“The Elusive Covenant”
Personal genealogical study has become a popular endeavor in our society during recent decades. Finding information on our backgrounds can be a relatively simple task. We can obtain details of family relations by referring to volumes of records in census, cemetery, birth, and military archives, but the work is usually tedious, as the records were originally kept for purposes other than family reconstruction, and they are found mainly where the people in question lived, worked, and died. In ancient times, many of the relationships we meticulously record and casually forget would simply have been remembered. In fact, people of traditional cultures today are sometimes shocked at someone from another culture who cannot trace ancestors back several generations or relate independent lines of relatives descended from common ancestry.
These two orientations to genealogy, depth of ancestry and breadth of recognition as kin, go hand in hand.1 Such reckoning, in addition to being important among people with oral traditions, is incorporated into the early written traditions of state-level systems in the Near East and other parts of the world. The advantages of written genealogy rest mainly in potentials for the creation of more sweeping and enduring connections, though independent traditions within early literate societies still follow many of the conventions found in oral tradition. The number of generations a person traces may depend upon how important recollection is to asserting rights and meeting obligations in an extended family context. The depth of genealogical recollection may also relate to the legitimation of leadership in such an extended family. Both of these concerns—rights and legitimation—are central to the genealogical materials of Genesis.2 It is too simple to say, however, that the Genesis genealogies are mere family records. Indeed, it is doubtful that they are actual family records at all. We find in Genesis several kinds of “formula” texts which are offered, evidently, to systematize the supposed relationships between the principal patriarchs of Israel and the known peoples of the ancient Near Eastern world.3 In addition, the names in the genealogies can sometimes be related as much to places as to the persons with whom they are commonly associated.4 One may choose between understanding names as representing individuals, or as representing local groups who are linked to a common ancestor. The most developed patriarchal characters, moreover, are quite idealized in the depictions through which they are brought to us. The social level upon which the relationships of Genesis rest is well beyond that of the basic family or even the extended family. It involves groups of large size and diverse history. In this context, then, we may understand the genealogy in Genesis as essentially political. The ties presented in the several genealogical texts provide a structure for a popular history.5
These observations help us understand why the relationships between diverse peoples are presented in the terms of family systems. In one sense, the family ties cannot be denied, while in another they are merely a framework asserted to make the conflicts and contrasts among groups seem culturally correct or historically valid. The relationships of early theological circles to this political-historical context are also important, since the development of natural and contractual relationships with Yahweh undergirds the whole genealogical structure.
In addition to political-geographic, historical, and theological functions of genealogical material, two other important purposes of genealogy exist in Genesis. First, kinship information included in narratives can relate to a legal context. Such instances provide a social background for illumination of laws set down in the Torah, forming an important element in what David Daube calls “legal legends.”6 Genesis seems especially rich with this kind of narrative, stories functioning as precursors of later legal pronouncements of Jewish law.7 Second, we must keep in mind that genealogies are part of the larger narrative construction in the Torah, and so may serve literary functions within the whole construction. Robert Wilson has presented many illustrations of this kind of genealogical purpose in Genesis, and we shall view several instances where literary functions occur alongside other motivations for the inclusion of genealogical material.8
My purpose in this chapter is not to develop an exhaustive inventory of genealogical materials by function. In fact, Wilson’s work already covers much of that ground. Rather, I offer a particular reading of the Genesis genealogies and some associated material from elsewhere in the Torah, drawing heavily from modern kinship theory and the techniques of literary-structural analysis. My form of argument departs somewhat from much of the traditional approach to the text. Specifically, for over a century biblical scholars have pursued a reductionist method directed toward the identification of sources and textual layers attributable to diverse authors and redactors.9 The critique of this method in recent decades has been built on several grounds. First, some source analyses resulted in gratuitous association of short passages, even individual words, with particular “authors,” working almost as an end in itself. Second, such textual dissection in the Torah was driven by modern theologies which have little to do with many likely original meanings of the document. Thus, on these two grounds, although the precise analysis of source-critical scholars achieved many rich results, it did not ultimately serve the wider interests of interpreting the full narrative before us. Third, the general approach of 19th century scholars excluded by definition some important backgrounds through which the Torah should be read. Most important among these, as Oden has recently pointed out through elegant examples, is the background of comparative myth studies, which is naturally linked to a broad anthropological and cross-cultural orientation including kinship studies.10 Thus, overall, while critical and religious goals of the late 19th and early 20th centuries took the biblical text in their own directions, the most reductionist methods of religious scholars came to serve holistic interpretive interests less and less.
I share orientation and interests with numerous contemporary commentators and analysts of the Torah, most of whom have made some sort of break with traditional assumptions about the nature of the text. These include structuralist, literary, and semiotic readers who are working toward understandings of connections between seemingly senseless juxtapositions of such elements as genealogy, myth, folklore, legal pronouncements, poetry, and other elements of code or narrative. Some of these scholars, though they remain attached to traditional views on Torah authorship, have attempted to put biblical studies back on the track of interpreting biblical documents as unified compositions. Others have sought more radical revisions of assumptions. Several deserve special mention here. A recently-published first resource for anyone who would read Genesis in depth is George Coats’ discussion of literary forms and genres.11 The work is as important for Genesis as Gunkel’s source-critical commentary, more so since it signals how much is to be done in developing conceptions of literary unity for Genesis. On a broader front, Northrop Frye has shown the capacity of literary critics to offer rich insight into biblical texts as part of a global critical process.12 Calum Carmichael, working on a much more detailed literary front, has offered several thoughtful analyses of textual links serving holistic understanding of the Torah and the development of Jewish law.13 Martin Buss, Daniel Patte, and numerous other structuralist and semiotic readers have also provided innovative and informative readings of Genesis and related texts.14 Finally, building on the excellent base provided by Robert Wilson, Robert Oden has made major steps toward the full integration of anthropological concepts, including kinship studies, into the analysis of biblical genealogy and narrative.
