 43 44

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NAOMI GRAETZ

from his youth until now. David did go out, but he did not actually speak. In fact the people fled. Why did they flee? Did they have some reason to be nervous about David’s intentions and his fitness to be their ruler? Not only that, but whose interests did Joab have when he told David to protect his crown? Surely, David’s trust in him was not great and of course we all know about the fatherly advice he gave to Solomon on his deathbed: “4 Then the Lord will fulfill the promise ‫ ְד ָּברֹו‬that He made concerning me ‫ֲא ֶשר ִּד ֶבר‬ ‫ ָּע ַלי‬:” (1 Kgs 2:3–6) providing that Solomon sees to it “that [Joab’s] white hair does not go down to Sheol in peace.” I can only hint at the words asher deeber alai, but would like to go back to Joab’s original use of the expression daber al lev. Would its use push any memory buttons for the people? To me, it is fascinating that this phrase appears here, rather than in the 2 Sam 13 story of Tamar and Amnon. Does the editor want us to note that the family feud started out in 2 Sam 13 with David’s silence with the full responsibility of the tragedy on his head? Joab coerces him to speak, daber al lev, to the people directly and by indirection through the Wise woman of Tekoa. Therefore, I find it not to be coincidental that this phrase, which really belongs in 2 Sam 13, at the beginning—when Amnon speaks to Tamar, only ends up with David at the end of his haunted reign. For the editor deliberately chose not to say, “when Tamar served the heart cakes to Amnon, he spoke to her heart and said “Come lie with me, sister.”

CONCLUSION Phyllis Trible ended her classic article by claiming that scripture was silent about the story of the pilegesh: “If the Levite failed to report the whole story to the tribes of Israel, how much more has the canonical tradition failed to remember it….To keep quiet is to sin, for the story orders its listeners to ‘direct your heart to her, take counsel, and speak’ (19:30; 20:7).”45 I believe that in this brief case study, I have argued that the Tanakh was not silent, and that in its intertextuality, especially with the expression daber al lev, it is calling to our attention that the Bible does not just want talk (devarim or 45

Trible, p. 86.

‫‪143‬‬

‫‪THE CONCUBINE OF GIBEAH‬‬

‫‪dibbur); that talk is suspicious and cannot be trusted, even if it is‬‬ ‫‪tender and conciliatory—especially if the speaker is one who holds‬‬ ‫‪the reins of power with its potential to subjugate and even‬‬ ‫‪exterminate.46‬‬

‫קח את המטה יש בכאן פירושים רבים‪ :‬יש בדברי יחיד‪ ,‬בעבור שאמר לישראל‬ ‫שמעו נא המורים‪ ,‬והם בני אברהם יצחק ויעקב‪ .‬ואילו היה כן‪ ,‬למה אמר להם עוד‬ ‫ממרים הייתם (דבר' ט‪ ,‬ז)‪ :‬ואחרים אמרו‪ ,‬כי מלת ודברתם ‪ -‬כמו והכיתם‪ ,‬וכמוהו‬ ‫ותדבר את כל זרע המלוכה (דה"ב כב‪ ,‬י)‪ .‬ואין זה נכון‪ ,‬כי המלה מגזרת דבר‪ ,‬או מן‬ ‫ידבר עמים תחתנו (תה' מז‪ ,‬ד)‪ .‬והנה פי' ותדבר ‪( -‬דה"ב כב‪ ,‬י)‪ ,‬כמו ותאבד‪ ,‬וכן בספר‬ ‫השני‪ .‬והנה פירוש ודברתם אל הסלע ‪ -‬ואבדתם‪ .‬ועוד‪ ,‬אם כן הפירוש‪ ,‬למה נענש‬ ‫משה? גם הם השיבו‪ ,‬בעבור שהכה פעמים‪ ,‬א"כ למה נענש אהרן? ויאמר ר' משה הכהן‬ ‫ז"ל הספרדי‪ ,‬יש אותות נעשות בדבור‪ ,‬ויש בפועל ודבור‪ ,‬כמו מלח אלישע‪ .‬והשם צוה‬ ‫שיקח המטה להכות בסלע כמשפט הצור‪ ,‬והוסיף מלת ודברתם ‪ -‬להוציא המים במכה‬ ‫(אבן עזרא במדבר פרק כף ח )‪:‬ובדבור‪ .‬ובעבור שהכעיסו ישראל‪ ,‬אמר להם‬ ‫‪46‬‬

CONVERT, PROSTITUTE, OR TRAITOR? RAHAB AS THE ANTI-MATRIARCH IN CONTEMPORARY BIBLICAL INTERPRETATIONS SUZANNE SCHOLZ PERKINS SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY TOWARD A FEMINIST SOCIOLOGY OF INTERPRETATION ON JOSHUA 2: INTRODUCTORY COMMENTS Rahab is very well known in the history of interpretation. As William L. Lyons notes, “[t]he story of Rahab…has been told and retold for generations.”1 Or as Leonard J. Greenspoon states: “The relatively few verses devoted to Rahab in the Old Testament stimulated an amazingly rich exegetical tradition in both Judaism and Christianity.”2 And James Burton Coffman exclaims: “This passage is one of the most significant in the Bible.”3 Unsurprisingly, then, countless interpretations, Jewish and Christian, have been written on Josh 2. Among them are the New Testament references in Matt 1:5; Heb 11:31; and Jas 2:25, as well as the early Christian William L. Lyons, “Rahab in Rehab: Christian Interpretations of the Madame from Jericho,” in Women in the Biblical World: A Survey of Old and New Perspectives, ed. Elizabeth A. McCabe (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2009), p. 31. 2 Leonard J. Greenspoon, “Rahab (Person),” Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. 5 (New York: Doubleday, 1992), p. 611. 3 James Burton Coffman, Commentary on Joshua (Abilene: ACU Press, 1988), p. 20. 1

145

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theological writings of Clement, Justin Martyr, Origen, Gregory Nazianzen, Irenaeus, Chrysostom, Augustine, Jerome, and Ambrose. To all of them, Rahab is the emblem of faith, hospitality, and patience, a prophet, the prototype of the God-fearing Church, and the demonstration of the divine grace for the sinner. The Jewish tradition also views Rahab as an exceptional character and many important rabbinical commentaries refer to Josh 2. For instance, the Talmudic tradition (Megillah 15a) mentions Rahab as a beautiful proselyte who “was so compelling an erotic figure that a man would ejaculate simply upon saying her name twice.”4 Midrash Thadsche 21 praises Rahab and other “foreign women” as faithful converts.5 Midrash Ruth Rabbah links Rahab’s story with the story of Ruth because both women were foreigners who attached themselves to YHWH as the only God and became part of the people of Israel.6 The renowned convert was also said to be married to Joshua, and to have become the ancestor of eight prophets, including Huldah and Jeremiah (Meg. 14b).7 In other words, Rahab is a biblical character that has been talked about for Peter S. Hawkins, “God’s Trophy Whore,” in From the Margins 1: Women of the Hebrew Bible and Their Afterlife, ed. Peter S. Hawkins and Lesleigh Cushing Stahlberg (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2009), 57– 58. For further discussion, see Mary Joan Winn Leith, “The Archaeology of Rahab,” Biblical Archaeology Review (July/August 2007): 22. 5 See Yair Zakowitch, “Rahab als Mutter des Boas in der JesusGenealogie (Matth. I :5),” Novum Testamentum 17, no. 1 (January 1975): 2. 6 Larry L. Lyke, “What Does Ruth Have To Do With Rahab? Midrash Ruth Rabbah and the Matthean Genealogy of Jesus,” in The Function of Scripture in Early Jewish and Christian Tradition, ed. Craig A. Evans and James A. Sanders (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), p. 278. 7 For detailed accounts on Rahab in the Jewish tradition, see, e.g., Leila Leah Bronner, From Eve to Esther: Rabbinic Reconstructions of Biblical Women (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1994); M.A. Beck, “Rahab in the Light of Jewish Exegesis,” in Von Kanaan bis Kerala, ed. W.C. Delsman (Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker, 1982), pp. 37–44; Phyllis Silverman Kramer, “Rahab: From Peshat to Pedagogy, Or: The Many Faces of a Heroine,” in Culture, Entertainment and the Bible, ed. George Aichele (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), pp. 156–172. 4

CONVERT, PROSTITUTE, OR TRAITOR?

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the ages whether interpreters have advanced Jewish, Christian, source critical, literary, gynocentric-feminist, postcolonial-feminist, pro-Israelite, or pro-Canaanite meanings. This chapter examines contemporary scholarly interpretations to this tale and highlights the historical, theological, literary, and ideological conversations, as they appear in them. They are a rich resource for developing a feminist sociology on the hermeneutical paradigms at work in biblical studies, demonstrating that interpreters participate in hermeneutical-exegetical conversations that make their readings not “true” or “false,” “objective” or “subjective,” and “exegetical” or “eisegetical.” Rather, they are ideological, come from somewhere, and need to be understood as ideological constructs of the readers. As they make claims about the biblical text, its history, and meaning, they tell us how they look at the world even when they do not openly disclose assumptions, politics, or ethics. Whether or not they like it, they stand within a comprehensive interpretative conversation, and a feminist sociology depicts who says what, how they say what they say, and what their saying means in this world. It is a feminist sociology because it attends to the structures of domination related to gender and sexuality in conjunction with the interlocking systems of oppression, such as race, ethnicity, nationality, and geopolitics. As such, a feminist sociology describes, investigates, and evaluates the ideologies of power present in the contemporary exegetical discourse on Josh 2. A feminist sociology thus defined is important because it ensures that the nexus between reading and society, reading and culture, and reading and politics is not relegated to an invisible place. It demonstrates that the meaning-making processes and their ensuing claims are understood as part of the abstract task of creating biblical meanings. It also exposes assertions of singular, monolithic, and unilateral biblical meaning as hermeneutical attempts to obfuscate readerly interests in the world. Thus, ultimately, a feminist sociology advances a post-postmodern epistemology that challenges claims of objectivity, universality, and value-neutrality. It promotes hermeneutical appreciation for textual

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fluidity, multiplicity, and “creolization,”8 and shows that biblical meanings, created by readers, have serious socio-cultural, religiouspolitical, and economic-historical consequences in the world in which we live. JO SH UA 2 To w ard a Fe m i n i s t Soc i o l o gy o f B i b l i c al H e rm e n e u t i c s Searching for the Historical Origins in Rahab’s Story

What Will Be Next?

Source Critical Readers

Rahab’sFaith Matters Most

Cooptation and Corruption in Rahab’s Conversion

Christian-Conservative Readers

Postcolonial Feminist, Queer, and Ethnic Readers

The Prostitute as Heroine Gynocentric-Feminist Readers

Figure 1 It is important to note that the analysis of the sociological paradigm on biblical interpretation should not be understood as a linear development that begins with the past and ends in the present, although the exegetical conversation exhibits some degree of linearity. For instance, the following paradigm does not claim comprehensiveness but it focuses on selected scholarly readings only. It portrays—in broad strokes—key interpretative features and For a discussion of these ideas, see my article “Tell Me How You Read This Story and I Tell You Who You Are: Post-Postmodernity, Radicant Exegesis, and a Feminist Sociology of Biblical Hermeneutics,” in Who do you think you are? Gender and the Transmission of Identity in the Hebrew Bible, Dead Sea Scrolls, and Related Literature, ed. Deborah Rooke (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, forthcoming). 8

CONVERT, PROSTITUTE, OR TRAITOR?

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makes visible major conversation clusters. Furthermore, the analysis is limited to exegetical scholarship and does not include popular appropriations, although they are plentiful in the case of Josh 2.9 A cursory look at these materials indicates that they largely follow traditional Christian and Jewish views about the meaning of this biblical tale. Thus, this chapter focuses on the scholarly contributions of the past few decades. They are grouped in four sociological clusters (see Figure 1): a first cluster deals with source critical interpretations, a second with Christian-conservative readings, a third with gynocentric-feminist approaches, and a fourth with postcolonial feminist, queer, and ethnic readings. All of them represent major trends in the contemporary exegetical conversation on Josh 2, as it has developed since the emergence of the modern-Western exegetical tradition.

SEARCHING FOR THE HISTORICAL ORIGINS IN RAHAB’S STORY: SOURCE-CRITICAL READERS It should not surprise that much of the modern Western scholarly conversation on Josh 2 engages source-critical concerns. Although some of the earliest historical critical commentators, such as Franz Joseph V.D. Maurer (1795–1874) or Carl Friedrich Keil (1808– 1888),10 did not attend to source criticism and instead worked on grammatical and linguistic matters, at the end of the nineteenth century critics attributed Josh 2 to Jahwist and Elohist sources.11 However, when Martin Noth declared in the first part of the twentieth century that only vv. 1–9a, 10a, 11a, 12–14a, 15–17a, 18– For a novel, see, e.g., Joan Wolf, This Scarlet Cord: The Love Story of Rahab (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2012); for a DVD, see, e.g., Friends & Heroes: “False Heroes” (Exciting Bible Stories, Lifelong Lessons) (Tyndale Entertainment, 2008). 10 Franz Joseph V.D. Maurer, Commentar über das Buch Josua (Stuttgart: J.B. Metzler, 1831); Carl Friedrich Keil, Biblischer Commentar über die prophetischen Geschichtsbücher des Alten Testaments, 1. Band: Josua, Richter und Ruth (Leipzig: Dörffling und Franke, 1857). 11 H. Holzinger, Das Buch Josua (Tübingen/Leipzig: Mohr, 1901); Hans Wilhelm Herzberg, Die Bücher Josua, Richter, Ruth (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1973). 9

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24 belong to an early tradition that is neither J nor E, and attributed only vv. 9b, 10b, 11b, 14b, and 17b to the Deuteronomist,12 other scholars followed suit. Hesitant to find J or E in the story, they recognized “numerous changes”13 in Josh 2 and asserted that “the Rahab story was…rescued from oblivion and put in place by the later redactor.”14 For instance, Murray L. Newman explained that “it is doubtful that there is any J material” in Josh 2, while he still tried to distinguish different literary strata in the text.15 In 1974, J. Maxwell Miller and Gene M. Tucker contended: “[T]his chapter contains the first of the older stories which the Deuteronomistic historian used in writing his [sic] history of the conquest…. So the story of Rahab and the Israelite spies probably had been written down long before the time of the Deuteronomistic historian” and should be viewed “as an aetiological story.”16 They did not speculate about the identities of these early writers, as Noth had proposed decades earlier. Similarly, John Gray observed in his 1986-commentary on Joshua: “This narrative has the ring of historical verisimilitude in contrast to a number of aetiological traditions in narrative style attached to Jericho…”17 In his view, Josh 2–6 originally consisted See Martin Noth, Das Buch Josua (2nd rev. edition; Tübingen: Mohr, 1953), pp. 24, 26, 29–31. 13 See the explanations in J. Alberto Soggin, Joshua: A Commentary (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1972), esp. pp. 37–38. 14 Robert G. Boling, Joshua: A New Translation with Notes and Commentary (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1982), p. 152. 15 Murray L. Newman, “Rahab and the Conquest,” in Understanding the Word: Essays in Honor of Bernhard W. Anderson, ed. James T. Butler, Edgar W. Conrad and Ben C. Ollenburger (Sheffield: JSOT, 1985), p. 169. 16 J. Maxwell Miller and Gene M. Tucker, The Book of Joshua (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), pp. 28, 29. Other source critics challenge the idea that Joshua 2 is based on an etiological saga; see, e.g., the discussion in Boling, Joshua, pp. 152; see also J. Alberto Soggin, Joshua: A Commentary (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1972), pp. 39: “This chapter contains no important aetiological elements…” 17 John Gray, Joshua, Judges, Ruth (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1986), p. 62. 12

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of disconnected tales that “a collector at an earlier literary stage” 18 combined. The “pre-Deuteronomistic” bloc of narratives was then incorporated into the Deuteronomistic History, Gray argued, although overall the narratives were inconsistent with the Deuteronomistic redactor’s view on conquest as the fulfillment of God’s promise to Israel. Thus, to Gray and other source critics, Josh 2 is an etiological tale about the survival of a Canaanite family that contradicts the Deuteronomistic advice to the Israelites to distance themselves from the Canaanites. This source critical position was reiterated again in 1997 when Richard D. Nelson summarized the source critical composition of Josh 2: “There are strong reasons to conclude that some form of the Rahab story once existed independent of its present context…. Thus the Rahab narrative can be thought of as functioning in at least three systems of meaning: on its own as a tale told in Israel, then as the first episode in the pre-deuteronomistic book, and finally as a part of the larger sweep of DH (the Deuteronomistic History).”19 In short, source critics disagreed on how many earlier sources constitute Josh 2 but they agree that the Deuteronomistic redaction had the final say about the form of the text. The ongoing conversation about the source critical composition of Josh 2 gives evidence of the source critical impetus in the interpretation of the Hexateuch. It also shows that source critics usually ignore other simultaneously-developed interpretations. For instance, in 2008, L. Daniel Hawk offered a source critical reading of the book of Joshua that argues for a particular source critical construction of Josh 2 without any references to scholarly work done by gynocentric-feminist and postcolonial feminist scholars.20 Hawk’s hermeneutical interest is clear: he wants to advance a source critical analysis of the book of Ibid. Richard D. Nelson, Joshua: A Commentary (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1997), pp. 41. 20 L. Daniel Hawk, “Conquest Reconfigured: Recasting Warfare in the Redaction of Joshua,” in Writing and Reading War: Rhetoric, Gender, and Ethics in Biblical and Modern Contexts, ed. Brad E. Kelle and Frank Ritchel Ames (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008), pp. 145–160. 18 19

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Joshua that promotes a unique thesis about the redactional composition of this biblical book. In a nutshell, Hawk maintains that a final Deuteronomistic redactor, living during the postexilic era, edited Josh 2–6 to fit into the overall Deuteronomistic intention of the book. The redactor argued against the vision outlined in Ezra and Nehemiah which emphasizes ethnic separatism as the basis for Israel’s communal identity. Hence, to Hawk, the redactor edited the book of Joshua in a way that defined Israel’s identity as based on the collective devotion to God rather than on a biological relationship. In other words, Hawk maintains that the redactor had muted the “nationalist triumphalism,”21 present in the earlier versions of the story and expressed in other postexilic biblical books. Yet, in his view and in contrast to some source critics, “the Deuteronomist has been at work in Josh 2–6 as well”22 and especially shaped “[t]hree paradigmatic conflicts”23—the encounter with Rahab, Achan’s transgression and punishment,24 and the Gibeonite treaty—that depict Canaanite kings but not the Canaanite people as “the real danger.”25 The redactor went even a step further, so Hawk, and made sure that certain Israelites are also understood to be dangerous, as for instance Achan in Josh 6. To Hawk, “[t]he stories of Rahab and the Gibeonites humanize the peoples of the land by rendering them with attributes associated with Israel, while the story of Achan demonizes a pedigreed Israelite and associates him with Canaan.”26 In Hawk’s view, the Deuteronomistic redactor aimed to “reveal the humanity of the indigenous inhabitants”27 and Ibid., p. 160. Ibid., p. 159. 23 Ibid., p. 155. 24 For a full comparison of Rahab and Achan based on the notion that “Rahab should give all ‘outsiders’ hope,” see Frank Anthony Spina, “Rahab and Achan: Role Reversals,” chap. in The Faith of the Outsider: Exclusion and Inclusion in the Biblical Story (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2005) [quote from page 71]. 25 Hawk, “Conquest,” p. 149. 26 Ibid., p. 147. 27 Ibid., p. 154. 21 22

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to offer “a theological resource for other nations and peoples who care to rethink and reflect on traditions of violent origins and the ethnic residue of such traditions in their corporate consciousness.”28 And so this source critical reconstruction turns the usual reading of Josh 2–6 onto its head. These narratives do not contain a conquest theology but a theology of inclusion; they include the Canaanites if they believe in YHWH. Yet, most source critics classify Josh 2 as a story about the Israelite conquest or a tale about two Israelite spies in Jericho, as if to distance their readings from non-source critical interpretations that emphasize Rahab’s faith. Hence, in many source critical investigations, the story’s content is marginal and Rahab is sidelined. Commentary titles of Josh 2 reflect this tendency. They focus on the spies, the crossing of the river Jordan, or the “strangers in the night.”29 Exceptions prove the norm. For instance, Nelson proclaims Rahab as “the center of this story” 30 and highlights her in the title on Josh 2, stating: “Rahab outsmarts the Scouts Joshua 2:1–14.”31 Still, some critical interpretations focus on the historical origins of Josh 2 only and do not engage the full spectrum of the available scholarly literature.

RAHAB’S FAITH MATTERS MOST: CHRISTIAN CONSERVATIVE READERS Another sociological cluster has shown considerable longevity in the exegetical enterprise. It has historically far deeper roots than the source critical quest. Of course, longevity does not necessarily mean that this second cluster is theologically or hermeneutically more profound than the quest for source critical origins. It merely indicates that its impetus has captured the imagination of Ibid., p. 160. For the latter, see, e.g., L. Daniel Hawk, Joshua (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1955), p. 35. 30 Nelson, Joshua, p. 46. 31 Ibid., p. 36. For the idea of Rahab outsmarting the two Israelite spies, see also L. Daniel Hawk, Joshua (Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 2000), p. 51. 28 29

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interpreters for a much longer time than source criticism. This second cluster emphasizes Rahab’s faith as the key meaning of Josh 2 and it has especially captured the imagination of Christian conservative interpreters during the past few decades. The strategy of interpreting Rahab as a prime role model of faith whom God welcomes into the community of believers has a very long interpretation history,32 in fact going back to the New Testament. Contemporary Christian conservative readers often combine their elaborations with quotes from the early Christian literature to underline the orthodoxy of their readings.33 They underscore persistently that Rahab’s “dramatic conversion and remarkable confession of faith in God” is the most impressive feature on the story.34 Unlike source critics, therefore, these interpreters highlight the character of Rahab and focus on her “courageous act,” as “she recognized Israel’s God as supreme” and turned “from Canaan’s past to the future.”35 As Frank Anthony Spina asserted, “Rahab should give all ‘outsiders’ hope”36 because her story demonstrates that, as “the quintessential outsider,” she is included in Israel due to her “exemplary” faith.37 To Spina, the A. T. Hanson, “Rahab the Harlot in Early Christian Theology,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 1 (1978): pp. 53–60. 33 See, e.g., John R. Franke, ed., Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1–2 Samuel (Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: Old Testament IV; Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2005), pp. 7–15; Kenneth O. Gangel, Joshua (Holman Old Testament Commentary; Nashville, TN: Holman Reference, 2002). 34 Robert W. Wall, “The Intertextuality of Scripture: The Example of Rahab (James 2:25),” in The Bible at Qumran: Text, Shape, and Interpretation, ed. Peter W. Flint (Grand Rapids, MI/Cambridge, U.K.: Eerdmans, 2001), p. 230. See also, e.g., David M. Howard, Jr., “Rahab’s Faith: An Exposition of Joshua 2:1–14,” Review and Expositor 95 (1998): 271–277. 35 John H. Stek, “Rahab of Canaan and Israel: The Meaning of Joshua 2,” Calvin Theological Journal 37, no. 1 (April 2002): 42, 44. 36 Spina, The Faith of the Outsider, p. 71. 37 Ibid., p. 61. See also John R. Franke, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1–2 Samuel (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2005); Kenneth O. Gangel, Joshua: Holman Old Testament Commentary (Nashville, TN: Holman Reference, 32

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story demonstrates that “from the beginning Israel is not an ethnically exclusive people” but that “anyone who is prepared to recognize what Yahweh is doing is free to join Yahweh’s people.”38 Like similarly-minded interpreters, Spina’s emphasis on Rahab’s faith stresses the inclusivity of the Israelites. Thus, despite different hermeneutical goals, faith-oriented readers and source critics attempt to soften an exclusively defined YHWH-belief. They highlight its openness to the “Other” when the “Other” opens up to God and the Israelite faith. Both groups share another commonality. Whether they focus on source critical issues or Rahab’s faith, they do not refer to gynocentric-feminist and postcolonial feminist approaches. Yet, faith-oriented readers do refer to source criticism, perhaps to assert scholarly credentials and authority. Two recent interpretations illustrate this crisscrossing tendency. In 2006, Aaron Sherwood proposed that, in contrast to some source critics who “dismiss” Josh 2 as a textual interpolation, he finds it fitting “nicely” into its literary and especially theological context.39 He identifies three “layers of theological critique” in the biblical chapter: a negative valuation of Joshua, a positive portrayal of Rahab, and most prominently “an extremely positive evaluation of God.”40 Sherwood’s poetic-theological analysis aims to demonstrate these three layers that, in his view, the narrator positioned into place. Thus, Sherwood writes that the narrator, using “literary sophistication, humor, and irony,” presents “a negative critique of Joshua’s choice to send spies rather than invade the Land,”41 and “pattern[s] his [sic] narrative in Joshua 1–12 after 2002); David M. Howard, Joshua: The New American Commentary (Nashville, TN: Broadman & Holmes Publishers, 1998); A. Graeme Auld, Joshua, Judges, and Ruth (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1984). 38 John Goldingay, Joshua, Judges and Ruth for Everyone (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2011), pp. 13–14. 39 Aaron Sherwood, “A Leader’s Misleading and a Prostitute’s Profession: A Re-examination of Joshua 2,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 31, no. 1 (2006): 61. 40 Ibid., p. 45. 41 Ibid., p. 58.

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landmark events in Exodus.”42 In this narrative, so Sherwood, the two characters, Joshua and Rahab, are played out against each other. Rahab is contrasted positively to Joshua’s poor judgment as a leader, and so she becomes the deliverer of the spies “from their dark [sic] place in Jericho,” “[j]ust as God delivers his [sic] people from a dark place in Exodus.”43 In this interpretation, then, Rahab emerges as “an Israelite of wisdom and faith”44 and gets an elevated place in the narrative comparable only with God in the Exodus stories. As a side note, the androcentric-ethnic overtones in Sherwood’s interpretation are obvious on many levels although Sherwood attributes them to the narrator despite the fact that they come, of course, from him. Like other interpreters in this sociological cluster, he assumes a scientific-empiricist epistemology that presents biblical meaning as objective, universal, and mostly value-neutral, presumably intended from the original author. There is no recognition of the complex hermeneutical interactions between text and reader, as explained by postmodern theorists for decades. Sherwood’s remarkably positive portrayal of the female character leads up to his main interpretative premise. It centers on the notion that “ch. 2 primarily reflects positively upon God”45 because “through Joshua’s error, God demonstrates grace to a Canaanite female prostitute, enabling her and her family to belong to his covenant people.”46 Thus, to Sherwood, the portrayal of God’s sovereign power is the main purpose of the story and the female character is a useful prop in the interaction between the two male characters, Joshua and God, because their relationship is at stake when Joshua errs. When God turns even a prostitute into a faithful disciple, God teaches Joshua that God “does not dismiss Joshua as a failure”47 and instead helps Joshua after “a false start to Ibid., p. 59. Ibid., p. 60. 44 Ibid., p. 61. 45 Ibid. 46 Ibid., p. 60. 47 Ibid., p. 61. 42 43

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his overall successful career.” God redeems “both Joshua’s mistake, and through it Rahab and her family,”48 Sherwood maintains. In this reading, then, Rahab’s faith is an accidental but crucial element in the development of Joshua’s career as a leader. She teaches him to trust God and when he does, he succeeds. Since Sherwood’s interpretation also refers to source critical insights, they serve to substantiate his theological claims. Sherwood argues that the original narrator presents Josh 2 as a demonstration of “God’s character,”49 and hence Josh 2 belongs into the larger literarytheological context of the book of Joshua; it is not a textual interpolation, as source critics have sometimes argued, Sherwood asserts. Another interpreter, Bernard P. Robinson, grounds his reading on a source critical assumption and then connects it with the significance of Rahab’s faith. He states that “it seems plausible” to him “that two separate traditions lie behind our narrative.”50 In his view, the earlier narrative consists of “[a]n account of the capture of Jericho by force of arms with the assistance of a prostitute,” but, so Robinson, this account is “probably” not historical.51 He then presents a mixture of literary, grammatical, and content-descriptive commentary with special attention to Rahab. He organizes his interpretation in three sections: (1) “The Mission of the Spies: Josh 2:1–7;” (2) “Faithful Rahab: 2:8–21; The Spies Report Back to Joshua: 2:22–24;” and (3) “Rahab Spared: 6:17,22– 25.” His reading highlights Rahab as a “resourceful and trusting woman… who is converted to belief in the sovereignty of YHWH”52 who ensures that “this time” the Israelites will “not be contaminated [sic] by pagan [sic] religion.”53 In the year 2009, this is certainly an astounding statement that, perhaps unconsciously,

Ibid. Ibid. 50 Bernard P. Robinson, “Rahab of Canaan—and Israel,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 23, no. 2 (2009): 261. 51 Ibid. 52 Ibid., p. 257. 53 Ibid., p. 264. 48 49

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stands in the anti-ecumenical Christian tradition toward other religious traditions. But his focus is on Rahab and thus he asks “[w]hat sort of harlot” Rahab was and proposes that she was a temple prostitute and not merely a “secular” brothel-running “harlot.”54 Agreeing with the interpretation of Yair Zakovitch, Robinson also observes that the words of the spies in vv. 14, 24 are “entirely” Rahab’s words. He believes that the Rahab story is important because it serves “to mitigate the harshness” of the herem, indicating “that there is a place in the divine plan for gentiles.”55 So also, to Robinson, it is Rahab’s conversion that enables her to stand next to Joshua and to exemplify “the blessing of God upon an obedient person.”56 And obedience means a rejection of her Canaanite identity. Like other interpreters in this cluster, then, Robinson praises Rahab. She is “the Canaanite” who outwits the king of Jericho “just as the Hebrew midwives outwit the Pharaoh.” Like Joseph, she provides for her family and she is forced to spend some time outside the camp like Miriam. To Robinson, she “is an exemplary convert to Yahwism,” as indicated in her statement of faith in Josh 2:11. The story teaches: “Such converts…should be welcomed into the heart of Israel.”57 Yet again, except for four perfunctory references to three gynocentric-feminist readings,58 Robinson limits his exegetical conversation partners, mainly to other faith-oriented readers. He stresses Rahab’s faith to argue for God’s willingness “to include

Ibid., p. 265. He quotes the feminist reading by Phyllis Bird in support of this point although Bird maintains just the opposite; see the discussion on Bird’s interpretation later in this chapter. 55 Ibid., p. 272. 56 Ibid., p. 273. Here Robinson quotes from T.C. Butler’s Joshua commentary of 1983. 57 Ibid., p. 273. 58 See footnotes 42 and 43 on page 265, as well as footnotes 48 and 49 on page 266. 54

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gentiles within his [sic] people.”59 This kind of reading is popular among contemporary Christian conservative exegetes, and with a nod of recognition toward historical critics, for instance, Jerome F. D. Creach states: “[T]he authors of the story themselves were concerned… to demonstrate that Israel’s God did not sponsor wholesale slaughter of Canaanites; those who professed faith in the Lord could be saved.”60 Similarly, John Goldingay declares about “people” like Rahab: “They remind us that from the beginning Israel is not an ethnically exclusive people. Anyone who is prepared to recognize what Yahweh is doing is free to join Yahweh’s people.”61 Interpreters acknowledge Rahab as a symbol of theological inclusivity as depicted in Josh 2 and as already practiced in ancient Israel. Interpreters of this sociological cluster connect Rahab’s faith to contemporary readers. For instance, Jan Heller suggests that her faith statement transforms Rahab and the two spies into “utterly modern humans” (ganz moderne Menschen) and “our spiritual contemporaries” so that “their story (becomes) the story of our lives.”62 The story of Rahab teaches us that we, too, are invited to radically transform our lives by letting go of the former just like Ibid., p. 257. For similar interpretations, see, e.g., John H. Steck, “Rahab of Canaan and Israel: The Meaning of Joshua 2,” Calvin Theological Journal 37, no. 1 (April 2002): 28–48; Robert W. Wall, “The Intertextuality of Scripture: The Example of Rahab (James 2:25),” in The Bible at Qumran: Text, Shape, and Interpretation, ed. Peter W. Flint (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001), pp. 217–236; David M. Howard, Jr., “Rahab’s Faith: An Exposition of Joshua 2:1–14,” Review and Expositor 95 (1998): 271–277; Peter Barnes, “Was Rahab’s Lie a Sin?” The Reformed Theological Review 54, no. 1 (January–April 1995): 1–9. 60 Jerome F.D. Creach, Joshua (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching; Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 2003), p. 43. 61 Goldingay, Joshua, Judges and Ruth, pp. 13–14. See also, e.g., Karl Gutbrod, Das Buch vom Lande Gottes: Josua und Richter, Second Ed. (Stuttgart: Calwer Verlag, 1951). 62 Jan Heller, “Die Priesterin Raab,” Communio Viatorum 2–3 (1985): 117. 59

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Rahab who abandons Canaanite myths and joins the new religion of Israel. Accordingly, Heller explains, the “kerygmatic nucleus of the story” consists in “the message of the powerlessness of the old deities and old religion.”63 To him, Josh 2 presents “a quick and sharp-minded demythologization” (flinke und schlagfertige Entmythologisierung), “a profound destruction of the mythological worldview,” and “a removal of the conviction that divine action can be controlled and is tangible.”64 A similar though perhaps more dramatically articulated theological interpretation comes from John H. Stek who exclaims: Joshua is a book intended to press Yahweh’s claims on every later generation of that people; to call every later generation of that people to find in the story it recounts and in the meganarrative of which it is an episode their identity, vocation, and destiny; and to confront every later generation of that people with the great decision they must make—to trust and serve Yahweh or to rely on the little gods venerated all around them.65

In other words, the emphasis in this sociological cluster is on Rahab’s faith that teaches not only Joshua, the Israelites, and the “Other” Canaanites, but also contemporary readers about God. Josh 2 demonstrates that God saves “the worst of sinners” and “this pagan prostitute” who “is the first to recite saving history” in the book of Joshua.66 As Trent C. Butler puts it succinctly: “God uses the most unexpected immoral persons to further his [sic] purposes in the world.”67

Ibid., pp. 116–117. Ibid., p. 117. 65 Stek, “Rahab of Canaan and Israel,” p. 47. 66 James Burton Coffman, Commentary on Joshua ([Abilene]: ACU Press, 1988), pp. 17, 20. 67 Trent C. Butler, World Biblical Commentary, vol. 7: Joshua (Waco, TX: Word Books, Publisher, 1983), p. 35. 63 64

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To faith-oriented interpreters, then, Rahab’s confession of “monotheism”68 illustrates God’s radical inclusivity in which the God of Israel is also the “God of the heathens [sic].”69 No awareness about potential problems with this kind of terminology is apparent in any of these readings. Similarly, the only and central woman of the story is praised for her “faithfulness,” “loyalty,” and her “unselfishness”70 as if these traits were not already marked as classic feminine ideals in androcentric society. Rahab is recognized as “a woman of worth”71 and even as “a symbol of the Church, since she by her faith and kindness secured the safety of her family.”72 As Robinson states: “Rahab is an exemplary convert to Yahwism,”73 and the idea is to emulate her. In short, in faith-oriented Christian-conservative interpretations, Rahab is deeply appreciated as a true believer in God and in the message of Christ. Interestingly and problematically, this position has been so pervasive that gynocentric-feminist readers are not able or willing to extract a different meaning. The next section examines this cluster of interpretations that resemble faith-oriented interpretations in remarkable ways.

Ernst Axel Knauf, Josua (Zürich: TVZ Theologischer Verlag, 2008), p. 50. See also Gordon H. Matthies, “Reading Rahab’s Story: Beyond the Moral of the Story (Joshua 2),” Direction 24, no. 1 (Spring 2995): 57–70, esp. p. 67. 69 Karl Gtbrod, Das Buch vom Lande Gottes: Josua und Richter (2nd Edition; Stuttgart: Calwer Verlag, 1957), p. 28. 70 Marten H. Woudstra, The Book of Joshua (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1981), p. 74. 71 Creach, Joshua, p. 39. 72 Woudstra, Joshua, p. 75. 73 Bernard P. Robinson, “Rahab of Canaan—and Israel,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 23, no. 2 (2009): 273. Alternatively, some interpreters see God rather than Rahab as the story’s center, but it is not (yet) widely defended; see, e.g., Sherwood, “A Leader’s Misleading and a Prostitute’s Profession,” pp. 45, 60–61. 68

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THE PROSTITUTE AS A HEROINE: GYNOCENTRIC-FEMINIST READERS In difference to many other female characters in the Hebrew Bible, Rahab has been center stage in many androcentric interpretations. Her much-discussed role in early Christian and the rabbinical literature has certainly helped in this regard. Hence, it is curious that gynocentric-feminist interpreters hesitated to engage this woman character when they began interpreting the Bible in the 1970s. It was only in 1989 when Phyllis Bird presented a first feminist treatment in an essay entitled: “The Harlot as Heroine: Narrative Art and Social Presupposition in Three Old Testament Texts.”74 There she explains that Rahab was a common prostitute and not a “temple” or “cult” prostitute, and “her portrayal as a heroine in no way cancels the negative social appraisal attached to her role as a harlot.”75 Bird’s feminist concerns highlight Rahab as a prostitute, and in contrast to traditional Christian and Jewish readings, she does not downplay Rahab’s “profession” but makes it central. In fact, Bird asserts that “the entire account” depends on Rahab’s marginal status in both Canaanite and Israelite societies and the narrator intentionally stresses her low status to make the story’s pun come as a surprise. Bird explains that readers, then and now, do not expect much of prostitutes in terms of morality, faith, or courage, and so “Rahab does not act as we expect her to act when she protects the spies.”76 In Josh 2, the prostitute is “a good harlot, a righteous outcast, a noble-hearted courtesan, the exception that proves the rule” although, as typical in androcentric storytelling, Rahab never becomes a good wife or a reputable Phyllis A. Bird, “The Harlot as Heroine: Narrative Art and Social Presupposition in Three Old Testament Texts,” Semeia 46 (1989): 119– 139. For interpretations closely aligned with Bird’s reading, see Peter F. Lockwood, “Rahab” multi-faceted heroine of the book of Joshua,” Lutheran Theological Journal 44, no. 1 (May 2010): 39–50; Mercedes García Bachmann, “Evaluación de la prostitució desde los textos bíblicos,” Cuademosde Teología 19 (2000): 23–35. 75 Ibid., p. 127. 76 Ibid., p. 131. 74

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woman. She is always known as a prostitute, though a redeemed one. Bird explains that Rahab becomes a heroine only because she helps Israel to win. She is “a heroine of faith and a friend of Israel.”77 Bird acknowledges that she finds this “construction appealing” although she “cannot find historical or literary evidence” for its plausibility.78 Bird likes Rahab’s exceptional status, as depicted in Josh 2, but she wonders if the converted Rahab could have ever made it in the “real” world. To Bird, Rahab would have probably stayed “in the shadows of Israelite society”79 because she could have existed neither in ancient Israel nor anywhere else. And so to Bird, Rahab is a literary-androcentric construct after all. Shortly after Bird’s gynocentric-feminist reading, others appeared. One of them is Judette A. Gallares’s imaginative gynocentric retelling of Rahab as “the faithful prostitute.”80 Gallares’s retelling targets women readers in Christian, nonacademic settings and as such the interpretation has many Christian-pious qualities. However, it also has gynocentric aims closely related to feminist-theological debates of the late 1980s and early 1990s, and Gallares acknowledges them. She also refers to the scholarly literature, for instance, explaining that the “original form” of Josh 2 is “an etiological tale” about “the survival of the Canaanite family in the midst of the Israelites after the conquest of the Promised Land.”81 Like Bird, Gallares makes Rahab’s profession central, and she wants to understand Rahab and her perspective. She asks that we “put ourselves in Rahab’s shoes” and “consider her situation as a woman, as a prostitute, and as a Canaanite.”82 Explaining the historical circumstances of women in the ancient Near East, she Ibid. Ibid., p. 132. 79 Ibid., p. 133. 80 Judette A. Gallares, “Rahab: The Faithful Prostitute,” chap. in Images of Faith: Spirituality of Women in the Old Testament (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1992). 81 Ibid., p. 38. 82 Ibid., p. 39. 77 78

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remarks that women were considered “minors,” limited to motherhood, and if they worked as prostitutes their status was even “lower.”83 Gallares states: “In general, they [prostitutes] were considered an underclass and, because of the life of immorality, unclean like the lepers. Consequently, they were looked down on, disdained, and avoided in broad daylight even by the womenfolk of better repute.”84 Because of this socio-economic context, so Gallares, the “Mosaic Law” prohibited Israelite women to prostitute themselves. If they disobeyed the law, they were ordered to receive the death penalty while the men went “scot-free.”85 Yet as a Canaanite, Rahab did not live under this law, “fortunately,” Gallares exclaims.86 Besides the problem of reinforcing anti-Jewish assumptions among her Christian women readers about the Hebrew Bible and its law codes, Gallares offers these explanations as if they are historical fact. Her depictions of women’s situations in ancient Israel and Canaan ignores that the question whether biblical laws were practiced law is debated in biblical scholarship. She sides with the Canaanite prostitute although her solidarity reinforces long-held Christian prejudices about biblical legislation. Yet like faithoriented readers of the second sociological cluster, Gallares’s consistent pro-Rahab focus culminates in a typical Christian appreciation for Rahab, stating that Rahab is saved thanks to her conversion to the God of Israel: [T]he fact is that Rahab’s marriage into Israel’s faith and way of life saved her and elevated her status from a disdainful life of harlotry to one of dignity and grace as mother and as a woman of great faith.87

In Gallares’s gynocentric reading, then, the portrayal of Rahab ends up where the Christian tradition has always been. Rahab is praised for becoming a faithful follower of the God of Israel. She is also Ibid., p. 39. Ibid. 85 Ibid. 86 Ibid. 87 Gallares, “Rahab,” p. 43. 83 84

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admired for becoming a mother, a feature only highlighted in this reading and actually in conflict with Gallares’s earlier explanation that motherhood restricted women in ancient Near Eastern societies. In short, this interpretation goes back and forth. On the one hand, Gallares portrays Rahab as lucky for being a Canaanite woman who escapes the harsh laws against prostitution in ancient Israel. On the other hand, her Canaanite life is “disdainful” and, by converting to Israel’s God, she is liberated “from the oppressive structure of a patriarchal and androcentric society” even if this liberation is not “complete because she had to fit herself into the traditional and expected roles of women at that time, which were those of wife and mother.”88 Yet, for Gallares, Israelite androcentrism is better than Canaanite “harlotry” because it raises Rahab “from a wretched condition of poverty and immorality” into “an experience of liberating grace.”89 And so Gallares highlights Rahab’s “profession of faith” as “a true life of faith,”90 as stated in the New Testament. In Gallares’s mind, Rahab and “all those who have experienced God’s saving power”91 illustrate faith in God and the good works flowing from such faith. She declares: A faith that leads to conversion of heart also involves action of good works. Rahab’s faith prompted her to act in favor of God’s people… Here faith and action are two sides of the same coin. Our action has to be animated by our commitment to God in faith, while our faith is proven to be more authentic when it involves action.92

Gallares’s gynocentric interpretation, then, resembles other Christian approaches that emphasize Rahab’s faith and rejoice about her inclusion in Israel despite her part as a Canaanite. Yet, unlike Christian conservative readers and due to her focus on prostitution, Gallares also connects her concerns with “today’s Ibid. Ibid. 90 Ibid., pp. 44, 45. 91 Ibid., p. 45. 92 Ibid., p. 46. 88 89

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Rahabs.” Gallares recognizes Rahab in women forced into prostitution in many parts of the world. She writes that “many of today’s Rahabs are still awaiting liberation from the shackles of their oppression,”93 and she illustrates with several examples that there are women all over the world enduring conditions of sex trade and enslavement. Gallares believes that “love and acceptance” and “support” would help these women to experience “God’s deliverance,”94 just as Rahab had.95 In this gynocentric reading, a promotion of faith in the biblical God is the recommended solution to contemporary situations of gender injustice. Another gynocentric-feminist reading, this time from a Jewish scholarly perspective, comes from Tikva Frymer-Kensky. She offers a Rahab-centric and Rahab-sympathetic literary reading of Josh 2. Frymer-Kensky sees in this “charming story of a familiar antitype in folklore”96 a portrayal of Rahab as “the prostitute-withIbid., p. 47. Ibid., p. 51. 95 For a similar but more academic gynocentric-feminist approach, see, e.g., T.J. Wray, Good Girls, Bad Girls: The Enduring Lessons of Twelve Women of the Old Testament (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2008; Sabine Bieberstein, “Gegen all Gebundenheiten das tun, was frau für richtig hält,” in Und sie tanzen aus der Reihe: Frauen im Alten Testament, ed. Angelike Meissner (Stuttgart: Verlag Kath. Bibelwerb, 1992), pp. 61–77; Ruth Selzer-Bruninger, “Josua 2, 1–24: Rahab aus Jericho,” in Feministisch Gelesen, Band 2, ed. Renate Jost (Stuttgart: Kreuz Verlag, 1989), pp. 74–79. For an imaginative feminist approach, grounded in biblical scholarship, see also Athalya Brenner, “'Wide Gaps, Narrow Escapes: I am Known as Rahab, the Broad,” in First Person: Essays in Biblical Autobiography, ed. Philip R. Davies (New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), pp. 47–58; Nell Mohney, From Eve to Esther: Letting Old Testament Women Speak to Us (Nashville, TN: Dimensions For Living, 2001); Irene Nowell, Women in the Old Testament (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1997). 96 Tikva Frymer-Kensky, “Reading Rahab,” in Tehillah le-Moshe: Biblical and Judaic Studies in Honor of Moshe Greenberg, ed. M. Cogan, Barry L. Eichler, Jeffrey H. Tigay (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1997), p. 57. For a brief gynocentric though not explicitly feminist discussion that 93 94

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the-heart-of-gold.” To Frymer-Kensky, Rahab is a “biblical Suzie Wong.”97 Besides the fact that this characterization contains problematic racial-ethnic connotations,98 it also imagines Rahab as rejecting her “otherness” and as gladly leaving behind her Canaanite heritage. Such an assumption is, of course, not unique to Frymer-Kensky’s reading. Like faith-oriented and other gynocentric-feminist interpreters, Frymer-Kensky focuses on Rahab as a positive character. For instance, she compares Rahab with Moses’s mother and sister when Fymer-Kensky observes that both Exod 2 and Josh 2 contain the same verb, “and she hid him.” The linguistic similarity demonstrates to Fymer-Kensky that Rahab is the “successor” of the women of the Exodus,99 acts “as the ‘midwife’ of the embryonic Israel,”100 and is “a female savior.”101 To Frymer-Kensky, Rahab’s ethnicity as a Canaanite matters little, except when Fymer-Kensky stresses Rahab’s outstanding loyalty to the God of Israel. To her, Rahab’s loyalty is equal to Abraham’s, integrates Bird and Frymer-Kensky, see also David Merling, “Rahab: The Woman Who Fulfilled the Word of YHWH,” Andrews University Seminary Studies 41, no. 1 (2003): 31–44. 97 Ibid. 98 For a complex analysis of the film “The World of Suzie Wang,” see, e.g., Peter X Feng, “Recuperating Suzie Wang: A Fan’s Nancy Kwandary,” in Countervisions: Asian American Film Criticism, ed. Darrell Hamamoto and Sandra Lin Nancy (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2000), pp. 40–56. See also Kwok Pui-lan, Postcolonial Imagination and Feminist Theology (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, Press, 2005), p. 118: “Other cultural specimens that represent the white male fantasy of sexy Asian women falling for heroic white men include such figures as Madame Butterfly, Suzie Wong, and Miss Saigon.” See also Kah-Jin Jeffrey Kuan and Mai-Anh Le Tran, “Reading Race Reading Rahab: A ‘Broad’ Asian American Reading of a ‘Broad’ Other,” in Postcolonial Interventions: Essays in Honor of R.S. Sugirtharajah, ed. Tat-siong Benny Liew (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2009), p. 41. 99 Tikva Frymer-Kensky, “The Guardian at the Door: Rahab,” chap. in Reading the Women of the Bible (New York: Schocken Books, 2002), p. 36. 100 Ibid. 101 Ibid., p. 44.

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her assertiveness and proactivity superior to Lot’s, and her willingness to integrate into Israel in sharp contrast to Achan. Frymer-Kensky also explains that the Deuteronomistic storytellers took a political-theological risk when they included Rahab’s tale in the book of Joshua. To them, Rahab represented “the outsider’s outsider” and the “quintessential downtrodden.”102 By including her story, the redactors acknowledged “[t]he rescue of Rahab” as “Israel’s first act of apostasy” and allowed the inclusion of a Canaanite woman which, in their view, contained “the first seed of the nation’s destruction.”103 Despite this potential for danger the story demonstrates that the God of Israel “interrupts normative societal expectations;” it exemplifies “God’s nature and Israel’s mission.”104 Unsurprisingly, then, Frymer-Kensky explains that Rahab is remembered both in Judaism and Christianity as “an exemplary positive figure”105 who takes “her place in the extraordinary genealogy of the Messiah.”106 In short, gynocentric-feminist interpretations exhibit a strong tendency to adhere to traditional Jewish and Christian views about Rahab as a model convert, faithful and loyal, to be emulated by all. They identify with Rahab and affirm her conversion although it requires she leave her Canaanite identity behind.107 They focus on

Ibid. Frymer-Kensky, “Reading Rahab,” pp. 65–66. 104 Frymer-Kensky, “The Guardian at the Door: Rahab,” p. 44. 105 Frymer-Kensky, “Reading Rahab,” p. 67. 106 Ibid. 107 For a feminist interpretation that takes into account the complex relations between gender and ethnicity, see Susanne Gillmayr-Bucher, “‘She Came to Test Him with Hard Questions;’ Foreign Women and Their View on Israel,” Biblical Interpretation 15 (2007): 135–150, esp. p. 148: “Thus in the end a complex situation has been created: on the level of the plot the Israelite position is (slightly) inferior and the foreign woman appears in a superior position. On the level of discourse it is reversed: here the Israelite discourse is dominating and the genuine voice of the foreigner, the other, is suppressed and silenced. On the level of the story Israel hopes to persist and prosper in spite of powerful others. On the 102 103

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gender only, do not attend to the interlocking systems of oppression, and merely rehearse the longstanding appreciation for Rahab. Only the interpretations of the fourth sociological cluster make the interlocking systems of gender, sexuality, geopolitics, and ethnicity central to the quest for meaning in Josh 2. We turn to them next.

COOPTATION AND CORRUPTION IN RAHAB’S CONVERSION: POSTCOLONIAL FEMINIST, QUEER, AND ETHNIC READERS Interpreters question the unencumbered positive view of Rahab as a model convert only when they merge a feminist with a postcolonial and ethnic-critical analysis. As we will see, this most recent exegetical development is innovative, provocative, and significant. In 1999, Judith E. Mc Kinlay brought together the categories of gender and postcolonialism when she asked whether Rahab should be regarded as a “heroine,” a reference to Phyllis Bird’s interpretation ten years earlier. Yet, unlike Bird whose contribution defined Rahab as an unexpected heroine, McKinlay questions such a positive portrayal. She prefers not to do so because of her geo-political context. Living in Aotearoa, New Zealand, she characterizes herself as a woman of “white European descent and living in a Pacific country to which my ancestors sailed, assuming a place that was theirs to settle.”108 She elaborates why the recognition of this geo-political setting makes her wonder about classifying Rahab as a heroine. She explains: If Rahab is a hero/ine, it is not only ancient Canaanites who are in danger. Follow her speechwriter into this text and there is an ongoing danger that other dominant cultures, such as mine, will find it all too easy to identify with the dominant voice which justifies the taking of land, on the assumption that Canaanites are inherently wicked. But an even more disturbing level of discourse, however, the existence of others in light of and despite a xenophobic Israelite discourse is at stake.” 108 Judith E. McKinlay, “Rahab: A Hero/ine,” Biblical Interpretation 7, no. 1 (January 1999): 44.

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McKinlay worries that a characterization of Rahab as a heroine eliminates a reader’s sensitivities about the implications of this story of conquest, especially since such conquest has taken place in many countries in the world, including in New Zealand. Even worse, so McKinlay, interpretations depicting Rahab as a heroine inculturate minoritized and colonized peoples into dominant power structures. They learn to accept their subordinate positions in the world, encouraged by interpreters who praise Rahab for doing so. Thus, to McKinlay, a positive characterization of Rahab suggests her voluntary integration into the colonizer’s religion and society. McKinlay also notices that the story reports almost nothing about Rahab as a Canaanite. Instead she is presented as an even better Israelite than the Israelite spies. This bias troubles McKinlay. She worries for the “many other “Rahabs in Israel and elsewhere, some even perhaps persuaded by this tale” and “co-opted into the dominant plan.”110 She advises against “this co-opting but polarizing strategy” and to be suspicious of it, as it is “dangerous”111 for the colonized and the colonizer. Other postcolonial feminist interpretations have emerged since McKinlay’s first feminist postcolonial analysis. All of them have substantially expanded the biblical text’s significance for today’s readers. For instance, Musa Dube developed the idea of “Rahab’s prism” to expose biblical narratives, such as Josh 2, of their imperial ideology. To her, such tales represent the colonizer’s fantasy about the “Other,” colonizing the “Other” and the Ibid., p. 56. Ibid., p. 57. 111 Ibid. 109 110

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readers.112 Dube also suggests that narratives, such as Josh 2, enable us to understand “how our identities are constructed and the power relations they produce and perpetuate.”113 Most importantly, Dube contends that Rahab’s story offers the potential for cooperation between differently situated people when they recognize the need for justice in the world. In her view, “both Rahab and the spies betrayed their own people and cultures in the service of life” when the spies agree to let the prostitute and her family live, and Rahab decides to help the spies against her king’s order. The narrative teaches, so Dube, that Rahab, the spies, and really everybody has “inevitable hybrid identities,”114 and once we recognize and value our hybridities we have the potential of working together. Only when Rahab and the spies, the less powerful and the powerful, the oppressed and the oppressor recognize their complex identities and decide to work with each other, do they begin breaking the pervasive structures of domination and serving “life and justice.”115 Dube recognizes that Rahab’s story was written by the powerful but she believes it can be read in recognition of all people’s and person’s “humanness and vulnerability.”116 Dube maintains: “When I read through Rahab’s prism, I read for justice: justice for women of various backgrounds; justice against historical and contemporary imperialism and justice for all people who are subjected to various forms of oppression. I read for life.”117 To Dube, a hermeneutic for life should be our collective hermeneutical goal despite the little progress we have made in the world so far. Musa W. Dube, Postcolonial Feminist Interpretation of the Bible (St. Louis: Chalice Press, 2000). 113 Musa W. Dube, “Rahab is Hanging Out a Red Ribbon: One African Woman’s Perspective on the Future of Feminist New Testament Scholarship,” in Feminist New Testament Studies: Global and Future Perspectives, ed. Kathleen O’Brien Wicker, Althea Spencer Miller, Musa W. Dube (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), p. 180. 114 Ibid. 115 Ibid. 116 Ibid. 117 Ibid., pp. 180–181. 112

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Another interpreter, Marcella María Althaus-Reid, elaborates on the broader philosophical and epistemological implications of reading Rahab’s story in postcolonial and queer-gendered ways. As a systematic theologian, she is interested in the function of desire in the discourse of power. She sees in Josh 2 “one of the most intriguing texts in the Scriptures in terms of sexual epistemologies of confrontation and struggle.”118 As she provocatively puts it, “sexual terrorism and guerrilla struggles reach their peak” in this narrative and she calls this text, “The origin of Queer betrayal.” 119 To her, the queer meaning of the story has almost been dismantled, destroyed, and painted over by the processes that made Rahab “straight in the conversion towards a monotheistic culture and religion.”120 In Althaus-Reid’s interpretation, Rahab is a Canaanite woman, a sexual “other,” living “a bisexual praxis of thinking and living in the frontier.”121 Because of the betrayal of her own people, she moves into the “heterosexual, mono-loving mentality of only one nation, one God and one faith.”122 Said differently, Rahab’s position in the text symbolizes a move from a position of the frontier and the queer “Other” to the center, the place of the insider, the straight and dominant position. Understood within the dynamics of queering and normalizing poles, Josh 2 emerges as “a deeply, frontier-like bisexual text” and offers limited possibilities of uncovering “the ‘real queer lives’” of Rahab and the Canaanite people.123 By queerness, Althaus-Reid means the kind of positioning that enables Rahab to live out her own self in a way that does not require her to betray herself in order to find acceptance; it is a life outside dominant and “colonial” expectations, structures, and institutions. In Josh 2 Rahab betrays her “queerness.” The betrayal Marcella María Althaus-Reid, “Searching for a Queer SophiaWisdom: The Post-Colonial Rahab,” chap. in Patriarchs, Prophets and Other Villains, ed. Lisa Isherwood (London/Oakville: Equinox, 2007), pp. 132. 119 Ibid., p. 138. 120 Ibid., p. 132. 121 Ibid. 122 Ibid., p. 134. 123 Ibid. 118

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enables her to survive the conquest of the frontier land. She has to “leave the frontier by declaring herself heterosexual,” an Israelite and a believer in “the mono-God.”124 To Althaus-Reid, this conversion follows “the love/logic of imperialism”125 that makes Rahab become “normalized” and not lead a Canaanite life anymore. She must leave the Canaanite world and submit to “the God of the Market.”126 Hence, Althaus-Reid wonders whether anything of the “queer” Rahab, the Canaanite, the “Other,” the “wise, sexually and economically independent”127 woman, survives the conversion process. Was Rahab perhaps even “a willing victim,”128 AlthausReid wonders? She asserts that little, very little, is left of the queer Rahab. We might only catch a glimpse of her and other “transgressive women”129 when we look at those who live queer lives, such as transvestites in Buenos Aires with “blonde hair done up in a bun, publicly identifying themselves with Eva Perón, in a display of political transgression which was also a transgression of the silencing of the right to difference.”130 And so Althaus-Reid finds Rahab “and her Queer Wisdom still survive, in the obstinacy of a Queer transcendence” that imperial forces attempt to eliminate from memory when they call “the imperial destruction of transgressive women… salvation.”131 Althaus-Reid thus rejects Rahab, the convert, as a colonial tragedy of oppression—a unique deconstructive theological move in the interpretation history of Josh 2. In short, Althaus-Reid goes the furthest in her queer postcolonial approach to this biblical story. She sees in the converted Rahab the end of her material and spiritual independence. The conversion burdens the formerly free woman Ibid., p. 137. Ibid. 126 Ibid., p. 140. 127 Ibid., p. 139. 128 Ibid., p. 138. 129 Ibid., p. 140. 130 Ibid., p. 139. 131 Ibid., p. 140. 124 125

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with colonizing expectations and restrictions. She is called “saved” but this characterization signifies her “queer” death. To AlthausReid, the Canaanite Rahab stands for a liberated, empowered, selfdetermined, dignified, and free woman whereas the Israelite Rahab leads a colonized, heteronormative, and alienated life. AlthausReid’s interpretation makes a radical critique of the conventional meaning given to the story, turning upside-down Christian and Jewish readings. However, it has to be noted that this reading can also be analyzed as possibly promoting a harmful Christian anti-Jewish argumentation structure, even if Althaus-Reid did not intend it. As theologically innovative and hermeneutically provocative as this interpretation unquestionably is, it also equates, at least indirectly, the God of Israel as an oppressive construct of colonial domination. In this regard, the equation resembles radical feminist views of the biblical God as inherently sexist. In such an argumentation structure Israel and the biblical God become the “negative foil” in opposition to the liberatory, queering, Canaanite way of life, and so it potentially attributes anti-Jewish connotations to Jews and the Hebrew Bible. Yet, despite this danger, feminist postcolonial readings have much to offer because they take on pietistic, conventional, and status-quo oriented interpretations of Rahab as the faithful convert; after all, they disregard the dangers of their anti-ecumenical and pro-colonial tendencies. Postcolonial feminist interpretations thus challenge readers to find ways of reading Rahab in which her new identity is not merely classified as woman convert faithful to God because she rejects her “old” Canaanite identity.132 For a similar critique of the “racialized heteronormativity” in the Rahab story, see also Erin Runions, “From Disgust to Humor: Rahab’s Queer Affect,” in Bible Trouble: Queer Reading at the Boundaries of Biblical Scholarship, ed. Teresa J. Hornsby and Ken Stone (Atlanta, GA: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011), pp. 45–74. Runions describes Rahab as a “master of indeterminancy,” as a “trickster” who tricks readers away from “the promise of the hope, inclusion, and safety of white heteronormative citizenship” (p. 70) although she like “most people” is also “implicated in power dynamics that are not [her] choosing but from which [she] cannot 132

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Yet another interpretation illustrates the spectrum of feminist postcolonial approaches to Josh 2. This one is grounded in a critical analysis of both gender and ethnicity, and the two scholars, Kah-Jin Jeffrey Kuan and Mai-Anh Le Tran read Rahab in correlation with their Asian American identities. They characterize Josh 2 as a “peculiar story about a racialized Canaanite, a sexualized prostitute, a female trickster, a figurative ‘broad’ whose city, home, and physical body were ‘entered’.”133 To Kuan and Tran, Rahab conforms to three cultural and contextual stereotypes experienced by many Asian Americans today. First, like Asian Americans, Rahab has a hybrid identity and lives in the liminal, in-between space of her Canaanite and Israelite identities. Second, like Asian Americans, she is a perpetual foreigner who is included in the Israelite fold, but at the same time her outsider status as a Canaanite and a prostitute, who joined Israel and whose loyalty remains suspicious, are always remembered. Kuan and Tran state that the characterization of Rahab as a perpetual foreigner makes Israelites wonder: “If she sold out her own people, might she one day sell us out?”134 Hence, her conversion is never really believed just like Asian-Americans are not fully seen as local Americans even today. Third, like Asian Americans, Rahab is viewed as a “model minority,” a heroine, intelligent, knowledgeable, outsmarting her own king and the other Canaanites, an entrepreneur, and a good negotiator. Kuan and Tran also show that Rahab is portrayed as “a sexualized other” like Asian American women who are often defined as erotized, sexually available, and even “devious madams.”135 And so Kuan and Tran contend: “For as surely as Rahab is made to be a marginalized foreigner, she is so easily abstract [herself] or obviously resist” (p. 69). Runions does not as unambiguously negate Rahab’s conversion to the Israelite God as AlthausReid does, but her reading too lends itself towards a “tendency” of viewing Israel as the colonizer, the “negative foil” against which the Canaanite Rahab and the Canaanites emerge as the non-colonial role models. 133 Kuan and Tran, “Reading Race Reading Rahab,” pp. 30–31. 134 Ibid., p. 36. 135 Ibid., p. 39.

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also lifted up as a model minority—a Canaanite and a prostitute who can ‘out-Israelite’ an Israelite (modern translation: an Asian American who can out-white a white American!).”136 In short, like other feminist postcolonial readers, Kuan and Tran identify with Rahab, the Canaanite, over against her Israelite identity although they do not set up the divide between the Canaanite and the converted Rahab as starkly as Althaus-Reid. To sum up, feminist postcolonial interpreters escape the conundrum of gynocentric-feminist treatments because they connect the analysis of gender with the analytical categories of ethnicity, sexuality, and the geopolitics of power. Attention to the interlocking systems of oppression enables them to read Rahab not with a conquistador perspective, in which Rahab emerges as the perfect convert to Israel’s God. Rather, they reject compliance to the forces of empire, patriarchy, the sexual status quo, and the ethnic-racial hierarchies, and instead read with the “outsiders,” the “Other,” the different one, the Canaanite. In this regard, they ask readers to reexamine how they interpret Rahab and to ponder the implications of their readings in a world filled with unjust power relations and practices.

RAHAB AS AN ANTI-MATRIARCH, AND WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE: THE CONTRIBUTIONS OF A FEMINIST SOCIOLOGY FOR THE INTERPRETATION OF JOSHUA 2 In this latter sense Rahab turns into an “anti-matriarch,” not because she does not bring “liberation from oppression,” does not provide “protection,” and does not ensure “the well-being and security of her people”137—notions about motherhood that anyway would rather cement than challenge androcentric views about women as mothers. As Esther Fuchs showed so clearly and

Ibid. J. Cheryl Exum, “‘Mother in Israel’: A Familiar Figure Reconsidered,” in Feminist Interpretation of the Bible, ed. Letty M. Russell (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1985), p. 85. 136 137

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convincingly in her book Sexual Politics in the Biblical Narrative,138 positive portrayals of mothers do not run counter to the political interests of patriarchy. As “enablers” and sustainers of patrilineal continuity, mothers are necessary.139 With the help of feminist postcolonial interpretations we see this dynamic in the particular case of Rahab. When readers praise Rahab, they collude with the “biblical doctrine regarding power relations between men and women,” as Fuchs put it.140 I agree. However, I also suggest substituting “biblical doctrine” with the “readerly androcentric, colonial, dominating, hierarchical, and status-quo oriented” doctrine because readers, grounded in their social locations, create biblical meanings. Biblical doctrine is not simply “there” to be cherry-picked, analyzed, and either defended or dismantled, because readers construct, define, and embellish it. This, then, is the contribution of a feminist sociology of biblical hermeneutics in the case of Josh 2: it weans readers off “the impression that the biblical narrative imparts to the reader universal truths about the nature of Man;”141 it weans them off the idea that Rahab’s faith should be emulated, that the story is just about various literary sources behind the text, or that is tells us about the place of prostitution in ancient Israel and the ancient Near East. Instead, a feminist sociology of biblical hermeneutics accounts for the many different ways in which readers have thought about Josh 2, often accepting dominant socio-political, economic, and religious reading practices but sometimes challenging and rejecting them. Of the four sociological clusters of interpretation on Josh 2 only feminist postcolonial readers have managed to break through the habit, conventions, and forces of coopting readers into dominant power relations. The forth cluster thus contains innovative, provocative, and significant meanings. They enable us For this idea, see also Esther Fuchs, Sexual Politics in the Biblical Narrative: Reading the Hebrew Bible as a Woman (London/New York: Sheffield Academic Press, 2003). 139 Ibid., p. 47. 140 Ibid., p. 28. 141 Ibid., p. 23. 138

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to reimagine Rahab as a “wise, sexually and economically independent woman” during her earlier “bisexual praxis of thinking and living in the frontier,” of which we have left only “Rahab’s graffiti,”142 almost erased when she became an Israelite heroine in times of geopolitical conquest and triumph. As explained, this reading strategy is fraught with the classic danger of Christian antiJudaism, but it does not have to be this way as it was in the past. What we therefore need is yet another reading of Rahab, one that does not disqualify her Canaanite identity but one that recognizes her hybrid competencies from her life as an Israelite and as a Canaanite. We need to portray Rahab as a hybrid IsraeliteCanaanite woman who knows many ways of living in the world. In such a portrayal she is an anti-matriarch who serves as a reminder that faith and salvation do not need to come at the cost of submitting to the powers that be. The Deuteronomistic redactors might not approve of such a complex appreciation of Rahab, but perhaps they could have been persuaded to this hybrid way of reading her if they had lived in our day when the collaboration of differently situated people is more urgent than it perhaps ever was. We need Rahab as a bridge builder who helps the peoples of Israel and Canaan to come together and to work for social, economic, political, and religious justice in a world torn apart by war, poverty, and ecological changes of never seen proportions. A feminist sociology of interpretations on Josh 2 provides the hermeneutical horizon for Christians and Jews to understand the contributions of their religious traditions in this task.

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140.

Althaus-Reid, “Searching for a Queer Sophia-Wisdom,” pp. 139,

GUILTY PLEASURES: HEARING SUSANNA’S STORY INTONED BY LEONARD COHEN RUTHANNE WROBEL TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA As a daughter of Eve, trapped by garden intruders, Susanna has long appealed to artists, poets and writers. In this Hellenistic narrative, malicious eyes spy on a bathing beauty, servants witness the accusations and eager readers survey the scene. Susanna’s friends and family watch her unveiled and disgraced before the assembly. Young Daniel, observing the trial, rises to appeal the verdict. His questions combine an astute knowledge of prior misdeeds with observant detective work at the scene of the crime. Susanna returns to embrace her family, with her audible prayers answered. Yet, there is more to Susanna’s story, tucked between the testaments, than spotting an alluring woman to admire or admonish. When set to song by Canada’s legendary ladies’ man, poet and lyricist, Leonard Cohen, the figure of Susanna as a beauty for all ages, reaches back in time to embrace her predecessors and points forward to new horizons. In interviews, Cohen has explained how Montreal settings and meetings in the 1960s inspired his famous, signature song, “Suzanne.” The location was “the landscape around the church Notre Dame de Bonne Secours … those buildings, the St. Lawrence, Our Lady of the Harbour…” According to the poet “the song is almost reportage. It’s just a very accurate evocation of exactly what

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happened.”1 Along with accuracy and artistry, a close reading of this song reveals a writer who draws deeply from wellsprings of western literature and art. By juxtaposing verses from Cohen’s “Suzanne” with scenes from the apocryphal book of “Susanna,” this essay unveils Susanna and her biblical sisters as a vital impulse for this music, provoking the poet with their presence and vocal authority. With biblical imagery and allusions infusing so much of his writing,2 Susanna as anima, as muse and as archetype stands close at hand, as Cohen lures each listener to open hearts and minds to the mysteries of desire, despair, creation and redemption. An intertextual approach that reads between the lines and behind the scenes is well suited to comparative studies of biblical imagery and motifs in Cohen’s poetic compositions. The method of close reading applied here arises from several key sources, including Northrop Frye’s seminal studies in biblical literary criticism and Marshall McLuhan’s thought-provoking analyses of figure/ground relations and shifts.3 These Canadian scholars view literary creations as multi-layered conversations between author and readers in different eras, in changing social, political contexts. Each text or figure, ancient or modern, sacred or secular, has its own form and integrity to be deciphered and examined on its own terms. Yet, levels of meaning transform through each reading, so succeeding generations hear an ever-fresh message that speaks from cosmic patterns to pressing, current concerns.

Harry Rasky, The Song of Leonard Cohen: Portrait of a Poet, a Friendship and a Film, (Oakville, ON: Mosaic Press, 2011.), p. 98. 2 Prominent examples include these compositions: “Story of Isaac” from Songs from a Room, Columbia, CK 9767, 1969; and the “baffled king” David in “Hallelujah” from Various Positions, Passport, PCC 90728, 1984. 3 See for example: Northrop Frye, Words With Power: Being a Second Study of the Bible in Literature, (Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin Books, 1990). Also, W. Terrence Gordon, Marshall McLuhan: Escape into Understanding, A Biography, (Toronto, ON: Stoddart, 1997), Chapter 14, “Figure and Ground,” pp. 307–313. 1

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I. FOUR GROUNDS According to Marshall McLuhan, readers and listeners make meaning of texts by choosing first to focus on a central figure, a person, idea, motif, image or object, some thing that stands out to command attention. Observing and describing this figure in detail is a firm place to start. Yet, deeper understanding grows from grounds around each figure, such as geographic settings, political situations, cultural foundations. Through his comprehensive studies of the universe of western literature, Northrop Frye delineated four locations, four metaphor clusters that form the world of words for all verbal compositions. The mythic spaces encompass Garden and Furnace on a horizontal dimension, governed by cyclical and historical time lines, while Cave and Mountain span the vertical dimension that intersects and interrupts daily lives and times with interventions from a vast, eternal realm. These mythic regions exist in memory and imagination, in literature and in life. From tensions and conflicts within and between these places, come insights that inspire cultural expressions. While often overlooked or ignored, such elements are operating to structure, define and shape current creations. As Frye asserts: “The poetic imagination constructs a cosmos of its own, a cosmos to be studied not simply as a map but as a world of powerful, conflicting forces.”4 Frye’s four-part structure provides rich, linguistic grounds from which to examine leading figures in the texts at hand. This study will follow Susanna as her private pleasure garden becomes a dreadful trap, leading to her trial and public humiliation. In Frye’s terms, the story travels from Garden to Cave and Furnace before a voice from the Mountain proclaims the truth. In Cohen’s song, we first meet Suzanne in a riverside setting, a home with both Garden and Cave-like qualities, where “she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China.”5 As this horizontal scene dissolves,

Frye, ibid., p. xxii. Leonard Cohen, “Suzanne” from Songs of Leonard Cohen, Columbia, CL 2733, 1968. Reprinted in Leonard Cohen, Stranger Music: Selected Poems 4 5

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eyes are drawn upward to the vertical dimension of sea, sky, sailors, drowning men, a “lonely wooden tower” (a Mountain) and a broken prophet, a lost soul. In the final stanza, the river bank is an unkempt, urban Garden, (or Furnace), a place of “garbage and flowers,” “rags and feathers,” and refuge with the “Salvation Army.” The intention here is not to find strict correlations between these stories; both compositions are masterful works by gifted artists. To juxtapose these works in terms of themes, motifs and inter-textual grounds, with Frye and McLuhan in mind, heightens appreciation for the authors and female figures in both worlds who charm, disarm, delight and enlighten.

II. MIND GAMES Setting is all important then, and in both song and story, the central figure of Suzanne/Susanna, whose name means ‘lily’ in Hebrew, stands out in eye-catching scenes. Both women live near flowing rivers: Babylon on the Euphrates and Montreal on the St. Lawrence. Susanna bathed in the garden in the heat of the day. In the evening, Suzanne takes you “down to her place near the river” then “leads you to the river” as sun shines in the morning. Susanna’s garden was a gated enclosure of shade, leisure, privacy and relaxation. Every garden in literature is some version of Eden, Paradise, Mother Earth, virgin forests ever ripe with plants, fruits, nuts, and flowing waters. Nature is a goddess who loves all creatures; She is sister, daughter, bride, lover and Mother of us all. The hunger for love, for our perfect partner, our soul-mate, for a marriage made in heaven, for a sexual union that satisfies our deepest needs, is always a return to the Garden.6 While the rivers of Babylon water the Garden, the grand, imperial city is a Furnace in and Songs, (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1993), “Suzanne,” pp. 95– 96. Subsequent quotations are from this published version. 6 From ancient history and literature, Hathor, Isis, Asherah, Eve, Venus, Diana, the Virgin Mary, the Black Madonna, the White Queen and Alice are all symbolic gardens. Their shadows, the Sirens, Medusa, Delilah, Jezebel, Salome, and Cleopatra tempt and warn us of dangers within. For further examples, see Northrop Frye, op. cit., “Second Variation: The Garden,” pp. 188–228.

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Frye’s terms, so readers are set to expect trouble, tension between these locations, with seeds of discord sown within each one. Since the mind is a well known erogenous zone, artists engage their audience by posing a lovely lady in the company of another who is readily envisioned as her lover. With other eyes present to spy on their coupling, the voyeuristic experience is intensified for the audience and perhaps, for the players. For example, Leonard Cohen writes these words of a summer romance with an English rose: “a suntanned woman yawned me through the summer; the judges watched us from the other side.”7 This act of seeing without being seen is well known in mythology, psychology and the visual arts. Like the original garden of earthly delights, Susanna’s enclosure was infiltrated and corrupted by lustful eyes and lying minds. The elders were wily characters, both wise (in some ways) and foolish. They played the role of the smooth-talking serpent and then, through literary inversion, they also act as did Eve. Their eyes were drawn to the prize, most delightful to look at and highly desirable. When asked to explain their presence behind closed garden gates, these men seized on specific details to bolster their false story: “we will testify … that a young man was with you, and this was why you sent your maids away” (Sus 21).8 In this later variation of the fall from Eden, the female figure “sighed deeply,” voicing her decision not to submit to the men but instead “to fall into your hands, rather than to sin in the sight of the Lord” (Sus 23). Unlike Eve, she did not give in to the tempters; much like Eve, she must now face trials and dire punishments. Susanna’s leafy haven of cool water, shade trees and fragrance was transformed into a testing ground of shadowy figures, whispers, secrets, shouts and lies. Such features fill the location Leonard Cohen, Stranger Music, “The Traitor,” pp. 304–305. Further lines that allude to Susanna are these: “Let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone/ Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon” from “Dance Me To the End of Love,” ibid., pp. 337–338. 8 Bruce M. Metzger, editor, The Oxford Annotated Apocrypha, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1965), “Susanna,” pp. 213 to 215. Subsequent quotations are from this edition of the Revised Standard Version. 7

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Northrop Frye has called the Cave. In a subterranean or submarine world, Frye entrenched myths of descent, buried treasure, magic foods and drinks, the subconscious, fears of disease and decay, cycles of life and death. In the Cave, distinctions between subject and object disappear, as words become distorted echoes, menacing noises or mocking rhymes. The oracle is the verbal unit of the cave. We return each night to the cave of dreams, the womb and tomb of all our hopes and fears.9 The transition from Garden to Cave brings complexity and uncertainty for readers and listeners. When Susanna’s household servants hear shouts and rush to the garden, they were “greatly ashamed” and did not know what to believe. We are not told what thoughts fill the minds of her father, Hilkiah or her husband, Joakim. The next time we see Susanna, she is veiled and weeping. And what of the missing man, the elusive lover in the story? Susanna’s paramour was a figment of older, malicious minds seeking to intimidate and target a young woman. The existence of this invisible man was known only through his absence. As the elders testify: “we could not hold the man, for he was too strong for us, and he opened the doors and dashed out. So we seized the woman and asked her who the young man was, but she would not tell us.” (Sus 39,40). Neither subject, nor object, this figure was nowhere to be found. During the night spent beside Suzanne, as boats pass by, loving relations are more imagined than real. While her companion has “no love to give her,” he manages to envision and to touch “her perfect body” with his mind. The speaker seems tuned in to an original “soul-body unit,” the “adam” (adamah, Heb.) formed from the dust of the ground into which “the soul (nephesh) is breathed in directly by God.”10 As Frye recounts, before the creation of Eve, this parched, adamah figure rested in relation to the well-watered feminine ground of the Garden herself.11 The Plato’s Cave, the caverns at Delphi, the belly of the whale, the lion’s den, the Ark, the Titanic, ancient tombs and the stable in Bethlehem are all symbolic caves. Frye, op. cit., “Third Variation: The Cave,” pp. 229– 271. 10 Frye, op. cit., p. 188. 11 Ibid., p. 191. 9

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potential for union and human community is fulfilled with the creation of Eve, the ultimate achievement of divine ingenuity. Cohen sets his song at the water’s edge, an ambiguous space where a “half-crazy” woman takes the lead. She welcomes him, offers foreign food and drink, calms fears, inspires trust, then lets the wavelengths of the river match the rhythms of desire. Perceptions of the senses are distorted in this murky world or Cave as sounds, scents, tastes and touch overwhelm the prominence of sight lines to define and delineate. To some degree, the poet sees himself in two roles: as an imaginary friend and lover who vanishes from sight, and also a stand-in for the elders playing mind games with a beautiful woman. He wants “to travel with her” and is willing to “travel blind.” While the narrator says there were words he meant to tell her that were never clearly spoken, Leonard Cohen’s writing has made this meeting legendary.12 In both texts, the women command attention in different ways, as they move within the frameworks of their respective literary settings. Susanna speaks loudly both when trapped and when on trial, while Suzanne soothes her latent lover into silence and then into song. Of course, every artist is both creature and Creator, breathing life into perfect, ideal forms. These early lines by Leonard Cohen prove to be an inspiration for a litany of lyrics yet to come.

III. TESTS, TRIALS, TREES, TOWERS The location where Frye has erected the ‘Furnace’ is the site of titanic struggles between giants, heroes, supermen and demons. World empires, Egypt, Babylon, Persia and Rome inhabit this space and fill it with vast building projects, huge armies, storerooms piled high with silver, guarded by flashing swords. Technology is supreme in this realm, machines forged in fire, hammered in wood and iron, tested in battle.13 Readers are reminded that there are two Find an interview with Suzanne Verdal, (also known as Suzanne Verdal McCallister, and Suzanne Vaillancourt), who describes meeting with Leonard Cohen in Montreal in the early 1960s online: http://www.leonardcohenfiles.com/verdal.html. 13 Frye, op. cit., “Fourth Variation: The Furnace,” pp. 272–313. 12

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kinds of trial: a trial of accusation with a judge, witnesses for the prosecution, a verdict and a sentence. Then there is also a trial of testing and refining. Susanna expected she was in the first situation; she awaited judgment according to the Law, even if the punishment was death. The private home of the accused became a public courthouse; along with her parents, children and relatives, she entered the assembly to be judged by the people. The two elders who plotted against her ordered that she be unveiled, so Susanna stood disgraced, assumed to be guilty, humiliated in shame before the whole congregation. “Her family and friends and all who saw her wept.” Susanna, also weeping, “looked up towards heaven” (Sus 33,35). She continued to trust in the Lord and looked towards the Mountain, from whence might come her last, faint hope.14 Susanna’s trial of accusation then shifts to become a trial of testing for the elders. The oppressive heat of these hours on trial in the Babylonian Furnace at last calls forth the truth which cries “with a loud voice” from the Mountain (Sus 42,44). On the top of the ‘Mountain,’ Northrop Frye enthroned God, the Sun, Kings, the Law, the Prophet, Judgment and ultimate Freedom. This is the home of the Word, the sacred text, the authorized version, the commandment carved in stone. The Mountain connects the earth below with the heavens above. From the Mountain, ears strain to hear the verdict and sentence.15 Susanna stood alone in the midst of the people, while the elders placed “their hands upon her head” (Sus 34). As they tell their tale for a third time, they conclude with the words “These things we testify” (Sus 40). When Susanna cried out to the Lord God of Israel, she evoked the power of the Mountain to proclaim truth and justice. An unlikely figure then enters the story, “a young lad named Daniel” (Sus 45). In place of the make-believe young man in the garden, now an assertive young man stepped forward, bold enough to challenge the testimony placed before him. Daniel added “I will lift up mine eyes unto the mountains: From whence shall my help come?” Ps 121:1 (ASV). 15 Temples, towers, pyramids, ziggurats, ladders, winding stairs, and sacred trees are all symbolic mountains. Frye, op. cit., Chapter Five, “First Variation: The Mountain,” pp. 144–187. 14

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his “loud voice” to that of the accused and declared, “I am innocent of the blood of this woman” (Sus 46). Now Daniel becomes the inquisitor; he first questioned the people assembled as a jury, “Have you condemned a daughter of Israel without examination and without learning the facts?” (Sus 48). Then he separated the witnesses for the purpose of cross-examination. His discerning questions returned the elders and audience to the Garden where this all began; under close scrutiny, the men’s testimony failed the test of truth. Instead of the accusers reciting their story a fourth time, Daniel, a new Adam with power to name, probed for botanical details, “Under what tree did you see them being intimate with each other?” (Sus 54,58). Two trees figure in this scene, operating in mythic terms as a tree of knowledge and a tree of life. The massive evergreen oak stands stately and tall, in sharp contrast to the compact, aromatic mastic gum tree. Word play foreshadows the fate of each speaker as the sentence of death shifts to strike down the false witnesses.16 Referring once more to Eden, Daniel declared: “the angel of God is waiting with his sword to saw you in two, that he may destroy you both” (Sus 59). So a discerning Daniel entrapped the wicked elders by seeing through the trees where their stares ensnared their victim. This dramatic device of a last-minute reprieve based on startling new evidence has become a time-honoured, courtroom cliché. As a model of storytelling, long before Sherlock Holmes or Perry Mason, the narrow escape of Susanna makes a satisfying tale. Through the intervention of young Daniel, Susanna was saved. Meanwhile, Leonard Cohen’s song takes an unexpected but not unrelated turn. First time listeners may be surprised by the figure of Jesus in Cohen’s composition. Like some of his followers, this Jesus was a sailor who famously entered maritime history “when he walked upon the water.”17 By the time Cohen raises this figure in his text, In Greek, the words for ‘mastic tree’ (ὑπο σχίνον, hupo schinon), and ‘cut’ (σχίσει, schisei) are similar, likewise the word for ‘evergreen oak’ (ὑπο πρίνον, hupo prinon), and ‘saw’ (πρίσαι, prisai). Online: http://www.answers.com/topic/susanna-and-the-elders. 17 A story told in three gospels: Matthew 14:22–33, Mark 6:45– 52 and John 6:16–21. 16

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Jesus has endured a trial based on false accusations; he has been sentenced, “broken,” “forsaken” and doomed. During agonizing hours on the cross, he “spent a long time watching from his lonely wooden tower.” Like Susanna, his suffering is a public spectacle, with an agonizing death imminent. From his position in the Furnace, trapped by Roman technology, he can watch the shoreline and the horizon where sea and sky meet (the Mountain). Described as “almost human,” Jesus utters this sentence on the human condition: “All men will be sailors then until the sea shall free them.” As a symbol, the towering wooden cross has many connotations, including a semblance to ancient ships, made of wood and nails, with a single-mast, a crossbeam fixed in place and a ladder ascending to the yardarm.18 The ship at sea is an intermediate space with no mooring place or harbour. In this song, the poet places blind trust in the ship, the mast, the sail, the captain, the winds, the waves and the voyage. Authors of both stories pose similar questions such as: Who is worthy of my trust? Where does truth lie? Do you see what I see? Do you hear what I hear?