We must not expect, of course, that new methods of cultural analysis will totally eliminate or invalidate older methods. Each approach should have some level of efficacy in representing the “reality” of the text. The semiotic orientation taken in this book implies the complementary nature of sign systems pertinent to a common phenomenon, for no single representation replicates the objective whole. Thus, we must be prepared for our work to become a part of the tradition we engage, which as a whole, representing a community of readers, approaches the meaning potentials of the text under scrutiny. Such a view is not inconsistent with the view of the Torah taken within Judaism since the 1st century A.D., which in many respects has been as flexible as Christian scholarship, if not more flexible, in achieving derivations from the books of law. We should also expect, as recent work by Calum Carmichael seeks to document for legal connections of code and narrative in the Torah, that interpretations and derivations of meaning were not totally rigid in earlier times, and that they operated on numerous levels of literary construction.15 My approach to genealogy in Genesis is guided by a few basic questions about the connections and organization of the whole series of reports. I presume that most of the genealogical references were included as contributions to a large, unifying pattern. It will become quite clear, also, as I proceed, that I see this pattern as serving social-political interests rather than strictly theological concerns. Indeed, theology seems to be used in the cultural validation of arguments about hegemony, and so is secondary to the kinship concerns of the whole text. My primary question, in any event, is: What general political pattern is indicated by the combined genealogical materials? This question involves the premise that names in the genealogies should be read as signs of groups, and that narratives about events within families signal political and social relationships of groups. In this sense, the plot development of narrative is read as a kind of idealized political history. I use the word “history” in this context with some reservation, since the constructions we will observe stand more properly in the realm of ideology. Since the literary organization forms its own historical progression, however, the word is not inappropriate. My readers should keep in mind, still, that when I speak of the historical sense of the text, I am not referring to a sequence of lives or events we may presume to have actually occurred. “History” means a constructed view of some past posited by the text.
Once the social construction of Genesis is better understood it will be appropriate to ask additional questions: To whom was the fixed text significant politically? What actual historical period, if any, is suggested by the social viewpoint? How do the Genesis genealogies relate to other lineage accounts in the Torah? I suggest some beginning solutions to these problems in subsequent chapters. These areas of inquiry move the discussion beyond the realm of kinship into truly historical and literary problems. As a consequence, I develop some of the source backgrounds of the genealogical segments in this chapter, even though they are not always immediately pertinent to the task at hand.
Genealogical Patterns in Genesis 1-11
The most prominent genealogical materials in Genesis are lineal kin lists. That is, they trace lines of kinsmen through several generations, often naming only one individual per generation. The most regular of these lists are found in chapters 5 and 11. These lists are referred to as the “Priestly” genealogies, because they are attributed to the “Priestly” or “P” source of Genesis materials.16 The first Priestly genealogy (Genesis 5) presents the descendants of Adam and the second (Genesis 11) gives the descendants of Shem. The lists share several stylistic features, the most important of which are age reports for each individual. Several authorities have speculated upon the potential significance of the numbers in these lists, but it is generally agreed that some of the esoteric meanings of the numbers are impossible to determine.17 From the point of view of the questions guiding this analysis the numbers do not appear to have significance.
Brief consideration of the two genealogies in question shows that they contain different numbers of generations. Genesis 5 includes thirteen individuals from Adam to the three brothers Shem, Ham, and Japeth; Genesis 11:10–26 includes twelve names from Shem to the three brothers, Abram, Nahor, and Haran:
Genesis 5 | Genesis 11 |
Adam | Shem |
Seth | Arphaxad |
Enosh | Shelah |
Kenan | Eber |
Mahalalel | Peleg |
Jared | Reu |
Enoch | Serug |
Methuselah | Nahor |
Lamech | Terah |
Noah | Abram, Nahor, Haran |
Shem, Ham, Japeth |
When these lists are linked through their shared naming of Shem, they cover 20 generations from Adam to Abram. Critical information from Genesis 4 allows us to generate the following genealogical table incorporating Adam’s other sons, Cain and Abel:
Adam | Noah | Terah |
Cain, Abel, Seth | Shem, Ham, Japeth | Abram, Nahor, Haran |
Enosh | Arphaxad | |
Kenan | Shelah | |
Mahalalel | Eber | |
Jared | Peleg | |
Enoch | Reu | |
Methuselah | Serug | |
Lamech | Nahor |
This reorganization of the two lists produces interesting parallels between Adam, Noah, and Terah. Each had three sons, all of whom figure more or less prominently in the narrative texts of Genesis. Cain’s opposition to his brother Abel is similar to the opposition of Ham, the “father of Canaan,” to his brothers Shem and Japeth. Similarly, Abram and his brother Nahor establish lines connected in marriage, while Haran dies, and his line, continued through the character of Lot, becomes differentiated and separated.
Note also that this reorganization requires use of an additional source, the “Yahwist” or “J” source, illustrating in the first instance the utility of genealogical reading without reference to the primary assumptions of the documentary hypothesis. The sources are different, to be sure, but the pattern is a derivative of their conflation. In other instances we shall see similar relationships between genealogy and narrative which does not include kinship reports.
The genealogical pattern of these early patriarchs divides the ancestors into recognizable cyclic repetitions. The people from Adam to Noah represent the generations born before the flood. Noah begins a series of ten generations to Terah who completes a second cycle. By implication, Terah should begin yet another cycle. He accomplishes this new beginning by instigating the “travel” or “wandering” to the west which is continued by his son Abram, later by Jacob, and ultimately by the whole of Israel. Hence, we may identify in the only reported “action” of Terah the central Torah theme of patriarchal wandering, seen earlier as well in the story of Cain, and in Noah’s aimless drifting on the sea of the deluge.18 Since we have very little other information about Terah, we usually think of Abram as the starting figure of the supposed historical section of Genesis (chapters 12–50). Abram, of course, is the key ancestor in the ensuing story, but he occupies a position logically parallel to Shem or Seth, not to Adam or Noah. The Terahite genealogy (Genesis 11:27–32), moreover, breaks the pattern of lineal kin reports to recite a list of brothers, their children, and marriages which obtain between these kin. Thus, the new era is not matched with a complete parallel of lineal kinship structure, moving instead to additional elaborations on the line of Abram-Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob-Israel.
The lineal kin lists of Genesis 4 and 10 must be considered before moving to a full treatment of Terahite genealogy. These alternative or supplemental genealogies are distinguished by source critics as belonging to the Yahwist source. The two lists of Genesis 4 are particularly interesting to many commentators, since together they form a variant of the genealogy given in chapter 5.19 In their narrative order within the chapter, the lists relate first to Cain and then to Adam (after the death of Abel). Thus, nearly identical lists of names are attached to separate lineages. Robert Wilson’s detailed analysis of the backgrounds of these genealogies stresses the differences in function carried by each version. The Canaanite genealogy expands upon the story of Cain and Abel, transmitting the curse of Cain to subsequent generations and offering brief explanations of the origins of particular cultural traits, while the Adam genealogy connects Noah to the creation through Seth.20 The short, segmented reference to Adam and Seth in Genesis 4 supports the differentiation of two lines. The genealogical distinction, citing one blessed line and another beset with curse or difficulty, is comparable to other accounts of parallel “fortunes,” including accounts and lists relating to the sons of Noah, Ishmael and Isaac, Esau and Jacob, and the northern and southern kingdoms in Kings I and II. Whether this is the only intent of including parallel lists in close juxtaposition is certainly a subject for consideration, but I want to stress the point that we should not interpret the parallels, no matter how striking, as mere repetition. It is clear that the framers of Genesis intended for the genealogies to be taken as independent lineages.
Genesis 10 offers an even more complex list of kin which contains certain parallels with Genesis 11. The genealogy includes reference to diverse peoples and descendants from Japeth, Ham, and Shem, in that order, with strong attention to the Canaanites—descended from Ham—and competitive lines descended from Shem. The Shemite list comprises the following names:
Shem* | Aarphahxad* Lud | Aram |
Elam, Asshur, | Shelah* | Uz, Hul, Gether, Mash |
Eber* | ||
Peleg,* Joktan (13 sons) |
Here we see the same basic progression through Peleg (indicated by asterisks) as that of the Priestly genealogy of Shem, without the additional links (Reu, Serug, Nahor) running to Terah and Abram. Thus, in narrative context, the genealogy of Genesis 10 is consistent with that of Genesis 11 but elaborates on lateral relationships in order to contrast the lineage of Shem through Abram with other groups of the region.
The story line of Genesis clarifies the relationships between genealogies of chapters 4, 5, 10, and 11. We begin with stories about Adam and Eve and their sons, proceed to the selection of Noah and the destruction in the flood, and then move to the exploits of “historical” people, especially the descendants of Abram. Genesis 4 and 10 provide political background for the chosen line, but are insufficient to accomplish the critical links between the people of all these stories. The Priestly genealogies offer the only directly stated ties between creation, the flood, and the later patriarchal traditions.
The symmetry of genealogical placement within the narrative is striking and demonstrates the sense in which the lists are to be seen as central to the narrative:
Chapter 4 | ...... | Cain and Abel, Cain and Adam genealogies |
Chapter 5 | ...... | Priestly genealogy of Adam |
Chapters 6-9 | ...... | Noah and the Flood |
Chapter 10 | ...... | Descendants of Noah’s sons |
Chapter 11 | ...... | Tower of Babel, Priestly genealogy of Shem |
Note, however, that the Priestly materials are not in literary opposition to each other. The parallel of the Priestly lineage for Shem is found in chapter 4, since both are linked with narrative material. We will consider the narrative ties of chapters 4 and 11 in a subsequent chapter. For the moment, note that the content of the two narratives is similar—Cain becomes a marked outcast roaming the earth, and the builders of the tower of Babel are scattered over the earth, their languages having been confused by the deity.
These associations provide the theological significance of genealogies of the early patriarchs. The people of chapter 4 are the prominent “evil” men against whom the flood is directed, just as those of the next chapter are intended to be the blessed line from Adam to Noah. Similarly, much of the content of chapter 10 concerns people regarded as against Yahweh, while the lists following the Babel narrative resume enumeration of the line of the blessed. These are not mere ancillary concerns. Much of the central meaning of Genesis is tied, in fact, to the content and connections provided by these distinctive kin lists. They are the foundation of the political context of the central patriarchs which also prestate and socially validate the notion of selection driving the stories of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.
We have already noted the Terahite genealogy, the last few verses of Genesis 11 introducing the kin framework which is elaborated throughout the rest of the book and the Torah as a whole. The structure includes females as well as males, initiating a practice of attending to women as a crucial part of the background of individuals. It is worthwhile to review the complete scripture (Genesis 11:27–32):
These are Terah’s descendants;
Terah became the father of Abram, Nahor and Haran. Haran became the father of Lot. Haran died in the presence of his father Terah in his native land, Ur of the Chaldeans. (Abram and Nahor both married: Abram’s wife was called Sarai, Nahor’s wife was called Milcah, the daughter of Haran, father of Milcah and Iscah. Sarai was barren, having no child.)
Terah took his son Abram, his grandson Lot the son of Haran, and his daughter-in-law the wife of Abram, and made them leave Ur of the Chaldeans to go to the land of Canaan. But on arrival in Haran they settled there.
Terah’s life lasted two hundred and five years; then he died at Haran.
The segment in parentheses is attributed to the Yahwist source, while the remaining verses are generally attributed to the Priestly authors. Note that the Yahwist does not directly connect Lot to Haran, offering instead three children including Milcah. The name Haran, moreover, is given double meaning as a place and person. The full sense of the text creates a brother-sister tie for Lot and Milcah. The specificity of Lot’s parentage is important, since in Genesis 12 the Yahwist refers to Lot as Abram’s nephew without indicating through whom they àre linked (Genesis 12:5). The precise relationship is fundamental to the kinship pattern underlying the stories about Lot and Abram, as well as to the interpretation of Sarai’s place in the Terahite lineage when we discover (in Genesis 20:12) that she is also Terah’s daughter. Thus, this relatively brief genealogical segment becomes the crucial passage through which the social-structural interpretation of Genesis 12-50 may proceed.21
Social Patterns in Genesis 12-50
It is difficult to achieve a single, satisfying social analysis of Genesis 12-50, principally because several levels of social implications are to be found in the text. At the core of any interpretation there should be, at least, the essential genealogical facts of the text. Most of these facts, the full extension of the Terahite genealogy in Genesis 11, can be reported in a single chart (Figure 1). But a chart alone is not an analysis. If we are to understand why certain people were included (or excluded), why certain relationships were clearly asserted (or only implied), or why particular lineages were given emphasis, then we must rely upon the sentiments expressed in the connected narrative.
My emphasis in assessing the narrative for information pertinent to social connection is upon place associations of patriarchs, patterns of mobility, and metaphorical usages which contrast sons, wives, competing lines, or allies. Raw genealogical structure, given these additional elements from the text, becomes charged with potent social meanings. Thus, the stylized patriarchal life histories and associated genealogical grid offer very formal statements of political relationship.
Figure 1.The extended Terahite families of Genesis, with geographic notes and connections to later kingships.
My reading of Genesis 12–50 stresses the final editorial stages of Genesis, probably a relatively late circle of priestly redaction and authorship associated with the construction of the Torah as a whole. We should keep in mind, however, that the kinds of textual relationships observed as surface elements in the full narrative were created, in some cases embedded, in the text through a long process of literary construction. Observation of whole and partial patterns tied to kinship content may provide clues to the order of redaction of major stories, even though timing of the redaction sequence is not indicated through such analysis. Specifically, kinship evidence suggests that the Abraham cycle (Genesis 12-25) is a compilation of old sources essentially “fit” to a pattern already established in the Jacob and Joseph stories. My argument, the evidence for which will be discussed later in this chapter, is based upon the premise that loosely coordinated stories and fragments, such as those found from Genesis 12 through 25, if they display pattern similarities to the Jacob and Joseph cycles, are most likely built on the plan of the latter. The narrative from Genesis 25 through 50 represents such a tightly woven conflation of sources that it is essentially impossible to recover individual “strands” which may confidently be identified as either Yahwist or Elohist. This complexity of composition seems very unlikely to be a construction fit to some generalized and uncohesive textual block. Stated in more general terms, it is more likely that a complex pattern will be replicated by a simple composition than that the reverse will be true.