IV. GIRL WATCHING Since the moment when Eve and Adam exchanged knowing glances, the power of the gaze to command attention has grown. From Diana to Medusa, from Salome to Bathsheba, men have risked ruin and lost lives through gazing too long or too ardently. The ladies in Leonard Cohen’s lines are well known for leading men on, for allowing gents to glimpse their charms, while guarding the gates to the garden. The poet’s desire is to follow these lovely forms wherever they wander. Whether as a brief encounter or an enduring love affair, memories of embracing these visions of beauty linger on to inspire the poet and to entice his listeners. In his third stanza, Suzanne appears as “our lady of the harbour.” As accurate reporting from the docks of Old Montreal, the phase Dennis Ronald MacDonald, Christianizing Homer: The Odyssey, Plato, and the Acts of Andrew, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 259. 18

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refers to a statue of Mary, crowned as Star of the Sea, placed high atop the chapel known as the “Sailors’ Church,” overlooking the St. Lawrence river. Small models of old ships hang inside the nave, along with statues and memorials to souls lost at sea. “Our Lady,” her arms raised in prayer gazes down on all who glance her way or pass her by.19 Clear connections surface between the figures in Cohen’s poem, as Suzanne “takes your hand” and “holds her mirror” and “shows you where to look.” As a time-honoured artistic motif, the woman holding and gazing into the mirror inspects her own reflection. In these texts, Susanna/Suzanne reverses the scene, so that the men whose eyes watch are forced to face their own deep desires, their own true selves. As one of Cohen’s biographers explains: Feminists might complain that he objectifies women, constantly subjecting them to the tyranny of the male gaze. But to Cohen, the most exciting thing—perhaps even the sexiest thing—about the woman is what she reveals about him; he’s the one who’s been illuminated.20

No longer content to gaze on a woman as an object, the subject in these lines looks for “heroes in the seaweed” and sees children “leaning out for love.”21 Much as the gazing that “hemmed in” Susanna is disarmed by insightful Daniel, so glances that could seem leering or looming are transformed in the song through the poet’s imagination into trusting engagement with the muse. Rivers of inspiration flow onward through these texts, as self-awareness and creative knowing awaken for the author and the audience. Find information and photographs of Notre Dame de Bon Secours Chapel, Montreal, Quebec, Canada online: http://www.montreal.com/churches/index.html. 20 Tim Footman, Leonard Cohen Hallelujah: A New Biography, (New Malden, Surrey: Chrome Dreams, 2009), p. 184. 21 Children along the riverbank, along with “heroes in the seaweed” call to mind infant Moses in his reed basket on the river. Bronze angels surrounding the statue of Our Lady, along with a gilded Madonna and Child standing over entry doors to the chapel may be related to these lyrical “leaning” children. 19

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Stories reveal their richness as they reach new ears and eras. Possibly written sometime between 150 and 50 BCE, Susanna’s story survives in two Greek versions, in the Septuagint (48 verses) and in Theodotion (64 verses). Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox churches included it in the book of Daniel as chapter 13, while Protestants placed it in the Apocrypha. “Susanna” was not accepted or included as a Jewish sacred text.22 Mythic grounds and hidden meanings in this ancient folk-tale have long intrigued scholars and teachers. For example, Louis F. Hartman proposed a source for the text in the reign of Seleucid ruler Antiochus IV Epiphanes (ruled 175 to 164 BCE), with his relentless campaign to Hellenize Israel, desecrate the Jewish Temple and destroy all opposition. Daniel described the elders as “offspring of Canaan” trying to lead astray a righteous “daughter of Judah.” This superb, engaging detective story contains stern warnings against falling prey to seductive, foreign influences. According to this view, “Susanna’s heroic statement, ‘It is better for me to fall into your power without guilt than to sin before the Lord’ (v. 23), would then be a fine expression of the sentiments of the Maccabean martyrs when offered the choice between apostasy and death.”23 Antiochus died during an unsuccessful campaign to capture the site of Susa in the Persian Empire. According to one source, he and his generals “were cut to pieces in the temple of the goddess Nanea by an act of treachery on the part of her priests.” (2 Macc 1:13). Much as discerning Daniel defeated the wicked elders to save virtuous Susanna, so through her protectors, Nanea, “the goddess of love and war proved stronger than the powerful Seleucid ruler.”24 Find further information online: www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/14126-susanna-the-history-of Find notes on Theodotion’s “Susanna” online: http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/14361-theodotion. 23 Louis F. Hartman, found online: http://www.earlyjewishwritings.com/susanna.html. 24 Antiochus wanted ritual marriage to the goddess as a way to plunder her treasury. Instead, he was lured inside the temple, the doors were sealed shut, then he and his men were stoned, beheaded and dismembered. There are specific points of comparison with details in the 22

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In mythic terms, the gates to the original Garden are sealed and barred against those who seek re-entry. Susanna returned with her husband and family after her ordeal, knowing that her Babylonian garden would never by Eden. At any moment, the Furnace might release its fiery fury. Neither in exile nor in Israel would her people find Paradise. The only hope was to keep moving and watchful, with Sinai, the holy Mountain, ever in mind, while loving the Lord “with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.” (Deut 6:5). As a Jewish-Canadian born in Montreal, Leonard Cohen, his family and community are well versed in the challenges of life as a distinct minority, as children of migrants seeking refuge, as Anglophone outsiders among Francophones, as observant Jews in a city of Catholics and Protestants, as Quebecers in federation with Ottawa and as Canadians sharing a border with the United States. Since Voltaire dismissed Canada as “a few acres of snow” (quelques arpents de neige) in 1758, the absence of prominent figures and landmarks within frozen, barren, desolate, empty spaces has endured as a primal ground in Canadian consciousness. Some observers awaiting the birth of a vibrant, full-fledged Canadian literature have condemned Frye’s over-arching structures of verbal cosmologies as contributing to this lack of identity crisis. The Great Code, the Great Wheel of literary order seems so massive and unyielding as to swallow whole would-be writers, numbing them into silence.25

story of Susanna and the Elders. Related myths from the cosmology of ancient Sumer may be applicable, such as furtive meetings between Enlil and Ninlil, along with classical tales of Artemis (Diana) and Actaeon. See Carol Myers and Toni Craven, editors, Women in Scripture: A Dictionary of Named and Unnamed Women in the Hebrew Bible, the Apocryphal/ Deuterocanonical Books, and the New Testament, (Grand Rapids, MC: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2001), “Nanea,” pp. 533–534. 25 In an oft-quoted passage, Northrop Frye drew this comparison: “The traveller from Europe edges into it [Canada] like a tiny Jonah entering an inconceivably large whale… To enter the United States is a matter of crossing an ocean; to enter Canada is a matter of being silently swallowed by an alien continent.” The Bush Garden: Essays on the Canadian

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By charting and elevating the total corpus of western literature (ancient, biblical, Shakespearean, early modern) into a master plan, a universal pattern, Frye’s detractors claim that he dismissed or diminished the artistic work of those who would generate fresh, local creative expressions.26 In McLuhan’s terms, only by staking claims in a common ground, a shared imaginative legacy, a Promised Land, would literary and artistic figures arise with Canadian tales to tell. Throughout his writings, Frye repeated his belief that knowledge of and experiences within the grand land of literature itself form the most authentic grounds for re-creation. By entering the minds of others through story-telling, we place ourselves in novel situations where freedom to observe, listen and learn helps minds spread roots and wings. Just such a process takes place within each text presented here; as voyeurs watch the women, viewers watch themselves react. Susanna of Babylon, a master work of world literature, may hark back to goddess myths from ancient Sumer or stem from seeds sown in Eden or spark from political struggles in the author’s day. Cohen’s song recounts a meeting with Suzanne Verdal in Montreal and revives familiar figures from Jewish and Christian testaments and revisits French Canadian territory. All sources and streams that engendered these stories served to fertilize and enrich the cultural grounds of each artistic form. While parallels are present between these texts, they lie beneath the surface, just near enough to net some close attention. Something singular evolves in each text that shows readers where to look and how to move with imagination towards the centre and circumference of human heritage, identity and community.

Imagination, (Toronto: House of Anansi, 1971), p. 217. Critics have turned simile and metaphor back on Frye himself. 26 For example, see Russell Morton Brown, “The Northrop Frye Effect,” in Branko Gorjup, editor, Northrop Frye’s Canadian Literary Criticism and Its Influence, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009), pp. 279– 295.

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SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY Caspi, Mishael Maswari and Sascha Benjamin Cohen. Still Waters Run Deep: Five Women of the Bible Speak. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1999. Cohen, Leonard. “Suzanne,” Songs of Leonard Cohen, Columbia, CL 2733, 1968. Cohen, Leonard. The Future. Columbia-Sony, CK 53226, 1992. Cohen, Leonard. Stranger Music: Selected Poems and Songs. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1993. Ellens, J. Harold. Sex in the Bible: A New Consideration. Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers, 2006. Footman, Tim. Leonard Cohen Hallelujah: A New Biography. New Malden, Surrey: Chrome Dreams, 2009. Frye, Northrop. The Bush Garden: Essays on the Canadian Imagination. Toronto: House of Anansi, 1971. Frye, Northrop. Words With Power: Being a Second Study of the Bible in Literature. Harmondsworth, UK: Penguin Books, 1990. Gordon, W. Terrence. Marshall McLuhan: Escape into Understanding, A Biography. Toronto, ON: Stoddart Publishing, 1997. Gorjup, Branko editor. Northrop Frye’s Canadian Literary Criticism and Its Influence. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009. McLuhan, Marshall. Edited by Eric McLuhan and Jacek Szklarek. The Medium and the Light: Reflections on Religion, Toronto, ON: Stoddart Publishing, 1999. Metzger, Bruce M. Editor. The Oxford Annotated Apocrypha. New York: Oxford University Press, 1965, “Susanna,” pp. 213 to 215. Myers, Carol and Toni Craven, Editors. Women in Scripture: A Dictionary of Named and Unnamed Women in the Hebrew Bible, the Apocryphal/ Deuterocanonical Books, and the New Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2001. Rasky, Harry. The Song of Leonard Cohen: Portrait of a Poet, a Friendship and a Film. Oakville, ON: Mosaic Press, 2011. Scobie, Stephen. Editor. Essays on Canadian Writing: Leonard Cohen Issue. Number 69. Toronto, ON: ECW Press, Winter 1999.

MOTHERS OF THE NATION AS POUNDS OF FLESH AZILA TALIT REISENBERGER UNIVERSITY OF CAPE TOWN, SOUTH AFRICA Every story is told for a reason. Its raison d’etre is not always transparent, but it determines the selection of details that are included or omitted and can be gleaned by careful reading. The reason for its existence also dictates how the material is organized in order to focus the readers’ attention on certain aspects and increase the desired effect on them. The story teller describes a particular situation from a particular point of view—that of one of the parties who appear in the body of the story, or from an outsider’s vantage point. However, as story telling is a relational activity in which the readers actively participate,1 it is important to note that readers come with their own points of view informed by their personal life experience. Many have recognized that a reader’s life experience is formed by historical, geographical, and social elements, which together constitute his or her cultural make up, and all these inform their reading. But little has been said about the fact that in the same way that writers tell stories for a reason, readers also read these stories for a reason. This essay proposes that while the reason to tell a story dictates its formation, the reason to read the story has a considerable impact on the way these stories are read and interpreted. 1

When I say ‘readers,’ I include listeners to the story.

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The Bible is one of the most read books in the world. It carries more weight than other literary creations as many see it as a revelatory text that should be ethically beneficial, and consider that biblical hermeneutics emanating therefrom should contribute to all that is good. Indeed, many books have been written on the meaning of the written ‘Word’ and on the message it conveys. In order to unearth the meaning of ‘the message,’ readers have engaged in close reading, have paid attention to every word, and then have written down their comments. Over time the older commentaries, the classic texts, have gained much prestige and are read side by side with the biblical text. Observant Jews and deeply religious Christians who engage in studying the Bible tend to pay much attention to these commentaries, citing humility as the reason for the high esteem in which they hold these commentaries in preference to their own personal reading of the text. Modern scholars tend to sneer at this reverential attitude towards religious commentators, citing the commentators’ ignorance of ‘scholarly facts’ that have emerged in the recent past, or contending that the commentators’ opinions were clouded by their religious beliefs. In short, they propose that interpreters and commentators of the past are out of date and not objective enough. Spurred on by modern theories and academic methodologies, modern scholars re-evaluate the biblical text and themselves comment on it. One of the most common criticisms voiced by modern biblical readers is the discomfort evoked in them by what are supposed to be ethical texts. Should the Bible have been a secular literary text it might have been relegated to back shelves in libraries and taught in some academic courses dealing with ancient literature; but many believers in the Judaeo-Christian world see the Bible as an authoritative text that contains the Divine Word and a directive for their lives. The attempt to maintain the centrality of the Canon to their religious ethos whilst admitting that some of the narratives alienate them has brought about many apologetic papers of ‘reconciliation.’2 See C. Osiek, “The Feminist and the Bible: Hermeneutical Alternatives,” in A.Y. Collins (ed), Feminist Perspectives on Biblical Scholarship, 2

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However, scrutiny of the biblical text has not remained exclusively in the hands of religious observants. Encouraged by the flourishing of literary criticism of the Bible as a field of study, and the changes that the Feminist Movement has brought about in many fields of study, I decided to revisit a biblical narrative that deals with a mother of a nation, and trace the evolution of the hermeneutics that it has evoked in the past two millennia. This essay shows how these hermeneutics reflect, not only the commentator’s life experience and attitude, but also his or her reason for engaging with the text. The biblical narrative in question is ‘The Rape of Dinah’ as it appears in Gen 34. It is introduced together with some classical interpretations. This is followed by a consideration of modern commentary and modern reading and academic debate. By introducing a variety of readers’ responses, and placing them in context, the paper illustrates that the reason for reading is an essential part of the reciprocal relationship involved in bringing texts to life. This conclusion can be summarized in the Hebrew idiom: 3‫ במומו פוסל‬,‫הפוסל‬

READING GENESIS 34 Genesis 34 tells the story of Jacob and Leah’s daughter, Dinah, who went to visit the ‘daughters of the land’. A man from the neighborhood, Shechem ben Hamor, saw her, seized her and raped her. Violent as the act was, he fell in love with her and took her to his home. He asked his father to go and ask Jacob, her father, to set the official bride-price for her. Jacob was at loss as to what was the appropriate action to take, but his sons decided to avenge their sister’s honor and to do it cunningly.

(Atlanta: Scholars’ Press, 1985), pp. 99–100; David M. Scholer, “Feminist Hermeneutics and Evangelical Biblical Interpretation,” in Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 30 (4) (Dec 1987): 407–420. There is a long list of these kinds of studies, and one finds articles in many church bulletins and in seminarians’ theses around the world. 3 The closest idiom in English is “The pot calling the kettle black.”

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They demanded that the whole tribe of Hamor and Shechem be circumcised in order to allow close relationship and future family ties. The tribesmen were convinced to do so, and while they were still recuperating from the operation, Jacob’s sons mounted an attack, killed them and confiscated all their belongings, including women and live-stock. Amongst the women whom they took with them was their sister Dinah, who was brought back home. When Jacob voiced his concern about consequences of their violence their explanation was that it was punishment for treating their sister as a whore.4 Reading this chapter, as when reading most biblical narratives, it becomes amply clear that the story is set in and reflects a patriarchal tradition; that is to say that authority was hierarchically arranged and expressed in formal legal or judicial traditions. In this hierarchy, men were in authority and women were subjugated—a situation that is unacceptable to modern society which prides itself on entrenching gender equality in the law.5 Notwithstanding the fact that I do not endorse a patriarchal world order, some modern scholars concentrate on the issue of patriarchy as the exclusion of women from politics and public activities as the main issue,6 rather than accepting the different historical context and registering that women in some biblical narratives might have had little authority, but had a great deal of power.7 Having said this, I concede that Dinah’s hardship, as described in Gen 34, is rooted in the patriarchal system, as she was physically hurt, violated, and her needs as a person were ignored by the men around her.

While rewriting the story in my own words I became aware of how much of my own personality and opinions are included in my summary. Try as I might, I could not get rid of my own influence. 5 See Silvia Schroer in Schottroff, Schroer & Wacker, Feminist Interpretation: The Bible in Women’s Perspective, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998, pp. 89–91, [translated by Martin and Barbara Rumscheidt] written in German 1995. 6 Ibid., pp. 90–91. 7 See Carol Meyers, Discovering Eve: Ancient Israelite Women in Context, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), p. 41. 4

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One has to acknowledge and agree that the patriarchal system as reported in biblical narrative was the existential reality at the time of the narrative, but we cannot go back in time and change the past. However, what remains with us, the readers, is the narrative world that Dinah continues to occupy in the minds of those reading her story. This narrative world received and continues to receive responses from the interpretive community.8 The character’s own experience, whether a real or narratological experience, is recorded from an androcentric point of view. At this point it may be of value to mention that there is an important distinction between patriarchy and an androcentric point of view, and they do not have to go together. The patriarchal system describes the hierarchy of power at a particular time and place, the androcentric issue here is important as it highlights the fact that the Bible is a ‘male book.’ It concerns itself with men’s interests, and men’s lives, and when women are included in the narrative, they are presented from men’s perspective.9 Books that describe patriarchal societies, yet do not subscribe to them, can introduce certain aspects into the text that show their rejection of patriarchy or their disdain thereof. This does not happen in the biblical text—it describes patriarchy from an androcentric point of view. Consequently it is no surprise that feminists, who are concerned with the well-being of women, advocate interpreting the Bible in what they call the hermeneutic of suspicion. Feminists may come from varied cultures and traditions, and their attitude toward scriptures may differ, but they share the starting point, to quote Katherine Doob Sakenfeld: “the beginning point shared with all feminists studying the Bible, is appropriately a stance of radical suspicion.”10 This is because even if the narrative See Caroline Blyth, Terrible Silence, Eternal Silence—A Consideration of Dinah’s Voicelessness in the Text and Interpretive Tradition of Genesis 34, University of Edinburgh: PhD Divinity Thesis, 2008. 9 See Alice Bach (ed), Women in the Hebrew Bible: A Reader, (London: Routledge, 1999), pp. xiv-xv. 10 See K. D. Sakenfeld, ‘Feminist Uses of Biblical Materials’ in L. Russell (ed), Feminist Interpretation of the Bible, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1985), p. 55. 8

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does not portray women in a compromised way, in many a case it lends itself to an interpretation which was used as a powerful tool in the oppression of women. This essay does not concern itself directly with feminist ideology,11 but since feminist hermeneutics is a liberalist hermeneutics of the ‘Other,’ the neglected and the oppressed, and since Gen 34 deals with Dinah who is the marginalized Other, I take cognizance of some of feminist theology’s way of interpreting the biblical narrative in the light of the oppressive structure of patriarchal society. THE EARLIEST INTERPRETER

The first commentary that I introduce is Josephus’ rewrite of Gen 34 in his Antiquities of the Jews (Vol. I, chapter XXI, section I). In the first century CE, Josephus embarked on rewriting the Bible and some post-biblical Jewish history in Greek in order to find favor with his non-Jewish patrons by presenting the Jewish tradition as very similar to their own. At that time the Judeans kept to themselves and did not marry into other nations. They might have been seen as rural and backward by the more urban and worldly Romans, and the fact that they were circumcised set them clearly as ‘the Others.’ The more apologetic, or even embarrassed, Josephus felt about these issues, the more his re-writing of the text is affected. In retelling Gen 34, he says that the Shechemites had a festival, and Dinah ‘went into the city to see the finery of the women in that country.’12 Describing Jacob’s hesitation in responding to Hamor’s request to pay for Dinah’s restitution, he says: “But Jacob not

For a good summary of the above see Robin Parry, “Feminist Hermeneutics and Evangelical Concerns: The Rape of Dinah as a Case Study,” in Tyndale Bulletin 53 (10) (2002): 1–28. 12 The Complete Works of Josephus, Volume One: The Antiquities of the Jews, Books I–III, (Cleveland, Ohio & New York City: The World Syndicate Publishing Company), p. 70. Written ca. 93–94 CE. 11

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knowing how to deny the desire of one of such great dignity, and yet not thinking it lawful to marry his daughter to a stranger…”13 The request that all Shechemite men be circumcised was omitted altogether; instead, in line with the Roman way of celebrating, Josephus re-wrote the following: “it being now the time of a festival, when the Shechemites were employed in ease and feasting, they [Jacob’s sons] fell upon the watch, when they were asleep, and coming into the city, slew the males… but spared the women…”14 Thus Josephus’s personal issues dictated his interpretation of the biblical text, and in fact it was employed to further his own agenda.

CLASSICAL COMMENTARIES Unlike modern reading strategies which set out to read either with the grain or against the grain, classical commentators read with the grain as they accepted the authority of text as sacred literature. Furthermore, they subscribed to the patriarchal system and the androcentric point of view. Therefore, classical commentaries never question the narrator; they only try to reconcile the narrative with their religious principle and world view. The acceptance of biblical heroes, justifying their actions without questioning, is the most noticeable characteristic of classic commentary. It seems unethical to modern readers, and is particularly hurtful to women who have to stomach excuses and convoluted explanations when the narrative describes violence towards their biblical counterparts. The narrative of the rape of Dinah and the subsequent massacre is one of these anger-inducing texts. One of the principles upon which the Jewish religion stands is Reward and Punishment.

‫שכר ועונש‬

13 14

Ibid., p. 70. Ibid., pp. 70–71.

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Since readers agree that a rape is not a good thing, most early commentators who subscribe to the principle of reward and punishment, deal with the question: who was punished by the rape and what was the transgression that called for a disgraceful act such as the rape of a young woman?

THE RAPE AS A PUNISHMENT FOR JACOB Some rabbis suggest that it was a punishment for Jacob, and there are a few suggestions regarding Jacob’s transgression: 





Bereshit Rabbah 79:8 explained that Jacob usurped authority for himself by writing on the stone he erected at Shalem in which he called himself ‘El’ (see Gen 33:20); for this action he had to suffer and see his daughter raped. Another midrash that cites Jacob’s arrogance as the reason for the rape appears in Bereshit Rabbah 73:9 and it says that when Jacob and Laban divided the flock between them Jacob boasted about his honesty saying that in the future his honesty would come to light. The sages suggest that one should act with humility when one discusses the future, as we read in Prov 27:1 “Do not boast of tomorrow, for you do not know what the day will bring.” As Jacob did not follow this principle he was punished by the rape of his daughter, Dinah. Other sages suggested that Jacob was punished because he kept Dinah, who was a paragon of virtue, from marrying his brother Esau—thus closing the door on Esau’s chance to be rehabilitated. The idea that Jacob kept Dinah away from Esau comes from the fact that when the brothers were due to meet, after many years of estrangement, Gen 32:23 states: “…and he [Jacob] rose up that night, and took his two wives, and his two handmaids, and his eleven children and passed over the Jabbok.” According to this quote the question arises: where was Dinah at the time, as on a careful count of Jacob’s household, it is clear that she is missing? In Gen 46:15 she was mentioned and counted amongst Jacob’s children who went down to Egypt, so why was she not mentioned here? And Bereshit Rabbah 76:9 says that Jacob hid his daughter Dinah in a trunk so Esau did not see her and never married her. Because Jacob kept

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

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Dinah away from his circumcised brother Esau (thus preventing his reformation) he was punished by her rape by the uncircumcised Shechem.15 The idea that Dinah was a paragon of virtue and could transform a husband comes from the midrash that Dinah was Job’s wife, who converted him into the Jewish way of life. What connected Dinah to the book of Job was the word: nevala/nevalot (‘vile’ in singular and in plural) which appears in Gen 34:7 in the narrative of the rape of Dinah and appears in the book of Job, when Job asks his wife why she talks like ahat ha’nevalot Job 2:10. Other sages suggested that it was Jacob’s tardiness that resulted in Dinah’s being raped. Leviticus Rabbah 37:1 suggests that when Jacob fled from Esau, he promised God that if God looked favorably upon him and he was safe, he would return to Beth-El to build an altar to the Lord (Gen 28:20–22). Alas he did not fulfill his promise timeously. First he stayed in Laban’s house for 20 years, and then on his return he went directly to Shechem before fulfilling his promise. For his procrastination and tardiness he was punished by all three of the cardinal sins: Forbidden Sexual Relationship, Bloodshed, and Idolatry. According to the rabbis, the forbidden sexual relationship was when Shechem raped his daughter Dinah, the bloodshed when his sons carried out the massacre of the Shechemites, and as for idolatry, we have a glimpse of it when Jacob commands his household to get rid of all the idols.

One can see where the sages got these ideas when we see that the chapter that follows the rape of Dinah starts with the following two verses: “And God said unto Jacob: Arise, go up to Beth-El, and dwell there; and make an altar unto God, who appeared unto thee when thou didst flee from the face of Esau thy brother. Then Jacob said unto his household, and to all that were with him: Put away the strange gods that are among you, and purify yourselves, and change your garments” (Gen 35:1–2). 15

Bereshit Rabbati, Parashat Vayigash 19.

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THE RAPE AS A PUNISHMENT FOR LEAH Some sages suggested that it was Dina’s mother, Leah, who was punished for her sexual forwardness. As the Bible does not include many details of women’s lives the rabbis did not have many passages to cite as a reason for Leah’s transgression. So they cite Gen 30:14–16. These verses deal with Leah’s selling to her sister Rachel the Dudaim (mandrakes) that Reuben had found (many scholars suggest that the Dudaim were considered to promote fertility). The rabbis found two faults in Leah’s behavior: one is found in the biblical text and the other they found in another earlier midrash. 



Gen 30:16 says that in return for the Dudaim that she gave Rachel, Leah received an extra turn with her husband and therefore when Jacob returned from the field that evening the Bible says that “Leah went out to meet him and said: Thou must come in unto me, for I have surely hired thee with my son’s mandrakes.” The fact that the woman was forward in demanding her conjugal rights with her husband did not please the rabbis. Were they frightened that their own wives and all women would be forward? Be that as it may, they tainted Leah’s forwardness with negative strokes and added to the biblical narrative that when Leah went out to meet her husband she was bedecked as a harlot. For acting in such an immodest manner she was punished by the fact that her own daughter, Dinah, behaved in the same fashion when she went out to visit the daughters of the land, and it ended with her rape (Bereshit Rabbah 80:1).

Since the Rabbis did not have many passages to cite as a reason for Leah’s transgression, they found another fault with Leah’s sale of the Dudaim, but this time they cited an earlier midrash as a reason. According to Megillah 13b, when Laban planned to cheat Jacob and married him to Leah instead of to his beloved Rachel, the lovers got to know about the plan and made signs of recognition between them; signs that only they knew. The rabbis’ imagination went into overdrive when they described how, on the night of the false wedding, Rachel was prepared to suffer by hiding when Jacob made love to Leah, in order to whisper to Leah the little signs that had been arranged between her and Jacob. She did it in order to

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uphold Leah’s honor and not to shame her, and now Gen 30 says that Leah was not prepared to give her the Dudaim which may have helped to rid her of the shame of barrenness (Bereshit Rabbati, Vayishlah p 168).16 This midrash indicates that the rabbis were looking for sexual innuendos in the biblical texts even when they were not there. It is clear that Gen 30 describes the arrangements that allowed Jacob to fulfill his conjugal rights with Rachel and Leah. But to find sexual hints with such details as to where was Rachel hiding during Leah and Jacob’s wedding night reveals more about the commentators’ attitude towards sex than about the biblical narrative.

DINA’S CULPABILITY IN HER OWN RAPE Modern women who followed the long process of getting the various judicial systems around the world to recognize that when a woman wears a mini skirt or walks alone at night she is still not, and should never be, seen as culpable if she is raped, read classical commentary to Gen 34 and gasp in exasperation. When reading classical commentary, all of which was written by males, one is struck by how the culpability for the rape is laid at Dinah’s door.17 Verse 1: “And Dinah… went out to see the daughters of the land” becomes a matter of central concern to both Jewish and Christian commentators alike who blame her for being raped. Some of these commentators take it even further and blame Dinah for the massacre of the city of Shechem as well. In the midrashim (such as Bereshit Rabbah LXXX: II, 8–9 and III, 6–7) there is a remark made by Rabbi Brachia in the name of Rabbi Levi. Rabbi Brachia is known as an eminent sage from the 5th generation of the Amoraim who wrote their commentaries in the second half of the 3rd century (+ 360–400 CE). While Midrash Hagadol, such as Bereshit Rabbah quoted above, is from 400–600 CE, Bereshit Rabbati is attributed to Rabbi Moshe ha-Darshan from the 11th century in France. Some scholars suggest that in his Drashot (homilies) one can find the influence of Christian theology. 17 See Mary Anna Bader, Tracing the Evidence: Dinah in post-Hebrew Bible Literature, (Maryland: Peter Lang Publishing, 2008). 16

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AZILA TALIT REISENBERGER ‫ר' ברכיה בשם רבי לוי דומה הדבר לאחד שיש בידו ליטרא‬... ‫של בשר וכיון שגלה אותה ירד העוף עליו וחטפה ממנו כך ותצא‬ ...‫ וישכב אותה‬,‫דינה בת לאה וירא אותה שכם בן חמור‬ Rabbi Brachia, in the name of Rabbi Levi, says that it is like a man who had a pound of flesh. When he revealed it, a bird of prey saw it, descended on it, grabbed it, and took it away from him. Similarly, when Dinah the daughter of Leah went out, Shechem son of Hamor saw her, grabbed her (and lay with her)…

This was not an embarrassing remark by a specific unknown rabbi, frowned upon or ignored by subsequent sages. Rather, it was an accepted explanation that was copied into Yalkut Shimoni, the comprehensive collection of Midrashim from the 13th century.18 At the same time, we see a similar attitude in early writings of the Church, that of Bernard of Clairvaux in 1125, for example. He was the French Abbot who was described by Pope Pius XII as ‘The Last of the Fathers’ and was sainted.19 It is found also in the monastic rule, the Ancrene Wisse (Anchoresses’ Guide), written in England between 1220 and 1240. It is a book of religious instruction for three lay sisters of noble birth but it was later directed at more women of similar background in West England who were searching for spirituality and guidance. Scholars suggest that the author was either an Augustinian canon or Dominican friar who used biblical passages such as the story of the rape of Dinah to teach the aspiring anchorites to behave modestly; consequently it is not surprising that Dinah was described as culpable in her own suffering for going “out to see the daughters of the land.”20 See Yalkut Shimeoni 134, on Parashat Vayishlach chapter 34, 43. This collection got its name from the fact that it is attributed to Rabbi Shimeon of Frankfurt. 19 Bernard of Clairvaux, Selected Works, [ET G.R. Evans, (New York: Paulist, 1987), p. 124] written in 1125. 20 Ancerene Wisse (Anchorite Spirituality) [(New York: Paulist, A. Savage & N. Watson, 1991), p. 68] written between 1220–1240. 18

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It is also not surprising that Calvin denounced Dinah’s ‘immodest’ behavior—one almost expects this when one considers the social context of his time, and his disposition.21 However, special mention must be made of Martin Luther, the other reformist, who wrote his own commentary on Genesis at the very same time. He is more sympathetic towards Dinah.22 He suggests that Dinah’s behavior was a rebellion against her parents and (pp. 192–194) one has a feeling that he is describing it as behavior accepted for youth when growing up.23 On the emergence of the Enlightenment, one finds more liberal views on relationships in the family. Side by side with the fight for women’s rights, we may still find the proponents of patriarchy, but implying that Dinah was culpable in her own rape is not as common as in earlier commentaries.24 Which makes the mid 20th century words of Gerhard Charles Aalders’ from the Free University of Amsterdam beyond startling. In his book: Christian commentary to Genesis which was published in 1981, he writes: We can surmise that [Dinah] also had some natural desires to be seen by the young men of the city as well… it was disturbing that Dinah would so flippantly expose herself to the men of this pagan city… As a matter of fact, Dinah was far more at fault for what had happened than anyone else in the city of Shechem.25

John Calvin, A commentary of Genesis [ET J. King, (London: Banner of Truth, 1965), p. 218] written in 1554. 22 Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, Vol. 6, (St. Louis: Concordia & Philadelphia: Fortress.1986). Written 1542/1543. 23 J.A. Schroeder, “The Rape of Dina: Luther’s Interpretation of a Biblical Narrative” in Sixteenth Century Journal XXVIII (3) (1997): 775–791. 24 See Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emile Book 5, known also as On Education, [translated with introduction by Allan Bloom, (New York: Basic Books, 1979] written in 1762. See Mary Woolstonecraft, (one of his most vocal opponents), A Vindication of the Rights of Woman with Strictures on Moral and Political Subjects, (London: Joseph Johnson, 1972). 25 G.Ch. Aalders, Bible Student’s Commentary: Genesis Vol. 2 [ET J. Vriend: (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1981), pp. 154, 159]. 21

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One has to note that this book of commentary, directed at students engaging with the biblical text, is still being printed.26

THE COMMENTATORS’ WORST FEARS Many commentators did not only lay the blame at Dinah’s door, but went further to describe her enjoyment of the sexual act. Reading the narrative in the beginning of the 21st century one expects the words Violence and Rape to feature boldly but we find, rather, a language which refers to it as ‘taking’ ‘tempting’ and engaging in illicit sex, as if it was not so bad. I was surprised to see that Martin Luther, in the 16th century, took the opposite view and said clearly that the rape was a crime against Dinah who did not enjoy it.27 Reading the above commentaries it is clear that two main issues were on the minds of the commentators and frightened them, and therefore they referred to them and commented on them repeatedly:  

Parents have to be vigilant in keeping their daughters at home.28 Women’s bodies pose too much of a temptation to men and therefore should be kept hidden away from men’s gaze.29

Gerhard Charles Aalders, who was a founding member of the International Council of Christian Churches in Amsterdam 1948, and was a Professor at the Free University of Amsterdam, died in January 1961, but the edition of the book I saw is from 1981. 27 See Glossa Ordinaria (Schroeder, Luther’s Interpretation 779–780); as opposed to: Bereshit Rabbah LXXX: XI; Richard of Saint Victor (Schroeder, Luther’s Interpretation, 780); Ancrene Wisse, 68, and many more. 28 See Bereshit Rabbah LXXX; Jerome, Letter CVII.6, XXII.25; Luther, op. cit. 93; Calvin, Commentary, p. 218; Gervase Babbington, Works Containing Comfortable Notes upon the Five Books of Moses, (London, 1615), pp. 139–140; etc. 29 Bereshit Rabbah LXXX; Yalkut Shimeoni Parashat Vayishlach; St. Bernard, pp. 124–125; Ancrene Wisse, pp. 68–69, etc. 26

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As commentators were men, they read the texts through their own eyes, and we have glimpses of their own fears in the way they interpret the narrative. Somehow this is not surprising when we read older commentaries but I propose that the contempt of modern scholars towards old commentators is a case of the pot calling the kettle black, because modern academics still discuss the narrative with their own ideologies and prejudices coming to the fore.

RECENT LITERARY STUDIES AND COMMENTARIES ON GENESIS 34 In the seminal work The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading,30 Meir Sternberg holds that the biblical narrative is a foolproof composition and that it is “virtually impossible to… counter read” it,31 and even when readers’ theses are in tension with the narrative, the unitary ideology and the ideological consistency of the Bible make the reader take the moral point.32 Commentary rises from gaps in the text on one hand and a surplus of information on the other,33 and how they relate to the ideology that the Bible presents. But these commentaries are written by humans with their own ideologies. In Chapter 12, “The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading,” Sternberg suggests that verse 2 in Gen 34 indicates that the narrator channels sympathy towards Dinah’s brothers. Dana Nolan Fewell and David Gunn criticize Sternberg, contending that he interprets the biblical narrators incorrectly, and they claim that he reads the narrative through androcentric ‘actionman’ glasses.34 They wrote a whole article refuting Sternberg’s (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987). Ibid., 50. 32 Ibid., 234. 33 See also Meir Sternberg, Hebrew between Cultures: Group Portraits and National Literature, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998). 34 D. Fewell and D. Gunn, “Tipping the Balance: Sternberg’s Reader and the Rape of Dinah,” in Journal of Biblical Literature 110 (2) (1991): 193– 211. 30 31

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erroneous interpretation and went on to propose their own take on the narrative.35 The academic debate with rebuttal and commentary went on for a few years but for our paper what is noticeable is that Fewell and Gunn made the same mistake that Sternberg had done. Many statements in their article reveal their own very personal emotions and thoughts. Here are some of these statements:36    

The narrator tips the balance in Shechem’s favor when he describes how Shechem promises to take care of Dinah out of genuine love for her (pages 196–197). Dinah herself sees the marriage as the best way forward (page 210).37 The narrator leads us to believe that Dinah chose to remain in Shechem’s house until the wedding (page 200). The aggressive brothers engage in mindless revenge: they murder, plunder and rape a whole city (page 205).

Sternberg goes on to reply: M. Sternberg, “Biblical Poetics and Sexual Politics: From Reading to Counter Reading,” in JBL 111 (3) (1992): 463–488. See further also Paul Nobel, “A ‘Balanced’ Reading of the Rape of Dinah: Some Exegetical and Methodological Observations,” in Biblical Interpretation IV (2) (June 1996): 173–203. 36 Please note the italics mark my amazement at Fewell and Gunn’s input, which is definitely not in the biblical text. 37 Deut 22:28–29 is a positive commandment instructing a rapist of a virgin to marry her without the possibility of divorcing her. A study of rape victims indicates clearly that it is unheard of for a rape victim to fall in love with her attacker. See Azila Talit Reisenberger, “Biblical Women—The Non-Existent Entity: A Study in Rape Cases,” in Journal for Constructive Theology, 6 (2), (Dec. 2000): 57–68. This law infiltrated into the Muslim tradition and in 2012 a 25 year old Moroccan woman committed suicide when her father insisted that she stay married to her rapist. Now human rights organizations fight the law on the grounds that it is inhumane and legally in conflict with the new constitution in her country. (Sinikka Tarvainen and Mohsin El-Hassouni, “Desperate teen suicide prompts new look at ‘family’ law,” in The Cape Times, March 21, 2012, p. 2.) 35

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They could not see that Shechem tried to make restitution for his crime (pages 200–201). The brothers take Dinah back home against her will, and kill her reformed fiancé (page 211).

In the same way that Fewell and Gunn had picked up on Sternberg’s judgmental remarks, Suzanne Scholz, a vocal feminist, picked up on Fewell and Gunn’s approval of the rapist’s marriage with Dinah (the rape victim) and rendered their commentary ‘suspect’.38 Yael Shemesh, agrees with Scholz’ point that readers read the narrative with their own prejudices, and are prepared to accept the violent rape and abduction as customary in biblical times. She criticizes the commentators who label the situation ‘abduction marriage’ rather than denouncing it outright.39 When evangelists or observant Jews read the text, they always look for justification for the events in the texts as they bring with them obedient acceptance of the Bible as a prophetic revelation. 40 Pre-judgment applies to every reader with strong convictions and loyalty to any particular method of study or discipline. This is particularly true of feminist theology.41 The purpose of the commentary, determines, to a large extent, the essence of the comment.

S. Scholz, “Through Whose Eyes? A ‘Right’ Reading of Genesis 34,” in A. Brenner (ed), Genesis: A Feminist Companion to the Bible (2nd Series), (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1998), pp. 150–171. 39 Yael Shemesh, “Rape is Rape is Rape. The story of Dinah and Shechem (Genesis 34),” in Zeitschrift für die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft, Vol. 119 (1), (August 2007): 2–21. 40 While studying the classical Christian commentators, I came across huge numbers of modern theses by students in theological departments at tertiary institutions and seminaries around the world. These theses and papers by scholars who are attached to religious institutions such as seminaries have a great underlying sense of apologia. 41 See C. Osiek, “The Feminist and the Bible: Hermeneutical Alternatives,” in A. Y. Collins (ed), Feminist Perspectives on Biblical Scholarship, (Atlanta: Scholars’ Press. 1985), pp. 99–100. 38

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CONCLUSION This essay cannot have an official ending, as when I was writing it I noticed that, in an attempt at brevity, when I summarized Gen 34 in my own words, details appeared, adjectives were added, and explanations were inserted unintentionally. I made the same mistake that scholars the world over warn about—and we all do it. It is clear that when readers engage with biblical narrative, they may have a stative text in their hands, but they bring their living world into the act of reading. There is no ‘neutral’ reading, as there is no reader who is an empty vessel. Each reader brings into the act of reading his or her own attitude and prejudices. Admittedly some scholars try to discuss details rather than express an opinion on the event—and this may be the best way forward.42 But what has become clear in the current study is that when we read, our unease with our shortcomings makes us see these exact shortcomings in the world outside as well as in texts which we read, the Bible included. Furthermore we tend to focus our gaze on aspects in the text that reflect our reasons to engage with it, and in extreme cases we even use the text to further our own agenda.43 Reflection of the commentators themselves in their commentaries has been evident from the early classical commentaries to the scholarly commentaries and interpretations of our time. Therefore, in light of the foregoing, an alternative title to this essay could be:

‫הפוסל במומו פוסל‬ The pot calling the kettle black.

See Mishael M. Caspi, “The Rape of Dinah,” in Beth Mikra 28 (3) (1983): 236–255. 43 See Parashat Dinah (a poem) by Shaul Tchernichovski who praises the notion of avenging the honor of the victims. He wrote it after the praot in Jaffa 1936. In the poem he subverts the words of Jacob’s curse of Shimeon and Levi (Gen 49:5–7) and makes it into a blessing by Dinah. 42

THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID: A “ONE-FLESH” DYNAMIC IN GENESIS 12–22 SOPHIA MAGALLANES AZUSA PACIFIC UNIVERSITY, CALIFORNIA 1. INTRODUCTION TO WHAT IS BEING SAID IN GENESIS 12–22 The phrase “that’s what she said” is almost always said by a man in response to a statement that could be taken as a double entendre. To a more European audience, the cultural equivalent would be the phrase “said the actress to the vicar.” Within the Hebrew Tanach, especially Genesis, we get a selective transcription of the things spoken by women, a whole lot of “that’s what she said” in the text if you will. Unfortunately most of what “she says” in the Bible is not humorous nor is it usually done in a manner which implies double entendre. Although this is the case, when reporting what the female characters say in Gen 12–22, there is a perfect opportunity for the text to place a “that’s what she said” joke in God’s mouth in Gen 18:11–15. I propose that the text refrains from this for the sake of what I am labelling a “one-flesh” dynamic, which is a divine speech pattern directed to important couples of Genesis. The main purpose of this essay is to highlight what I call a “one-flesh dynamic” in Gen 12–22, with special attention given to the “that’s what she said” moment in Gen 18:11–15. After this assessment is done, my concluding words will evaluate the text with a wisdom critique from the point of view of the wisdom of Proverbs. This is but a first attempt at analysing the divine speech in Genesis to and for women. In addition to this, I aim to analyze what a wisdom perspective would have to say about the women and men in the story. 213

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What I argue is that the divine speech in Gen 12–22 speaks less of how God is depicted in seeing the women individually and has more to do with how the author views the dynamics between the patriarch and the matriarch. When we see which woman to and for whom God speaks in Gen 12–22, the text reveals a “one-flesh dynamic” that is somehow lacking between Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h. In Gen 12, it is obvious that the author(s)/compiler(s) of Genesis are characterising Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h as the “new” Adam and Eve in many respects, but it is less obvious how the text depicts the struggle God has to this end. It is taken for granted that Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h come onto the scene in Gen 12 to give hope for a restoration of creation by means of procreation. Because of this, it is easy to overlook the way in which the story conveys a struggle and tension between God’s promise and command to the matriarch and patriarch. In other words, just because there is a divine promise and command which puts Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h in the default position of being the “new” Adam and Eve does not necessarily mean that they qualify for the job. The number one reason why they do not qualify is because they are old and unable to conceive. It is hard for old people to be “new” Adam and Eve, but even more so, there lies another problem which does not come to the surface until we analyse which women to and for whom God speaks within Gen 12–22. A second complication in the fulfilment of the promise may also be that Abra(ha)m, in his disrespect for Sarai/h, keeps on breaching the “one-flesh” dynamic by exchanging his wife for his personal security in the places in which he sojourns. A third impediment blocking Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h from becoming the “new and improved” Adam and Eve is Sarai/h’s giving her servant Hagar to Abra(ha)m. Sarai/h essentially does what the first Eve did—she, not being the first hearer of the command and promise finds a way around it, but does so by exchanging her slave’s sexuality for her security under Abra(ha)m’s protection as head of household. A fourth obstacle, in the way of Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h’s becoming the new “one-flesh” couple of Genesis, is Sarai/h’s reciprocated disrespect for Abra(ha)m, as exemplified in Gen 18:11–15, the perfect “that’s what she said” moment when God saves Abra(ha)m’s face from shame.

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2. THE ONE-FLESH DYNAMIC What I am labelling as the “one-flesh” dynamic is the way in which God tends to speaks to both the man and the woman (patriarch and matriarch) who will fulfil his purpose on the earth or land via the promise of procreation. I have developed this idea from how God first speaks to Adam and his wife Eve in Gen 2–3. God speaks to the first man and woman as a unit, as “one-flesh,” in his command, and only speaks to the woman directly when she is being reprimanded. Before Adam had his wife, God gives him a command prohibiting him from consumption of a particular tree in the garden (Gen 2:16–17). The first woman is singled out by her husband, Adam, and not God in this narrative. God confronts the woman when Adam points to her as the issue of his disobedience, but then returns to speak to her when he punishes her for her act of defiance to the divine decree.

3. THE ONE-FLESH DYNAMIC IN GENESIS 12–22 Gen 12–22 presents a series of stories that show the way in which Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h relate to one another and how they in turn are spoken to and for by God. This portrayal of their relational dynamics can be best understood in terms of how God speaks in the narrative. It appears that although the main couple of Gen 12– 22 are addressed by God just like the “one-flesh” couple of Gen 2– 3, Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h fail to have this unified type of relationship. Below, I will show how this “one-flesh” dynamic is being manifested in Gen 12–22. I will treat it in four parts: 1) Dynamics of Divine Command and Promise, 2) The New Adam and Eve Are Old, 3) Abra(ha)m and his Wife, 4) Sarai/h Mistreats Hagar, and 5) “That’s What She Said” in Gen 18: 11–15. 3.1 Dynamics of Divine Command and Promise In Gen 12:1–3, God calls Abra(ha)m from the house of his father so that God may bless him and multiply his offspring. This blessing and promise echoes the divine blessing and command of Gen 1:28. Although this benedictive imperative is not within the Gen 2 creation account, its placement before the account foreshadows the call, command, blessing, and promise God gives to Abra(ha)m in Gen 12. Although the biblical text includes Sarai/h in Abra(ha)m’s

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genealogy (Gen 11:31), it does not mention her importance in connection to God’s command and promise to Abra(ha)m. As the stories unfold, it becomes clear to the reader that both Sarai/h and Abra(ha)m are equally important to God’s command and promise. It is the faith and obedience of both matriarch and patriarch that is essential for the divine promise of blessing for the earth via procreation. 3.2 The New Adam and Eve Are Old Sarai/h and Abra(ha)m are old (Gen 12:4; 17:17; 18:12). They are so old that they both on separate occasions laugh at the thought of having a child at their age. Throughout the passage, there are questions as to why there are no offspring from these two lovebirds. The text’s narrator(s) keep steering the issue back to the age of the patriarch and matriarch. He or they do this by answering alternate reasons for why they do not procreate. The following are options that the text addresses: a) One would think that a part of the problem between Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h is that there is no mutual attraction because of their age, but the text makes it quite clear that this is not the case. Abra(ha)m not only acknowledges Sarai/h’s beauty, but also gifts Sarai/h to the kings of the land because he is afraid that he will be killed over it (Gen 12:11–13; 22:2). The verdict is that, although extremely beautiful, Sarai/h is just too old to have children. b) Another possible reason one might think that they are childless is because of Abra(ha)m’s inability to father children. Because of this the text removes any doubts about Abra(ha)m’s virility when he impregnates Hagar (Gen 16:4). The verdict on that one also points to the fact that Sarai/h is just too old, therefore there may be a possibility that she is expendable in the matter. c) The last question in the matter concerning the old couple is one about whether Sarai/h really is expendable in God’s command and promise to Abra(ha)m. It makes sense that Abra(ha)m understands the promise as belonging to him alone and not to his wife as well. The culture and social climate of the day would

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support such an assumption. Even the stories of Genesis seem to be primarily about “the fathers, patriarchal stories.”1 Maybe God just does not have her in mind for the promise. This assertion soon proves to be wrong when God changes both of their names and tells Abra(ha)m directly that his wife, now Sarai/h, will be the mother of nations (Gen 17:15–16). This namechange and promise to Sarai/h comes through Abra(ha)m and is not spoken to Sarai/h directly. This reflects the “one-flesh” dynamic of how God speaks to the matriarch, old Sarai/h the “new” Eve, through the patriarch, old Abra(ha)m the “new” Adam. God speaks to Sarai/h through Abra(ha)m and in so doing also speaks to him on her behalf so that he stops devaluing her in God’s plan of blessing and restoration of his creation through the act of procreation. Just like the first Adam, Abra(ha)m points to the women God gave him and blames Sarai/h for the incompletion of the divine decree. 3.3 Abra(ha)m and his Wife God gives a command and promise to Abra(ha)m, which unbeknownst to him involves a woman with whom he is married. After receiving this promise, Abra(ha)m goes down to Egypt and decides to exchange his wife’s sexuality for his own personal security (Gen 12:11–13). This causes God to speak on Sarai/h’s behalf. This is the first cue from the text that we see that Sarai/h is understood as being a recipient of the command and promise with Abra(ha)m. She “obeys” the command only by accident as she is forced to leave her life in Ur because she must follow Abra(ha)m out of duty (Gen 12:5). Abra(ha)m gifts Sarai/h out to the local authorities both before and after God promises Abra(ha)m that she is indispensible to God’s promise to Abra(ha)m (Gen 12:11–13; 22:2). God appears to Abra(ha)m not only once, but twice to tell him that Sarai/h is to be the mother of the promised son. Even J. Cheryl Exum, Fragmented Women: Feminist (Sub)versions of Biblical Narratives, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 163, ed. David J. A. Clines and Philip R. Davies (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), 94. 1

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after all of this, Abra(ha)m still exchanges Sarai/h out to Abimelech, passing her off as his sister and not his wife (Gen 22:2). This action shows that Abra(ha)m’s solo approach to God’s will in his life clashes with God’s approach to the couple as a “one-flesh” unit. God again intervenes on Sarai/h’s behalf and spares Abimelech from committing sin, violation of the one-flesh couple. 3.4 Sarai/h Mistreats Hagar Abra(ha)m obeys Sarai/h’s words (Gen 16:2–6; 21:14). Sarai/h is ultimately given divine permission to deal freely concerning her maidservant, Hagar (Gen 21:12). First, Sarai/h gives Hagar to Abra(ha)m so that Sarai/h may have a child through her (Gen 16:1–4). Next, Sarai/h mistreats Hagar so much that she leaves Abra(ha)m’s household (Gen 16:6). Then, Sarai/h kicks Hagar out (Gen 21:10). In the midst of these scenarios, God speaks on Sarai/h’s behalf to Abra(ha)m. Even though God tells Abra(ha)m to do just what his wife tells him to do,2 Sarai/h still does not hear directly from God concerning the son of promise in the text. In contrast, both instances of Hagar leaving the house of Abra(ha)m, Hagar hears directly from God. It is ironic that Hagar should hear directly from God concerning a promised son with an angelic visitation (Gen 16:7–10; 21:17) and Sarai/h, the mother of nations, only receives one quick word from God in the form of a rebuke (Gen 18:11–15). What I first saw as irony revealed itself to be an indication that there was a “one-flesh” dynamic that Hagar was excluded from in the text. She has her own son of promise outside of God’s plan for Abra(ha)m. Hagar is not a part of the “one-flesh” dynamic of divine speech. God speaks to Hagar seemingly to “correct her” but it is only to give her own promise through her unborn son. The angel redirects Hagar, in the first instance, to the household of Abra(ha)m/Sarai/h for it is her only means of protection even though it is given to her in exchange for her freedom. Hagar has a Rabbis suggest that God confirms Sarah’s role in Abra(ha)m’s life as a prophet (Gen 21:12): “Whatever Sarah tells you, do as she says” (b. Sanh loc. cit.). 2

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better chance of survival as their property rather than a wandering single mother. God deals with Hagar on her own terms for the protection of her son of promise. She has her own theophany. The angel does not mention it as a promise to Abra(ha)m, but unto her. As J. Cheryl Exum has noted, there are few theophanies to women depicted at all in the biblical text so the reader must pay close attention to why the woman is being spoken to.3 3.5 “That’s What She Said” in Genesis 18:11–15 We come to the most interesting portion of the Sarai/h-Abra(ha)m narrative, Gen 18:11–15. This is the part of the story where Sarai/h steps out of line with regard to her husband. Abra(ha)m is visited by three men that he and the text recognize as the God (YHWH). Upon seeing them, Abra(ha)m offers hospitality to them and when they finally agree to join him for refreshment, Abra(ha)m calls to Sarai/h to prepare a meal for them. While she is in the tent fixing things, the three and Abra(ha)m speak about God’s promise to Sarai/h of her pregnancy. Utterly amused in disbelief, Sarai/h laughs and makes a cutting joke. She is reported to have said something along these lines: “What!? Now that I am all worn out (like a rag) am I to have pleasure… my husband being old and all?” (Gen 18:12). This would have been the perfect opportunity for one of the Lord’s three men to make a classic “that’s what she said” joke. Besides being utterly anachronistic, the Lord (via the three) shows that he is interested in Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h’s relationship, namely their “one-flesh” dynamic. The author/redactor is showing how important Abra(ha)m and Sarai/h’s relationship is. It is to be seen as of as much significance as the first “one-flesh” couple. In Gen 18:13, the Lord paraphrases what Sarai/h has spoken to herself in the tent, but cleans it up somewhat as to not bring shame upon Abra(ha)m or to cut the “one-flesh” apart. The Lord shifts Sarai/h’s comment on Abra(ha)m’s inability to pleasure her into Sarai/h’s disbelief in God’s ability to perform miracles. In so doing, God salvages any sort of respect that there is between the 3

Exum, Fragmented Women, p. 98.

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couple. Again, God is intervening on Sarai/h’s behalf, speaking for her, in order to maintain the “one-flesh” dynamic between the patriarch and matriarch. Sarai/h lets God cover up her cutting words towards Abra(ha)m, but denies laughing about the matter. It is then and only then that the Lord directly speaks to Sarai/h: “Oh, yes, but you did laugh.” What “she said” was act of defiance to the divine decree.

4. CONCLUSION: WHAT WOULD “SHE SAY”? In conclusion, Genesis leaves much to be desired when it comes to what is being spoken by the women in this passage. At first, it was my aim to assess the two females according to Lady Wisdom and Dame Folly, but this naïvely presupposes an unsophisticated caricature of the biblical text. After analysing the real issues of the story, I saw that the text was more concerned about the relational dynamics of the women and Abra(ha)m rather than the women themselves. Therefore, it is unfair to say that one woman or character could “fit” either category of embodying wisdom or folly alone. If it were a contest, there would be more support for Sarai/h and Abra(ha)m as embodying folly together. Hagar, as presented in the text, is but an innocent bystander who receives a mix of abuse and divine blessing. Because neither woman is given virtuous things to say, we must look to the voice of Wisdom herself to be the voice into this situation. What would “she (the Lady Wisdom) say”? The greatest critique that proverbial wisdom has to offer to Gen 12–22, would be to the “one-flesh” couple: “Drink water from your own cistern, flowing water from your own well. Should your springs be scattered abroad, streams of water in the streets? Let them be for yourself alone, and not for sharing with strangers. Let your fountain be blessed, and rejoice in the wife of your youth, a lovely deer, a graceful doe. May her breasts satisfy you at all times; may you be intoxicated always by her love (Prov 5:15–19).”

DARING WOMEN MISHAEL M. CASPI BATES COLLEGE

Only Those Who Dare, Truly Live

A. EXORDIUM Any attempt to write about biblical women requires an overview of the way narrator/s describe her and her role in the plot. We do not find any biblical story in which the woman is described as dumb or stupid. She is always strong, either in a positive or a negative way. She is wise, but also cunning (Cf., e.g., Greene’s essay herein). She might cause a person to go astray (Prov 7:5–27). Yet, she is also a virtuous woman, as found in another passage (Prov 31:5–31). Thus, it is not at all unexpected to find that the noun hokhmah, “wisdom,” is always a feminine form in the Hebrew language. Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars. She hath killed her beasts; she hath mixed her wine; she hath furnished her table. (Prov 9:1–2; KJV)

Throughout the whole Bible, we are introduced to a number of women. There are those who play very important roles in the plot, but there are others, both named and unnamed, whose role in the story is very minor. To list just a few, we have selected the following: Keturah (Gen 25:11) who is mentioned as Abraham’s other woman. Asenath, Joseph’s wife, is mentioned as the one given to Joseph by Pharaoh (Gen 41:45). Sisera’s mother is mentioned as looking out through the window, waiting for her son. There is a short dialogue between her and her ladies who try to comfort her anxiety saying, “For every man a damsel or two” (Judg 5:30). While the biblical narrator/s condensed events in their stories, and often deleted a woman’s role, rabbinic literature has 221

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expanded female roles, thus creating a story within a story. For example, Keturah is not only the second wife of Abraham who bore him six more children, rabbinic literature describes her as a virtuous woman, most worthy to marry the righteous Abraham. However, there is no agreement about what happened after the death of Sarah. The question was: How many wives did Abraham have? Some identify Keturah with Hagar. The midrash suggests that the name Keturah, meaning “incense or perfume,” is a special name given to Hagar in recognition of her good qualities.1 Another midrash suggests that Abraham’s son, Isaac, initiated his father’s marriage. After he married Rebecca, he took a wife to his father and he brought Keturah. This story is based on the verse: And Isaac came from the way of the well, Lahairoi, for he dwelt in the Negev. (Gen 24:62)

He brought back with him Hagar, who was there in Beer-lahai-roi. In fact, she gave the well this name.2 Rabbinic literature also discovered the meaning of the name, Keturah.3 Regarding the offspring of Keturah, the midrash relates that in the days to come, Abraham will be ashamed of Ishmael and the offspring of Keturah. The midrash based its teaching on the verse: Then the moon shall be confounded and the sun ashamed, when the Lord of hosts shall reign in Mount Zion, and in Jerusalem, and before his ancients gloriously. (Isa 24:23)

The biblical narrator mentions Asenath twice (Gen 41:45, 50). From this narrative, we know that Joseph married Asenath and she bore him two sons. It is in rabbinic literature that a long discussion appears regarding the role of this woman. Asenath was the daughter of Dinah, who was raped by Shechem. She was cast out by her mother (or by her brothers or by Jacob’s). According to this Gen. Rab 61:4. See Gen 16:14; Midrash Tanhuma, Hayye Sarah, 8. Prolegomenon. 3 For more reading see: Gen. Rab, op. cit.; Pesiq. Rab. 30; Tanhuma, op. cit. In this literature, we find a long teaching in various rabbinic texts. In the Talmud, Keturah is discussed in b. Sanh 919; b. Zev 62a-b; Gen. Rab. 66:4,7; Midrash Tannaim, Deut 33:2. 1 2

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story, Asenath was the granddaughter of Jacob and niece of Joseph. She was adopted by Potiphar (Poti-phera), and was raised as his daughter.4 So Joseph married Asenath. R. Joshua b. Levi relates that she learned from her astrologer that she would bear a son by Joseph. In Targum Jonathan, we read: Uq-ra par-‘oh she-meh di-yoseph gav-ra dit-mi-ran me-far-sam vi-hv leh yat as-nat di-le-dat Dinah lish-khem ur-ve-tah it-tat Potephera ra-va de-ta-nis le-in-to un-faq yoseph sha-lit ‘al ar-‘ah de-mits-ra-yim. And he, Pharaoh, called him a man of hidden secrets and gave him Asenath, whom Dinah bore to Shekhem and who was daughter of Poti-Phera, ruler of Tanis, as a wife and Joseph became the governor of the land of Egypt.5

While the biblical narrator describes Sisera’s mother in only four verses, post-biblical literature expands these four verses into a long story. Yet, we should pay attention to the editorial work of Deborah’s famous song: At her feet he bowed, he fell, he lay down; at her feet he bowed, he fell; where he bowed, there he fell down dead. (Judg 5:27)

The mother of Sisera looked out through the window and cried through the lattice, Why is his chariot so long to come? Why tarry the wheels of his chariots? (Judg 5:28)

The contrast between the two scenes requires a close reading from every reader and that is exactly what the author of Pseudo-Philo, (L.A.B.) has done. In L.A.B. 31:3-a, we read the story of Jael,6 who employed her beauty upon Sisera, the same way that Judith did See: Tanhuma, Vayeishev; Midrash Aggadah, Genesis 37 (p. 634); Yalkut, Gen. 141. 5 For more details, see, Pesiq. Rab. 37; Yalkut, Gen. 146. 6 See Judg 4:17–22. 4

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with Holofernes. It is said that Sisera used his armed forces to capture beautiful women, thus, he was punished by a beautiful woman. “Like Judith, Jael is a woman of courage begotten of her trust in God.”7 L.A.B. 31:8 inserts an ironic scene. When Barak arrives at the dwelling place of Jael (Judg 5:28–30), Sisera’s mother is waiting for her son’s return from his battlefield. The ladies with her try to calm her fears they convey to her that now the victors are dividing the spoils among themselves: For every man a damsel or two… (Judg 5:30)

Sisera’s mother, whose name is Themech, said to her ladies: Come and let us go together to meet my son and you will see the daughters of the Hebrews whom my son will bring here for himself as concubines. (Judg 31:8)

Throughout these narratives, mothers, wives and daughters perform daily tasks and daring deeds, each in her own way. Arabic literature also relates to women, but not in the same way that we find in the biblical narrative. The women are objects of beauty, cunning and evil spirits. They are wise, but one should be very careful in his relations with them. We find an example of such a woman in the following story. A story about Jarih al Raahib. Once upon a time there was a monk in Bani Israil named Jarih. He built an hermitage to worship Allah and he kept doing that for some time. Bani Israil were astonished by how much he worshipped. He became famous for his asceticism, constant prayers and piety. There was among them a woman of an exceptional beauty and unmatched charm. She said to Bani Israil: ‘Do you want me to allure him?’ They said: ‘Go for it.’ First, she tried to get his attention, but he ignored her. She tried again and again to entice him, but he would not respond. When she had lost every hope to win him, she left the M. H. James, trans., The Biblical Antiquities of Philo, L.H. Feldman, “Prolegomenon,” CXVII, (New York: Brill, 1971). 7

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hermitage and went down the valley to a shepherd whom she tempted to have sex with her, which he did. The shepherd usually spent the nights near Jarih’s hermitage. So, when her pregnancy began to show, people asked her about the father of the baby. She told them that it was Jarih al Raahib’s baby. Bani Israil got mad at Jarih and went and dragged him out of his hermitage, beat him, cursed him, then destroyed his hermitage. Jarih asked them: ‘What is the matter with you?’ They said: ‘You committed a sin with the woman. You made her pregnant and now she has a baby!’ Jarih asked: ‘Where is the baby?’ They said: ‘Here is the baby.’ Jarih stood up and prayed to Allah and moved toward the baby. He stabbed it with his finger and asked: ‘By the name of Allah, baby, who is your father?’ The baby answered: ‘The shepherd, (so and so).’ Bani Israil went to the woman and punished her. They went to Jarih, apologized to him, kissed his hands and feet … They said they would build him a new hermitage of gold if only he would forgive them. He asked them to rebuild as before with dirt and stone and then he would forgive them.8

B. TO DEFY THE HIGHEST AUTHORITY In Freud’s psychoanalytical theories on the unconscious, the philosopher described psychic conditions as being suspended with a deep freeze. People’s ideas, feelings and emotions are repressed, and deep vitality remains hidden within their subconscious. Only a learned friend, a therapist, or a violent encounter with the other side (the dark side), can bring this repressed vitality to the surface. In contrast, Martin Buber viewed our inner consciousness as revealed during encounters between man and man or between man Ali b. Umar b. Ali b. Hasaan al-din, known as Ibn al-Batnuni, compiled his book Maka’id ‘lnis- waan, Women’s Deceit, in 1495. Other than this date we have no information about the date of his birth or his death. For more information, see Mishael M. Caspi, John T. Greene, et. al., Red Pomegranates, (Berlin: Klaus-Schwartz-Verlag, 2013). 8

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and his world. Considered the broader context, we discover ourselves through direct, mutual and interpersonal relations, which Buber termed “I and Thou.” This ambiguous belief generates the presentation of the following Hasidic tale. Someone once told R. Mendel that a certain person was greater than another, whom he also mentioned by name. R. Mendel replied: If I am because I am I, and you are because you are you, then I am I and you are you. But if I am I because you are you, and you are you because I am I, then I am not I and you are not you. (Buber, M. Tales of the Hasidim).

The first male in the story of Creation was afraid of any light stirring of any leaf on the trees, and he was seized with great fright when he heard someone calling his name. His response is typical for a person experiencing that kind of sudden fear: I heard Thy voice in the garden and I was afraid …

Now looking for a reason to explain his fear, he said: … because I was naked, and I hid myself. (Gen 3:10)

The human condition is the fear of taking responsibility for his/her actions. We, probably, inherited this from our ancestor Adam, the first human. He was unable to say, mea culpa, but accused the other. This first human was lacking the genuine I. We expected our first human to be the Shepherd of Being, instead he was the first one to run away from his responsibility. He was not a man of courage, one to stand tall and say, “I am here. What am I to do?” It is exactly what Martin Buber wrote in his short essay, “What Is to Be Done?” (1919), where he posed the question:

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If the question is what is one to do, then the answer is, one is to do nothing. The question ought to be, What am I to do?9

Adam does not argue with his Creator. He lives in a state of total obedience and only because of this condition is so-called harmony preserved in the Garden. When this condition of false utopia is broken, the only way out is expulsion. Now, humanity is facing on one hand, unknown, new conditions, and on the other hand, a new challenge, the concept of choice. In our discussion of the theme of this section, our imperative approach to the text does not merely draw upon the biblical scholarship of the 20th century. Instead, we hope to open for the reader new avenues into the world of ideas embedded in the stories about Eve. It is a kind of a journey in the garden of literatures of the three traditions, Judaism, Christianity and Islam. In the second story of creation, in Gen 2, God plants a garden and commands Adam to till and to keep it. Here, we encounter the sinful eating from the tree of knowledge. The moment of the rending occurs when the woman eats the fruit from the forbidden tree and promptly becomes a knower. Two very important aspects are found in what Eve experienced. One was in her observation that the tree has an important quality: va-te-re ha-ish-sha ki tov ha-‘etz le-ma-a-khal And [ ] the woman saw that the tree was good for food. ve-khi ta-a-wah hu la-‘e-na-yim and that it was pleasant to the eyes ve-neh-mad ha’etz le-has-kil and the tree to be desired to make one wise. (Gen 3:6)

Having observed that the tree was pleasant to the eyes, a delight to look at, Eve decided to pluck fruit from it to eat. It was not out of her haste, nor was she tricked by the serpent. It was through her own observations that she understood that this was not just any tree in the Garden. Eve was contemplating the tree’s qualities like a Martin Buber, Pointing the Way: Collected Essays, trans., Maurice Friedman, (New York: Harper, 1957, 2nd Edition; New York: Schocken, 1974). 9

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wise person. Thus we read: ta’a-wah hu la-’ey’na-yim. The Aramaic translation reads: va-a-re a-se hu le-‘aye-nin and that it is salutary to the eyes.10

The Palestinian Targum expands the scene and states that the woman beheld Samail, the angel of death and was very afraid, but: ve-yad-‘at a-rum rav i-la-na le-me-khal va-a-rum a-su hu lin-ho-ra de-‘ay-nin Yet she knew that the tree was good to eat and that it was medicine and light to the eyes. (3:6)

The narrator associates the woman with the serpent. Through this association the reader is introduced to the first dialogue which occurred between a beast and human. This dialogue stereotypes the woman as evil and through the long course of human history she was stained as the cause for all malevolent events in the world. Could there be any truth to this view? Let us pay attention to the second dialogue in this story. At the moment Adam ate the forbidden fruit, the rending of the veil of innocence occurred. The Creator appears nonchalantly; Walking in the garden in the cool of the day. (Gen 3:8)

Is it possible that the rending of the veil of innocence echoed in the celestial world and the Creator immediately rushed to the Garden? Or, is the Creator fearful of losing control over His creation? The Creator turns to Adam and says: ay’ye’kah? This hapax legomenon is translated by Targum Onkelos as an-att, “where are you?” (3:9), while the Palestinian Targum of Jonathan ben Uzziel elaborates on this adverb and says: … ha-la kol ‘al-ma div-re-ti gle god-mai ha-sho-kha kin-ho-ra ve-ekh antt se-var be-lib-bakh le-i-tam-ra min qod-mai ha-la a-tar de-antt mi-ta-marbeh a-na ha-me 10

Targum Onkelos to Gen 3:6.

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… is not all the world which I have created manifest before me, both the darkness and the light, and you in your heart thought to hide from me? Is it not that the place you hide in is known to me?11

In a greater sense, this is a call directed to humanity: ay’ye’kah serves as a warning to humanity, cutting through to the world and denoting the occurrence of terror; ay’ye’kah, “Where art thou?” This call reminds humanity of its responsibilities. The call of the Creator was to let them know which responsibilities they are to assume. Was Adam ready to assume any responsibility? His answer is that of a cowardly person, quick on the spot to blame the other. At this point, he failed to accept responsibility for his action and instead, he blamed both the Creator and Eve, “The woman whom thou gavest to be with me …” (Gen 3:12). The Creator turns to Eve and without any introduction asked: “What is this that thou hast done?” While he addressed Adam with this question: “Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?” (Gen 3:11), there is a tone of accusation in his question to the woman. However, Adam does not answer the Creator but accuses the woman, stating these excuses: She gave it to me. I have eaten. I did not know that it is from the forbidden tree. The woman then accused the serpent and accepted the guilt of eating of the forbidden fruit. Rabbinic literature relates a few curious parables. In one, Adam is like a husband who filled a cask with figs and on top he put a scorpion. He commanded his wife not to open the cask but she did and she cried out in pain. The other one is about a king who married a woman and made her supreme over all he had, except for one house full of scorpions. The king is the first man, Adam, and the woman is Eve.12 The creation of the woman out of Adam’s rib led to a widespread interpretation that woman somehow is lesser than man. However, we view this creation differently. This was the way the Creator became closer to man and man can embrace the Creator through the woman. Something close 11 12

Palestinian Targum. 3:9. These parables are found in: ‘Abot R. Nat. 1.

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to this idea is found in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, where we read: So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself. For no man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the Church (Eph 5:28–29)

Midrashic literature is in search of the human image, the one created in God’s image whose role is to serve as mediator between heaven and earth. This is why we argue that the divine spark is in humanity and the role of humanity is to carry on this spark. Yet, within the midrashic literature, we also find interpretations relating to their own cultural milieu. In the midrash, we find the following interpretation for e-zer ke-neg-do “a helper facing him:” … if he is fortunate she is a help, if not she is against him. R. Joshua b. Nehemiah said: If a man is fortunate, she is like the wife of Hananiah b. Hakinai, if not, she is like the wife of R. Jose the Galilean.13

In a Gnostic text of the 4th century CE, we read the following: When God had created me out of the earth, along with Eve, your mother, I went about with her in a glory which she had seen in the aeon from which we had come forth. She taught me a word of knowledge of the eternal God. And we resembled the great eternal angels, for we were higher than the God who had created us and the powers with him, whom we did not know.14

The author of Apocalypse of Adam informs us that Eve was not the sinner. She was the one who conveyed knowledge to Adam. She, in some way, held the secret of all wisdom. “… She taught me a word of knowledge of the eternal God.” (Ap. Adam 1:1–3).

Gen. Rab. 17:3. Apocalypse of Adam. 1:2–3. translated by George MacRae. Online: http://www.gnosis.org/naghamm/adam.html. 13 14

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Writers in Arabic literature continued to investigate Eve’s query and to check the validity of these formative events. Kisa’i presents a dialogue between Eve and God: Eve: Thou didst create me deficient in reason, religion, ability to bear witness and in inheritance… God: Verily, I have given thee life, mercy and kindness. I decree such reward for thee upon performance of ritual ablution after menstruation and birthing…15

In the pre-Islamic period, an Arab Christian poet, Adi b. Zayd, composed his poem wherein he writes: His God did not prohibit him from smelling or eating out of any delicious tree but one. Both dared to lay their hands on what was prohibited to them at the invitation of Eve who did not see the ruse. Until then they were clothed in their innocence, but they sewed garments made of fig leaves.16

It is hard to accept the notion that in the biblical narrative, there are texts known as feminist texts. Even more, it is hard to accept that such texts are interwoven within male texts. We are introduced to certain texts that portray a female character in a different way than a male character. This probably happened because the most recent redactors changed the text in their times, a text that may have been told by female narrators. As a result, the last redactor/s weakened this female voice. Thus, the present story hides the female voice within it. The reader needs to unveil this voice. According to our story, Eve was created out of Adam. A new birth came into this mysterious world. But we do not have here the first cry of a newborn. We know that the first cry serves also as a metaphor for the life of the new child. This cry is also a cry against any evil, injustice, or discrimination he/she might encounter. Eve, the first mother of humanity, does not cry, but in her own way she presents humanity with the word of knowledge. This word is the cry of the Al-Kisa’i, The Tales of the Prophets, trans. W.M. Thackston, (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1978), p. 54. 16 Adi b.Zayd, Diwan, n.d. 15

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newborn. Here, in this early story of the creation of human beings, Eve is the Hebrew Prometheus. Eve is the Hebrew Titan god. She wanted to better the life of humans. Thus, she defied the sacred command of the creator. Like Prometheus who stole fire from heaven, hidden in a fennel stalk, defying the decree of Zeus who withheld fire from humanity, and who then was punished by being shackled in fetters, so was Eve punished by the creator. As the narrator of Genesis records: I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children… (Gen 3:16)

Zeus then commanded the creation of Pandora, the first woman, as a female of cunning misfortune, in order to cheat humanity. Indeed, many religious literary works view Eve as the Hebrew Pandora, but for us, she is the only courageous person in this story. She cared for humanity and wanted to impart to them knowledge and wisdom. She is the first to struggle against the higher authority and to win. She is, therefore, not the Hebrew Pandora, but the goddess of wisdom for all. Literature consistently presents a dialogue between the text and the reader. Most central to this dialogue is the exchange that occurs amongst different readers of the same text. This type of dialogue between readers and a text helps to overcome any confusion that might be connected to language. Thus, it is possible to see such dialogue as an expression of ideas, a conversation which poses questions in an attempt to pursue truth through logical debate. However, because there is often more than one interpretation in this dialectic, readers have difficulty in determining the true meaning of the text. Moreover, the experience of dialogue between reader and text also presents the reader with a panorama of language and ideas that present different aspects of the characters in the text. The reader attempts to ascertain the moral and the psychological tensions, as well as the political environment within the text. Throughout the ages, literati were greatly attracted to the female figure in the story of Creation. A few saw her as the one who spoiled the quiet life in the Garden, while others praised her for her action. We have selected examples from different literary works to support our arguments. Our first example is a poem written by Itzik Manger, (1901–1969), “Eve and the Apple Tree.”

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She stands before the apple tree while the red sun sets Mother Eve, what do you know what do you know of death? … But Eve is frightened of the wood prefers the apple tree And when she does not go to it it comes to her in dreams … I love how she plucks the apple She feels strangely light Round and round the tree she goes Like a butterfly in flight … Lovely apple tree, don’t weep I am your melody I know that you are stronger than the word that’s warning me.17

Eve, the melody of the apple tree, is the melody of the world to which she imparts knowledge and wisdom. Israel Efros (1891–1981), writes in his poem, “Eve:” Is it only one of my ribs All my life I would have given to fashion your life And the light of my eyes into your eyes. But sometimes facing your image, I wonder Mine, mine, my rib But for all that, who are you, what? (Zamora, 319)

Yaakov Fichman, (1881–1958) in his poem, “Eve,” describes the woman hearing the magic words: When Adam sleeps, Eden lies desolate its birds are silent and its grass is wet

Itzik Manger, The World Accord to Itzik: Selected Poetry and Prose, ed., Leonard Wolf, (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2002). 17

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MISHAEL M. CASPI And then he kindles calling from the thicket a bonfire in my heart, pick it, pick it … (Zamora, 312)

Yehudah Karni (1884–1949) wrote two poems relating to Eve. One is the “Mother’s Crying.” In the first stanza we read: I am the woman, you call me Eve Fair or wry But full of love.18

The second poem, “First Lament,” describes Eve after eating from the tree of knowledge: The serpent beguiled me to taste from the good and the bad—pushed me to the abyss’s threshold … The fruit is tasty, sweet and delight But against God I rebelled Thus I shall die in my youth … And she gave to her husband, but also he is not dead and he began to desire the nakedness of Eve. (Zamora, 313)

In Karni’s poem, we read his ambiguous feelings towards Eve (woman). On the one hand he desires her body and on the other hand, as the poet writes: Eve stalking the man’s steps because as death her zeal. (Ibid.)

Another writer, Meir Mohar, (1888–1967), in his poem, “Man’s Wrath,” also expresses ambiguous feelings and at the same time cries for help: Since by her I was deceived to taste her apple no more repose I know In the second verse, the two adjectives are: k’she-ra, which means also proper, pleasing and worldly. The adjective na-‘a-wa means also, sinner, crooked, disturbed. 18

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no more peace … The woman you have given to me, my God from me save, I pray Please, save. (Zamora, 314)

K. Aharon Bertini, (1903–1995), wrote this poem, “Eve in Her Old Age.” My bosom dwindles my fallen breasts reach the knees like a pair of empty skin-bottles

At this age, she reflects on an earlier time, Indeed, on the other side the falling of Eden’s trees and I lost any desire to pick from the tree of knowledge because it is rough, the fruit tasteless. The seductive serpent with its deceitful tongue is asleep in a dark, hidden cleft. (Zamora, 218)

Aharon Meirovitz (n.d.) in his poem, “Eve,” describes the protagonist after the expulsion from Eden. She is fearful and uncertain of the future: Where should we go, husband? Behind us the sword is turned And the evening before us, the viper in the paths. No more flower’s lanes which were my chosen ones and their fragrance quivers my nostrils … My fears are so many— my transgressed soul moved since I knew good and evil. To you I am attached, my husband. Be, I pray, my salvation be my bosom, my nest. At night be my shield for my soft palms, rest listening to my soul. (Zamora, 317–318)

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Ahuva bat Hannah (n.d.) views Eve as the mother of all generations, the mother of the universe. In her poem, “Eve My Mother in All Generations,” she writes: Eve, my mother in all generations, I have not walked far away from you, Nor did I greatly do as you. The tree of life is still fenced as then and the tree of knowledge I approached not, but God’s wrath is still heavy on my shoulders. If again in the same garden they put me if again they brought me the viper I would have done as you did For one bite in the apple I shall risk my life. (Zamora, 317)

Anda Amir (1902–1981) wrote her poem “Eve,” praising the tree and the outcome of the act of eating from the fruit. The protagonist blesses the encounter with the tree who taught her all wisdom: O tree I have seen you With this apple I know you In it you hide the sap of your wisdom. I know the secret you grew for To it you raised and ramified Also I grew And raised up carrying like you my fruit Indeed, o tree, you have taught me.19

Esther Raab, (1894–1981), in her poem “A Woman’s Song,” sings her hymn to the creation of the woman: All verses from the poetry of Israel Efros, Yaakov Fichman, Yehudah Karni, Meir Mohar, Aharon Bertini, Aharon Meirovitz, Ahuva bat Hanna and Anda Amir, were taken from Women of the Bible, ed. Israel Zamora, (Tel Aviv: Mahbarot Lesifrut, 1964). 19

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Blessed is he who made me a woman— that I am earth and Adam, a tender rib; Blessed is he who made me circles upon circles— like the orbits of planets and spheres of fruit— who gave me living flesh that blossoms, and made me like a plant of the field— that bears fruit …20

The woman is not incomplete. She is fruitful, beautiful and round like the fruit. The protagonist demands the attention of readers to see all her qualities. She is all and also the soft rib. She can be hard and aggressive as a man, but also tender and caring. Of all these, she refused to accept the biblical story where we are told that God cursed the woman, but professes that she is blessed and thus blesses her Creator that made her a plant bearing fruit. T. Carmi (1925–1994) also recounts the biblical story and events in the Garden. While the biblical story tells of Eve offering the fruit to Adam, and the consequent consumption, Carmi presents the story from a different perspective: Eve knew what was hidden in the apple. She wasn’t born yesterday From between Adam’s ribs She observed the order of creation. Listening to the grasses and crawling things … Eve knew what was hidden in the apple. It is good! It is good! And again: It is good! A torrent of goodness: A model garden, watered, sated, An exemplary mother. Happy are all living things! … Find this poem in Hebrew and English online: http://www.poetryinternational.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/ind ex.php?obj_id=17570. 20

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MISHAEL M. CASPI Happy ending: Adam, his sweat flowing like a river confessed by the light of the sword that he was out of names, that the good had exhausted his strength and that it was good.21

Franz Kafka (1883–1924), in his Die Acht Oktavhefte, 18 Janvier, sums up the story of creation and the expulsion of humanity from the Garden in the following verses: Bis fast zum Ende des Berichtes vom Sündenfall bleibt es möglich, daß auch der Garten Eden mit den Menschen verflucht wird.—Nur die Menschen sind verflucht, der Garten Eden nicht. About the end of the account of the fall, it seems possible that the Garden of Eden will be cursed together with humanity. Only humanity is accursed, the Garden of Eden is not.22

C. TO DEFY MORTAL AUTHORITY a) A short episode in 2 Sam 21 tells us about a woman named Rizpah bat Aiah (Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah), a mother of two children of King Saul, Mephibosheth and Armani. The episode ends with the following verses: And he delivered them into the hands of the Gibeonites, and they hanged them in the hill before the LORD: and they fell all seven together, and were put to death in the days of harvest, in the first days, in the beginning of barley harvest. And Rizpah T. Carmi, “Eve Knew,” trans. Grace Schulman, in David C. Jacobson, ed., Does David Still Play Before You?: Israeli Poetry and the Bible, (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1997), p. 195. Online: http://books.google.ca/books?id=KufLljeXft4C&printsec=frontcove r#v=onepage&q&f=false. 22 Franz Kafka, Die Acht Oktavhefte, 18 Janvier, (Frankfurt: Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 1987). Online: http://gutenberg.spiegel.de/buch/164/1. 21

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the daughter of Aiah took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night. (2 Sam 21:9–10)

The simple context of the episode is that after the tragic death of King Saul, Rizpah moved to live with her son Ishbosheth at Mahanaim. In this place, Abner the commander of Saul’s army took possession of her, to make his point that he was replacing Saul (2 Sam 3:7). Ishbosheth reprimanded Abner for his action because he saw himself as the successor of his father Saul.23 Rizpah displays her devotion by keeping a constant vigil over the corpses of her sons, to protect them from the birds of prey by day and the beasts of the field by night. When the king heard of her devotion, he took the bones of Saul and Jonathan and buried them in the burial place of their family. He did not bury the bones of Saul’s sons. As much as the narrator tries to show that the king was moved by Rizpah’s devotion, there is no clue whether the heirs of Saul got the proper burial. What more can be said than the strong verses of Henry Kendall, (1839–1882), a 19th-century Australian poet who wrote in his poem “Rizpah,” the following: “‘Moreover,’ spake the scout, ‘her skin is brown And sere by reason of exceeding heat; And all her darkness of abundant hair Is shot with gray, because of many nights When grief hath crouched in fellowship with frost Upon that desert rock. Yea, thus and thus Fares Rizpah,’ said the spy, O King, to me.” But David, son of Jesse, spake no word, But turned himself, and wept against the wall.24 According to ancient Near Eastern law, he who takes possession of the king’s women has the claim for the crown. See 2 Sam 16:21; 1 Kgs 2:13–25. 24 Henry Kendall, “Rizpah,” Online: 23

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2 Sam 21:1–4 consists of three episodes: 1. The famine 2. Rizpah’s devotion to her sons 3. The final resting place of Saul and Jonathan In the first episode, the narrator, for the first time, tells us of the crime of King Saul. This event has not been mentioned earlier in the text. The serious nature of the king’s act caused the famine. However, we should ask why does the narrator only mention this crime now? Is it not aimed to justify the cruelty of David? Instead, the narrator emphasizes that an oath had been given to the Gibeonites, and an oath is considered a very serious matter. According to this interpretation, Saul, indeed, committed a sin and only now, while David controls his throne, does God remember the sin and so lets the people suffer. Then, is the message the reader gets from this episode that God is taking part in the cruel event which occurred in the second episode? For three years there was a famine in David’s days. The narrator goes on and presents the event thus: There was a famine in the days of David three years, year after year; and David enquired of the LORD. And the LORD answered, It is for Saul, and for his bloody house, because he slew the Gibeonites. (2 Sam 21:1)

The missing part in this passage is; what did David ask the Lord? It is stated that he inquired of the Lord, but we do not know what David asked. The Gibeonites had asked for blood for blood. They did not mention the oath given to them in earlier years, so there is no connection between this episode and that of the book of Joshua. Yet, we still are puzzled: When did this bloody event take place? To appease the Gibeonites, David delivered to them the two sons of Rizpah and Saul, and the five children of Michal (Merab), all of whom were the heirs of King Saul and had a claim for the throne. If that was the answer of God, then His cruelty is no less than that of David.