Such concerns are important to the extent that biblical scholars have often treated genealogy as disconnected and inconsistent. Because of the oral and literary backgrounds of the text, I expect to find some elements of discontinuity and uncertainty. On a structural level, however, some very clear and arguably late patterns of composition emerge, providing a kind of prevailing order out of the apparent chaos.
Pursuing this line of thought further, the process of making the Abraham cycle consistent with other materials also indicates the mythic character of the text. The patriarchs are stylized characters with similarities and differences dictated through kinship and literary-structural necessity. In the structures of mobility, then, places and religious observance are central features of patriarchal identity. The creation of such a Genesis may have theological purpose at one level, but the text is more political and religious than theological in the construction and meaning of details. Because of the diversity of the included materials and complexity of construction, Genesis may become a book of several theologies.
When I speak of theology as a part of analysis, the emphasis is upon the critical interpretations people make about relationships, responsibilities, and rights possessed from or shared with a god or gods. To the extent Genesis joins the body of Torah law in Jewish life, an aspect of the developing cultural communities of Judaism, it forms a basis for critical interpretations of everyday actions. Offered against this ongoing theological activity, taking the probable cultural meanings of the text as ultimately constructed, the actual political ties, contrasts, principles, and historical associations of Genesis yield one of many potential theologically justified social viewpoints.
A search for unified structures in Genesis, interrupted though they may be by elements of the underlying narrative fragments, imposed additions, and artifacts of intermediate readings such as the chapter divisions established in the medieval period, becomes a search for a very particular social community and a very special set of theological premises. In this literary Pandora’s box, the kinship reports provide one of the most useful and significant lines of evidence about authorship. Reading Genesis through the background of kinship theory presents its own problems, however, most notably that our own social world—the categories, corporate entities, and sentiments through which we organize daily life—often seems to us as though it is based in nature. Kinship analysis requires the suppression of these categories and ideas, and the adoption of new principles founded in careful comparative study of a wide range of different systems of relationship. Thus, the kinship specialist is likely to cite familistic notions of native Australians in making a point about patriarchal connections. Such a path to solutions is often worse than the perplexity created by the text itself. For this reason, I keep such references to a minimum, even if they form the groundwork on which the reading is pursued.
My groundwork also includes studies of the Bible by anthropologists, notably E. R. Leach, though I do not begin with his essays that are most widely known to biblical scholars. Rather, I prefer to start with some of his earlier structuralist writings, especially those which incorporate commentary on myth. In a pair of essays included in Leach’s Rethinking Anthropology, Leach offers especially pertinent discussion of the reckoning of “time” and patterns of alternation in social symbolism.22 He cites in these essays the simple alternating pattern:
A. 1 | |
B.l | |
A.2 | |
B.2 |
The social relationship potentially represented by the As and Bs in this pattern are the generations of a single lineage. The pattern makes sense as a “generational moiety”—a division of the society into halves which receive membership from alternating generations. For example, in Genesis we find:
Terah (mobility confined to Mesopotamia)
Abram (mobile between Aramea and Egypt)
Isaac (mobility confined to Canaan)
Jacob (mobile between Aramea and Egypt)
On close scrutiny of stories about Abram and Jacob, we find them sharing common experiences of theophany, regional association, and alliance interests, as well as possessing other detailed identifying factors.23 Terah and Isaac, on the other hand, share the characteristic of being relatively confined within well-defined regions. In the narratives dealing with their mobility, furthermore, neither establishes lengthy relationships with surrounding groups or leaders.
These commonalities point to a refined narrative pattern in which Abram and Jacob are logical opposites—or perhaps more accurately, logical “duals”—of each other.24 Wherever Abram moves, Jacob moves opposite. Whatever Abram does, Jacob does the opposite. Both encounter similar problems, however, such as strife with kinsmen and neighbors, and both occupy similar social contexts within and outside Canaan.
Figure 2 shows the basic elements of the logical pattern linking Abram to Jacob. It is important to observe that Abram’s movements in the region all occur before the circumcision covenant (Genesis 17), in the first half of the total Abraham cycle when he is still called “Abram.” He travels by way of Shechem and Bethel through the Negev to Egypt, where he obtains wealth, and back to Bethel. In Bethel he resolves strife with his kinsman Lot in an honorable separation. This is followed by his move to Hebron and the eventual establishment of the covenant. Jacob, on the other hand, moves from Beersheba to Haran where he obtains wealth, and then returns to Succoth/Peniel where he resolves strife with his brother Esau through deception. From Succoth/Peniel he moves on to Shechem, and ultimately south to the territory of his father.
Other points of detailed comparison yield an even more refined pattern of opposition. While in Egypt, Abram’s wife Sarai is given a handmaiden who is destined to become the mother of Ishmael. Because of her inability to have children, Sarai gives Hagar to Abram for the purpose of producing a child. Ishmael, the offspring, should technically have been considered Sarai’s child, but because of a behavioral breach on the part of Hagar, Sarai never actually accepts Ishmael as her own. The text suggests that Abram is also culpable for the conflict between the two women (Genesis 16:5). Although Abram affirms Sarai’s control over Hagar, she becomes like a competing wife, her son standing in opposition to Isaac.25 This is substantiated by the eventual expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael, reluctantly by Abram, and the marriage of Ishmael to a woman of his “mother’s kinsmen.” The suggestion of this sequence is that Abram has formed a weak matrimonial connection to Egypt. The direction of the alliance places Abram in the position of “wife-taker,” as opposed to the original connection represented by Abram’s attempts to “give” Sarai to Pharaoh in Genesis 12.
We should note that Sarai represents a similar alliance to the north, with Abram being wife-taker from some Terahite lineage. Considering the structural pattern in which the line of Haran gives wives to the line of Nahor, and the line of Nahor gives wives to Isaac and Jacob, the implication is that Sarai comes to Abram as the sister of Bethuel. This is also suggested by the meanings of the names Milcah (“Queen”) and Sarai (“Princess”).
Observe now the matrimonial relationships of Isaac and Jacob to Aramea. First, the relationships are parallel to the implied connection between Abram and Sarai—a marriage we may not characterize per se as representing either a strong or weak alliance. Second, the marriages of Isaac and Jacob are opposite to Abram’s Egyptian link, and they are strong if for no other reason than being reconfirmed through all three generations of the Abraham-Isaac-Jacob lineage. But there is other textual justification for considering these matrimonial ties strong. Each of these marriages, and the offspring they produce, form part of the divine promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Jacob’s separation from Laban, moreover, ends with the oath of mutual non-aggression, a somewhat more positive result than the forced exit of Abram and Sarai in Egypt. Perhaps most important, several instances of theophany involving the patriarchs reaffirm the selection of the Aramean women and their sons. In contrast, the theophany associated with Ishmael’s blessing by God is directed to Hagar (Genesis 16:7-14, Genesis 21:17-20; consider also the indirectness of God’s statements to Abraham about Ishmael (Genesis 21:12-13).