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rizpah–2/.

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The second episode is presented in three verses (2 Sam 21: 8–10). In this episode the narrator describes the intense love of a brave woman, Rizpah. Her struggle to protect the bodies of her two sons during the long period of the summer until the beginning of the rainy season is truly beyond the bounds of any human being. She protects the corpses of her two sons from the birds of prey and from the beasts of the field. Only a mother with such intense love would be willing to go through such trauma. But we also can argue that her devotion accentuates her contempt for the king’s decision to deliver her sons to the Gibeonites and her protest against such cruelty. David heard of her devotion, but the narrator failed to tell us what was the king’s reaction. The third episode begins with the verse: And it was told David what Rizpah the daughter of Aiah, the concubine of Saul, had done. (2 Sam 21:11)

The king did not react. He did not command burials for the corpses of Saul’s sons, and he did not fail to mention that Rizpah was the daughter of Aiah, and that she was Saul’s concubine, not a legitimate wife of the former king. Does this mean that the intention was to make her less important and to specify that she was not of royal blood? In this case, the story about her devotion did not emotionally move the king. Here, to make King David less cruel, the narrator tells the reader that the king brought the bones of Saul and Jonathan to the family burial ground. Then, we ask: Was it Rizpah’s devotion that moved David to bury Saul and Jonathan? What about her own sons? We do not know whether the sons were buried or not. As a concluding statement, we argue that Rizpah’s sacrificial love is paradigmatic to the generations after, and that a simple woman showed her strength and her courage to defy the authority of a mortal king. b) Her name is scarcely known, but yet she could be included, or have the title mother of the people. Her love is the main motif of the second episode. Yet, one can assume that there are two main points in the second story. One is that the two sons are the human sacrifice whose role is to atone for a father’s sin. The second generation is forced to suffer for their father’s guilt. The second point is that Rizpah accepts the concept of blood for blood and for her the sacrifice of her two sons is a form of repentance which will

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end the famine. If so, why does David also deliver the five sons of Michal (Merab)? After all, they are the sons of Adriel and the only heirs of King Saul. Furthermore, we may argue that the famine was not punishment for breaking an old oath given to the Gibeonites. Reading closely from the beginning of the famine episode, the narrator relates: “… And the LORD answered, It is for Saul, and for his bloody house” (2 Sam 21:1).25 This particular statement suggests, as we mentioned above, that there is no connection between the famine and the oath given to the Gibeonites in the book of Joshua, where it is related: And Joshua made peace with them … and the princes of the congregation swore unto them. (Josh 9:15)

Here, there is an oath. In the famine episode there is no mention of an oath.26 What is accentuated is the blood guilt of Saul. Thus, the hypothesis that this episode is connected to the oath is questionable. The second episode emphasizes the devotion of the mother. It could be suggested that her devotion moved the heart of the king, yet, we do not know of any reaction to it from the king or from his court. The king did not change his command, nor did he ask the Gibeonites to bury the corpses. However, as was mentioned above, the only thing that happened was the burial of Saul and Jonathan. It seems that the narrator relates this to highlight the king as a merciful person whose main concern is to end the famine. The narrator does not tell us whether the Gibeonites or the king buried the corpses or the bones of Saul’s heirs. The end of the second episode is still unfinished and is open for any interpretation; at the same time it reinforces the cruelty of the king, the Gibeonites and of God. Rizpah, however, is the only one who protests the king’s decision. She may serve as a symbol for a supreme love and for standing tall, alone in protest. See the Septuagint translation for this verse. Verse 2 in this episode is not a part of the text; it seems to be more of an addition, or late addition by the redactor/s. 25 26

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In many ways, she reminds us of Antigone in Sophocles’ famous play. But while Antigone faced King Creon, protesting his decree not to bury her brother, Polynices, we do not have a clue about Rizpah and the king.27 Antigone faces Creon and in the dialogue between them, Creon says: Creon: Now you, tell me not at length but concisely did you know that there are bidden by proclamation. Antigone: Yes, why would I not? It was public. C: And you dare anyway to transgress these laws. A: Yes, Zeus was not the one who issued these proclamations for me, nor did Justice, who dwells with the gods below, define such laws among mankind. I did not think your proclamation so strong that you, a mortal, could overstep god’s unwritten and unshakeable traditions. (455) Not today or yesterday, but always they live …

Is it possible that Rizpah argued against the king while protecting her sons’ remains during the summer heat, so that by her silent protest she made a strong statement and defied the proclamation of David and his cruel sentence? c) As much as biblical women have been subjects for modern literature, we do not find many who mention Rizpah, nor do we find her in discussions of the feminist movement. Earlier, we mentioned the Australian poet, Henry Kendall. His poem is about many Rizpahs of modern times. The speaker in this poem describes her in the following very moving verses: ‘Behold,’ he said, ‘the woman seeks not rest, Nor fire, nor food, nor roof, nor any haunt Where sojourns man; but rather on yon rock Abideth, like a wild thing, with the slain, And watcheth them, lest evil wing or paw Should light upon the comely faces dead, To spoil them of their beauty. Three long moons Creative readers would be able to invent an imaginary dialogue between David and Rizpah. 27

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MISHAEL M. CASPI Hath Rizpah, daughter of Aiah, dwelt With drouth and cold and rain and wind by turns, And many birds there are that know her face, And many beasts that flee not at her step, And many cunning eyes do look at her From serpent-holes and burrows of the rat.28

The biblical narrator describes in short verses how Rizpah protected her sons (2 Sam 21:10). In what follows, we have selected a few examples from modern Hebrew poetry. In the poem, “Rizpah bat Aiah,” by Ahuva bat Hannah, the protagonist describes Rizpah’s struggle against the birds of prey in the following verses: … And it spread its wings toward the sky like dancing the death’s dance And I am before him in the field walking and dancing we reached the corpses’ hill. Here the vulture alighted to feed himself then courageously I got up to lurk for his eyes suddenly my hand came close piercing his left eye the vulture cried bitterly and alighted on the second corpse with my firm hand a second time I pierced his right eye. Then the vulture sank on the hill’s bottom not moving anymore or quivering and the evening and the morning were the first day of creation. Six times the dawn rose every day I pierced the vulture Henry Kendall, “Rizpah,” Online: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rizpah–2/ 28

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and on the seventh day the day of rest strong and festive a new vulture upon my head And the seventh day was holy for the seventh vulture… (Zamora, 410–411)

The writer of this poem pays attention to the struggle of Rizpah with the birds of prey. The long duration of her struggle against them is like the creation of the universe, every day a new struggle, every day is like a contest with the birds. On the seventh day, she ceased to struggle and the vulture comes to rest upon her head. The speaker in a poem by Eliyahu Meitus, (1892–1977), entitled “Rizpah bat Aiah,” concentrates on the bereaved woman in the following way: … these cries, indeed the mother hears from her alveus and the brain blaze, she hears the bereaved mother knows that for all corners, the heart cries in vain … In the heat of the day, among the rocks wallows the mother, and at the night’s chill, her eyes looking up at the corner of a bare hill, guards that no beast come close and not a bird of prey lurks, but in the heat of the day the sun as a terrible bird of prey which spreads its wings to all corners thrusts its claws in the condemned flesh swallows their blood … And the wind turns irascible and tears the rags from her body maltreating her while in her pain pulling her hair and cutting her soul as long as it held the flame, but death would not come since she has quarrelled with God. Here, facing the condemned she will cry the last cry

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The poet views Rizpah in two realms; as the bereaved mother, she struggles for her sons and for her own life. As well, she has a quarrel with God who allows such a sentence to be carried out. The speaker does not view God as a merciful deity, but as a cruel God of vengeance. The speaker in Shin Shalom’s (1904–1990) poem “Rizpah bat Aiah” describes the mother’s lament. Towards the end of his description, we find the following lines: … and when torrential rain falls and comes the army of the king and buried those corpses the mother sat, Rizpah bat Aiah sat as if nothing happened here. She cursed not her bitter fate, whom will she curse? She lifted not her eyes toward heaven, to whom will she pray? From her place she never got up not during the day or night. Two and three— Three and two— as a melody of a holy oath moving on her lips Mephibosheth and Armani, lovely and delightful apples of my eyes, my two children … (Zamora, 414–415)

While the biblical narrator speaks not about the burial of the corpses, this poem reports that in the rainy season the army of the king came and buried the corpses. We may wonder why he changed the story. Is this to highlight the king as a merciful ruler, following religious tradition that David was a righteous man, or is it to focus on the figure of Rizpah, alone, silent and still grieving, an

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eternal symbol of a mother in mourning, unmoved by higher authorities, in heaven or on earth?

JUDAH’S TAMAR THROUGH A PSYCHOLOGICAL LENS, THE TESTIMONY OF THE BIBLE AND QUR’AN J. HAROLD ELLENS UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN Genesis 38 is a late textual insertion into the Genesis narrative. We discern that because it unaccountably interrupts and obstructs the flow of the Joseph story that precedes and follows chapter 38. The excuse for this interpolation by the redactor of Genesis, just at this place in the text, lies in the fact that in the report on what happened to Joseph. Judah proves to be an ambiguous character. In Gen 37 Judah saved Joseph’s life, only to get rid of him by selling him into slavery. However, Judah was the progenitor of surviving Jewry and was the Judahite raison d’etre so he had to be rehabilitated from this ambiguity by being made more heroic. The interpolated story achieves that in a subtle and ironic way. Initially, the interpolation in chapter 38 expands Judah’s ambiguity. Judah behaves here in a culpable, un-Hebrew manner. In the end there is a moment of self-critique and honest accountability by Judah in which he settles with the consequences of his un-Hebrew behavior. However, throughout this interpolated narrative he behaves repeatedly in an unlawful and narcissistically insensitive manner. In this drama he continues as an ambiguous and even tragi-comic character every time he comes on stage. Gen 38 is introduced in a most casual way as though it is just an inadvertent glitch in history’s complex unfolding. “It happened one day that Judah took a vacation.” Following that rather banal opening, the story meanders along as though it is an incidental and rather benign facet of the long and often boring narrative of the 249

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Hebrew Patriarchs. One gets the impression that the redactor wants us to read this report as a “day in the life of” some forgettable person and place in Palestine. One fact, rather matterof-factly, follows another without any attempt (1) to evaluate them, (2) to establish cause-and-effect dynamics between them, and (3) to judge or morally evaluate them. This is a story that, on the face of it, wishes to appear as a simple report on a moment in history, offered without commentary. Perhaps recapping the narrative is of use at this point. The thirty-three facts of the case are as follows: 1. 2. 3. 4. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14. 15. 16.

Judah left the Israelite family enclave and the sacrosanct family values. He visited an Adullamite name Hirah He saw a Canaanite woman, daughter of Shua. He married that woman. He had sex with her three times. She got pregnant every time. Judah thus acquired three sons: Er, Onan, and Shelah. Judah married Er to Tamar. Er did not entrust Tamar with children. He never got her pregnant. Er was killed off almost immediately. Judah ordered Onan to have sex with Tamar and give her children, as the Levirate Law required. Onan had sex with Tamar but by coitus interuptus intentionally refused to entrust her his children. Onan was killed off immediately. Contrary to Levirate Law, Judah sent Tamar home to her father’s house, implying that there was some strong overriding consideration that warranted defying that law. The law prescribed that a widow be kept in her late husband’s family. Obviously, Judah did not want her around. As leverage to get rid of her and persuade her to go to her father’s house, Judah promised to give Shelah to Tamar as husband, when Shelah matured. Tamar complied and went to her father’s home. Shelah grew up but Judah failed to give him to Tamar, obviously saving Shelah’s life.

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17. Judah’s wife died. 18. Judah got over it. 19. Judah went to see his old friend Hirah, the Adullamite, where he had found the sexy Canaanite woman he had married in the first place—Oh, he also went there to sheer sheep. It might be worth investigating whether this is some kind of metaphor like Naomi’s instructing Ruth to find Boaz and to “uncover his feet.” What does “sheer sheep” mean: hang out in a bar and pick up a foxy woman and seduce her? 20. Tamar found out that Judah was coming to Timnah. 21. Angry that Judah had not kept his promise to give her Shelah, Tamar staked herself out as a prostitute and enticed Judah. 22. She demanded his staff, signet, and cord in pay for her sexual services, suggesting that he could retrieve them by payment in the form of a young goat. We know who turned out ironically to be the goat. 23. Judah and the prostitute had sex. 24. She was pregnant. 25. Judah sent the goat but could not find the prostitute. There was none. 26. Judah resigned to the loss of his property—actually a matter of identity theft. 27. Judah was told that Tamar had been working as a prostitute and was pregnant. 28. Judah exercised his Levirate right, now that it was to his advantage to do so, and ordered her killed. 29. Tamar sent Judah’s staff, signet, and cord with the message, “The child is yours.” 30. Judah declared, “She is more righteous than I.” I am not clear what kind of logic that is. They both seem to me to be scoundrels. 31. Judah took her into his household as the Levirate Law required in the first place. 32. He never had sex with her again. 33. Tamar bore twins: Perez and Zerah. This story of Tamar is highly entertaining, slightly prurient at least, and certainly a little pornographic. In any case, it is an intriguing

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narrative, if psychologically considered. The story is usually told, analyzed, and interpreted as a report on how badly Tamar was consistently treated. That has nothing at all to do with the intent of the author, feminists working overtime to the contrary notwithstanding. This story is one of the most humorful and ironic commentaries in the entire Bible regarding the unmentionable fact that a woman can be lethal and the often mentioned fact that a man can be narcissistically inconsiderate and lawless. To get at the underlying truth in this narrative one must (1) read between the lines, (2) get behind the redactor’s effort to clean up the story, and (3) avoid superficial interpretation. The import of this narrative can be accessed by asking one key question about Gen 38 that has seldom been asked. That key question can be simply stated. Why was Tamar consistently distrusted by, and undesirable to, all of the men in the story; and what was the point of telling her trivially ordinary story in any case? The case is: (1) Er, her husband, did not give her children. He was mysteriously murdered. (2) Something about Tamar prompted Onan to defy Levirate Law and refuse to entrust her with children. He was mysteriously murdered. (3) Something about her caused Judah to defy Levirate marriage code and withhold his third son, Shelah, from Tamar, presumably saving his life. (4) Something about Tamar caused Judah to defy Levirate law a second time; and send her to her father’s house instead of keeping her in his own household as his dependent daughter-inlaw. (5) Something about her exposed itself in her (a) consciously betraying her father-in-law, (b) intentionally seducing him, and (c) manipulating him into keeping her in his household. What was her real motivation? Was she trying to cover an already established pregnancy when she seduced Judah, thus avoiding (1) personal and family shame, (2) parental and community rage and rejection, and (3) perhaps her own death by stoning? No other cogent reason for her posing as a prostitute or manipulating Judah is suggested in the story. Moreover, the subsequent report that came to Judah indicated that she had been practicing as a prostitute and thereby had become pregnant, without a husband to support her and the child. Prostitution was a legal profession at that time in Canaanite culture, as it is in a number of countries today, and so prostitution would have been an understandable thing for a single childless woman to do to support

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herself, in that culture at that time, if her father-in-law had thrown her out upon the mysterious death of his two sons who had offended her, and her father was not disposed to support a woman with her record. What kind of woman was Tamar? Every man who really got to know her distanced himself from her either by being murdered or by refusing her presence. This radical and permanent sort of avoidance of her is confirmed by the brief sentence at the end of the story, “Judah never touched her again sexually.” That is, she must have been available, as she had been at Timnah. Judah and Tamar were both single and living in the same house. They had been mutually and consensually sexual together and had conceived children, so far as the official report claimed. Under Levirate Law it would have been expected that they would have continued their relationship. However, for some reason this sexually deprived widower, Judah, consciously chose not to continue to be intimate with this sexually agile and available widow, Tamar. Why not? He would have gone for her, unless there was something terribly unusual, even dangerous, about doing so. One might argue, at this point, of course, that the Levirate Laws did not apply to Hebrews in the time of Judah since that would be an anachronism. It might be claimed that the Levirate Laws derived from the time of Moses and the Deuteronomistic Code. That argument may be set aside, immediately, of course, for three reasons. First, the Levirate Laws may have had a root in Mosaic regulations but seem to have been the product of the Priestly Code fashioned during the Babylonian Exile. Second, the author or editor who arbitrarily inserted this narrative into the middle of the Joseph story was certainly an exilic or post-exilic writer fashioning the story from the perspective of 500—300 BCE. The redactor who inserted the window dressing must have been of that perspective, as well. Third, the narrative itself strongly suggests that Judah was under obligation to give his sons, one after the other, to Tamar, an anachronistic application of Levirate Law, in the story as the author wrote it, to this Patriarch’s era and behavior. What is the real story here? The real story is not in the window dressing that the redactor gave the narrative. It is, rather, in the psychodynamics implied by the two-layered core narrative. What is window dressing and what is the core of this story? My

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thesis is that all the supernatural material that is introduced to prettify the story is window dressing. It is what is left when that exaggerated explanation is removed is the core story. My second thesis is that the core story is a two-layered psycho-social commentary of caution for the exiles returning from Babylon to Jerusalem regarding the dangers represented by the am ha’aretz culture they were about to encounter. Let us start from the beginning. This story is not about Levirate Law and the complex consequences of breaking it. This story is not about adultery and how badly it can trap you. This story is not about the problematic character of having children out of wedlock. This story is not about whose penis is in whose vagina. This story is not about prostitution and its persuasive pastoral possibilities. This story is about Judah, who undervalues the exclusivism and isolationism of his closed-society ethnic lineage. It is a story about how that corrupts that culture with being too friendly with the Canaanites. It is an early example of Israeli xenophobic rejection of the kind of accomodationism proposed by Felix Frankfurter, Barbara Tuchman, and Hannah Arendt in the last century, set, in this case, in sixth century BCE Palestine, and employing an anachronistic stage setting in Patriarchal Canaan of 2000 BCE. Tamar is a set piece in this drama. She functions as a believable but comic foil against which to play out the psychopathology of this ironic narrative that is really about Judah as he symbolizes the returning exiles of Ezra’s time. Judah leaves home, rejects his people, and God or fate punishes him for it with no end of trouble. The story says that it serves him right! However, the story is told throughout with such deftly wielded ironic skill as to rescue Judah from total ignominy, in the end, as irony is often designed to do. Irony is a psychological method of social intercourse that permits the author to tell the rotten truth about an important or dominant character without needing to confront him or her head-one.1 Regarding the function and nature of irony in hermeneutics of biblical themes and texts see particularly Virginia Ingram on the David 1

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Head-on confrontation, in which the narrator calls a spade a spade and sometimes calls a spade a meat ax, creates a state of affairs in the relationship in which the protagonist must win and the antagonist must lose. Irony permits a win-win option even in a bad situation. The ironic mode is imperative here because Judah is the progenitor of the surviving post-exilic Israelite clan returning from Babylonian exile; and in Judah all the prophetic promises for an Israelite future are vested. However, it was Judah who got rid of the beloved Joseph, the Hebrew hero who became the virtual Pharaoh of Egypt. That story of Joseph is made the excuse for this story about rescuing Judah, so the redactor awkwardly interpolated it into the Joseph Saga. That is one core layer of the story: saving Judah as the symbolic Patriarch guaranteeing Israelite future. The second layer of this story is focused upon the psychosocial intercourse of Judah and Tamar, as a backdrop for the decree of Ezra to purify all Israel by mercilessly throwing away all the Canaanite wives and children. The Tamar story justifies the restoration of the narcissistic exclusivism of the Israelite nation by the abusive abandonment of those Canaanite mixed marriages (Ezra 9–10). Ezra’s new regulation was required by the remnant returning from Babylon who imposed brutal regulations upon the am ha’aretz. The am ha’aretz were the common people of the preexilic Israelites who had not been carried away into the exile when the royalty, the wealthy, the educated, and the power elite had by deported. The am ha’aretz had remained in the land and had intermarried with the Moabites and other Canaanites that Nebuchadnezzar had relocated into the former land of Israel. The ironic character of the story is evident from the first line on. The story wants to make the ironic point that Judah left his own cultural set, the closed Hebrew ethnic group, and had social intercourse with the Canaanites. The rest of the story just goes to show how that can complicate one’s life. The Leitmotiv in this interesting comic-tragedy is that Tamar cannot get herself knocked up. Nobody is willing to get Tamar pregnant, nor to have this sexy lady around if she can be avoided, narrative in 2 Samuel and I–IV Kings, a PhD project at Murdoch University, Perth, Australia.

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even at the risk of repeatedly breaking the law to be rid of her. Our first step, then, must be to clean out the window dressing, that is, the special pleading in the story. This special pleading is required by the otherwise unaccountable deaths of Er and Onan and their failure to give Tamar children. The special pleading is the redactor’s attempt to get both God and Judah off the hook. The redactor does so at the subtly implied expense of the interesting, imaginative, perpetually resilient, and apparently lethally clever woman, Tamar. What a toweringly comic figure she becomes! One might nearly feel great empathy and fondness for her, that is for the Canaanite women and children Ezra banishes and Tamar symbolically represents. The first instance of special pleading is the claim that Er’s failure to provide Tamar children is associated with utter wickedness and so God murdered him (38:6–7). God is off the hook because Er had it coming to him. He deserved it for his wickedness. Unfortunately, nobody bothers to make an adequate case for us regarding what his wickedness amounted to, and, of course, he cannot speak in his own defense. The drama allows this claim of Er’s wickedness to remain slightly less than believable, casting an implied aspersion on Tamar and setting up the drama for Onan’s appearance on stage. Tamar is off the hook since even if she killed Er, she had a right to do him in because he gave her no children. He failed to do his lawful duty for her. Again, the poor fellow cannot tell us what it was about her that put him off and urged him not to entrust her with his progeny. The second instance of special pleading is in the claim that God murdered Onan for coitus interuptus. This claim must be considered spurious. Somebody else killed Onan. Who had the motive and opportunity to do so? Tamar, of course! However, both Tamar and God are both off the hook because Onan spilled his semen on the ground and gave Tamar no pregnancy. Having cleared out the special pleading, what we have left of the story is a stage drama in which Judah crosses the line from faithful adherence to Ezra’s dicta to keep the Hebrew lineage pure, and becomes enmeshed with forbidden women. One of these alien women is the occasion of the death of two of his sons. Judah protects his third son from her lethal clutches, only to find himself comically entangled in them himself. Such foreign Canaanite women are apparently irrepressible in their willingness and agility to

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use all of their seductive wiles to entangle the pure people of God. So they must be brutally put away, disposed of. Send them back to where they came from. They are illegal immigrants into the Umma of God’s chosen people—the domain of the sacred land, now defiled by bad women. Send Tamar back to her father’s house. Send the wives and children of the am ha’aretz out of the sacred land. Clean it up. No end of trouble can come to the chosen people, even to so towering a figure as the Patriarch Judah, from whom all of the pure people of God take their name and heritage! However, in the end, Judah was unable to escape his dilemma. “Tamar is more righteous than I, Judah, so I am left with this impossible impasse. I am left with my lethal flaws. I preserve my status of heroic Patriarch, but I am forever imprisoned to my sexual indiscretions and left with a woman-problem that is unresolvable forever, and in a home that is dominated by psycho-socially lethal psychopathic alienation. We are forced to just put up with each other.” Judah is rehabilitated as representing the justification for Ezra’s policy of ethnic cleansing. Of course that was long ago and in another country. It is interesting that the Qur’an recounts the Joseph Saga in detail (Surah 12), but neither Judah nor Tamar find their way into that sacred book. Obviously their story with its ambiguous Patriarch and its denigration of non-Hebrew women and children had nothing to offer for Allah’s believers in Arabia. They were themselves non-Hebrews with quite different notions about marriage and family. Moreover, the ethnic cleansing, under Ezra, undoubtedly offended in the extreme the moral sense of the more inclusive Arabs, under Muhammed.

VIRGINITY AS SAGACITY AND WISDOM JOHN TRACY GREENE MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY …virgin women, great goddesses for the lazy; to them we owe all, thoughts, speeches, trickery, roguery, boastings, lies, sagacity. (Aristophanes describing Clouds in his work of the same name)

PROLEGOMENA It has been a long-standing axiom that the Bible shows that God acts in significant ways through human beings. We are interested in women who reflect the characteristics of virginity and sagacity; the remainder of Aristophanes’ characteristics we can set aside for now. The human beings through whom s/he acts/acted have even been categorized variously as: Patriarchs, Prophets (Thaumaturges, Gazers, Diviners, Law-givers (Moses and Ezra), Magicians, etc.), Monarchs, Priests/Priest-Kings, Adversaries of Judah/Israel, Messiahs, and Disciples, Apostles (and later officers of the Church). But there is something missing from this list: It reflects only a male-centric view of how and through whom God acts. It totally ignores the roles women in the Bible have also played and through whom God has also acted in significant ways. Since the Bible is literature, and all literature works for a living, i.e., attempts to tell or teach the reader something, we need to focus on how that God works through the normally-omitted other humans: women. In this, the Bible and associated literature have clearly failed. Or have they?! Women have been both visible and conveniently invisible as both biblical writers and those who interpret them have deemed necessary. The treatment of women in the Bible has been uneven: when highlighted, some have received far more press than others, 259

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but not along lines of importance and contribution. We would be pleased to know more about the relationship between Jael and Sisera, for instance, and how it led to her murdering him. Such questions have given rise to a body of literature, post-biblical in nature, which is bold enough to ask these questions and even provide answers. We still find unresolved the issues and questions of culpability surrounding Queen Jezebel of Israel, wife of King Ahab of Israel during the 9th century BCE. One is led to believe that she was a prostitute, and because she opposed (in deadly fashion) the nationalistic machinations of the Prophet Elijah, she was a dastardly person. She and Jael were violent women, but one has been deemed a heroine, the other a tart! Bathsheva is another figure surrounded by controversy. There is here also a hint of the tart, but unlike Abigail, wife of Nabal, who entreated and cooperated with David, the latter has not been thought so. Perhaps a natural deal-maker, Bathsheva realized her potential influence on national matters, and demonstrated this as Queen-mother in the affair resulting in having her son, Solomon, named regent officially by David. While little light has been shed on women in the Bible, one issue appears to link all of them together; at least in the eyes of the biblical writers: they are understood as sagacious individuals. They have been called co-creators, whores, victims, dealers, thieves, smugglers, mistresses, joiners, mothers, queens, courtesans, hyper curious, and needy, but never stupid! In fact, more men than women are portrayed as accomplished dummies. This volume is devoted to women who appear in the literature of these three related faiths, and to question whether refracting present-day relations among the three faiths through the history of, concerns of, contributions made by women adds a deeper level of understanding how the Deity-who-acts acts through the feminine side of that Deity’s nature and will. With the need for problemsolving on such a scale, we cannot afford not to look under every rock, search in dark corners, lift every carpet, peek into every tea pot and oven, and search closets and libraries in order to improve the human condition. We need every shoulder at the wheel; the last time I looked, women had shoulders too. By viewing and discussing how women have acted in the past to contribute to the cavalcade of human progress (and setback), we hope to forecast

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how women will continue to contribute to that forward movement of the family of humankind. Humans are creatures driven by the concept of time. Before we want to understand anything about what happened or why something happened, we ask when it happened. Chronologists will never starve. When the proverb-writer asked how long the ‘feminine’ aspect of Deity had been around he or she replied: The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of old. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. When there were no depths I was brought forth, when there were no springs abounding with water. Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth; before he had made the earth with its fields, or the first of the dust of the world. When he established the heavens, I was there, when he drew a circle in the face of the deep, when he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep when he assigned to the sea its limit, so that the waters might not transgress his command, when he had marked out the foundations of the earth, then I was beside him, like a master workman; and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the sons of men. (Prov 8: 22–31, RSV)1

This seems to imply that the feminine aspect of Deity has been around for a long time, longer than—with the exception of the male Deity himself—the male aspect. When one wishes to push this image, ‘Ms. Wisdom’ of Prov 8 was the first goddess. All of this is, of course, the masculinization and feminization of the universe. This claim certainly clashes significantly with the similar claim found in the Fourth Gospel (According to John) where similar words are placed by that author in the mouth of the Logos. Since the Logos here is understood to be masculine, we seem to have not only an appropriation from Proverbs but a conscious change of gender as well. One asks, therefore, how often this has occurred in literary borrowings/ appropriations. 1

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Wisdom, by her very name and position in the cavalcade of existence, is sagacious. In fact, she calls upon the ‘sons of men’ to be equally so. She neither seeks, nor delights in inferior partners. She seeks parity, not power. Ms. Wisdom, not Eve, would be the perfect partner for a male. Plus, she “delights in the sons of men” (Prov 8: 31). Thus, here we have the ‘earliest’ relationship with a positive attitude by a feminine entity toward a masculine one. Where and when does it all seem to begin to come apart? Herein, we will focus on the vicissitudes and accomplishments of two women: the saintly Thecla, for a time an admirer, disciple, and companion of the Apostle Paul in the apocryphal Acts of Paul and Thecla, and Mary, mother of Jesus, in the apocryphal Protoevangelium of James. Both are women of faith, but their vicissitudes, and the way they deal with them, are the results of different challenges to their beliefs in the same deity. The former is designed as a sequel, while the latter functions as a prequel. How, then, do women function to augment post-biblical literature that serves midrashically as that term is basically understood?2

THE ACTS OF PAUL AND THECLA: A SEQUEL In the work known as The Acts of Paul and Thecla, we encounter an apocryphal sequel to the Acts of the Apostles work found in the canonical New Testament. Written in the 2nd century CE (ca. 160), it is most likely an excerpt of a much more extensive Acts of Paul known now only in the Coptic language. Nevertheless, the shorter version is known in Greek, Coptic, Latin, Syriac, Armenian and Ethiopic, suggesting a wide distribution and Church familiarity with the work. Moreover, the contents of these texts vary. Thus, we are dealing with an eclectic text. A Woman’s Right to Preach and Baptize By ca. 190, the Church Father Tertullian of Carthage was excoriating this work, for it advocated a woman’s right to baptize and preach the gospel. His De baptismo (17:5) attests to this and sees F. F. Bruce, Jesus and Christian Origins outside the New Testament, (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974), pp. 86–87. 2

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the work strictly in Church political terms. He held the opinion that its author was a discredited and degraded fraud. Half of the story is devoted by the author to this theme of baptism and preaching and the significance of both. In the year 2012, some things haven’t really changed. The Story (Constructed with Borrowed Motifs) Immediately, one recognizes the motif of the young (innocent) woman who has been sentenced to death (twice) and who is saved by another female’s intervention (Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides, for example). Moreover, shades of ‘The Binding of Isaac’ are evident in that Iphigenia was to be sacrificed but is saved when an animal was substituted for her. The story begins abruptly, suggesting that it has been processed from a larger work; the reader has the feeling that he or she is reading in medias res. The context is set by the ongoing itinerant travels and teachings of the Apostle Paul as read in the Acts of the Apostles. But that is where the similarity takes a break. Rather than focus on the salvific significance of Christ in God’s plan for humanity through “Israel” first, this work focuses on virginity, a popular theme in the early Hellenistic Church movement(s). Paul’s theology of justification and his constant need to justify his own apostleship are no longer foci in this work. The itinerant apostle traveled to the region of Iconium (nowadays the Provence and city of Konya in the Central Anatolian Region of Turkey) where he preached about sexual abstinence and the resurrection. Headquartered in the (church) house of Onesiphorus (which takes the place of Jesus’ Mount of Beatitudes), Paul delivers his twin message in a series of beatitudes. In a manner similar to the middle aged Rabbi Akiva (before he became a rabbi and was an impecunious laborer) who used to peek and listen attentively through a hole in the ceiling of a synagogue to the teachings of the beth ha-midrash, the virgin Thecla lived in an adjoining house and listened from an open window at the preachments of the celebrated apostle. She was so affected by what she heard that she existed trance-like for days. Her mother, Theocleia, and her fiancé, Thamyris, were duly alarmed when they found out why she had taken such a turn. Paul’s specific teaching “that one must fear only one God and live in chastity” differed radically from the prevailing social sensibilities of Iconium. Upset,

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especially the fiancé, at these preachments, they excited a mob of locals to have the apostle taken before the governor for examination; the governor found him guilty and had him sentenced to prison. Here we see another of the themes found in the biblical Pauline epistles and in Acts: incarceration. In prison Paul continued to preach. Thecla bribed her way into the prison to sit at Paul’s feet to listen to him preach and she kissed his bonds (reminiscent of Ruth’s lying at the feet of Boaz all night on the threshing floor in Ruth 7:3–8). Discovered by her family, both she and Paul were brought before the authorities. Theocleia demanded that Paul be scourged and expelled, whereas Thecla was sentenced to be burned alive at the stake. The idea was to discourage all women from being influenced by Paul’s teachings. Thecla was defrocked and tied nude to the stake, but when it was lighted she did not perish (and like Iphigenia, she was not destroyed); her flesh was not consumed, for God (not Christ!) sent a storm (as opposed to a substitute sacrifice) and the flames were extinguished. (Remember, it was a storm that shipwrecked the apostle during one of his journeys). Thereafter, Paul and Thecla traveled together to Antioch of Pisidia. It is there that the reader is somewhat shocked at the apostle’s subsequent personal deportment. One incident bears this out. At Antioch Paul was offered money by one Alexander for Thecla, whom he assumed belonged (in all senses of the word) to Paul. For unexplained reasons Paul denied knowing her (as Peter did Jesus after his arrest(s) [compare his attitude with that of Abraham before the pharaoh and King Abimelech]). Alexander, a nobleman, tried to overpower Thecla; she fought him viciously, defeated him in public, humiliating him. He had her summoned before the courts of Antioch for assaulting (not defending herself from) a nobleman. Despite the protests and verbal defenses of Thecla by the female population, Thecla was sentenced to be eaten alive by wild beasts the next day. Since virtue is an abiding theme in this story, a Queen Tryphaena intervened in order to ensure Thecla’s virtue should she die. She had her guarded overnight. When the planned execution began, Thecla was again stripped naked and bound to the back of a lioness which was led through the streets of Antioch. In the city’s arena, she was thrown to the wild beasts that Alexander had provided for entertainment and amusement. Thereafter followed a different series of miracles. First,

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the lioness battled and defeated the other wild beasts in order to preserve Thecla’s life. Second, a series of miracles, including the intervention on the part of the queen and the city’s women, occurred. The most fantastic of the miracles occurred when Thecla baptized herself in a pool of sea calves and/or seals. All the seals perished (killed by God) and Thecla emerged alive. Just as Peter became the leading disciple after his betrayal of Jesus through denying him, Thecla returned to Paul who had denied her and again traveled with him. She eventually returned home to Iconium and converted her mother. Still later, holds one version, she dwelt in a cave for some 72 years and then traveled to Rome to be buried with the martyred Paul there. This is the quintessential story of spiritual love and unsullied faith. Summary Thecla represented a tradition of asceticism in Asia Minor up to the 2nd century CE and beyond that was linked to the preaching and teaching of the Apostle Paul as many understood it. As a worldview it had its charm and many flocked to its banner. However, those who espoused marriage and certainly sex in marriage found asceticism disparaging and unnatural; certainly undesirable and deplorable. More troubling is the literary character Paul. He comes across as an ascetic “heel,” and one’s first instinct is to punch him in the nose for having abandoned a lady in distress. We remind ourselves, however, that his actions may simply be based on (mis)understandings of views on marriage and relationships associated with the Paul of the New Testament writings; and those in several different places. In 1 Cor 7:1 Paul holds: “it is well for a man not to touch a woman…” However, when the context and time are understood, one realizes that Paul was addressing the community’s sexual morality concern within the framework of belief in an imminent parousia. As a safeguard and stop-gap measure for the times, it was preferable to marry and have sex than to burn with the desire that led to error and immorality. If Christ’s parousia was imminent, he argued, why complicate your future life by doing what you ordinarily do, including having sex? While this appears to be one major concern among the ascetics of the 2nd century CE, and even perhaps a driving force behind the ideology of the writer of Paul and Thecla, 1 Tim 4:1–3

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offers a view which condemns specifically anyone who would forbid marriage. Unfortunately, this Timothean verse and that of 1 Cor 7:1 belong to a fierce and ongoing debate among biblical critics as to which is authentically Pauline and which is not. We need not solve this debate here. We merely look for inspirational texts and views for the author(s) of the Acts of Paul and Thecla.

THE PROTOEVANGELIUM OF JAMES: A PREQUEL This misleading title, derived from “I, James, wrote this history in Jerusalem.” [and thus purports to be the work of Jesus’ brother, James the Just], is also known by its major theme: The Birth of Mary the Holy Mother of God, and Very Glorious Mother of Jesus Christ. One may also find this work referred to as the Gospel of James and the Infancy Gospel of James. The work addresses issues and responds to questions by Christians living some two generations (ca. 2nd century CE) after the time of Jesus of Nazareth and his family. They wanted to know how the holy family, especially Mary, mother of Jesus, herself came to the attention of God who made her holy enough to be the mother of God himself. As such, this prequel is a kind of “In the beginning…” that clarifies the birth narratives of the Gospels of Matthew and Luke in the canonical New Testament. Origen of Alexandria is credited as the first Father or scholar to mention this work which he calls the Book of James. There are versions of the Protoevangelion(um) (P) in Syriac, Ethiopic, Georgian, Old Slavonic, Armenian, Arabic, Irish, and Latin. The earliest known manuscript version of the text dates to either the 3rd or 4th century CE. Discovered in 1958, it is known as Papyrus Bodmer 5 and is housed in Geneva, Switzerland’s Bodmer Library. Like the work concerning Thecla, the focus is on a virginal and sagacious woman who devotes her life to the service of God in her own unique way. The birth and childhood of Mary, her maturation and betrothal to Joseph, and the birth and early childhood of Jesus are the main contributions of the story. These issues serve to attach legs to the torso of the canonical birth narratives of Matthew and Luke. The Story Again, as with Thecla, the reader recognizes the motif of the young virgin who serves at a temple in Iphigenia in Tauris by Euripides.

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From very privileged beginnings in the “tribes of Israel,” (note the ambiguity) the exceedingly wealthy Joachim brought double his required sacrifice to the priests. In so doing, he reminds the reader of what was said about Job 1:1–5; he was an exceedingly pious man. However, there was an adversary, one Rubim, who sought to diminish Joachim in the eyes of the community by reminding all that he had no issue, especially no son to carry on his name and inherit him. This aggrieved him greatly and he resolved to investigate the record of patriarchs in Israel who had been without issue. Here begins the motif of the childless, especially sonless, male. We are already familiar with this motif when it is shone like a spotlight on women (Sarah, Rachel, Rebecca, Leah, Hannah, the Mother of Samson, the Great Woman of Shunem, and Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist). Remembering that God had granted Abraham his son Isaac in his later years, Joachim retired to the desert to pray, fast, and await God’s decision concerning a child for him and his wife. His wife, Anna, (who in many ways reminds the reader of Hannah’s prayer [1 Sam 2:1–10] and Mary’s Magnificat [Luke 1:46– 55]) suffered doubly from this stigma of being childless, and would not allow herself to be comforted of this fact by her handmaiden, Judith. Refusing the gift that Judith proffered (a necklace) as a gift motivated by sin, she doffed her mourning clothes, and after ablutions, donned her wedding frock and went down to the garden to pray. Like her husband, using the vicissitudes of Abraham, she referred to those of Sarah and implored the Lord to make her fruitful. At this point in the story the vicissitudes of John the Baptist’s father (Zechariah) and all of the biblical women who had been childless (among them Sarah, the mother of Samson, Hannah, Elizabeth) find their point of confluence, and once again the possibility of the birth of a wonder child is suggested to the reader familiar with these traditions. Here, according to one account, are the circumstances attending Mary’s birth: And her months were fulfilled, and in the ninth month Anna brought forth. And she said to the midwife: What have I brought forth? And she said: A girl. And said Anna: My soul has been magnified this day. And she laid her down. And the

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I emphasized the section which mentions gratuitously a midwife who is unnamed. I shall refer to this practice of midwifery below. Thus, at this point we may allow F.F. Bruce in his work Jesus and Christian Origins outside the New Testament 3 to complete the story for us: …the Protevangelion of James… begins with an account of the birth of Mary to Joachim and Anna in their old age, when they had given up all hope of having children. Like the infant Samuel in the Old Testament, Mary was dedicated by her grateful mother to the service of god in the temple, and there she was placed in charge [the] of the priest Zechariah. When she was twelve years old she was betrothed by her guardians to Joseph. The story of the annunciation and virginal conception follows the nativity narratives of Luke and Matthew, with various embellishments: Mary’s chastity is vindicated, for example, by the ‘ordeal of jealousy’ prescribed in Numbers 5:11–28. In a cave near Bethlehem Mary gives birth to Jesus, Salome acting as midwife. When Herod fails to find the infant, after the visit of the wise men from the east, he tries to lay hands on the child John (later the Baptist), but when he too is not to be found (having been hidden with his mother Elizabeth in a hollow mountain) Herod has his father Zechariah put to death in the temple court.

Immediately, the reader notices that this prequel “answers” numerous questions not answered by the Gospel accounts concerning Mary, Joseph, Zacharias, Elizabeth, Herod (and Salome). Let us focus on the women. Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist, realizes that her son, supposedly six months older than his cousin Jesus, is also in imminent danger from the deranged, paranoid and blood-thirsty Herod, and thus is also saved from the At this juncture of the story (18 and 19) there is a change from indirect speech to direct speech in that Joseph begins to refer to himself and narrates how he came to meet the midwife. 3

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“slaughter of the innocents” by being secreted in a hollow mountain. This also points in a less adroit manner to why friction existed between the adult John and Herod’s son Antipas over the Herodias issue. Salome, the midwife at Jesus’ birth in a cave near Bethlehem, is also a new character. Let us pause here to see if there are any connections with the biblical text. We are familiar with Salome as a member of Jesus’ followers who traveled with him to Jerusalem and was present at his crucifixion (Mark 15: 40). In Mark 16:1 a Salome is among the women who brought spices to the tomb of Jesus on the Sabbath following his execution. But a midwife Salome is certainly missing from the Matthew 1:25 account as well as from that of Matthew 2:1 which addresses the birth of Jesus. Likewise, there is no mention of a midwife Salome in Luke 2:6–7’s account of Jesus’ birth. Therein, it is Mary who wraps her firstborn child in swaddling clothes. There is, nevertheless, allusion to a daughter of Herodias, Antipas’ wife, in Mark 6:17–29 and Matthew 14:3–11. She is a dancer, but remains unnamed in the biblical texts. However, this unnamed daughter has come to be known as Salome due to the writings of the 1st century CE historian, Josephus Flavius. In his work Jewish Antiquities (Book XVIII, 5, 4), we learn that Salome was married to Philip, another son of Herod the Great and brother of Antipas, who was tetrarch of Trachonitis. After his death, she married his brother, Aristobulus and had three sons. All of this information leaves us to ask from where, then, is this Salome of the Protoevangelium? The answer begins to be supplied when the sixteen year-old Mary has become pregnant. After facing a perplexed and doubting Joseph who had been away for months building structures, only to return home to find her pregnant, she was exonerated by an angel who appeared to Joseph in a dream. This obstacle having been removed, both Joseph and Mary then fall under suspicion by the temple authorities before whom they declare their innocence. However, after being made to drink of the water of ordeal of the Lord and thereafter manifesting no sinfulness, they were released to continue their life together. Required by an Augustan decree to go to Bethlehem to be enrolled for purposes of a census, Joseph, Mary and two of his sons traveled together. Enroute, Mary indicated to Joseph that it was time for her to be delivered of her child. He went immediately to Bethlehem to

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find a midwife. Again (as mentioned above in the birth of Mary quotation) a midwife is mentioned gratuitously.4 This midwife, who actually performs no midwifery in the story, accompanies Joseph to the cave where Mary is located. All view a wonderful sight of a luminous appearance of the child Jesus. Salome appears when the midwife runs to her to tell her what happened. Gratuitously brought into the story also, Salome is the first person to doubt that the miracle of the mystery has occurred, putting her on a level with Jesus’ disciple Thomas (John 20: 24–25). But Salome, too, is a midwife, perhaps the chief midwife in the region. Because of her doubt she is instructed to “put her finger” into the uterus of the just delivered Mary. After doing so, she exclaims: “Woe is me for mine iniquity and mine unbelief, for I have tempted the living God; and behold mine hand is dropping off as if burned with fire.”(20) After being restored in faith and body by God, Salome picked up the infant and carried it in the fashion of a proper midwife considering herself blessed to do so. She was instructed not to tell of this incident until the child had been brought to Jerusalem. Here we have a recycling of the idea of a messianic secret. Since many fail to grasp that Jesus and John the Baptist were related (cousins of priestly families),5 they fail also to grasp the John is so understood because of his parents: the priest Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth. Mary and Elizabeth are shown to be related both in the Gospels (Luke 1: 39–40) and in the Protoevangelium (12), but Joseph is depicted as a carpenter in both bodies of literature. 5 Some non-Jews have difficulties understanding the term midrash and just what it means. Basically, the Hebrew root D.R.SH. means ‘to search.’ Thus, midrash, the derived noun, is a searching (for something). It involves the technique of doing (re)search of a given text to find a new meaning believed to have been imbedded in that text at its time of composition. In this basic sense, then, midrash means exegesis after interpretation, having revisited a text, any text. But the matter doesn’t end there. One encounters also the expression Midrash (which I have capitalized). Midrash embraces midrash by serving a similar function. However, Midrash (plural Midrashim) refers to a specific body of written literature. Midrash, therefore, is a body of interpretive literature composed at a specific time 4

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danger from Herod to baby John as well, and focus only on baby Jesus. The Protoevangelium fills this gap by showing the danger to both (as well as other) infants. As Brice reminded us above, Elizabeth and John were hidden in a cleft rock; Zechariah, because he would not tell Herod where to find them, was murdered, an incident not reported in the Gospel accounts. In the Protoevangelium account the escape of the holy family to Egypt (in Matthew) is also not recounted. The work as we have it ends with another change from third person narrative to first person, for now “I James” speaks, telling the reader that he wrote this account in Jerusalem some time shortly after the death of Herod the Great (ca. 4 BCE).

ANALYSIS (A) We have summarized two important works of post-biblical literature that focus on the New Testament works of the Acts of the Apostles and the canonical Gospels involving infancy narratives. One we termed a prequel, the other a sequel. These terms of convenience allowed us to focus on their contents in a way that revealed the plans and purpose(s) of those who “penned” them. In either case there was a value judgment assumed: either information needed to be supplied as to why the biblical account contained only the details it did, although pre details (=prequel) were found to be helpful, or a follow-up of the progress and purpose of an account were necessary, thus, a sequel. Both methods reveal much about the generations of people who had “cut their teeth” on what became canonized versions of the Gospel accounts or those of the Acts of the Apostles, and those in Jewish literary history that responded to specific challenges to interpreters both from without and from within Judaism. Midrash thus refers to extensive and formal commentaries on the books of the Tanach necessitated by self-defensive tactics from outside claims made of other and competing biblical texts, especially, but not limited to the Christian interpretation(s) of biblical texts. These Christians, primarily Church Fathers of various stripes, employed their interpretations as interpretive weapons against the Jewish Tanach and its function within contemporaneous rabbinic-led Judaism.

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generations wanted to know more. They thought that previous storytellers had been parsimonious in the information they shared with the hearer/reader who demanded more. The themes of wisdom, trust in God, faithfulness (fidelity), exemplary personal deportment before God and community are obvious in both works summarized above. Although wisdom and sagacity are not synonyms, they are two sides of the same coin. By wisdom we mean the concatenation of thoughts, disciplines, and demonstrated activities that lead a person to conclude that belief in and service to God mark the faithful person’s attitude to God and trust in his grace. By sagacity we mean achieving all of the above but with the added conscious thought of buttressing the abovementioned success by thoughtful and deliberate behavior and/or word/deed. Let us now focus on the “job” of the prequel and sequel in post-biblical literature. It is human nature to want to know more about a famous person or event which we encounter in its maturity. That is, if we meet a famous person who became famous as an adult; we want to know how that person became such a person. With a historical occurrence such as the American Civil War, we want to know what antebellum occurrences led to such a devastating war. When we consider Thecla, we encounter a young woman who was engaged to be married. But this is not a positive picture with the hope of living happily ever after. One gets the idea that her fiancé and her mother looked more forward to the wedding than she, for we see later that they joined forces as allies against her when she decided against marriage. Luckily for her, the Apostle Paul was speaking next door on the subject of (among other things) asceticism. If Thecla had had doubts about compulsory sex in marriage and had been seeking a way out of it, this certainly gave her a way out: become a disciple of this man, as opposed to a sex slave of her (promised) husband! Thecla, therefore, is emblematic of those, especially Christians, who eschewed sex in hope of coming into the afterlife unblemished. She is also emblematic of those who viewed the complications and by-products of sex as unnecessary since the coming of Christ was believed to be

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imminent. Her (almost) immediate conversion, therefore, was a well-reasoned decision, not that of a person simply fascinated by a rhetor with a golden tongue.6 The writer of this Acts chose the “Acts of XXX” genre7 for the framework of his work, but it is clear that the issue that animated him is enshrined in 1 Cor 7. His Acts of Paul and Thecla is in essence a midrash on this chapter of Paul’s writing.8 It is possible that the writer had Paul’s words or at least destination of them in mind as 6 The fate Thecla escaped in her tale came to fruition in the life and death of a 3rd century young woman named Vibia Perpetua in Carthage in 203 CE; in that year she, along with several others, was martyred. Unlike Thecla, she, though only 22 years old, was married, had a suckling child, and was, like one of her brothers, a catechumen. She kept a journal, which serves as the kernel of a story about her martyrdom. The person who published her diary added a preface, some internal, explanatory notes, and a postlegomenon. Her journal contains a most illuminating account leading up to the martyrdom Thecla was spared.

One of Perpetua’s prison mates was a young, married and 8-month-old, pregnant woman named Felicitas. Her concern was not to be denied martyrdom with her fellow Christians who had been sentenced to death; Romans did not execute pregnant women. She thus considered herself most fortunate of women when, after a fervent prayer session and vigil by her fellow prisoners, she went into labor and gave birth to a daughter in her eight month.

The narrator in his postlegomena provides vivid testimony to the manner in which these two women and their fellow male prisoners met death. See The Acts of the Christian Martyrs, Text and Translation by Herbert Musurillo, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1972). Cf. note 5 above. 7 There are numerous works bearing the title “Acts of …”. In addition to Acts of the Apostles, there are, for example, Acts of Paul & Silas, Apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, Acts of Peter, Acts of Andrew, and the Acts of Pontius Pilate, to name but a few. 8 Muslim traditions, perhaps following the same trajectory of the childless mother or pair found in contemporaneous Judaism(s) and Christianity(ies), employ this motif in the story of the Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH) parents and the circumstances of his birth. Cf. Mishael Caspi, pp. 80–81 in Mishael M. Caspi and John T. Greene, eds., Eve: The Unbearable Flaming Fire, (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press, 2011).

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he penned this work. If so, Thecla would have been pleased to hear Paul hold forth on the contents of 1 Cor 7:8 ff. Likewise, she would have given ear to the contents of 1 Cor 7: 12–16. It is apparent that after Thecla made a conscious decision to convert to Paul’s religion, her mother and betrothed would have obviously been placed by her in the category of unbelievers. What animates Thecla is the prospect, nay, the reality of an imminent coming of the Christ. To greet that coming with the purest of mind, body, spirit and deed would make that moment all the more special and holy. This was Thecla’s intent and she focused on nothing else. In all this we maintain that she was a woman of singular purpose and that she eschewed popular thought and convention (marriage) purposefully and not blindly. The reader intuits how deeply this idea was entrenched in Thecla when she faced her second suitor. While he was of the opinion that as a wealthy “play boy” he could have any woman who was his fancy, Thecla was sufficiently secure in her own faith by that time that even his ambitions were easily thwarted. We again maintain that this faith was not blind but faith buttressed by purposeful thinking about her ultimate fate and the small, if not totally unimportant, role traditional positions of sex played in it. And her protracted time remaining on the celibate life also testifies to that faith and determination to not be unprepared when Christ came or were it to be preceded by death. For her, being among the faithful and worthy dead was preferable to being alive in a state of unpreparedness. This is an ultimate expression of wisdom: knowledge of and unfailing, unwavering trust in God.

ANALYSIS (B) Let us now turn our attention to Anna, wife of Joachim, a wealthy and extremely pious man, and mother of the future Mary, mother of Jesus/God. Having been Joachim’s wife for quite some time, we assume that her inability to produce issue was not due to lack of intercourse. Unlike in the case of Thecla, asceticism is not at issue here; neither is abstention. It is simply (as complicated medically as that can be) a case of infertility. But infertility, or even when fertile and producing only female children, occurs, a wife’s position within the community becomes tenuous at best. Thus, the reader should note that when fertility is evident, two things occur: Anna issues a daughter and not a son, and Joachim is as pleased as punch! The writer of the Protoevangelium set us, the readers, up to expect

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something, someone else, and for a moment there, we were taken in. Anna’s story is not told just because she is the mother of Mary. She is the reason Mary is not only possible, but successful in her maternal role. What she does determines how Mary is tutored and on what road she is set. We repeat that she, Anna, was in a most precarious position socially/communally by not having produced issue. We, therefore, need to view her actions with this knowledge in mind. The principle (and formula) seems to be a simple one: God gives you a gift, you give it back to God, for the best gift to give is the one you cherish most; it keeps you from becoming so attached to it that it becomes a sort of idol. This is what motivated the mothers of Samuel and Samson—and to some extent, Mary concerning Jesus. By Anna’s act she makes a conscious and wise decision to part with that for which she had for so long wished. We view the genesis of this decision when her husband withdrew into the wilderness to reflect on their situation. When she decided to dress and simply go down to the garden and spend time with herself, this, most likely, was the decisive period. Thinking beyond just her motherly desires to the contribution her offspring could make, she there decided to consecrate her—as yet unmanifested— child to the service of God. This shows both sagacity and Wisdom. The remainder of the story vouchsafes to the reader the wages of Anna’s decision. The results are that the miraculous child, Mary, is allowed to be weaned, and is then taken to the temple and dedicated to a life of service there. After waiting for so long to conceive, she delivers of a baby girl. The reader is again reminded of the stories of the young Samuel and, interpreted broadly, Samson the Nazirite. Young Mary grows up in the temple service with several other young girls/women/virgins, and she prospers. Somehow no one seems to have foreseen the inevitability of Mary growing up and becoming a young woman with all of the attending physical developments. One of these developments made it impossible for her to remain at the temple and in its service. Laws of purity dictated that a suitable guardian was sought; the best candidate was reasoned by the priests to be the pious Joseph; he was elderly, trustworthy as a guardian, and had already raised a family. He agreed reluctantly, but he agreed to take her as his ward.

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Because of his business requirements as a building contractor, Joseph must be away from home for extended periods of time, thus Mary is often left alone. Except for occasional visits to her kinswoman, Elizabeth, wife of Zechariah the priest, we are left to understand she led a lonely, domestic life as a ward of Joseph.

CONCLUSION In our examination of two principle sagacious women—Thecla and Anna—who exemplified Wisdom as well, we learn that they were like sagacious/wise suns around whom other women who either demonstrated Wisdom or acquired it by associating with these women revolved like planets or like moons or satellites around planets. We learned that Wisdom either attracted itself or spawned itself by association. Biblical women who demonstrate sagacity are often vilified as dangerous (e.g., Abigail, Jezebel, Tamar, Jael, Bathsheva). Yet, the quintessential presentation of Wisdom is as a female associate of YHWH the God of Israel in Prov 8. And while this image has been masculinized in the Gospel of John, the world of late classical antiquity and rabbinic Judaism continued to depict Wisdom as feminine (e.g. Sophia [Greek] and Shechinah [Hebrew]). Thus, we may be tempted to see both women, Thecla and Anna, as personifications of Hochmah/Sophia/Shechinah. These works, therefore, may have been appeals to contemporaries who worked toward a more inclusive society and simply placed literary ‘flesh’ on a set of ‘bones’ already held theoretically in great esteem. But note the offspring their demeanor spawned: the Queen Tryphaena (and those women who supported her decision to guard Thecla during her night of incarceration [not her life but her virginity!]) vs. her mother, who was hell bent on having her follow the traditional view of the purpose of women and who sided with her fiancé. Thus, the author is careful to demonstrate that all women do not exemplify Wisdom or sagacity simply because they are women. Likewise, Anna faced one of the most trying crises of a married, although pious woman: barrenness. Yet, she was secure in the knowledge of the ways of her God and did not seek to complain or second-guess him. At the most trying moment to her fidelity to both her God and to her husband (who had departed to face his crisis alone through reflection in the wilderness), this cool lady removed herself to her garden where she awaited the decision of her God as to her purpose in the greater scheme of history. She

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thus exhibited Wisdom and sagacity by not attempting to force or hurry the hand of God for her selfish sake. What resulted is still debated theologically and within the history of religions: Who is more important, the mother of God or the mother of the mother of God as causative agent? Is one important without the other? Is one possible without the other? Giving both mother and daughter equal billing for argument sake here, Anna rejects the gift of her maiden-in-waiting, Judith, for she perceives that it is a bribe of sorts, and wants nothing to do with it: it expresses neither Wisdom nor sagacity. By donning her wedding dress, she appears to be aware that an even more special ‘bridegroom’ than her absent husband will visit her. It remains to discuss Elizabeth, the wife and kinsperson/ friend of Mary and mother of another Wunderkind, John the Baptist, and the two midwives, one anonymous and one named Salome, associated with Mary at the birth of her own Wunderkind, Jesus. The story of Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist is greatly expanded in this prequel. The canonical Gospel accounts of the association of Mary and Elizabeth indicate that both were pregnant at the same time, but that their pregnancies were some six months apart. Therein we also learn that the fetus of Elizabeth ‘leapt’ in recognition of the fetus Mary was carrying (Luke 1:39–44). But that was the end of the relationship hinted at between the two male kinspersons, John and Jesus. This at least helps to establish a time line which suggests that both were babies when Herod-the-king threatened all Jewish youth of a certain age in his slaughter of the innocents campaign. Elizabeth took to the hills and hid her son from the king’s deadly agents, thus saved her son to perform one of the most important functions of his later, adult life: the baptism of Jesus. The execution of her husband—missing from canonical Gospel accounts—underscores the danger in which young John stood and the sagacity of his mother in hiding and protecting him. The triumph of Wisdom and sagacity over ignorance and disbelief is demonstrated in the account of the first and anonymous midwife Joseph brings to the grotto of Jesus’ nativity in the Protoevangelium. Laden with skepticism, like Jesus’ disciple, Thomas, only when directed by heavenly command to inspect the justdelivered Mary’s uterus manually does she acquire Wisdom and become the first female witness to the virgin birth of Jesus.

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Afterwards, she understands fully why this knowledge should not be divulged to anyone other than her colleague, and fellow midwife, Salome, before the holy family enters Jerusalem. At the very beginning of this essay we stated that we wanted to explore more about how God engaged the word through humans, now, in addition to such famous names on the ‘wall of honor’ such as Noah (upright man of his generation), Abraham (who walked with God and through whose progeny the nations will be blessed), Moses (the friend of God and his law-giver), David (his warrior-king, architect of a state, and sweet singer of the songs of praise to God), and the great writing prophets, we add the names of the formerly childless women from Sarah to Elizabeth, who produced for God gifted agents of challenge and change who translated, through their actions, the will of deity into fleshly problem-solving and divine activity. But these figures, both male and female whom we admire, occupy a special place in life and are lifted in relief larger than life within the pages of the Bible (both Old and New Testaments, Torah, Pentateuch, Septuagint(a), Targums, and Peshitta). But later Israel wanted to know more about how, and through whom, God had also acted (and continued to act) in significant ways on behalf of humankind. So the story continued, and was told in apocryphal literature sometimes in the forms of the prequel and sequel. The two excellent examples of these genres are the above-discussed and analyzed Acts of Paul and Thecla and The Protoevangelium of James.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Bovon, Francois and Snyder, Glynn E. Eds. New Testament and Apocrypha. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2009. Brenner, Athalya. I Am: Biblical Women Tell Their Own Stories. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2004. Brown, Peter. The Body and Society: Men, Women and Sexual Renunciation in Early Christianity. New York: Columbia University Press, 1987. Bruce, F. F. Jesus and Christian Origins outside the New Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974. Ehrman, Bart D.Lost Scriptures:Books that Did Not Make It into the New Testament. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003.

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Fishelov, David. “Biblical Women in World and Hebrew Literature.” Online: http:jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/ biblical-women-in-world-and-hebrew-literature. Frend, William H. C. Martyrdom and Persecution in the Early Church. Cambridge, UK: James Clarke & Co., 2008. Gebara, Ivone. Out of the Depths: Women’s Experience of Evil and Salvation. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2011. Goodspeed, Edgar J. “The Acts of Paul and Thecla.” The Biblical World 17.3 (March 1901): 185–190. Higgs, Liz Curtis. Bad Girls of the Bible and What We Can Learn From Them. Glenview, IL: WesterBrook Press, 1999. Holzhey, Carl. DieThekla-Akten. Ihre Verbreitung und Beurteilung in der Kirche. Munich: J.J. Lentner, 1905. Koosed, Jennifer L. Gleaning Ruth: A Biblical Heroine and Her Afterlives. Colombia, S.C.: University of South Carolina Press, 2011. Loader, William. The Pseudepigrapha on Sexuality: Attitudes toward Sexuality in the Apocalypses, Testaments, Legends, Wisdom, and Related Literature. Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2011. Lunceford, Joe E. Biblical Women: Submissive? Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2009. MacDonald, D. R. The Legend and the Apostle: The Battle for Paul in Story and Canon. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1983. MacHaffie, Barbara J. Her Story: Women in Christian Tradition. 2nd Ed. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2011. Protoevangelium of James, Online: www.newadvent.org/ fathers/ 0847.htm. Reuther, Rosemary Radford. Women and Redemption: A Theological History. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2011. Schoer, S. Wisdom Has Built Her House: Studies on the figure of Sophia in the Bible. L. M. Mahoney and W. M. Donough, Trans. Collegeville, MN: InterVarsity Press, 2000. Streete, Gail C. Redeemed Bodies: Women Martyrs in Early Christianity. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. Yee, Gale A. Poor Banished Children of Eve: Women as Evil in the Hebrew Bible. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2011.

WHY DIDN’T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD?1 “A SON IS BORN TO NAOMI” (RUTH 4:17) YITZHAK (ITZIK) PELEG BEIT BERL COLLEGE

NAMING THE BOOK OF RUTH One of the most attractive aspects of the book of Ruth is that it is named for a woman, and a Moabite at that!2 It seems almost miraculous that the Book contains no condemnation, or even criticism, of a marriage between a Hebrew and a Moabitess. What did Naomi3 think of her sons’ intermarriages?4 Did she not respond This essay is based on a paper which I presented at the International Meeting of the SBL in Amsterdam, July 2012. I should like to thank my friend Dr. Nancy Rosenfeld for her help in preparing this version. 2 See note 44 regarding this point. 3 Naomi’s suffering is a great, or possibly even greater, than Job’s. Both lost all of their children, but Naomi lost her spouse as well. Her response on returning to Bethlehem is similar to Job’s: “[…] how can you call me Naomi when the Lord has dealt harshly [hemmar] with me […]” (Ruth 1:20). See Tamara Cohn Eskenazi and Tikva Frymer-Kensky, The JPS Bible Commentary Ruth, Philadelphia, 2011, p. 25: “So too Job, who cried out regarding “Shaddai who has embittered [hemmar] my life” (Job 27:2). Like Job, Naomi does not believe that she deserves such treatment. See also Edward F. Campbell, Ruth: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB, 7 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1975), p. 25, 83. See also Ilana Pardes, Countertraditions in the Bible: A Feminist Approach, (Hakibbutz Hameuchad, 1996), p. 85. 1

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in the same way as the parents of Samson? When their son proposed marrying a Philistine woman his parents answered: “Is there no one among the daughters of your own kinsmen and among all our people that you must go and take a wife from the uncircumcised Philistines?” (Judg 14:3) Intermarriage is expressly forbidden in the Torah: “When the Lord your God brings you to the land […] He dislodges many nations before you […] You shall not intermarry with them: do not give your daughters to their sons or take their daughters for your sons” (Deut 7:1–3).5 Indeed, in Deuteronomy we find a specific prohibition of intermarriage with Moabites: “No Ammonite or Moabite shall be admitted into the congregation of the Lord, none of their descendants, even in the tenth generation, shall ever be admitted into the congregation of the Lord” (Deut 23:4). In the light of the above it is surprising that the book of Ruth contains no reservations as to Ruth’s ethnicity. Ruth marries twice: her first husband is Mahlon, Naomi’s son: he and his brother “married Moabite women, one named Orpah and the other Ruth” (Ruth 1:4); her second husband is Boaz (see Ruth 4:13). In the latter there is no mention of Ruth being a Moabitess. Yet, when Boaz first sees her, he asks: “whose girl is that?” (2:5) and the young man in charge of the reapers answers: “she is a Moabite girl who came back with Naomi from the country of Moab” (2:6). Instead of referring to the stranger as Ruth the Moabitess he could have referred to her as Ruth, a widow, or Ruth, Naomi’s daughterin-law. We might even expect her Moabite origins to be played down in the text; but they are mentioned over and over again in the

Tamara Cohn Eskenazi (see above note 3) notes that: “Structurally, a marriage with a Moabite woman stands at the center of the Prologue. Moabite status may also be the focal point of the dilemma that must be faced when Ruth the Moabite comes to Judah.” See Cohn Eskenazi and Tikva Frymer-Kensky (see above note 3), p. 7. 5 The Bible includes examples of intermarriage: Abraham, who marries Hagar (an Egyptian) in Gen 16, and Joseph, who marries Asenath (an Egyptian) in Gen 41:45; moreover, Moses marries Zipporah (a Midianite) in Exod 2:21. 4

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 283 course of the book. This repetition has a rhetorical purpose: to repeatedly call attention to Ruth’s origins.

RUTH’S ETHNIC STATUS I agree with Eskenazi who wrote regarding “The Status of the Moabites” that: “The repeated references to Ruth as a Moabite call attention to her origins, obliging us to assess what messages the book seeks to convey.” Eskenazi sums up: “The fact that Ruth herself is repeatedly introduced as Moabite, even when that information does not seem necessary for identification (1:4,22; 2:2, 6, 21; 4: 5,10), underscores the importance of her Moabite status in the book. The ancient readers of Ruth would have been familiar with the large negative picture of Moabites in the Bible and with their exclusion from the community (according to Deut 23). Therefore, it is logical that Ruth’s Moabite status would have been regarded as a problem, even though no pejorative reference to Moabites appears in the book.6 Ruth herself is in no hurry to reveal her origins: When Boaz asks her who she is, she replies: “I am your handmaid Ruth” (3:9); that is, she gives her first name but does not mention that she hails from Moab. Boaz, who is aware of her origins, answers in the name of the Deity: “Be blessed of the Lord, [my] daughter” (3:10). This, of course, is in violation of the law as stated in Deut 23:4: No Moabite “shall ever be admitted into the congregation of the Lord.” During the period of the return from exile we read in Neh 13:1: “they read to the people the Book of Moses, and it was found written that no Ammonite or Moabite might ever enter the congregation of God.” In the book of Ezra we learn that: “Ezra the priest got up and said to them: “You have trespassed by See Eskenazi (above note 3), pp. 46–48; Re foreign women, Yaira Amit calls the book of Ruth an “Indirect polemic […] the repeated use of the combination “Ruth the Moabitess” is first and foremost the choice of the writer who is not satisfied with noting the facts, but repeatedly emphasizes Ruth’s Moabite origins.” Hidden Polemics in Biblical Narrative, (Tel Aviv, Yediot Acharonot, 2003), p. 95. 6

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bringing foreign women, thus aggravating the guilt of Israel. So now make confession to the Lord God of your fathers, and do His will and separate yourselves from the people of the land and from the foreign women” (Ezra 10: 10–11). Ruth herself is surprised by her kind reception and asks Boaz: “Why are you so kind as to single me out, when I am a foreigner?"7 (Ruth 2:10) The expression “foreigner” (nokhriyah)8 in the book of Ruth recalls the story of the expulsion, the exile of the foreign women during the period of Ezra and Nehemiah. The combination “foreign women” (nashim nokhriyot) appears in Ezra and Nehemiah, as well as in Kings. Ezra’s command is clear: “Separate yourselves from the people of the land and from the foreign women” (Ezra 10:11).9 In Kings we learn that King Solomon: “loved many foreign women in addition to Pharaoh’s daughter, Moabite, Ammonite, Edomite…” (1 Kgs 11:1). The narrator immediately notes that Solomon’s marriages ran contrary to God’s explicit wishes (in 1 Kgs 11:2). Regarding the combination “I am a foreigner” (anoki nokriyah) Jack M. Sasson notes: “The play on words here is double: a metaphoric one which plays on the root nkr: lehakkir, “to recognize” (in a friendly manner); and nokriyyah, “a [female] foreigner,” See Jack M. Sasson, A New Translation with a Philological Commentary and Formalist-Folklorist Interpretation, (Sheffield: JSOT 1989), p. 51. See also Gen 42:7: “When Joseph saw his brothers he recognized them but he acted like a stranger” (wayakiram wayitnaker lahem). 8 I agree with Sasson that in some places in the Bible nokriyah means “someone who is not recognized as a member of a ‘family’.” See Gen 31:15 when Rachel and Leah tell Jacob that their father Laban “regards us as outsiders” (nokriyot). 9 As to the identity of the foreign women, Yonina Dor argues that they were Israelite women who had not been exiled to Babylon. Whether or not one accepts this claim, Ruth’s application of “foreign” to herself hints at the attitude towards the foreign women in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah: “Have the ‘foreign women’ really been expelled?” See Yonina Dor, Separation and Exclusion in the Restoration Period, (Jerusalem: Magnes, 2006), p. 236. 7

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 285 The reason for this edict is also clear: “lest they turn your heart away to follow their gods” (1 Kgs 11:2).10 And according to the biblical text, this is what happened: “and his wives turned his heart away” (11:3). In other words, the danger inherent in a mixed marriage is that the gentile wife will not put aside the gods of her father’s house, but rather that she will draw her husband to the worship of those gods. It also seems likely that the gentile woman will influence her sons to worship her own gods. The importance of this latter possibility will soon become clear. Naomi and Boaz behave differently towards Ruth the Moabitess. How can this be explained? Does the story hint that there is a different, a positive way to relate to a foreign woman? Researchers have already suggested that the story of Ruth may be seen as a polemic with the separatist concept as applied to foreign women in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah. It is reasonable to suggest a dialogue between the book of Ruth and Ezra the priest in the book of Ezra 10: 10–11. I agree with T. Todorov that: “There is no utterance without relation to other utterances and that is essential.”11 Close reading of the book of Ruth exposes an echo of some well-known Bible stories. The narrator constructs his image of Ruth the Moabitess on the basis of what she did and said, as told in the Book, but also in comparison with stories from other sources. Thus for example in Chapter 4:11 we find: “All the people at the gate and the elders answered: ‘May the Lord make the woman who is coming into your house like Rachel and Leah, both of whom built up the House of Israel.’”12 The people and the elders compare Ruth to Rachel and Regarding Solomon and his foreign wives: “From the nations of which the Lord had said to the Israelites, None of you shall join them and none of them shall join you” (1 Kgs 11:2). 11 Y. Gitay cites Todorov in “Theories of Literature and the Question of F (Hebrew) Biblical Theology: A Prolegomenon,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament, Scandinavian University Press (1996), p. 64. 12 See Ilana Pardes, Countertraditions in the Bible, A Feminist Approach, (Cambridge, Massachusetts and London, UK: Harvard University Press, 1992), pp. 98–99: [In Note 3 I used the translation of this book into Hebrew] “Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are often evoked to highlight the 10

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Leah (from the book of Genesis) who “built up the House of Israel.” There is no mention of Ruth’s being from Moab. Rather she receives the compliment of being compared with Rachel and Leah, two of the four Matriarchs of Israel.13 At the end of the Book we learn that Ruth is to be the great-grandmother of King David, a kind of fifth Matriarch (4:21–22). Ruth is, moreover, compared to Tamar. The people say to Naomi: “And may your house be like the house of Perez whom Tamar bore to Judah” (Ruth 4:12). Let us recall the story told in Gen 38: when Tamar, a childless widow, concludes that Judah, her father-in-law, is not planning to wed her to his remaining son, she assumes the dress of a prostitute and throws herself in the way of Judah, who, believing her to be a prostitute, lies with her and fathers Perez. The latter, as told in Ruth 4:18, was an ancestor of Boaz. The narrator, moreover, leads us to compare Ruth’s nighttime visit to the threshing-floor with the story of Lot’s daughters (in Gen 19). One senses that in the narration of the episode at the threshing-floor more is hidden than is revealed. For example, what is the reader to understand as to Boaz and Ruth’s behavior from the following? “Boaz ate and drank and in a cheerful mood went to lie down beside the grain pile. Then she went over stealthily and uncovered his feet and lay down” (Ruth 3:7–8). The concentration and multiplicity of verbs indicates, as is often the case in the Bible, tension and emotion. The repetition—four times—of “at his feet”

continual manifestation of divine blessing in history, but this is the only case in the Bible where matriarchs are called up from the past to serve as a model for the future ‘building’ of the house of Israel… In the idyllic reinterpretation of the history of the founding mothers of Israel, the Book of Ruth violates a whole array of conventions, the primary one being the gender of its protagonists. If women in the Bible usually serve as a foil against which the deeds of the fathers are presented, in this narrative the subplot becomes the main plot…” 13 See Eskenazi (above note 3): “The reference to Rachel and Leah honors Ruth by aligning her with the ancient matriarchs,” p. 84.

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 287 (lemargelotav) awakens suspicions of sex.14 In comparison with the story of Lot’s daughters (Gen 19) and of Tamar who dressed up as a prostitute in order to receive Judah’s seed (Gen 38), Ruth’s behavior at the threshing-floor seems positively modest!

RUTH AND BOAZ I shall now focus on a comparison of Ruth and Boaz at the threshing-floor with Lot’s daughters and their father in the cave. In both stories there are three participants: two women and a man. Both tell of the death of two men: Lot’s sons-in-law and Naomi’s sons. In both cases the women seek to solve the problem of a lack of seed. The elder woman in each story takes the initiative. In Genesis the women are the man’s daughters, while in the book of Ruth the man calls the woman “my daughter” (Ruth 3:10). Zakovitch defines the story told in Gen 19 as “a pseudoetiological story” (p. 30): this is “an intentional Hebrew jest in which the less-than-respectable source of the peoples of Ammon and Moab is shown to be in acts of incest. The story explains, even justifies the strict prohibition of receiving their offspring in the community of the Lord (see Deut 23:49).”15 Zakovitch’s suggestion is to view the story of the incestuous origins of Ammon and Moab as an ironic joke. The latter of course explains why the

The formulation of this verse leads the reader to wonder what really happened on the threshing floor. What is meant by Ruth’s uncovering his feet? Ruth, the loyal daughter-in-law, was of course obeying Naomi: “She went down to the threshing floor and did just as her mother-in-law had instructed her.” Meanwhile Boaz, having eaten and drunk, “went to lie down beside the grain pile” (3:7). In Hebrew the sound of ‘arema (pile) is very close to ‘aruma (naked). Moreover the curious reader cannot but wonder what Ruth was wearing when Boaz discovered a woman lying at his feet. This is especially true of a reader who is familiar with the Song of Songs, in which the belly of the beloved Shulamith is compared to a grain pile: “Your belly like a heap of wheat” (Song 7:3). 15 See Yair Zakovitch, “Between the scene on the threshing-floor in the Book of Ruth and Lot’s daughters,” Shnaton: An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, vol. 3: p. 31. 14

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offspring of Ammon and Moab are not welcome in God’s congregation. As in the comparison with Tamar, the comparison with Lot’s daughters’ behavior in a similar situation and for an identical goal is complimentary to Ruth. This comparison is intended to protect the idealized picture of Ruth in the face of those who might see her midnight visit to the threshing-floor to tempt Boaz as neither modest nor decent.

LEAVING HOME AND CLINGING TO OTHERS In addition to the above comparisons, perhaps the narrator is comparing Ruth with Abraham;16 he, too, left his parents’ house and went to the land of Canaan (Gen 12:1). The very fact of the analogy is complimentary to Ruth; but we should first examine the image of Ruth as it appears in the book which bears her name: not only was Ruth rewarded with the highly honorable status of greatgrandmother of King David, but in Ruth the people of Israel received a figure worthy of admiration. At the opening of the book of Ruth, when Naomi suggests that Ruth join her sister-in-law who “has returned to her people and her gods” (Ruth 1:15), Ruth refuses and explains her refusal: “do not urge me to leave you, to turn back and not follow you. For wherever you go, I will go, wherever you lodge I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I die…” (Ruth 1:15, 16–17). The reader is surely impressed by Ruth’s loyalty to Naomi and her decision to cling to her (l’dvok ba). Let us note two points: first, the role of the opposing pair of verbs leave and cling17 (azav; davak). Sasson (above note 7), on Ruth 2:11–12: “Boaz’s speech as recorded in verse 11 may contain yet one more allusion to the patriarchal period. Specifically, it refers to Abraham’s forsaking his native land to journey to Canaan (Gen 12:1–9),” p. 52. However, Sasson does not discuss the intention of the narrator in this allusion. 17 See Pardes (above note 4), p. 102: “The verb dbq (cling) first appears in Gen 2:24 in the etiological comment which follows the depiction of woman’s creation out of adam’s body […] ‘To cling’ in this case means to recapture a primal unity, to return to a time when man and woman were literally ‘one flesh’. That Ruth’s cleaving unto Naomi evokes Gen 2:24 16

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 289 The narrator of the book of Ruth apparently chose to use this pair of verbs to hint at the story of the Creation in the book of Genesis. After the woman is created we find: “Hence a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife…” (Gen 2:24). Ruth, of course, leaves her father and mother, her people and her gods, and clings to Naomi, Naomi’s people and God.18 Ruth did not yet know that she would cling to Boaz and together with him raise up a house in Israel (in Ruth 4:11). The use of these two verbs at the beginning of the book of Ruth is meant to encourage the reader and hint that the story has a positive, optimistic ending. Let me suggest, however, that the end of the story is optimistic from Naomi’s point of view, but not from Ruth’s point of view.19 becomes more evident in Boaz’s praising of Ruth’s move ‘how you hast left thy father and mother’ (Gen 2:11). To leave [one’s] father and mother is the recurrent phrase that links the two texts. Yet, while in Genesis such leaving and cleaving defines the institution of marriage, in the book of Ruth it depicts female bonding, a hitherto unrecognized tie,” p. 102. I claim that the link to Genesis is meant to hint that in the future this “cleaving” will result in a marriage (Ruth and Boaz) and in the birth of a child (Obed). 18 According to Jack Miles, the delicacy with which Ruth’s temptation of Boaz is described is meant to rehabilitate women’s image: “When Naomi pleads with Ruth to return (as did Orpah) to her people and her gods, Ruth refuses and replies in the same words: ‘Your people shall be my people and your God my God.’ The lesson here is that Ruth’s loyalty is not only towards Naomi, but towards the latter’s people and God.” See also J. Miles, God: A Biography (Israel, 1997), p. 343. 19 See Athalya Brenner, p. 162: “The book of Ruth can and has been read as an optimistic, idyllic story of integration… These readings and others are possible, certainly. What marks them is the common denominator of viewing the story as a comedy, the birth of a son being interpreted as a happy ending. But a happy ending for whom? Is it a happy ending for the foreigner, for working-woman Ruth?” In: “Ruth as a Foreign Worker,” The Feminist Companion. See also note 35. In the Epilogue of Job we learn that: “Thus the Lord blessed the latter years of Job’s life more than the former… He also had seven sons and

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WHITHER THOU GOEST Second, both the narrator and Ruth herself focus on “Where she is going,” rather than “Where she is coming from.” Ruth does not relate to her past: leaving her father and mother, leaving her people and gods. The future to which Ruth looks forward does not promise her anything. Ruth’s nobility is depicted in her words to Naomi: “Where you die I die… if anything but death parts me from you” (1:17). From the viewpoint of Ruth’s Moabite parents, however, their daughter’s decision may have been painful. Ruth—of her own free will—completely erases her own past, and in clinging to Naomi and the latter’s God, gives up her Moabite culture. In this sense the Bethlehem community receives Ruth only after, and possibly because of, her decision to put aside her identity and origins. This is not a case of a community receiving a stranger with open arms out of a sense of what is now called pluralism. The above is reminiscent of those who rushed to the mountain of the House of God in order to receive the divine word, therein freely giving up their identity, as told in Isaiah’s vision of the end of days.20 Isaiah’s God appears to be universal, one whose Torah can be learned by all peoples. Calling upon all the nations to ascend to Jerusalem and learn the ways of the God of Jacob has both literal and metaphoric significance, creating a sense of unity and harmony.

three daughters [Job lived one hundred and forty years to see four generations of sons and grandsons]” (Job 42: 12–17). Naomi, too, lives to have a son: “Naomi took the child and held him to her bosom. She became his foster mother. And the women neighbors gave him a name, saying a son is born to Naomi” (Ruth 4:16–17). 20 See Yitzhak (Itzik) Peleg, “The Peace Vision of the End of Days in Isaiah (2:2–5) and the Peace Vision in Micah” (4:1–5), Shnaton: An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, vol. 22, (2010: 27–50; “Two Readings of the Vision of the End of Days: The Peace Vision of the End of Days in Isaiah (2:2–5) and the “Peace Vision in Micah (4:1–5),” Heaven, Hell, and the Afterlife: Eternity in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, J. Harold Ellens, ed. vol. 1: (in press).