Strong and weak kinship ties also characterize the links between Abram and Lot as compared to Jacob and Esau. These links are both subject to alliance dissolution or “separation” of kinsmen, but the relationships obtaining between the kin after separation are quite different. We have already noted that Abram’s separation from Lot is honorable. But a strength in the continuing tie between them is shown by Abram’s reaction to Lot’s capture in Genesis 14. Just the opposite situation emerges between Jacob and Esau. Not only does Jacob fear Esau, he deceives him by saying that he will follow him south when he intends to move west toward Canaan. Thus, Jacob and Esau share no further action in the text except the burial of Isaac (Genesis 35:28–29), a formula parallel of Abraham’s burial by Isaac and Ishmael (Genesis 25:7–9).
The marriages and segmentations pertaining to Abram and Jacob form a general pattern which is depicted in Figure 3. For each patriarch there is a zone of travel marked at opposite ends by points of “matrimonial alliance” and “alliance dissolution.” Either of these points may be a “strong” or “weak” relationship. For Abram, the matrimonial alliance in Egypt, the destination after he leaves his father’s house, is weak, while the tie to his kinsman Lot is strong. For Jacob, the matrimonial alliance in Aramea is strong, while the relationship with his brother Esau remains consistently weak. We will consider later the possibility that the relationship between Abram and Lot is an implied matrimonial alliance similar to the one between Jacob and Laban. If this implication is valid, it shows the sense in which a point of opposition may also be construed as a parallel—Abram and Jacob undergo different narrative transformations of the common underlying pattern.
This idea is given further weight when we consider the points of movement within the zone of travel covered by each of the men. I have labeled these points (1) the point of segmentation, (2) the point of regional strife, and (3) the point of transformation. We have already seen the points of segmentation, where Abram and Jacob become differentiated from their kinsmen Lot and Esau. In each case they move on to a stopping point where they become involved in regional strife. Abram intervenes in the war of the kings (Genesis 14) to save Lot, with the outcome that he is blessed by Melchizedek. This is paralleled by the episode in which Jacob’s daughter Dinah is “humbled,” and his sons Simeon and Levi take revenge on the Shechemites causing Jacob to fear general reprisals from the Canaanites (Genesis 34). Note that at the end of Abram’s strife he refuses any part in the spoils of the conflict, though he has rescued both people and property. The sons of Jacob, however, take property and women after killing all of the men. The texts are parallel inasmuch as Abram allows his retainers to accept their share of the spoils, but the honor accorded the patriarch in the cases is quite opposite.
The points of separation deal with strife within a kin group with close genealogical connections, while the points of regional strife deal with conflicts between the patriarchs and foreigners. The point of transformation involves a validation of promises from God to each of the characters. Abram is transformed to Abraham through the covenant of circumcision (Genesis 17), and Jacob is renamed Israel. The social transformations within the broader narrative may be viewed as historically related: “Abraham” represents the apical member of an ambiguous marriage circle, the circumcision covenant which includes Ishmael and Esau, while Jacob is brought from the ambiguous circumcision association to a new, well-defined marriage circle, Israel.
From the point of view of narrative construction, the ideal pattern outlined for Abram and Jacob links Genesis 12–17 directly to Genesis 25–36. The Abram part of the Abraham cycle rests upon a very different kind of source manipulation, however, than that of the Jacob story. Several key points of the Abram sequence, especially the rescue of Lot (Genesis 14) and the transformation of Abraham (Genesis 17), result from insertions of Priestly writing or highly divergent source material. Note also that there are two reports of Jacob’s transformation to Israel, only one of which fits the pattern proposed here. The materials indicate, nonetheless, that oppositional similarities between Jacob and Abram are imposed by textual manipulation, including relatively free reorganization of the original stories brought together to create the Abraham cycle.
Before moving to other evidence of this process, I want to offer a final expansion on the idea of alternating generations forming generational moieties. Since Abram and Jacob are each given two names, their transformations constitute a kind of ritual death and rebirth. This is not an unusual sense for the rite of passage involving circumcision, but it is less commonly associated with Jacob’s transformation. Yet in the renaming story which does not fit into the ideal mobility pattern, Jacob wrestles with a man (Genesis 32:22–32). Thus, we account for two renamings in the need for literary parallel in the movement sequence and ritual parallel involving “ordeal” and physical change, functions which are combined in Abraham’s circumcision. Isaac has his ordeal in Genesis 22, but is not renamed. Thus, it is noteworthy that the transformed persona of Abraham and Israel are, like Isaac, much more confined in their movements than their former selves, and thoroughly linked to the south Canaan area. The genealogical effect of these transformations is to force a modification of the generational alternation with which we began. It now becomes:
Abram (a mobile figure associated with the north)
Abraham/Isaac (stationary figures in the south)
Jacob (a mobile figure associated with the north)
Israel (a stationary figure in the south)
This implies a narrative link between Abraham and Isaac involving more than mere juxtaposition, yet the textual parallels in the Abraham/Isaac sections (Genesis 17–27) are somewhat less convincing than those linking Abram and Jacob. The prominent exceptions are the dual accounts of deception at Gerar (Genesis 20 and 26) with material associated to each describing establishment of wells in the region and residence at Beer-Sheba. We will consider some of these parallels as part of other pattern analyses. Other lines of evidence for patterning of Genesis 12-25 after the Jacob and Joseph stories must be considered now.
Birth, Death, and Rite of Passage
Returning to Edmund Leach’s original arguments about representations of time, we find an emphasis upon the basic events of human existence—birth, death, and rites of passage.26 These events punctuate the generations and in this case also structure the narrative of Genesis. There are many genealogical reports of this sort prior to the Abraham cycle, but beginning with the last verses of Genesis 11 they occur mainly as isolated bits of genealogical information. Three features signal the importance of these reports. First, people are traced by both male and female connections, especially the central patriarchs. Second, individual reports become part of a narrative flow, so a birth or death cited in a single obscure verse may receive considerable elaboration, as in the case of the death of Sarah (Genesis 23). Third, and most important, the reports of births and deaths form a clear pattern linking all of the Abraham cycle (Genesis 12-25) to the combined stories of Jacob and Israel (Genesis 25–50).
Birth and death details in Genesis 11 through 50 mainly cover the key individuals of the central Shemite genealogy:
Among the “elder” sons of Jacob we may distinguish between the Leah and Rachel offspring, with Reuben, Judah, and Joseph figuring prominently in the narrative action.27 Surrounding the central characters of the narrative are other kinsmen—Lot and his children, highborn women, and numerous others listed in stories or mentioned in passing. The longest genealogical lists are associated with Ishmael’s descendants, the groups of Edom descended from Esau, the children of Milcah (reported with the birth of Rebekah in Genesis 22), and the children of Abraham and Keturah. Most of these people provide evidence for the ambiguity of the circumcision covenant and, like the Yahwist genealogies of Genesis 4 and 10, serve as contrasts to the central line of inheritance from Abram through Israel. When the long lists are taken out of consideration, individual birth and death reports remain.
My analysis of these “life-cycle” reports considers narrative order and parallels or contrasts of content. The pattern of correspondences (Figure 4) shows a structural inversion of elements relating to either the birth and death of key individuals or the comparison of sets of brothers in succeeding generations. The structure also in eludes four “groups” of reports derived from narratives concentrated on matriarchal fortunes. The first of these involves the death of Lot’s wife and the subsequent births of Ammon and Moab through Lot’s unions with his daughters. This corresponds in the structure to the death of Judah’s wife and the birth of Perez and Zerah through Judah’s inappropriate union with Tamar. The story of Judah and Tamar also relates the deaths of Er and Onan, story elements necessary to establishment of the plot which brings Tamar and Judah together. Thus, I have excluded Er and Onan from the formal set of correspondences.
Figure 4. Primary birth, death, and rite of passage reports in Genesis beginning with the death of Terah and ending with the death of Joseph.
The other two grouped reports derive from materials which are juxtaposed by redaction of originally unrelated source narratives. The first of these links the story of the sacrifice of Isaac, the genealogy in which the birth of Rebekah is announced, and the death of Sarah. In the accepted view of these texts, the sequence links Elohist, Priestly, and Yahwist documents. The death of the ram involves the symbolic replacement of Isaac (hence his death and rebirth). The overall effect of the sequence is worthy of special attention, since it establishes a structural parallel involving the ram, Isaac, Rebekah, and Sarah. First, the ram dies, replacing Isaac who is allowed to live. The juxtaposed genealogy followed by the death of Sarah produces the logical sequence: Rebekah is born (lives), replacing Sarah who dies as the matriarch of the chosen line. By implication, just as God has “provided” a suitable replacement for Isaac in the ordeal of passage, a suitable replacement for Sarah is provided at the passage of a generation.
The parallel series of reports occurs in the story of Jacob’s travel from Bethel to the south. In this sequence we are informed of the death of Deborah, Rebekah’s nurse, an unusual person for Jacob’s entourage who is not mentioned elsewhere. Note that this occurs just prior to the second renaming of Jacob, recalling again the rite of passage which he has already undergone in Genesis 32:23-32 and providing a precise connection to the story of the sacrifice of Isaac. Jacob’s renaming and his subsequent sacrifice to El Shaddai are followed by the birth of Benjamin and the death of Rachel. In a very short series of reports we thus encounter the end of Rebekah’s matriarchal tenure (note that Isaac’s death also soon follows), a striking parallel between Benjamin and Isaac who are born to men of transformed status (Israel and Abraham), and a parallel of Rachel with Sarah. Rachel and Sarah, we should note, both have difficulty with competing wives who bear offspring senior to their sons. The sons, furthermore, become linked to the ultimate fortunes of Israel in significant ways throughout the Genesis narratives. Ishmael is set against his brothers but shares a boundary point at Beer-Lahai Roi with Isaac. Joseph, Rachel’s firstborn, is sold to Ishmaelites by his brothers. Without pushing these details too far, suffice it to say that the structural relationship of Genesis 22:13-23:1 with Genesis 35:8-19 presses some very critical points about the argument over succession among Jacob’s offspring. Specifically, these passages seem to argue the case for the succession of Benjamin, and hence form part of the evidence asserting the later rights of Saul. Indeed, given the broader symmetry incorporating the grouped reports concerning Lot and Judah, a contrast is suggested in which Judah’s incest with Tamar is elevated in severity, and so David’s ancestry is brought into a pejorative light.
My organization of the birth and death reports in Genesis includes other elements in close proximity, such as the deaths of Abraham and Ishmael and the birth of Esau and Jacob. These elements are generally separated from each other by short bodies of narrative or formula textual markers (such as the toledoth divisions of Genesis 25:12 and 25:19). Thus, I view all of the other reports between Genesis 11 and 50 as independent elements in my proposed structure.
The correspondence of Ishmael’s birth and the births of Jacob’s first eleven sons (the “B” elements in the sequence) relates “elder sons” of the generation of Isaac and the generation of Isaac’s grandchildren.28 The parallel is clearly shown, as we have seen, in the announcement of Benjamin’s birth, though not through direct opposition of Isaac and Benjamin. The counterpart association in the pattern links the two “F” elements, the deaths of Abraham and Israel. These patriarchs are the oppositional “duals” who remain stationary after their rites of passage, and again represent grandfather and grandson generations. The “A” elements of the structure cite the deaths of Terah and Joseph and serve to bracket the whole sequence beginning in Aramea and ending in Egypt. The “G” elements are more difficult to construe as similar, except that these events are the turning point of the whole pattern. They also share the toledoth formula, and thus its inclusion in the relatively short account of Ishmael’s descendants is given a broad rhetorical justification. Two other points of association deserve attention. First, since the “G” elements form the center of the whole sequence, they might well be related to the deaths of Terah and Joseph. That works well if we suggest that Ishmael’s association with Terah is one of a “blessed” descendant off the line of God’s chosen inheritance. Following such a pattern, the association of Joseph back to Jacob makes him “blessed,” but contrasts him to his younger brother by implication. Again, the legitimation of Benjamin’s claim seems to be at stake but is argued through implication.
The second avenue of approach to the interpretation of the “G” and “A” elements is more direct, but less satisfying. Jacob’s birth can be seen as representing the emphasis of Isaac’s offspring over the descendants of the deceased Ishmael. This is made less obvious by the inclusion of Esau, though his parallel to Ishmael is clear enough. Note, however, that Esau’s death, an event which would disrupt the sequence somewhere after Isaac’s death if it were reported, is not mentioned in the text. At any rate, the connection to the “A” reports might suggest the opposition of a Terah-Jacob-Joseph lineage to the segmented lineages of Ishmael and Esau. Such an argument for Joseph’s primacy would be more compelling if Terah were replaced by Abram. I note this alternative because of the tendency of readers to consider Joseph the most legitimate heir within Israel. The Joseph narrative, however, recounts his transformation from a “sacred” figure involved in dreams and blessings from God to a “secular” figure who enslaves the people of Egypt, including Israel by association (and in spite of the narrative explanation offered in Genesis 50 and Exodus 1:8-11). Indeed, after Genesis 45, where he reveals his true identity to his brothers, Joseph’s secular position is established and dominates the text. Israel, underscoring Joseph’s status, accepts him back only through the adoption of his sons, the younger of whom receives the fuller blessing. It is noteworthy that Israel specifically excludes any other offspring Joseph might produce (Genesis 48:6). As we shall see in a later discussion, the elder of Joseph’s sons is in a sense “reduced” by falling into divided responsibilities and alliances in Canaan (see also the assignment of cities to the Levites, Numbers 3).