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 291 The harmony diminishes when one notices the inference that the nations should give up belief in their own gods21—a hindrance to achieving peace among the nations, even if in the vision there is no compulsion and the pilgrimage to Zion is freely undertaken.22

RUTH AND ABRAHAM Now let us compare Ruth with Abraham. Ruth’s actions receive support and esteem from Boaz. When Ruth meets him on the field and asks: “why are you so kind as to single me out, when I am a foreigner?” (Ruth 2:10), Boaz answers: “I have been told of all that you did for your mother-in-law after the death of your husband, how you left your father and mother and the land of your birth and came to a people you had not known before” (2:11). It is plausible that Boaz’s words are meant to echo Abraham’s obedience to God’s command to leave his home in Genesis: “Go forth from your native land and from your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (Gen 12:1). The comparison to Abraham is a great compliment to Ruth.23 She appears as even more admirable than Abraham, since the latter leaves his home at the Deity’s command, with a divine promise as to the future: “I will bless you, I will make your name great, and you shall be a blessing” (Gen 12:2). Ruth, on the other hand, leaves her home in obedience to her heart, with no Support for the possibility comes from Micah’s prophecy: “Though all the peoples walk, each in the names of its gods” (4: 5). 22 Israel Knohl, The Bible’s Genetic Code (Or Yehuda, 2008), (Hebrew), pp. 161–162: “At the End of Days the nations will throng to the Mount of God to hear His word. … although this is done willingly, without compulsion, the Isaiah vision opens the way to belief in the God of Israel that is common to all the nations, doing away with their cultural and religious uniqueness.” 23 See Mishael Maswari Caspi and Rachel S. Havrelock: “In the book of Ruth, the patriarchal order established in the majority of the Hebrew Bible in reversed. Women are heroes while male characters occupy a position of secondary importance. Traditional roles are overturned in the narrative switch.” See Mishael Maswari Caspi and Rachel S. Havrelock, Women on the Biblical Road: Ruth, Naomi, and the Female Journey, (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, New York—London, 1996), p. 129. 21

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promise as to the future, and certainly with no knowledge as to what the future holds for her. At this point in our discussion we can conclude tentatively that all of the references to other stories and characters (Rachel and Leah, Tamar, Lot’s daughters, Abraham—in Genesis) serve to convince the readers of Ruth’s excellence. Ruth is admirable, despite being a Moabitess, a foreigner.

THE FOREIGN WOMAN We have seen that in her first meeting with Boaz she terms herself “a foreign woman” (2:10). I should like to note that, aside from the book of Ruth, the combination “a foreign woman” appears in the singular only in Proverbs.24 In Proverbs the combination “a foreign woman” appears in tandem (as a synonym) with the combination “a strange woman,” that is, a temptress who should be avoided. According to the wisdom of Proverbs, her son is warned to: “save you from the forbidden or strange woman, from the alien woman” (Prov 2:16, 7:5). This contrasts with “a fine woman”—eshet hayil.25 In Proverbs the foreign or strange woman is presented as disloyal, as one who betrays her husband and God: “who forsakes the companion of her youth, and disregards the covenant of her God” (Prov 2:17). In contrast to the foreign woman in Proverbs,” Ruth is presented as loyal, as clinging to Naomi, to Naomi’s people and God. We see the warmth of Ruth’s reception by Naomi and

The combination “a foreign woman” appears in the singular only in Prov 5:20, 6:24, 20:16, 23:27, 27:13. 25 Re the terms foreign woman and alien/ strange woman as synonyms, see Prov 5:20: “Why be infatuated, my son, with a strange woman? Why clasp the bosom of an alien woman?” See also Prov 7:5: “guard you from a strange woman, from an alien woman whose talk is smooth.” In contrast with the strange woman of Proverbs, Boaz accords Ruth the honorable title of “a fine woman”—’eshet hayil (Ruth 3:11); in Prov 31:29 we find a description of the ’eshet hayil which also applies to Ruth: “Many women have done well, but you surpass them all.” 27:13; See Eskenazi (above note 3), p. 63: “Boaz’s references to Ruth as ’eshet hayil together with his mention of the ‘gate’ […] also alludes to Prov 31:10–31.” 24

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 293 Boaz when both call her “my daughter.”26 This reflects the book’s uniquely positive approach to a foreign woman: although she is a foreign woman, Ruth is described as the opposite of the “strange woman:” as “a fine woman” (3:11).

EXPELLING AND MARRYING FOREIGN WOMEN Let us now return to the book’s debate with the expulsion of the foreign women as detailed in Ezra and Nehemiah. Towards the end of the book of Ruth, at the climax of the story, we learn that Boaz married Ruth, and “The Lord let her conceive, and she bore a son” (Ruth 4:13–14).27 Since the marriage of Boaz and Ruth is in opposition to the caveats of Ezra and Nehemiah as to intermarriage with foreign women, can we view the book of Ruth as a hymn of praise to Ruth, the “foreign woman”? The book of Ruth expresses an approach according to which marriage to a foreign woman is permitted, and thus opposes the separatist approach characterizing the books of Ezra and Nehemiah. The contrast between these stories is seen in the Deity’s attitude. Ezra presents the separatist approach as God’s will ( Ezra 10:9–12), while the narrator of the book of Ruth points out that Ruth’s pregnancy and birth of a son are the result of God’s wish (Ruth 4:13). Moreover, let us not forget Boaz’s words to Ruth at their first meeting: “be blessed of the Lord” (3:10). Let us now return to our main question: Can we view the book of Ruth as a hymn of praise to Ruth, the foreign woman? My answer, I must admit, is: yes and no. Suddenly, in 4:16, at the Naomi and Boaz both call Ruth “my daughter” (biti in Hebrew): Naomi: 2:2, 2:22, 3:1, 3:16, 3:18; Boaz: 2:8, 3:10, 3:11. I agree that: “Calling Ruth ‘my daughter’ (see also 1:13) signals acceptance…” See Cohn Eskenazi and Tikva Frymer-Kensky, (above note 3), p. 29. Regarding Boaz on Ruth 28: “This language indicates an age difference, as well as his superior status, but also conveys solicitude” (p. 34). 27 I agree with Eskenazi (above note 3), p. 88: “The birth of a son in the Bible typically signifies divine favor. This event could have served as conclusion to the book…” And I ask myself why the book was not ended here. See also Pardes (above note 4), p. 84, re the biblical use of the combination yulad ben for males only. 26

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climax of the story,28 after giving birth to a son, the “halo” around Ruth seems to disappear: First, in verses 14–15 the women say to Naomi: “For he is born of your daughter-in-law who loves you and is better to you than seven sons” (4:14–15). The women’s words, spoken from Naomi’s point of view, are upbeat. Ruth suddenly becomes a secondary character. In Eskenazi’s words: “Ruth is not named in this verse. Her identity is inextricably bound up with Naomi as Naomi’s daughter in law.”29 We then learn that “Naomi took the child and held him to her bosom. She became his foster mother” (4:16). There is a question which calls for our attention; or as I asked in the title of this talk, Why did Ruth (the Moabitess) not raise her child?

NAOMI MOVES TO CENTER STAGE Let us try to understand this verse (4:16) and the difficult questions which it raises. First of all, how are the two parts of the verse connected? On a first reading the opening of the verse may express Naomi’s love for her grandson. But the second part of the verse, in which Naomi takes the baby as her foster son, may lead the reader to imagine that Naomi’s actions are more than an expression of her love for the baby. In official documents of adoption in the literature of the ancient East we find that holding the child to one’s bosom is a recognized symbolic and ritual form of adoption.30 This reading is also supported by the neighboring women who say: “A We do know that Ruth is childless after 10 years of marriage (1:4). Eskenazi (above note 3), p. 90. 30 For a discussion of whether Naomi adopted her grandson Obed, Ruth’s son, see Meir Mallul, “Studies in Biblical Legal Symbolism— A Discussion of the Terms kanaph, ehq and hosen/hesen: Their Meaning and Legal Usage in the Bible and the Ancient Near East,” In Shnaton An Annual for Biblical and Ancient Near Eastern Studies, 1985, pp. 191–21; See also Yonina Dor (above note 9), pp. 236–237. In contrast to M. Mallul J. Fleischman (following Parker) claims that Naomi’s act has no legal significance. See J. Fleischman, Parents and Children in Trials in the Early East and the Biblical Trial p. 48. See also Sasson (above 7), p. 170; Campbell (above note 3), p. 165 and Eskenazi (above note 3), pp. 90–92. 28 29

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 295 son31 is born to Naomi” (Ruth 4:17).32 And I ask myself, why? What happened to his mother, to Ruth? Couldn't she raise her own child? We do not know.33 Eskenazi notes that: “As early interpreters understood, the women are not negating Ruth’s role as mother but rather are extending the child’s connection to Naomi” (p. 91).34 In Esth 2:7, it is told that Mordecai was Esther’s foster father, omen, and took her for his daughter, since her parents were dead. 35

Eskenazi (above note 3), notes: “Some contemporary readers are troubled by the seemingly surrogate position to which Ruth is relegated… Does this scene represent a symbolic adoption by Naomi, designed to remove the stigma of Moabite origin from the child’s famed descendent, David?” Eskenazi does not accept it because “such interpretations go against the grain from the narrative that shows how hesed triumphs over loss.” For this reason I call verses 16–17 a “reversal ending.” See note 42. 32 Regarding the Hebrew word ben (son) see Eskenazi, (above note 3), note 234: “In the Bible, the noun ben carries a wide semantic range of kinship, including that of a grandchild (Gen 31:43; Chron. 22:9).” I may add the story about Jacob’s dream where God said to him: “I am the Lord the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac” (Gen 28:13). As we know Isaac was Jacob’s father, not Abraham. 33 Omenet: Brown, Driver, Briggs Hebrew Lexicon-Bible Dictionary refers us to the book of Ruth and 2 Sam 4:4; the meaning of omenet is given as fostermother, nurse. There is also a reference for omen as a verb to 2 Kgs 10:1 and Esth 2:7: suggested meanings are support, nourish (p. 52). 34 Pardes (above note 3), p. 106: “Both Ruth and Naomi are childless in the opening, just as both share mothering at the end. Ruth is Obed’s biological mother, but Naomi takes on a maternal role as she holds the child to her bosom and becomes his nurse. That shared parenthood is at stake is made clear by the most scandalous verse in the text: ‘A son is born to Naomi.’ This is radical violation of the formula according to which the son is born to the father (see: Gen 4:26; 46:22).” 35 See Esth 2:7: “he was foster-father to Hadassah—that is, Esther— his uncle’s daughter, for she had neither father nor mother… when her father and mother died, Mordecai adopted her as his own daughter.” We understand that Mordecai adopted Esther because her parents were dead. 31

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On the other hand, Prof. Yair Zakovitz claims that “This is not necessarily a case of genuine adoption.” In other words, the fostermother may take care of the child, but not adopt him. (See 2 Kgs 10:1, 5 for examples of foster-parents who were simply educators.).36 Zakovitch argues that “The emphasis in verses 15–17 on the special relationship, the closeness, between Naomi and the child, is more symbolic, more literary, than legalistic: The birth of the child compensates Naomi for her suffering, the despair which she expressed when she asked Ruth and Orpah: “have I any more sons in my body who might be husbands for you?” (1:11–12). Now “a son is born to Naomi” (4:17). For Naomi, a happy closure is achieved. But why must Ruth pay for this closure? What about her suffering?

RUTH RETREATS After giving birth to Obed, Ruth is no longer mentioned37 in the book which bears her name. Is her task in the story over? We In the book of Ruth, however, there is not even a hint that Obed’s mother Ruth died during his early childhood. 36 See Zakovitch, p. 102: “From a legal standpoint there is no sense in turning Naomi into the child’s mother. Inheritance rights have been taken care of by Boaz, the child’s father; the dead man’s (Mahlon) name and inheritance have been guaranteed. See Y. Zakovitch, The World of the Tanakh: Scrolls: Ruth, 1987, p. 102. See also Mishael Maswari Caspi and Rachel S. Havrelock, (above note 24), pp. 187–188: “After she conceives, Ruth disappears from the narrative. Her voice is replaced by the female chorus congratulating Naomi. Ruth and Boaz are not seen with their child; instead Naomi lays him on her lap…and becomes his nurse… The ‘nursing’ is a symbolic action indicating that the triangular relationship has become a square. Boaz takes care of Ruth, Ruth takes care of Naomi, and Naomi takes care of Obed.” 37 Ruth is actually mentioned, but not by name. She is referred to as Naomi’s daughter-in-law in 4:15. And the women said to Naomi: “For he is born of your daughter-in-law who loves you and is better to you than seven sons” (4:14–15). The women approach the story from Naomi’s point of view; Ruth is mentioned as a central element in the happy ending of Naomi’s story. The

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 297 cannot avoid asking why Ruth did not raise her child. Perhaps she was not allowed to raise and educate her son because she was a foreign woman, a Moabitess? Is it preferable for one of “our own” to raise the grandfather of King David? Although Ruth clung to Naomi (1:14) and willingly left her people and family, thereby becoming an admirable figure, there seem to be traces of a fear that if she raises her son, something of her “Moabite-ness” will cling to him.

RAISING RUTH’S SON The story does seem to hint that it is indeed preferable for “one of ours” to raise the grandfather of King David. But did Ruth at least breast-feed Obed? This question recalls the story of Moses, who was adopted as a son by Pharaoh’s daughter.38 In the case of Moses, his mother did nurse him until he was weaned: “So the woman [Yocheved] took the child and nursed him. When the child grew up, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, who made him her son” (Exod 2:9–10). Later on we learn that “when Moses had grown up, he went out to his kinfolk and witnessed their labors” (2:11). One assumes that there is a cause-and-effect connection between the two—verse 10, in which we learn that Moses’ biological mother raised him, and verse 11, in which his sensitivity to his brothers’ suffering is described. The education which Moses received from his mother during his early childhood crystallized his identity and forced on him an awareness of his people’s suffering. The use of the verb vayigdal in both verses strengthens the connection between the two. Obed, Ruth’s and Boaz’s son, was raised and educated by his grandmother Naomi: “she held it to her bosom” (Ruth 4:16); but probably, he was not held to his own mother’s bosom.39 daughter-in-law’s role is to give birth to a son for Naomi. This becomes clear in verse 17, which explains and clarifies the earlier verse: “a son is born to Naomi.” 38 Ibn Ezra connects the women’s words: “a son is born to Naomi” with the relation of Pharaoh’s daughter to baby Moses in Exod 2:10. 39 Regarding the question of breast-feeding, maybe we should think of Hannah, the mother of Samuel, who dedicated her long-awaited son to

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What was the source of the concern as to Ruth’s raising her child? I should like to suggest that the source of the concern lies in the possibility that, like the foreign wives of King Solomon, she, too, will not leave the gods of her father’s house. Perhaps Ruth, despite her lovely, even admirable personality, would want to raise her son in the culture in which she was raised. Would she sing him to sleep with Moabite lullabies? Is it possible that the repeated mention of Ruth’s Moabite origins is intended to remind us that she is, after all, not “one of us”? The women neighbors announce: “a son is born to Naomi” (4:17). I should like to suggest that verse 17 functions as a “reversal ending,”40 or perhaps as a “reversal verse.” The reversal ending is a familiar literary device—recently explicated by Yairah Amit41— whose purpose is to cause the reader to entertain the possibility of a different understanding of the story. The reversal ending results from tension between the story’s ending and what is told prior to the ending; this tension creates in the reader the need to reread the story in the light of the “reversal.”42 The reversal begins in verse 14, when the women turn the spotlight from Boaz and Ruth, the heroes of verse 13, onto Grandmother Naomi. In verse 14 Ruth is of secondary importance: she is merely referred to as Naomi’s daughter-in-law, and in fact disappears from the story. By verse 16 Naomi is the main hero. This change reaches its full strength in verses 16–17. Verse 17 is indeed the reversal verse, forcing the reader to reread the whole story. All along we have felt that the narration is aimed at convincing us of Ruth’s loveliness, bravery, morality. Naomi, Boaz and the people of Bethlehem take her to their bosoms as “one of ours.” Suddenly, the the Deity, but kept him with her until he was weaned “So the woman stayed and nursed her son until she weaned him” (1 Sam 1:22). 40 It is clear that verse 17 ends the episode. 41 See Yairah Amit, “Endings—Especially Reversal Endings,” Scriptura 87 (2004): 213–26. 42 See Yitzhak (Itzik) Peleg, “Was Lot a Good Host? Was Lot saved from Sodom as a Reward for his Hospitality?,” Universalism and Particularism at Sodom and Gomorrah: Essays in Memory of Ron Pirson, ed. Diana Lipton, (Atlanta: SBL, 2012), pp. 134–162.

WHY DIDN'T RUTH THE MOABITESS RAISE HER CHILD? 299 reader is forced to entertain the possibility that there is something less than positive in the way the locals relate to Ruth’s Moabite origins. As Bonnie Honig writes: “The book of Ruth repeatedly refers to Ruth as Ruth the Moabitess (1:22; 2:2, 6, 21; 4:5, 9), suggesting that she in some sense stays a Moabite, forbidden, surely noticed and perhaps despised by her adopted culture even while also celebrated by it…” “Ruth, the Model Emigree… but when Naomi takes Obed from Ruth, that signals the community’s continuing fear of Ruth’s foreignness. Ruth the Moabite cannot be trusted to raise her son properly, in the Israelite way.”43

CONCLUSION In the story of the expulsion of the foreign women as told in Ezra and Nehemiah we find the expulsion of “all these women and those who have been born to them” (Ezra 10:3). In other words, despite the cruelty of the expulsion, at least the women were not separated from their children. In response to Ezra, Shecaniah the son of Jehiel answers “in the presence of a very great crowd of Israelites gathered about him, men, women, and children” who were weeping bitterly: “We have trespassed against our God by bringing into our homes foreign women from the peoples of the land… let us make a covenant with our God to expel all these women and those who have been born to them, in accordance with the bidding of the Lord and of all who are concerned over the commandment of our God, and let the Teaching be obeyed” (Ezra 10:3).

See Bonnie Honig, Ruth, the Model Emigree, in The Feminist Companion to the Bible (Second Series), (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), p. 60. See also Orit Avnery: “Not only is there a hint of distrust in Ruth’s ability to give her son ‘a good Jewish education’; […] we dare to claim that this is more than a lack of trust in Ruth the Moabitess […] the approach to Ruth the Moabitess is oppressive and abjective. The Bethlehem community sees Ruth as a ‘womb for rent,’ a kind of ‘surrogate mother’ whose job is done as soon as the child is born.” and Orit Avnery, The Threefold Cord: Interrelations between the Books of Samuel, Ruth and Esther, unpublished PhD dissertation, 2011, Bar Ilan University, Israel, p. 153. 43

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If my contention that Ruth was not allowed to raise her son is accepted, how tragic, how ironic, it is that in a story which praises Ruth the Moabitess, the foreigner, a story meant to critique the attitude of Ezra and Nehemiah to foreign and Moabite women, Obed, Ruth’s baby, is removed from her care.44

Dr. Rosenfeld notes me a suggestion: “You begin the article with the important point that the Book is named for Ruth. This is curious not only because she’s a shiksa, but because, as you point out, the story is fairly consistently told from Naomi’s point of view. So why didn’t the editor call it The Book of Naomi? There are always reasons for choices like this— some literary-dramatic, others ideological. (For example, in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar the really central, exciting character is Brutus—Caesar isn’t a particularly attractive character and is slaughtered in the middle of the play. I won’t go into this, but it’s generally thought that the reasons for calling the play The Tragedy of Julius Caesar instead of The Tragedy of Brutus— which is what it really is—are both dramatic and ideological.)” In order to “bring things full circle” I refer here to the issue of the name of the book. 44

LILITH AND THE FUTURE OF BIBLICAL HUMANISM ANTHONY SWINDELL HEYTHROPE COLLEGE, LONDON INTRODUCTION At first sight the figure of Lilith and her reception history might seem an inauspicious topic in relation to such a grand project as Biblical Humanism. Lilith is, after all, peripheral in terms of the biblical text itself. Yet, I shall argue that Lilith as a topos has come to embody issues of central concern to the Bible as a source of meaning in our culture and that the literary reception bears this out. Indeed, her new-found prominence in the modern period may be linked to her peripheral inscription in the Bible. Until the early 19th century, Lilith was an important component of Jewish mystical texts (particularly the Zohar), yet otherwise a sort of subterranean figure in European culture, cropping up, though renamed as the monstrous character of Grendel in Beowulf and as the serpent with a woman’s face and often a woman’s body in paintings about the Temptation in the Garden and in mystery plays such as that from Semur in France. Her history is also recounted more or less en passant in a German play of 1485, Jutta, (by Dietrich Scherberg) and she is mentioned in Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy (1651). Then, suddenly, she explodes into view as a central topos in Victor Hugo’s epic poem of 1862, La Fin de Satan, then in the paintings and poetry of Gabriel Rossetti in England, then in George Macdonald’s hugely influential fantastic novel, Lilith, then in an extraordinary short story by Rudyard Kipling, then in Isolde Kurz’s ground-breaking epic poem, Die Kinder Lilith. 301

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After this, nothing can hold her back. She is the key to the future of humanity in Shaw’s play Back to Methuselah, in James Joyce’s Finnegan’s Wake and in Roberto Pazzi’s La Malattia di Tempo. Her story is retold in Ernest Hemingway’s final and posthumously published novel, The Garden of Eden, where it inscribes human loneliness in the modern world. Lilith becomes a central figure in the positive depiction of female identity throughout the rest of the twentieth century. She also becomes central to discourse about a positive future for humanity in general.

SPATIALITY We have now outlined the cultural status of Lilith. But, in the light of the growing interest in the topic of spatiality in both literary studies and biblical studies, I should like to pose the question: Where is Lilith? As part of the general location of biblical figures, the answer might be framed in terms of the rather slender reference to a creature called Lilith in Is 34:14 and the midrashic responses to the Genesis story of the Creation of Adam and Eve and the subsequent events in the Garden of Eden. There, is however, another spatial layer, in terms of biblical scholarship, and that is the presence of antecedent Lilith material in the mythology recovered from Sumerian artefacts of the 7th c BCE; in a Sumerian kinglist dating back to 2400 BCE; and in the more diffuse history-of-religions documentation of the various Primeval Goddess Figures who form the hinterland to the development of either monotheism or patriarchy—whichever way you choose to describe the outcome. So far, Lilith remains both remote and confined, a sort of semiotic fossil. Then comes Reception History. Location here is still on the distant side. In the case of Lilith, this is particularly so, since there are substantial areas of academic ignorance about what was happening to Lilith in Europe in the Middle Ages and pre-modern period. In terms of the Jewish mystical texts, including especially the Zohar, it is clear that Lilith had begun to operate at the level of cosmology. Whether as the demonic consort forced upon God after the catastrophe of the destruction of the Second Temple or as

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a Demoness predating the Creation, Lilith was definitely present in the upper strata of human consciousness. The widespread use of incantations mentioning Lilith and amulets depicting her, designed to ward off misfortunes in childbirth, indicates also that Lilith operated also at the level of individual, personal consciousness. Indeed, there were other incantations both toward Lilith off from provoking male erotic fantasies and (at the opposite pole) to fulfil those fantasies. At the social level, Lilith was present also in terms of what seems to us a diffuse existence in folklore connecting her with the lilies which grew from the tears shed by Eve on being expelled from Eden and eventually in the politically charged marching song, ‘Lillibullero,’ around which an entire social history could be constructed. Still, at the social level, there is what one might call the repressed presence of Lilith in European art of the Middle Ages and Renaissance. I am referring to the curious depiction of the Edenic snake as a woman in a wide range of paintings and woodcarvings and indeed in mystery plays, such as that from Semur in France. More overtly we find Lilith’s actual rabbinic legend being recited in that German play of 1485, Jutta, as an analeptic intercalated story explaining the background to the character of the person who became the First Woman Pope. However, it is only with Goethe’s Faust that Lilith arrives on what one might call the European public stage. She appears as a tempting spectacle and seductress in the Walpurgisnacht episode in the play. Although she can be said to occupy only a marginal social space in the context of Faust’s journey into damnation, her appearance is significant. Perhaps it was the release of an aspect of the repressed Feminine Other, Das Ewige Weibliche. Whatever the driving force behind Goethe’s inclusion of Lilith, her appearance in Faust was to have lasting cultural reverberations. Before we reach Gabriel Rossetti, who was hugely influenced by Goethe’s Lilith and also by Theodore von Holst’s painting of the scene on the Brocken, we come to another writer fascinated by the rabbinic legends about Lilith. In Victor Hugo’s uncompleted narrative poem La Fin de Satan Lilith is depicted as a negative force in humanity’s struggle towards Liberté. It finds its background in Brentano’s epic (also uncompleted), Romanzen vom Rosenkranz (written 1803–11,

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published posthumously 1852) in which the OT as a whole is figured as a malign prelude to modernity and more generally in the quest in French epic poetry of the 19th century to construct new myths expressive of the belief in progress and evolution. In Hugo’s epic poem Lilith is part of the ontological reality experienced by human beings in their battle to bring about the triumph of Liberté, her half-sister. She is present at the trial of Christ, influencing the outcome of the proceedings. She attends the arrival of Liberté in Hell, where she is finally defeated like an ice cube in a furnace, once Satan has been induced to sleep by Liberté, the bright angel. Hugo’s vision of Lilith has been shown to owe a great deal to the work of the cabbalist Alexandre Weill and it seems that the legend had been expounded in French as early as the early 18th century by Dom Calmet in his commentary on Is. 34.1 (Lilith was also to be to be the subject of a thoroughly misogynist play of 1892 by the French Symbolist poet Remy de Gourmont, entitled Lilith.) Gabriel Rossetti’s artistic response to the Lilith trope, refracted through Goethe, and also through other reading launches Lilith upon the world of English letters and visual art. His work represents the coming-together of so many social strands. Gabriel Rossetti, painter and poet, was exposed to the influence of Goethe from an early age, even producing his own translation of Faust. His marriage, his wife’s place on the fringes of the nascent suffragette movement, her eventual death in childbirth and the strong public demand for art depicting the topic of the femme fatale, all resonate with Rossetti’s own production as a painter and poet, in the shape of two remarkable paintings and indeed two poems on the subject. Rossetti was fascinated by the Walpurgisnacht episode in Goethe’s Faust, but also knew von Holst’s painting and drew on the mention of Lilith in Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy (1651) and John Kitt’s A Cyclopedia of Biblical Literature (1845), which appeared in a third, enlarged edition in 1864, the year when Rossetti began his painting, Lady Lilith. However, it is only in his ballad, Eden Bower (1869/1870) that he develops the idea of Lilith as a serpent, who tells the Edenic snake: See Karl. D. Uitti: ‘The Vision of Lilith in Hugo’s “La Fin de Satan,”’ The French Review, Vol. 31, No. 6 (May, 1958): 479–486. 1

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To thee I come when the rest is over; As snake I was when thou wast my lover.

Rossetti’s paintings and poems connect Lilith with (a) the social level of spatiality if we consider the market which these paintings addressed, (b) what we might call the ‘male erotic gaze’ and (c) the social context of the Woman’s Emancipation Movement with which Rossetti’s wife Elizabeth was associated. George Macdonald in his novel Lilith was to reinforce Lilith’s profile in literature. His work was a major influence on C. S. Lewis and was hailed by W. H. Auden as a masterpiece. The novel carries as an epigraph the laconic phrase which it attributes to the Kabbalah: “Off, Lilith!”—not, perhaps, the most profound quotation of all time. In terms of diegetic spatiality, though, Macdonald’s innovation was to locate Lilith in a supernatural parallel universe to the one lived in by the reader, suggesting the presence of Lilith at a cosmological level which the reader might access in some kind of dream state like the character’s chief protagonist, Vane. George MacDonald’s novel Lilith (1895) is a major landmark in the treatment of our theme in literature, praised by W. H. Auden as “equal if not superior to Poe.”2 In fact, MacDonald had already published a short story featuring a character called Lilith in 1864, ‘The Cruel Painter,’ part of the collection entitled Adela Cathcart. In this Hoffmannesque tale, Lilith is the beautiful daughter of the eponymous artist and it is the sight of this elusive girl which draws the student Karl von Wolkenlicht (Lottchen) to become a live-in apprentice at the home of Teufelsbürst, the demonic painter. Significantly the student’s first sight of Lilith is of her seated on a grave and this sets the tone for a story about diabolical art and vampires, in which the love of Lottchen for Lilith finally overcomes the forces of evil. The novel Lilith is vastly more elaborate, pivoting on the journey of the first-person narrator, Vane, into a parallel universe in which the biblical characters Adam and Eve (and Lilith) continue In his introduction to the 1954 reprint, quoted by Prickett (1976), p. 228. 2

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to live. Vane inherits an old manor house and it is through a meeting with the house’s aged librarian Raven that Vane passes through a mirror into the Otherworld, discovering that Raven has another life there as both Sexton and Adam. In a complex series of adventures in the Otherworld, punctuated unusually for such a narrative by repeated returns to this world, Vane eventually encounters the demonic figure of Lilith in her guise as a spotted leopard. Lilith regards the birth of children as the death of their parents, leading her to kill her own daughter, Lona. However, Lona’s death is not final and she enters a sort of marginal state, awaiting what the novel hints will be a reunion with Vane. There is even hope for Lilith herself, once she has undergone the biblical chastisement of losing an arm, in accordance with Macdonald’s personal version of universalism. Lilith’s main persona in the novel, nevertheless remains that of chief agent of the Shadow (Satan) and even at the end, when confronted with all Vane’s and Adam’s attempts to bring her to the truth, she remains a dessicated figure: “… all that was left her of her conscious being was the dregs of her dead and corrupted life… She was a conscious corpse, whose coffin could never come to pieces, never set her free!” (206.) Relating the novel to the earlier short story, we find the same mother/daughter transition, possibly refracting the dual mythology of Old Lilith/Young Lilith and the Romantic notion of redemption through love. In the novel it is Lona who offers hope, as the resuscitated and revivified daughter of Lilith. In many ways, Macdonald seems torn between the idea of fantasy as a free-floating response to subconscious imagery present in the human mind (under the influence of Novalis) and a sterner rectitude drawn from a sort of liberalized Calvinism (Cf. Manlove, 68–72, 94–98). From the point of view strictly of the novel as part of the reception history of the Lilith story, one of its most interesting features is the discovery in the Library of the textual fragments which Mr Raven reads out in an unknown language and which Vane receives as a first person lament by Lilith, recounting her life as one of the damned. It ends with a passage reminiscent of the rich man’s appeal to Lazarus in Lk 16: 19–31. Ah, the two worlds! so strangely are they one, And yet so measurably wide apart!

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Oh, had I lived the bodiless alone And from defiling sense held safe my heart, Then had I scaped the canker and the smart, Scaped life-in-death, scaped misery’s endless moan!

If Rossetti’s ‘Eden Bower’ was the first modern work to give Lilith a voice, Macdonald’s novel assimilates that voice to a familiar biblical text reconceived as a Romantic fragment in the style of Chateaubriand. The novel itself is curiously ambivalent about literature and the supernatural. Whilst the bookish Vane gains access to the Otherworld literally through the Library, he also discovers there a source of vital relationships with other beings which prompts him to repudiate his scholarly obsessions. Whilst Lilith is a monstrous figure in the world beyond the Mirror, her true feelings are only revealed in the literary fragments preserved (Romantic-style) in the Library and which only the Librarian can decipher. Kipling as a writer very adept at exploiting the public mood smuggled Lilith into one of his tales of imperial life. As always with this writer, there is a sort of ambivalence about the writerly perspective. The significant thing for us is that Lilith suddenly arrives onstage in what is ostensibly a piece of colonialist discourse: she becomes connected with the Other of imperialism in a story which (it has to be said) is at one point severely anti-semitic in relation to a different character. Kipling’s short story, ‘On the City Wall’ (1888), describes its central character, Lalun, as a direct descendant of Lilith in its second line. Lalun here is a prominent prostitute and intriguer, who succeeds in securing the escape from captivity of the dissident Sikh leader, Khem Singh, through the unwitting agency of the narrator. As well as connecting Lalun with Lilith, the tale is in part a quirky rewriting of the biblical pretext of Rahab. It carries the quotation from Josh 2:15 at its head and a turning point in the narrative is when Lalun hoists the disguised Khem Singh up to her room with a ‘long red silk waist-cloth.’ The controlling theme of the story is the ability of the Supreme Government to suppress all forms of subversion, yet, as David Sargeant shows (Sargeant 2009), Kipling as a writer is playfully ambivalent about colonial power. Whilst ‘On the City Wall’ presents itself a “controlled reinforcement of the

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imperial status quo,” through assuming that the reader shares the views of its projected, hardened Anglo-Indian narrator, and whilst all forms of resistance to the granite-hard grip of the imperial machine are ultimately portrayed as futile, the story does depend on the teasing possibility that subversion may be effective. This is very much the argument of Salman Rushdie, who, describing Kipling as a bigoted yet effective portrait-painter, hails the figure of Lalun in ‘On the City Wall’ as the trickster figure who enlists the narrator in her plot to subvert colonial control. It is interesting that Rushdie selects this one story from amongst Kipling’s prolific output to illustrate the conflicted persona of a writer gifted in bringing multiple voices alive in what is outwardly a colonialist text.3 Kipling’s short story inscribes a colonial space yet also the tale of an escape from it. We are at one of those points where the hegemonic narrative of social space (here the imperialist one) meets the resistant social space of the oppressed. It was left to Isolde Kurz to return the favour offered by western writers in bringing the hitherto suppressed trope of Lilith to prominence by overhauling the entire Lilith legend in her narrative poem, Die Kinder Lilith. Here at last the foundation-myth is addressed and creatively rewritten. Isolde Kurz’s narrative poem of 1908, Die Kinder Lilith, is remarkable for setting up a contrarian story of Lilith as a being of superior spiritual stature to the lumpen Adam, intended by God to act as a foil for his earthiness. It is the Devil who creates Eve to seduce Adam, leaving Lilith to flee and give birth to a child destined to lead Adam’s other children to spiritual perfection. This work is an important turning point in the reception history of Lilith, the precursor of a growing series of rewritings which validate Lilith at the expense of the Eden story seen as the foundation of the patriarchal myth. In the meantime, Rossetti’s influence was far from spent. The title of his painting crops up as the title of Robert McKenna’s novel of 1920 and lines from his ballad “Eden Bower” influenced Ernest Hemingway’s posthumously published novel of personalised space, Salman Rushdie: Imaginary Homelands, (London: Vintage, 2010), pp. 74–80. 3

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The Garden of Eden, which deals with the topics of human loneliness and the dynamics of a menage-a-trois. But the Lilith story was to move in still further directions. Resuming the project of the French cultural theorists of the 19th century (like Chateaubriand), Shaw constructs a visionary humanistic cosmological space. In Shaw’s Back to Methuselah (1921) Lilith is described by the Voice to the Serpent as the original creature who regenerated herself into Adam and Eve. The primal parent of humanity, she represents the evolutionary movement from matter to spirit. As the originator of the evolving human species, she is given the final monologue (soliloquy) in the play, where she conjures up a cosmology in which her own legend is just a stage in the expansion of Life through the universe. Shaw’s Lilith is not only given a voice but has in every sense the last word in the play. Bernard Shaw begins a new line of development, depicting Lilith as the instigator of a new and progressive turn in human history, leaving behind the exploitative world of patriarchy.

FINNEGAN’S WAKE (1939) Finnegan’s Wake has been described as “a transcription into a minaturized form of the whole western literary tradition,”4 and Lilith is abundantly present as a succubus who lures men to their doom. John Bormanis argues that in the novel the Prankquean, ALP and Issy are all types of Lilith, who also draws in a range of women called “Lily,” including Lilly Langtry, the “Jersey Lilly” and mistress of the Prince of Wales. In particular, she is a subversive figure associated with Joyce’s specifically Irish rebellion against British colonialism. As the image of resistance to patriarchy, she “undoes” Earwicker and men are advised to practice coitus interruptus rather than allow her to beget her demonic children by stealing their semen. Lilith as a ‘lily of the field’ becomes the basis of a complex pun linking the Garden of Eden with the Song of Solomon and the nationalist usurpation of the oppressor’s codeword, ‘Lilliburlero.’ 4

Seamus Deane, quoted on back cover of Penguin edition.

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As the Prankquean she is involved in the kidnapping of the male heirs of the Earl of Howth (“Jarl van Hoother”) but also suffers for her defiance in the bloody trenches of the “Nomans Land” of the First World War. She resists Van Hoother’s call to return to Erin, preferring exile (like Lilith) to bondage in the Garden. Like Lilith living with her children by the edge of the Red Sea, the Prankquean runs away to a “woman’s land” beyond the control of the colonial power. In this rewritten mythology Joyce valorizes a sort of Irish feminism symbolized in Lilith, set in opposition to the rantings of the thunder-god, Thon. In a reversal of the patriarchal harnessing of the Gen 3 story, the Prankquean presides over a story in which Eve steals the fruit of language from a patriarchal deity and escapes to a new domain (like Lilith) where she is free of the hegemonic discourse of the oppressor, a freedom which both men and women can enjoy, “all lordy heirs and ladymaidesses of a pretty nice kettle of fruit.” Joyce’s pattern-breaking novel offers the inscription of the full-blown resistant social space of a quest for social autonomy which enfolds a version of feminism as well the rejection of imperialism and much else. Roberto Pazzi’s novel La malattia de tempo is a re-assertion of the cyclical myths associated with Lilith as a corrective or counterblast to the played-out linear patriarchal narrative. The novel takes place significantly on the Isle of St Helena; place of Napoleon’s exile and (two centuries earlier) the site of Halley’s pioneering discoveries about the motions of the planets. This novel significantly rejects the linearity of western historical dogma and offers instead a free-floating text which emphasizes both spatiality and the mythical cycle, with Lilith herself as the Primordial Mother figure challenging western patriarchy. A revolutionary Pope declares the end of Time’s tyranny and the start of a new era and Elizabeth, daughter of Aiku as Lilith works with Halley, the astronomer, to change the way humans see the cosmos. Here, Elizabeth as Lilith is a relatively uncomplicated figure, emblem of the prospects for a human return to the cyclical natural world, once the limits to imperialist expansion and economic growth become starkly manifest in the shape of a great, uncrossable river.

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LILITH AND FEMINIST SCIENCE FICTION: THE ULTIMATE COSMOLOGICAL SPACE, THOUGH NOT NECESSARILY PRO-THEISTIC In a fantasy by C. L. Moore, the feminist vision once again returns us to the cosmic level of spatiality. In her short story of 1940, ‘The Fruit of Knowledge,’ Lilith modulates between being a demonic supernatural figure and one whose failure to influence Adam to eat of the Tree of Life leads to catastrophic consequences for human race. Later another science fiction writer, Octavia Butler, makes Lilith the outcast who rescues humanity whilst in exile from an Earth ravaged by nuclear war. By co-operating with alien genetraders, she plays a part in the development of human life modified beyond the familiar gender divisions. One of the most original reworkings of the Lilith story in terms of amplifying and revisioning the Genesis Eden pretext is the short story of 1940 by C. L. Moore, ‘Fruit of Knowledge.’ The writer’s other output is more or less entirely associated with the science-fiction genre, giving a particular nuance to this tale of earthly mythological and biblical history. In the story Lilith is a demonic supernatural being who visits Eden, taking on fleshly form, after the creation and meets Adam. Adam falls for this being of superior awareness. It is when Lilith temporarily travels way from Eden, leaving the shell of her body behind, that (as it later emerges) God exploits the opportunity to vivify this shell as Eve. Lilith knew that Adam needed to eat not of the Tree of Knowledge but of the Tree of Life, but the Serpent persuades Eve to eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, with the familiar ensuing series of events. Displaced from the biblical story and from her relationship with Adam, Lilith is given a choice over her future by the Voice and elects to have her offspring with Adam haunt Eve’s offspring “to their graves.” Her final act in the story is to impel Eve to call her first child “Kayn the spear of my vengeance, for she shall set murder loose among Adam’s sons…” If one wanted evidence of the cumulative tendencies of RH one would trace the Voice in this story back to Shaw’s play and the contrarian reworking itself back to Isolde Kurz. Again, at the level of cosmic space, Octavia E Butler’s Dawn (1987) is a science fiction novel that inscribes Lilith as a feminist hero who becomes the intermediary between human survivors of a

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nuclear war and the extraterrestrials who seek to rescue them for the purpose of gene-trading. Distrusted by her own species after she allows herself to be drawn into the biological experiments of her captors, Lilith has to endure the role of ‘Judas-goat’ as she seeks to help her fellow human beings return to what remains of life on Earth. The unfolding of the narrative provides what one reviewer (back cover) describes as a ‘gene’s eye view of ourselves,’ the human race with all its erotic and violent impulses. At another level, Butler seems to construct a fictional narrative which expresses something of Helen Cixhou’s version of human life beyond the familiar gender divisions—the extraterrestrial ooloi etc., forming a third, non-human gender.

THE CONTRARIAN APPROPRIATION OF THE LILITH STORY Toni Morrison’s Beloved can be read both as a novel about the appalling history of slavery and racism in the American South and as a novel about human maturation. Spatiality is a prominent feature of the text, both because linearity is repeatedly disrupted in the narrative sequence with its constant flashbacks, and because the novel dwells on the tropes of The Clearing and Sweet Home. In spatial terms, the topos of the Clearing suggests a secluded area within a natural habitat in which the integrity of African American identity can be reinforced. It is the place where Baby Suggs (as Lilith the Elder can preach her gospel of freedom. ‘Home’ as Bell Hooks has argued was the one place where those on the receiving end of racial apartheid could freely recover their sense of being human and could resist being treated as objects rather than subjects.5 ‘Sweet Home’ itself as a plantation is the inverse of such a refuge and in terms of the novel’s mythology an anti-Eden, but the house referred to as 124 is a place of sustenance. Here the cosmic spatiality of the sky is collapsed into the night-time stars which can be plucked down to lend hope to life in the slave’s dismal present. Redemption only comes for those who

5

Quoted in Kort (2004), p. 170.

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can escape the anti-Eden of Sweet Home, either by dying like Beloved herself or physically leaving. Although the ostensible diegetic context is that of the slaveculture of America’s Deep South in 1873 just after the American Civil War, and the desperate attempt of individuals to escape,6 this novel is also more universally about women’s escape from the defining culture of androcentrism. When the Lilith-figure Sethe murders her own child Beloved to save her from literal enslavement, she also breaks the bonds of the oppressive masternarrative. When Beloved returns as a ghost and second Lilithfigure, both Mother and Daughter achieve the psychological maturation to move on.7 One important strand in the narrative is the sense that places persist in the memory, or ‘re-memory’ as Morrison calls it. In terms of spatiality, Morrison inverts the Lilith legend to construct a new model of personalised space in which both men and women can grow to maturity. In terms of spatiality, Morrison’s novel offers the discourse of a resistant social space, a world in which the oppressed defy the controlling efforts of their masters whether they be the literal slavemasters of inscribed racialist history or the social forces which still imprison men and women in modern society.