My interpretations of the birth and death cycles between the last verse of Genesis 11 and Genesis 50 suggest reorganization into a crossing or “chi” diagram, as in Figure 5.29 This “chiastic” rendering yields a better visual image of the textual parallels, with the reports linking to form a series of nested boxes. My preference for the interpretation of the “A” and “G” units as implying the primacy of Benjamin over Joseph is reflected in lines forming the complete outer box. Inside the box the “B” and “F” units are linked, forming a tier of associations among major persons in the political succession, except Isaac and Benjamin. Inside these reports, the grouped “C” and “E” elements form a third tier, dealing with the ranking of women and other refinements in the determination of political succession, notably association of the line of Benjamin with Isaac. Finally, the whole sequence is centered on the birth and death of Isaac. Such treatment of the life-cycle information is quite consistent with the alternating generational links of genealogy, and Isaac, in this pattern as elsewhere, is given the central position.
The structural parallels of this pattern provide clues about the redaction process of the Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph cycles. Symmetry in the birth-death sequences, in particular, seems to account for the placement of the Ammon/Moab birth account, which disrupts what appears to have been an originally unified Ishmael story.30 The pattern also accounts for the placement of the genealogy introducing Rebekah and the story about the acquisition of the patriarchal tomb in Canaan. While it is possible that some elements of the Joseph and Jacob stories might have been placed to conform to events in the Abraham story, the bulk of evidence suggests that this was not the case. Other than Genesis 38, Genesis 49, and a few obvious Priestly insertions, documentary critics cite few elements of Genesis 25-50 which are not part of the Yahwist-Elohist conflation, a well-formed narrative, the underlying documents of which have become increasingly suspect to many specialists. Indeed, even Genesis 38 and 49 have been recently argued to be integral to the Joseph narrative on stylistic and linguistic grounds.31 The cohesiveness of Genesis 25-50, however, is in stark contrast to the materials underlying Genesis 12-25.
To summarize the redactional conclusions developed from structural analyses of Genesis 12-50, we have observed two kinds of organizational links which support the idea that the Abraham stories were “fit” to an established narrative pattern in the Jacob/Joseph stories. The meanings of the two patterns are generally tied to the political characterization of the competing patriarchal lines. While in some cases the meanings of particular associations may appear to be trivial, most of the parallels between characters in the birth-death cycles have political and theological significance. The mobility structure common to Abram and Joseph is given political nuance because of its concern with proper and improper matrimonial alliances, processes of kin segmentation, and transformations of patriarchal status.
One final imperfection in the pattern of births and deaths suggested here remains. The difficulty is with the births of Manasseh and Ephraim in Genesis 41:50—57. The position of these reports in the Joseph narrative suggests a possible opposition with the births of Moab and Ammon. Such treatment of Joseph’s sons makes as much sense as the opposition between Lot’s incestuous offspring and the children of Judah and Tamar, and for similar reasons. The parallel is enhanced when we consider that Joseph avoids a form of incest with the wife of Potiphar (Genesis 39:1). As the ranking servant of his master, Joseph stands in a similar position to that of Eliezer in Genesis 15:2. His ultimate marriage to the “daughter of Potiphar” carries the implication of generational correctness. In contrasting Joseph to Lot, then, we find the common subject of “incest” and the problem of how one cut off from one’s people is to generate offspring. Such a juxtaposition puts Joseph’s potential claims of ascendancy in Israel on a stronger footing than Judah’s, but if Genesis 38 were not included in the text the broader argument for Benjamin would probably still be compelling. That is, assuming the opposition of Lot and Joseph merely states Joseph’s case; it does not establish a perfect argument. Asenath, like Lot’s daughters, Ishmael’s Egyptian wife, and Ishmael’s daughter Mahalath who marries Esau, is still the wrong kind of woman. This is probably the strongest evidence of the present analysis that Genesis 38 is an intrusion into the Joseph narrative. One must consider, however, that a group of redactors with kinship problems in mind would probably have found little difficulty in linking the children of both Judah and Joseph back to Lot’s case. Thus, the presence of two alternative stories fitting the “C” element in the pattern does no real damage to the overall sense of the structure. Whoever ordered the text appears to opt for expansion on an idea and complication of nuance rather than for slavish attention to structural symmetry. I find the imperfections in the overall pattern comforting, since it reminds us that the full narrative is not, after all, pure formula.
The political claims created in Genesis, in addition to informing us about redactional communities, offer a view of general social concepts in the Near East during the first millennium B.C.E. and earlier. Most of the work on problems with Genesis genealogies has concentrated on the historicity of the textual reports, comparison with other written traditions of the region, and the operation of specific political regimes—not always through models appropriate to the subject matter. Only recent work by Robert Wilson and Robert Oden, among others, has begun to sort through the vast literature on kinship for appropriate models, allowing direct interpretations of kinship structure in Genesis.32 We may attribute this activity in part to the reactions of biblical scholarship to Edmund Leach’s direct efforts with Genesis and other biblical literature.33 Oddly enough, given the arguments of the preceding section, kinship concerns have often been seen as divorced from the documentary issues of narrative construction. Thus, biblical scholars tend to see kinship reports as somewhat ancillary, connecting material subordinated to the primary narrative interests.
Anthropological scholarship sees the narrative as supporting the primary, genealogical structure of Genesis. One kind of support for genealogy in the narrative is the attribution of territorial associations to the patriarchs. Place references serve the emerging kinship structure in a very special way, not only creating a map of geographic divisions, but an ideological-historical model of social relationships.34
For the main line flowing from Abraham there exist three stages of ideological development which represent the “historical” progression through the generations of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel. These are (a) an early marriage circle involving Terah’s sons, (b) the Covenant of Circumcision, and (c) the association of Israel. The three divisions also possess overlapping geographic associations (Figure 6). Through the patriarchal narratives a subtle but sophisticated set of historical fictions is created to justify social principles underlying the political associations between actual historical groups in the region covered by the text. The narrative thrust of Genesis, then, is to produce a well-ordered language map and political construction. Genesis is a manifestation of political consciousness benefiting from a complex of closely related genealogical and folkloric traditions in the region where Israel was formed. Indeed, the fictional “stages” of marriage association offer a sociological and legal debate of particular practices, with justifications of certain marriage situations as garnering claims to considerable power and authority in the region for Israel, and within it.35
Figure 6 is a map of the kernel framework of social associations, rooted in the logic of myth and folkloric symbols, for the whole Torah. It is a direct reflection of a specific priesthood and a partial reflection of several antecedent priesthoods. The “theory” behind this map of Israel, in its more developed form, represents perhaps the clearest set of meanings in the whole of Genesis. In order to see the full system, we must become somewhat more technical in our appreciation of social categories in traditional societies.