THE EMPTY CIPHER Whilst Lilith rises to prominence in feminist and postcolonialist discourse, for male writers she exits the horizon of longing (Robert Brennan) or becomes an empty cipher (Vargos Llosa). The story ‘Lilith’ in Anaïs Nin’s Delta of Venus (1976) presents a contrarian Lilith, who is sexually repressed and seems imprisoned in her own frigidity in her marriage to a relatively passionate man. The basis was the true story of Margaret Garner who temporarily escaped slavery by fleeing to Ohio from Kentucky in 1853. 7 See Stave for a detailed examination of the points of correspondence between the novel and aspects of the Lilith tradition: Shirley A. Stave: ‘Toni Morrison’s “Beloved” and the Vindication of Lilith,’ South Atlantic Review, Vol.58, No.1 (Jan., 1993): 49–66. 6

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As part of the reception of ‘Lilith,’ this story depends completely on the use of the name for the main character. But we could say that the story is an early feminist inscription of individualised space. Llosa’s Bad Girl (2007) is, at the level of the first-person narrator, a self-indulgent male fantasy, projecting Lily as the recurrent Other Woman of his life. At the level of what is reported or can be gleaned about the actual Lily, under her various pseudonymns (if she is one person and not many), she represents the antithesis of a successful, bourgeois upbringing. As Lilith she throws a floodlight on the self-centred consciousness of the male narrator, indicative of him as the site of a very negative form of personal space. We asked at the beginning, where is Lilith? We have observed her at the three spatial levels of cosmic, social and personal space in western literature and art. We have also noted her transportation from the recessive, back-room world of cosmological and folkloric explanation for human misfortune to a new place on the balcony of the world of hope for a radically different human future.

ANN STEVENSON’S VERDICT Perhaps the one piece of literature which encompasses the whole range of Lilith as a source of positive, ironic dialectic with the biblical text is Anne Stevenson’s poem, ‘At Kilpeck Church’ (1980). Here the Lilith story represents unfinished business for the God who, on the eighth day, “… departed from Lilith/And turned to the emergency/ created by Adam and Eve. /Meaning to come back, meaning surely, / to return to her.”8 Operating (ironically) at the cosmic level, Stevenson’s poem revisits a primitive site (the Celtic carvings on the lintel of the entrance to Kilpeck Church) in order to offer an augury of the future. Mary Magdalene is in some ways the NT equivalent of Lilith, a figure from the margins who is demonized in literature before the modern period but who (like Lilith in the Zohar) has a sort of alternative history. In the case of MM, this includes her recognition 8

Stevenson (2005), pp. 330–331.

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by the Dominicans as the Apostola Apostolorum in the Middle Ages. She gradually emerges in the Renaissance period as the object of the male erotic gaze and then graduates into the feisty Independent Woman of the Victorian novelist and friend of Dickens, Wilkie Collins. In the 20th century, she surges to prominence in the novel by Kazantzakis, The Last Temptation and in the mass-market thriller of Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code. A more thoroughgoing rehabilitation occurs in Michèle Roberts’ novel, The Wild Girl, where she even writes her own gospel, echoing the actual ‘unearthing’ of the gnostic text, The Gospel of Mary. If, as Hoskins argues, Mary Magdalene is the dethroned goddess-figure Astarte, then she progressively recovers her status in Reception History as the portrait of the Collective Mary which she represents modulates from emphasis on the Penitent Sinner to emphasis on the figure who is the first to greet and recognize the Risen Christ. The balance shifts from the fallen woman whom the God-Man Jesus rescues to the wholesome woman who humanizes the God-Man. Like Lilith she transforms personal space but she arrives not from exile in the demonic world but from earthly incarceration. Yet Lilith’s cosmic heritage may still give her the edge in eco-politics. Both Lilith and Mary Magdalene are marginal biblical figures in the biblical pretext but the weight of their literary afterlives in western culture means that they occupy a much larger space in the totality which we may designate as biblical humanism. But the two figures differ in the strength of the semiotic signal which they send. Lilith has a mythological history which predates the biblical text: she belongs to the world of the Earth Mother which patriarchy supplanted. She also has a powerful theological history in her role as the demonic consort forced upon the deity in Kabbalistic writings and as the figure which the future Messiah will overthrow. She becomes, in the contrarian writings of the Romantic and post-Romantic period a figure who promises to change human civilisation utterly. Mary Magdalene, by contrast, is a noble and purely human figure, who works her way up from being the model of the penitent sinner and reformed fallen woman to being recognized, rather belatedly, as the first witness of the Resurrection. Mary has a fuller and more consistent presence in European visual art, but she also

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serves as a sort of subversive presence in works such as Villon’s Testament. Her allure as a femme fatale was never reinforced by the frisson-effect of association with the demonic. She is more susceptible to ‘normalization’ than Lilith, though that does not mean that there is no literature which sets out to domesticate Lilith, for Marek Halter’s novel, Lilah, does just that. The paradoxical question arises as to whether biblical humanism is more likely to be strengthened by a figure inscribed as historical in the biblical pretext or one inscribed as mythological. Whilst Mary Magdalene stands for the recovery of the positively subversive side of Jesus’ ministry and teaching (if only as the upholder of women’s ministry), Lilith stands for the overturning of the hegemonic discourse which appeals to the Genesis Eden story as its basis. Mary is a sort of victim of patriarchy who has been disencumbered of her victimhood and who has (incidentally) lent a fillip of sexualised humanity to the contemporary portrait of Jesus, whilst Lilith (who was never a victim) is a once-demonic figure who has been rehabilitated as the Returning Goddess. Perhaps we need both figures. It may depend upon how drastic is one’s diagnosis of the crisis which civilisation or the eco-system faces. Either way, the literature of the 19th and 20th centuries suggests that a male God is a very incomplete figure.

POSTSCRIPT One final curiosity is that, whilst some modern feminist redactors of the reception see the New Testament representation of Mary Magdalene as a reconfiguration of the figure of Miriam in the Hebrew Scriptures,9 Rivkah Walton has recently documented the rise of Miriam as a more prevalent role model for feminists than Lilith.10 Perhaps it is the quest for historical veracity as a source of validation that drives these two quite disparate academic agendas Susan Haskins (1993), 47–48. Miriam was the type of Luke’s Repentant Sinner in the Biblia Pauperum. 10 Rivkah M.Walton: ‘Lilith’s Daughters, Miriam’s Chorus: Two Decades of Feminist Midrash,’ Religion & Literature, Vol.43.2 (Summer 2011): 115–127 (121–124). 9

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towards Miriam. But whilst one consciously leaves behind an avowedly mythical figure to seek the solidity of central biblical ‘history,’ the other notices the mythological continuity between Miriam in Exodus and Mary Magdalene in the New Testament. Veracity can take many forms and so can its spatial expression.

HANNAH’S SONG OF PRAISE AS PARADIGM FOR THE “CANTICLE OF THE VIRGIN” (MAGNIFICAT) MAX STERN ARIEL UNIVERSITY CENTER OF SAMARIA PROLEGOMENON Hannah’s prayer or the Song of Hannah (1 Sam 2:2–10) is the most important prayer uttered by a woman in the Bible and the paradigm for “Canticle of the Virgin” or “Magnificat” (Magnificat anima mea Dominum—My soul doth magnify the Lord) (Luke 1:46–55), one of the most ancient Christian hymns; and, since the Renaissance, among the liturgical texts most frequently set to music. Hannah’s prayer, it model, on the other hand, has received scant musical treatment, even though its theological influence has been extraordinary. Hannah’s Song of Praise (1 Sam 2:1–10)

,‫ וַ תֹּאמַ ר‬,‫א וַ ִּת ְתפַ לֵּל חַ נָּה‬ ;‫ ָּרמָּ ה ַק ְרנִּי בַ יהוָּ ה‬,‫עָּ לַץ לִּ בִּ י בַ יהוָּ ה‬ .‫ כִּ י שָּ מַ ְח ִּתי בִּ יׁשּועָּ תֶ ָך‬,‫אוֹּיְ בַ י‬-‫ָּרחַ ב פִּ י עַ ל‬ .‫ כֵּאֹלהֵּ ינּו‬,‫ כִּ י אֵּ ין בִּ לְ ֶתָך; וְ אֵּ ין צּור‬,‫ ָּקדוֹּׁש ַכיהוָּ ה‬-‫ב אֵּ ין‬ ,‫ כִּ י אֵּ ל ֵּדעוֹּת יְ הוָּ ה‬:‫ יֵּצֵּ א עָּ תָּ ק ִּמפִּ י ֶכם‬,‫ ַת ְרבּו ְת ַדבְ רּו גְ בֹּהָּ ה גְ בֹּהָּ ה‬-‫ג ַאל‬ .‫ולא (וְ לוֹּ) נִּ ְתכְ נּו עֲלִּ לוֹּת‬ .‫ ָאזְ רּו חָּ יִּ ל‬,‫ חַ ִּתים; וְ נִּכְ ָּׁשלִּ ים‬,‫ד ֶקׁשֶ ת גִּ ב ִֹּּרים‬ ‫ וְ ַרבַ ת‬,‫ע ֲָּק ָּרה יָּלְ ָּדה ִּׁש ְבעָּ ה‬-‫ עַ ד‬,‫ ְּורעֵּ בִּ ים חָּ ֵּדלּו‬,‫ה ְשבֵּ עִּ ים בַ לֶחֶ ם נ ְִּש ָּכרּו‬ .‫בָּ נִּים אֻ ְמ ָּללָּה‬ .‫ וַ יָּעַ ל‬,‫ּומחַ יֶה; מו ִֹּּריד ְׁשאוֹּל‬ ְ ‫ מֵּ ִּמית‬,‫ו יְ הוָּ ה‬ .‫ ְמרוֹּמֵּ ם‬-‫ ַאף‬,‫ מו ִֹּּריׁש ּומַ ע ֲִּׁשיר; מַ ְׁשפִּ יל‬,‫ז יְ הוָּ ה‬ 319

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‫ וְ כִּ סֵּ א‬,‫נ ְִּדיבִּ ים‬-‫ לְ ה ֹּו ִּׁשיב עִּ ם‬,‫ מֵּ אַ ְׁשפֹּת י ִָּּרים אֶ בְ יוֹּן‬,‫ח מֵּ ִּקים מֵּ עָּ פָּ ר ָּדל‬ :‫כָּבוֹּד יַנְ ִּחלֵּם‬ .‫ וַ יָּׁשֶ ת ֲעלֵּיהֶ ם ֵּתבֵּ ל‬,‫כִּ י לַיהוָּ ה ְמצ ֵֻּקי אֶ ֶרץ‬ .‫ ִּאיׁש‬-‫ יִּ גְ בַ ר‬, ַ‫ֹלא בְ כֹּח‬-‫ כִּ י‬:‫ ְּור ָּׁשעִּ ים בַ חֹּׁשֶ ְך יִּ ָּדּמּו‬,‫ידו יִּ ְׁשמֹּר‬ ָּ ‫ט ַרגְ לֵּי חֲ ִּס‬ ;‫ָארץ‬ ֶ -‫ י ִָּּדין ַאפְ סֵּ י‬,‫ עָּ לָּו בַ שָּ מַ יִּ ם י ְַרעֵּ ם—יְ הוָּ ה‬,‫י יְ הוָּ ה יֵּחַ תּו ְמ ִּריבָּ ו‬ .ֹּ‫ וְ י ֵָּּרם ֶק ֶרן ְמ ִּׁשיחו‬,ֹּ‫עֹּז לְ מַ לְ כו‬-‫וְ יִּ ֶתן‬ Canticle of the Virgin (Luke 1:46–55) 46 Magnificat anima mea Dominum: 47 et exultavit spiritus meus in Deo salutari meo. 48 Quia respexit humilitatem ancillæ suæ: ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes. 49 Quia fecit mihi magna qui potens est: et sanctum nomen eius. 50 Et misericordia eius a progenie in progenies timentibus eum. 51 Fecit potentiam in brachio suo: dispersit superbos mente cordis sui. 52 Deposuit potentes de sede, et exaltavit humiles. 53 Esurientes implevit bonis: et divites dimisit inanes. 54 Suscepit Israel puerum suum, recordatus misericordiæ suæ. 55 Sicut locutus est ad patres nostros, Abraham, et semini eius in sæcula.

INTRODUCTION The Magnificat or Canticle of the Blessed Virgin1 from the Gospel of Luke (1:46–55) is Mary’s praise of God when she learns that a son (Jesus) will be born from her womb. It is the New Testament liturgical text most frequently set to polyphonic music since the Renaissance, and, in fact, one of the most important texts for the entire history of music.2 Its content and structure are based on Also known as Canticle of the Blessed Virgin Mary (B.V.M) or Beatae Mariae Virgine (B.M.V.). 2 The Church makes use of fourteen canticles, some the same and some different: Song at the Sea (Ex 15), Song of Moses (Deut 32), Song of Hannah (1 Sam 2), Song of Habakkuk (Hab 3), Isa 26, Jonah 2:3, 1

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Hannah’s Song of Praise3 (1 Sam 2:1–10) a song of thanksgiving and paroxysm of praise—a frenzied ecstasy by a woman, joyous beyond her senses at the birth of a son (i.e., prophet Samuel), after nineteen bitter, barren, and fruitless years of sterility, from the Old Testament. But curiously, while the former inspired a rich repertoire of works, the latter, its model has rarely been set to music. The reasons for this are many. The Magnificat is one of the core texts of Christianity, and the Church in its efforts to spread the Word, marshaled the arts in the service of the faith. While Hannah’s song, associated more with Judaism, is one of many canticles4 the synagogue shied away from giving free creative reign to, preferring traditional cantillation to artistic innovation. But the story begins even earlier, during the days of the First Temple.

Prayer of the three men (Dan 3, Vulg. 52–90, apocryphal), Azariah’s prayer (Dan 3, Vulg. 3, 26–49, apocryphal), Hezekiah’s prayer (Isa 38), Hymn of Manasseh (apocryphal), Prayer of Zacarias (Luke 1:68–79), Magnificat (Luke 1: 46–55), Canticle of Simeon (Luke 2:29–32), Gloria. Eric Werner, The Sacred Bridge (New York: Columbia University Press, 1959), pp. 139–140. 3 Among composers who have set the Magnificat Canticle are: John Dunstable, Thomas Tallis, Orlando di Lasso, Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina, Heinrich Schutz, Claudio Monteverdi, Henry Purcell, J. S. Bach, Antonio Vivaldi, Georg Philipp Telemann, W. A. Mozart, Franz Schubert, Felix Mendelssohn, Anton Bruckner, Charles Gounod, Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Goffredo Petrassi, Krzysztof Pendereci, and others. 4 Who sings the praise of the Creator? Jewish tradition lists ten songs (canticles) sung in this world: Adam’s song (Ps 92), Song at the Sea (Exod 15:1), Song at the Well (Num 21:17), Song of Moses (Deut 32:1), Song of Deborah (Judg 5:1), Hannah’s Song (1 Sam 2:1), David’s song (2 Sam 22:1), Canticles (Song of Songs), and Song of the Redeemed from Exile (Isa 30:29). Shir haShirim, an allegorical translation based upon Rashi, commentary compiled by Meir Zlotowitz, translation by Nosson Scherman (New York City: Mesorah Publications, 1977), p. xxxiii.

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RECEPTION IN SYNAGOGUE AND CHURCH The prophecies of Isaiah (5:12, 23:15–16)5 and Amos (6:5)6 associated music making with the harlotry of the nations. While the ban on instrumental music and secular music in the synagogue, after the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, along with later Talmudic maxims, linking the woman’s voice to indecency, on the assumption that “Grace is deceitful and beauty is vain” (Prov 41:30), succeeded in establishing an anti-aesthetic bias which exists to this day in Orthodox synagogue practice,7 making the expression of a sacred religious artistic ethos suspect in liturgical contexts.8 Functional music for prayer and cantillation was fostered, art music was not. Music had its place as entertainment at weddings and Purim festivities, not, as the expression of a sacred ethos. The place for Jewish artistic creativity was the concert hall not the synagogue. On the other hand, except for the Psalms, the Church’s interest in Old Testament canticles centered, more often than not, on predictions and prefiguration, that is, in Old Testament prophecies confirming and fulfilling promises made to Abraham and the Prophets. In the present context, the New Testament Magnificat canticle was read backwards as the consummation of the “And the harp and the psaltery, the tabret and the pipe, and wine, are their feasts; but they regard not the work of the Lord” (Isa 5:12); “…It shall fare with Tyre as in the song of the harlot: Take a harp, go about the city, thou harlot long forgotten; make sweet melody, sing many songs, that thou mayest be remembered” (Isa 23: 15–16). 6 “Woe to them that are at ease in Zion… That lie on beds of ivory… That thrum on the psaltery, that devise for themselves instruments of music, like David” (Amos 6:1,4,5). 7 Not withstanding the 19th century innovations of Solomon Zulzer in Vienna and Louis Lewandowski in Berlin, along with 20th century contributions by Jewish composers such as Ernst Bloch, Herman Berlinski, and others in Reform Jewish contexts. 8 “the voice of a woman is indecent” Babylonian Talmud Berachot 24a. See Henry George Farmer, editor, translator and commentary, “Maimonides on Listening to Music: from the Responsa of Moses ben Maimon (d.1204),” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, Volume 65, Issue 04 (Cambridge University Press, 1933), pp. 867–884. 5

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Old Testament prophecy of Hannah. Its ecstasy of praise as the first canticle of the new faith summed up the prophetess Hannah’s prayer—filled with awe, wonder, love, and visceral confidence in her own regenerative potency—celebrating the birth of her son, the prophet Samuel. Transformed it served as a structural frame that the Virgin Mary (Miriam) adapted in giving voice to her own song of praise anticipating the birth of her son, the Savior. Furthermore, the new messianic faith, once it had been embraced as a state religion in Byzantium (380 CE), emancipated from the harassment of its early days, when it no longer had to hide from official censorship, adopted and integrated the pagan values of antiquity as a way of propagating the new faith in art and music. Ignoring the second commandment,9 Christendom encouraged the painting, sculpturing and frescoing of Bible stories on cathedral walls visually and aurally depicting the Gospel to the ignorant and unlettered by all available artistic means. In the same spirit the Church absorbed popular and folk music in sacred songs and hymns, and fostered group and choral singing. This impulse led later to the commissioning of vast numbers of Motets and Masses by singers attached to church establishments and princely courts to form the bedrock of Western art music to this day. Thus, the Church, supported by popes, cardinals, bishops, nobility, and people of all degree, encouraged the creative musical expression of its doctrines, enlisting the greatest composers of each era to set texts such as the Magnificat to music. While in sharp contrast, the synagogue, encased in persecutions and expulsions throughout the Middle Ages could only hold on to memories of lost glory. The social situation of survival at all cost pressed the leaders of the exiles of Zion into a fundamentally anti-aesthetic stance, holding on to sacred texts and traditions, eschewing innovations, Hannah’s song never found a similar context for musical receptivity by the People of the Book.

“Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth” (Exod 20:4). 9

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MARY, MOTHER OF GOD Prefiguration knows many twists. The life of Mary, herself, reveals many parallels to Hannah’s son Samuel. She was born to elderly but pious parents, Joachim and Hannah, who, in gratitude to God, vowed that once the child turned three years old, she would be sent to the Temple to be educated. Recounting Mary’s parents’ situation, this legend parallels almost exactly Hannah’s behavior and ambitions regarding the upbringing of the infant Samuel (vowed and dedicated to God). If Mary or Miriam was educated in the Temple, it means that she was familiar with the most sophisticated religious rituals, customs and practices of priestly Judaism from childhood. (From these few facts, it becomes clear how the atmosphere in which her future son would be raised might have influenced his behavior in maturity.) When Mary turned fourteen, Zachariah, the High Priest told her, “It is customary for all young maidens at your age to marry.” (Today it would be considered anathema, an affront to feminism and women’s rights.) That night an angel appeared to the old priest in a dream revealing that the Holy Spirit would give a sign as to the prospective bridegroom. In a scene reminiscent of Aaron’s rod blooming (Num 17: 8) and the dove returning to Noah’s Ark with an olive branch in its beak, (Gen 8:11), legend continues to relate that Joseph, a widower, builder and carpenter, was chosen. The young girl acquiesced. Thus, we see elements from Hannah’s life and Samuel’s childhood become intertwined in the Marion legends prefiguring, as it were, the experience of the Virgin.10 Place in the Liturgy Why did rabbis consider the Hannah’s prayers and Song of Praise, so important that they were canonized into Laws of prayer?11 Perhaps, Catholic Encyclopedia. Helen Splarn, “The Early Life of the Virgin Mary,” Knowledge of Reality Magazine, 1996–2005, online publication: http://www.sol.com.au/kor/21_01.htm. 11 “R. Hamnuna said: How many most important laws can be learnt from these verses relating to Hannah! Now Hannah, she spoke in her heart: from this we learn that one who prays must direct his heart. Only her lips 10

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this was because they were sincere expressions of faith and trust and the redemptive power of prayer.12 Why was her ecstatic paroxysm of joy selected for the Haphtarah reading for the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah)? Perhaps, it was because the act of birth symbolizes hope and renewal, one of the themes and highlights of the High Holiday season. Why, too, was this frenzied song of a newly delivered mother selected to open the daily MoroccanSephardic morning congregational prayer? Here, too, it reveals another aspect of her song: the truism that prayer should always begin in praise.13 Why did the Church Fathers include the Magnificat, also the song of a woman, as the climax of evening prayers (Vespers) in the daily Hours of the Church from earliest times? Clearly it is due to the Blessed Virgin Mary’s place as the Mother of the Church. Commentators are ecstatic in noting its rejuvenating and purifying effect on the faithful when read following the inevitable profanation contracted in the course of daily business affairs.14 moved: from this we learn that he who prays must frame the words distinctly with his lips. But her voice could not be heard: from this, it is forbidden to raise one’s voice in the Tefillah.” Berakoth 31a. These have been adopted into the Shulhan Aruch. See Solomon Ganzfried, Code of Jewish Law, chapter 18:6 (New York, Hebrew Publishing Company, 1961), p. 57. 12 For example: The phrase “The Lord killeth and maketh alive” (1 Sam 2:6) is cited in the second benediction of the Amidah (standing congregational prayer) as “O, King, who orderest death and restorest life.” While the phrase “There in none holy as the Lord: for there is none beside thee: neither is there any rock like our God” (1 Sam 2:2) is part of the synagogue liturgy recited by the congregation each time the Torah scroll is returned to the ark. 13 “R. Simlai expounded: A man should always first recount the praise of the Holy One, blessed by He, and then pray” (Berakoth 32a). The Babylonian Talmud, I. Epstein, editor (London: Soncino Press, 1948), p. 199. 14 Sancta Missa: A Study of the Roman Beviary 1962, chapter 4, Vespers and Compline (2010). Online: http://www.sanctamissa.org/en/ resources/books/quigley/divine-office-quigley–34.html.

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How much the world owes these righteous mothers, who considered any sacrifice small in order to encourage their sons to a life of sacred service and holiness. Image of Motherhood There is a deeper sense in these canticles that is difficult to touch without seeming clichéd; it is the image of motherhood. Rather than cite conventional answers and canonized aphorisms: that to have children was the essence of life in biblical and rabbinic times; or, that Holy Spirit (Shekina) is eternally feminine (as it often appears in the term Matronna, in the Zohar or the book of Jewish mysticism). I prefer to cite personal experience as a case study. It was my eldest daughter Sarah’s response to my query about feminism vs. the traditional role of woman today, which she gave many years ago as a teenaged school girl, about the age of the Virgin Mary herself that I found touchingly profound. In all the confusion that surrounds the issue today, she replied, “A woman is different than a man, because she can bring forth life.” Need one say more? So simple, so straightforward. This idea became the essence of the theology and iconography of the Church for over 1000 years—Madonna and Child—the inspiration for Marion song. The virtues that were extolled by generations of commentators were feminine values of kindness, mercy, and compassion. They are identical with thirteen qualities of the Divine that emanated from Sinai at the mouth of the Eternal: merciful, gracious, longsuffering, abundant in goodness and truth, forgiving (Exod 34:6–7). It is perhaps for these reasons that these two canticles were held in such high regard.

ANIMA AND GRATITUDE / HORN AND SOUL By way of contrast and comparison, it may be significant to note that Hannah was a mature woman who had suffered nineteen years of barrenness before giving birth to a son, while Mary was a tender teenaged girl in the spring of her years. A comparison of the texts in Hebrew, Latin, and English reveals other similarities and differences. A strange archaic term appears in Hannah’s song that is absent in Mary’s canticle—it is the image of the horn. Yet, though the word does not appear, its intent is everywhere present. The Latin hymn opens on the words, Magnificat anima mea Dominum

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(my soul doth magnify the Lord). It seems to be a kind of translation of the Hebrew phrase, ramah karni baAdonai (my horn is uplifted in the Lord). This observation raises a question: What does anima (soul) have to do with karni (horn)? Here, the English translation of the Latin anima, as soul doesn’t quite hit the mark, for anima signifies many things: the animating principle of life, the incorporeal female essence, the totality of being, and the inner spiritual essence we call soul. How is Keren (horn), a physical object associated only with animals, its equivalent? How and why did the ancients transform and translate Hannah’s image of karni or horn into anima or soul in Mary’s song? Another question arises: Did Mary spontaneously break forth into her canticle or is she paraphrasing something she already knew, perhaps, both? Surely Hannah’s Song (“My heart rejoiceth in the Lord, mine horn is exalted in the Lord”) was familiar to Mary. Perhaps it was a prayer she had heard or uttered from memory many times before as a school girl and recalled in paraphrase after the visitation from the angel Gabriel, which became the basis for her Magnificat canticle (“My soul doth magnify the Lord”). Perhaps she was substituting, in her own words, an interpretation of a model that was already common knowledge among the pious; her own personal way of expressing gratitude though fixed canonical prayer. It is the same way people read psalms of thanksgiving and supplication today, expressed in such phrases as “Praise the Lord,” “Bless the Lord” or “Yishtabach shemo.” To those schooled in religious practice, traditional liturgy is an outlet for personal feelings. Mary’s canticle of thanksgiving, then, can be seen as a variation upon a theme uttered a thousand years earlier, by an earlier matriarch. But sincere gratitude is never out of fashion, out of place, nor uttered in vain; it is an eternal virtue in no way to be under estimated. Not everyone has the capacity for gratitude, even less are they able to express it at the right moment and in the appropriate way. The desire and ability to express gratitude is the crucial link, the profound rationale, why these particular women were chosen by God as the mothers of prophets and saviors. They were recipients of Blessing and they said “Thank you.” It is the reason why their

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songs have lived on to inspire innumerable phrases in Psalms and elsewhere in Scripture and prayer texts.15 What is it? Here we are dealing with a quality of faith, impossible to analyze rationally, subjective, yet whose effects are unquestionable. These women were not naturalists; they did not recognize the laws of science as incontrovertible. Nor, did they look upon childbirth as a burden, slavery, oppression, a restriction in the public sphere upon their professional ambitions and career goals. They did not assume the role of motherhood as common place, nor look askance at their fate as a purely biological happenstance. Rather, they viewed childbirth as Divine deliverance, a response to prayer, the privilege of “bringing life” into the world, the opportunity to educate and nurture a child in the values of kindness and mercy and compassion, a means of bringing the light of God into the world. They had the capacity to see the extraordinary within the ordinary; the Divine impinging upon the common place of this world. Only to such faithful as these comes the blessing that stretches beyond a single generation or era to something universal, greater than here and now—a mission, an ideal in which they have a stake and a share: “He shall be great, and shall be called Son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David” (Luke 1:32).

SIMILARITIES AND COMPARISONS In examining both of these canticles,16 we note the following structural similarities: each contains the same number of verses (10) and both are arranged in 4 sections.17

Ps 33:3–4; 39:9; 70:9; 125:2–3; 110:9; 97:1; 117:16; 32:10; 92:7; 33:11; 97:3; 131:11. Similarities are found in Hab 3:18; Mal 3:12; Job 5:11; Isa 41:8; Isa 149:3. See Sancta Missa, op. cit. 16 “Thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shall call his name Ya-shua (Jesus)” (Luke 1:31). 17 Some divide the Magnificat into three parts: vv. 46–49, 50–53, and 54–55. 15

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a. Exaltation (Verse 1/Verses 46–47): These phrases share in their expression of rejoicing, magnifying and exaltation of God. They mirror the inner sense of enlargement and salvation both feel. Hannah 1 My heart rejoiceth in the Lord, mine horn is exalted in the Lord: My mouth is enlarged over mine enemies; because I rejoice in thy salvation. Mary 46. My soul doth magnify the Lord, 47 And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior. b. Enumeration of God’s qualities (Verse 2–3/Verse 48–50): These verses express the qualities of holiness, might, mercy, and blessedness which are attributes of the Divine. Hannah 2 There is none holy as the Lord: for there is none beside thee: Neither is there any rock like our God. 3 Talk no more so exceedingly proudly; let not arrogancy come out of your mouth: For the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed Mary 48 For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaiden: for behold, From henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. 49 For he that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is his name. 50 And his mercy is on them that fear him from generation to generation. c. Reversals (Verse 4–9/ Verse 51–53): These verses consist in pairs of reversals. They bring the exaltation and praise of the Divine (from sections a and b) down to earth, so to speak. The high and mighty are brought low, while the humble and lowly are raised up; the poor are graced, while the rich are rejected; the righteous are saved, while the wicked are condemned.

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Hannah 4 The bows of the mighty men are broken, and they that stumbled are girded with strength. 5 They that were full have hired themselves out for bread; and they that were hungry ceased: So that the barren hath born seven; and she that hath many children is waxed feeble. 6 The Lord killeth, and maketh alive: he bringeth down to the grave and bringeth up. 7 The Lord maketh poor, and maketh rich: and lifteth up. 8 He raiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make them inherit the throne of glory: For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s and he hath set the world upon them. 9 He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked shall be silent in darkness; For by strength shall no man prevail. Mary 51 He hath shewed strength with his arm; He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. 52 He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree. 53 He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich hath he sent empty away. d. Affirmation (Verse 10/Verses 53–54): These verses look beyond the present to affirm eternal virtues of remembrance, mercy, and faithfulness to all generations. In a sense, they maintain “he who believes will be saved.” It is the message of salvation. Hannah 10 The adversaries of the Lord shall be broken to pieces; Out of heaven he shall thunder upon them: The Lord shall judge the ends of the earth; And he shall give strength unto his king, and exalt the horn of his anointed. Mary 54 He hath holpen his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy; 55 As he hath to our fathers, to Abraham and his seed for ever.

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SALVATION The merging of these two canticles is revealed in a single word— salvation. It marks the overlap between the Old and the New Testaments. It is a link. In Hebrew it is: ki samachti bi’yashuatecho (because I rejoice in Thy salvation); while in Latin the equivalent appears in the opening verse of the Magnificat: et exultavit spiritus meus in Deo salutari meo (And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior). In Hebrew the word is yashua (salvation); becoming translated into Latin as salutari (salutary). In both cases the word signifies salvation—divine help, deliverance, redemption. But Hannah employs the word to express God’s saving power, while Mary directs it at the personality of God as Savior. This subtle difference has great ramifications theologically. It is exactly this distinction between the deed and the person that differentiates the two canticles. In the Song of Hannah, the word savior, metamorphosed as meshicho (his anointed or his chosen)—mashiach—Messiah—the Savior, reappears in the last verse. In Mary’s Magnificat it is God who is the savior. The first appearance of the word yashua (salvation) in the Bible occurs in the canticle sung by Moses and the Children of Israel at the Red Sea, Azi vezimrat Yah, vayehi-li liyeshua (The Lord is my strength and my song and He is become my salvation) (Exod 15:2). It is associated with music and song. But The Song at the Sea is a national hymn, a choral song sung by the entire nation; not a solo song by an individual. The clairvoyant innovation of Hannah that struck the High Priest Eli as drunken or at least deviant behavior is exactly what so impressed the rabbis. Hannah is the first person in Scripture to personalize and apply the concept God’s salvation as divine providence to the individual. This is a very important point. It is a direction of thought that appears with such frequency in the Psalms of David that we forget its origin. It comes to fruition in David, who lived at least two generations later than Hannah, and perhaps, may have absorbed this perspective via the prophet Samuel, her son, who taught all of Israel. The sense of deeply personal subjective religious expression (i.e., individual salvation and Divine providence) so prevalent in Psalms can be traced through the Books of the Prophets into the New Testament. The sense that anyone can approach God, and not only professional priests, finds its first articulation in Hannah’s Song of

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Praise. It is for this reason that it is such an important prayer: it is the voice of the individual. The rabbis’ high regard and frequent citation of the prayer acknowledges this fact. It is the same reason why the Church Fathers also held its transformation as the Magnificat in such esteem. The concept of personal Divine Providence became a corner stone of Christian faith. Yashua becomes the name of the Savior and defines his mission of Salvation (as deliverance from sin and guilt) and articulates his goal of Redemption (renewed fellowship with God) as its justification.

THE IMAGE OF THE HORN Still, the puzzling word keren (horn) in Hannah’s Song does not appear at all in the Magnificat. But it does appear in the context of an exalted heart and horn (Alatz libi baAdonai, rama karni baAdonai—My heart exulteth in the Lord; my horn exulteth in the Lord). The idea of the heart perhaps as anima—soul is clear; but the image of horn (keren)—as in, ramah karni (my horn is exalted) is not. What is a beast’s horn doing here? Did Hannah have horns? Why is she metamorphosed with a ram, an ox, an antelope, a rhinoceros, a unicorn lifting its head into the air? Or is it an analogy for her voice lifted in exaltation? Is this how she praised her God? The classic misrepresentation of the image of horn is of course Michelangelo’s depiction of “Moses”18 with horns protruding from his forehead. It is a mis-translation of the phrase keren ohr panav (the skin of his face sent forth beams) (Exod 34:30). That is, his face shone forth with a radiance of revealed spiritual light. Via this association of keren with ohr as a beam of spiritual light we can understand the concept horn as a visual symbol for strength, power, dignity, and enlightenment. Its derivative as a beam of light—the tangible visual symbol of Divine favor is the keren ohr (horn of light) that emanated from Moses’ face. Perhaps it is this inner light to which Hannah, bathed in spiritual radiance, is referring. This image took hold of the Western world through medieval Catholic and Byzantine iconography. Angels and saints in Michelangelo, Moses, marble statue, ca. 1513–15 at the Church of San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome. 18

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frescos and paintings on countless church altar pieces and walls from the Middle Ages onwards were depicted surrounded by a halo of grace. Her song alludes to this apprehension; a deep, total faith, surrender and unquestioning acknowledgement of the power of the Creator. It is the animating principle of her life that praises. I have no doubt that the young Mary shares the same quality of faith and gratitude. How awesome must this minuscule atom of belief by a single woman have been to have nurtured the Church for two millennia.

HORN AS SHOFAR Sound

Classical shape of shofar But the horn, when detached from an animal, is more often than not a musical instrument. Considered in relation to music, the horn is a sound maker not a visual image. The sound of the horn (one of the translations of shofar) is an aspect of Divine in-dwelling spirit. Since antiquity, the horn or shofar was thought of as a magical instrument associated with the revelation of God’s voice at Mount Sinai: “there were thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud upon the mount, and the voice of a horn exceedingly loud; and all the people trembled… And when the voice of the horn waxed louder and louder, Moses spoke and God answered him by a voice” (Exod 19:16, 19). Does Hannah hear the voice of God or does God hear the voice of Hannah? In pursuit of meaning we must search elsewhere. Echoes are found in many places. A phrase such as: “Sound the great horn for our freedom, raise the banner to gather our exiles,” from the Amidah (standing) prayer, finds interpretive resonance with reference to the blasts of the shofar on the Jewish New Year (Lev 23:24) and in the sounding of the great shofar (yobel) at the

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conclusion of the Day of Atonement.19 It is horn as tone, a metaphorical interpretation of horn as shofar. However, we must ask once more: How does an animal’s horn connect to the Latin translation Magnificat anima mea Dominum (My soul doth magnify the Lord)? Is it a misreading or mistranslation from the Hebrew or is it simply—interpretation? Shape Still another aspect of shofar (horn) is its physical structure—narrow at one end and broad at the other. It is a physical manifestation revealed in the second half-verse: rachav pi (my mouth is enlarged). When transferred to liturgy Hannah’s phrase: rachav pi al oyvai (my mouth is enlarged over mine enemies) is a description of personal justification and salvation—a sense of triumph over expectation deferred, suffering endured, stifling duress, travail, misunderstanding and humiliation. It is a breath of fresh air; the breadth of fulfillment. Generations later, the psalmist echoed this sensibility in the Hallel Psalms: Min hametzar karati Yah, aneni bemerchav Yah— Out of my distress I called upon the Lord and he answered me with great enlargement (Ps 118:5). It might be paraphrased thus: From the narrow place in my throat I emitted a cry and it emerged, amplified from my mouth, and God heard me and answered my plea. From the narrow mouthpiece into the opening out of the bell the sound explodes wind, bursting all constraint, and restriction into a broad tonal place. It is a rough sonority, to be sure, an outpouring of sound that signals renewal and release from overwhelming inner pressure and stress—a euphemism for the act of child birth, as well. In this instance, the sound of the horn is used as a metaphor and aural expression of the life principle or anima.

“Then shalt thou make proclamation with the blast of the horn on the tenth day; in the Day of Atonement shall ye make proclamation with the horn throughout your land. And ye shall hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty throughout the land unto all the inhabitants thereof; it shall be a jubilee unto you; and ye shall return every man unto his possession, and ye shall return every man unto his family” (Lev 25: 9–10). 19

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This raucous sound, without rhyme or reason, is like life emerging from the unknown, like a burst of spiritual light (keren ohr) emerging from darkness. The release of air in the shofar (from the small restricted mouthpiece into the broad and expansive outer bell), traces in miniature, the path of a child in birth, passing from the closure of the womb through into the open air. Thus, by analogy, the shape and sound of the horn (or shofar) becomes the physical and tonal embodiment of Hannah’s of phrase, rachav pi al oyvai—my mouth is enlarged over mine enemies. Relating all this to liturgy, we begin to understand the image and intimation of the horn, multi-dimensionally. Simultaneously it is: 1. the tusk of an animal—a physical object, 2. a sound maker and signaling instrument, 3. a source of light and 4—a metaphor for freedom and salvation. It is another reason why her song is chanted in the synagogue on the Jewish New Year, “a day of blowing the horn” (Num 29:1), “a memorial proclaimed with the blast of horns” (Lev 23:24). Commenting on this phenomenon, the Lubavicher Rebbe writes, “There are things that shake us to the core, breaking out in a cry, a scream, or silence. An animal’s horn—not even human—is needed to express something so sublime, so essential, and so unbounded that mind can neither fathom nor hold back.” As mothers, separated for a moment from their animal natures, a new world was revealed to Hannah and Mary. They believed, felt the call, and heard the message of their innermost souls. It burst forth as a song of eternity, praise to the Almighty God. This is the essence of what Hannah and Mary must have felt: Ramah karni baAdonai (My horn is exalted in the Lord); Magnificat anima mea Dominum (My soul doth magnify the Lord).

FROM SHOFAR TO MESSIAH The very last line of Hannah’s song reads: vayarem keren meshicho (exalts the horn of his anointed) (1 Sam 2:10). The term meshicho (his anointed)—derived from yashua (salvation)—is the key word in this phrase. But who is the anointed? Is it Hannah, the righteous mother, or her son who is the anointed? Perhaps it is yet another reason why the rabbis apportioned her song for the Haphtarah reading on the day of the sounding of the shofar.

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EARLY CHRISTIANITY To Early Christianity, the term Meshicho (his anointed) signaled a task and direction. Keren meshicho (the horn of his chosen—his anointed) becomes mashiach or Messiah. In the Magnificat it signified the anointed one, the Savior. This word (related to the root yod-shinayin or yashua) both summarizes and closes the circle and connects her prayer to the Magnificat canticle via King David as the anointed one. The idea of the anointed one (meshicho) as the light of the world (keren) corresponds to the anointing of David as king of Israel. Let us not forget that it was Hannah’s son, Samuel, who performed the ceremony: “Then Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him” (1 Sam 16: 13). Thus, the chain continues; it is through David that the Gospel of Luke connects the New to the Old: “to Abraham and his seed for ever” (Luke 1:55). It is even more explicit in the Gospel of Matthew, “The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, son of David, the son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1). Here the artistically shaped horn of anointing (keren meshicho) is a functional object (neither a visual metaphor nor an aural analogy) that contains not only liquid but whose oil bequeaths something more than power—it bequeaths royal authority and divine blessing.

CONCLUSION As the Magnificat draws upon Hannah’s imagery, so the Disciples drew from its paradigm, the Canticle of the Virgin, a wide range of vivid connections and theological conclusions. “And hath raised up an horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David” (Luke 1:69). “His name was called Ya-shua, God is salvation” (Luke 2:21). Through Hannah’s canticle, Old Testament imagination becomes absorbed, transposed, transformed, magnified and refracted as Christian doctrine in the Canticle of the Virgin.

A PERSONAL AFTERWARD I wrote this setting of the Song of Hannah long before I had read the Canticle of the Virgin, which I discovered via Bach’s setting of the Magnificat. At the time, I was struck by the similarity of the texts (Luke 1:46–55 to 1 Sam 2:1–10). I had heard about the Magnificat for many years, but never heard of a connection between the texts. I had thought of it as an original creation that had emerged into the

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world from nowhere. Were I to project this kind of semblance between a paper of mine and that of an earlier author in an academic article it would be considered plagiarism. In the Bible it is called prefiguration. In my musical setting of Hannah’s Song of Praise I relate significantly to the image of the horn as a unifying element: through the inclusion of the a wind instrument with a conical bore, oboe, as well as the intervals of fourth and fifth that echoes those produced by the shofar as natural overtones. This work was presented at the “Old Testament in the Arts Festival” under the auspices of Ambassador Moshe Yegar, in Prague in 1995. The wonderful young singer was Czech soprano, Kristyna Valouskova. She learned the Hebrew diction for the work phonetically, as she had no knowledge of the language. At the time of recording, she had been married a few years, but had no children. A few years later, now a young mother, I asked her why she agreed to learn and record this composition. She answered, “I felt that it was because of singing your composition I gave birth to a son.” The Blessing does not end.

AUDIO-VISUAL DEMONSTRATION Max Stern: Hannah’s Song of Praise (Online) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LGyVLdK2iE Kristyna Valouskova, soprano Yuri Likin, oboe Collegium Musica Sacra / Viteszlav Podrazil, conductor Recorded at the Maisel Synagogue, Prague, 13 September 1995. Graphics selected by the composer and edited at Scala Studios, Tel Aviv on June 6, 2012.