All societies possess—mainly through kinship categories—unique cultural viewpoints governing rules for marriage and descent, means of legitimizing offspring, conventions for the inheritance of property, and recognition of some relationships as constituting incest. The formation of Israel historically involved the construction of one such unique set of rules, based in common patterns of thought about society spanning the whole region of the ancient Near East. Thus, the formation of Israel as a social process represented some form of cultural transformation. On one level, the transformation engaged practical situations of lineage succession, alliance, and competition. On another level, the resultant cultural structure became a process of symbolic definition and identification. To a great extent, the practical solutions to problems and the ideal understanding of these practical results have become intertwined in Genesis.36
Figure 6. Map of social associations depicted through genealogical materials in Genesis (Points in Canaan, North to South: Shechem, Bethel/Ai, Hebron/Mamre, Beer-Sheba).
From this perspective we may view the individual transformations of patriarchs in Genesis as ideological constructions representing social transformations presumed to have been necessary for the formation of Israel. As to the specific transformations leading to Israel, the Genesis text cites two. The first is the Covenant of Circumcision, and the second is the differentiation of Israel from the other circumcised groups. Thus, the “historical” stages posited by the text are plainly represented in the personal rites of passage of Abram and Jacob. If the Covenant of Circumcision is a transformation, then before circumcision there must have been some expressed social order, some rules for marriage and legitimation of offspring to which Abram was subject. We have already observed the core of this system in the genealogy of Terah (Genesis 11:27-32).
What is most interesting about this genealogy is the marriage of Milcah and Nahor. By itself such a union would be of little interest, but in its broader genealogical context the marriage establishes the precedent for the marriages of Isaac and Jacob. Such systematic marriages of cousins are quite familiar to students of kinship. The specific relationships of Genesis imply what anthropologists call an “indirect exchange” of women, or a “circulating connubium.”37 In its most basic form an indirect exchange system requires at least three groups of people. Each group constitutes a family within which marriages are strictly prohibited by an incest rule. Thus, a lineage such as the descendants of Abram would require other comparable groups in order to find husbands or wives. Marriages among the groups, in their ideal form, would involve a regular pattern of wife-giving and wife-taking. Thus, in the biblical case, Haran gives wives to Nahor and Nahor gives wives to Abram. The patriarchs represent groups, so the formula is rather like saying “the Browns give wives to the Smiths, and the Smiths give wives to the Johnsons.”
When families are very large, a person may have many potential spouses to choose from, so a close genealogical connection might not occur with each marriage. However, it is equally common in actual cases to have a permissible, or even preferred marriage between genealogically close kin. The marriage of Nahor and Milcah, then, is by no means unusual when read as a case involving individuals. Further, the marriages of Isaac and Jacob illustrate the way in which a continued “alliance” of two lines of men leads to marriage of a man to his mother’s brother’s daughter.38 It is possible, therefore, to interpret the marriage patterns as providing ideal definitions of proper and improper marriages for individuals in the social system prior to circumcision.
Structural Implications of the Terahite System
The alliance system among Terah’s sons, strictly speaking, is an open series of marriages. Abram’s group does not provide wives for anyone, and the line of Haran, represented by Lot, includes a woman with a nonspecified heritage.39 These details place emphasis on Abram’s lineage—his status as elder is preserved in every genealogical report. However, if we were to make the Terahite genealogy the basis of a minimal circulation of women among all the groups, then we would expect Abram’s line to give wives to the men in the line of Haran. Such a system would have the effect of equalizing the status of the three patrilineages. Let us now observe, then, several aspects of the text which suggest just such an indirect exchange relating the lines of Abram, Nahor, and Haran.
First, there is the relationship between Abram and Lot. When Abram leaves northwest Mesopotamia and travels to Canaan and Egypt, Lot travels with him. Later, when the herdsmen of the two men quarrel, Abram and Lot separate honorably. These events parallel the relationship between Jacob and his father-in-law Laban. Jacob spends twenty years with Laban performing brideservice—work toward the legitimation of his marriages. When his wives have both borne children, however, Jacob begins his move toward independence. Although there is friction and deception between Jacob and Laban over herds and other possessions, the ultimate separation is with honor and mutual respect. Thus, Jacob seems to stand in relation to Laban as Lot does to Abram. Even given the limited scope of the Lot story and other parallels we might derive, is there other evidence in the narratives which might support the hypothesis that Lot’s wife is from the household of Abram?
As it turns out, there are several lines of evidence. First, the story of Genesis 15 tells us that Abram is childless. At the same time, however, Abram’s servant is clearly stated to be in line to inherit from his master, signaling the inclusion of retainers in the corporate body of Abram’s house.40 Further, in Genesis 14 Abram brings together a force of “three hundred and eighteen of his retainers, born in his house. . . .” (Genesis 14:14). Under the notions of corporate organization in most traditional kinship systems, such retainers constitute part of the corporate body or “family.” We might also note that a corporate sense of family leadership is maintained in later Jewish law, extending specifically to slaves or servants (see Exodus 21:1-5; cf. Deuteronomy 15:12-15). The number of retainers under Abram’s control implies a substantial source of women through which Lot might have formed a marriage alliance with his uncle. The lengths to which Abram went to rescue his kinsman would also seem to support the idea of a matrimonial alliance with Lot. Note the continued wording of Genesis 14:14—16:
When Abram heard that his nephew had been captured, he mustered three hundred and eighteen of his retainers, born in his house, and went in pursuit as far as Dan. He and his party deployed against them at night, defeated them, and pursued them as far as Hobah, which is north of Damascus. He recovered all of the possessions, besides bringing back his kinsman Lot and his possessions, along with the women and the other captives. (Emphasis added)
Recall that when Laban, in a very different situation, pursues Jacob, he compares the situation of his daughters to that of women taken in war (Genesis 31:26). Of course, the women and other captives of Genesis 14 could simply be the women of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, Zeboiim, and Zoar. But we must also wonder if Abram did not have a greater interest than the rescue of Lot, especially when he chooses not to take a portion of the spoils.
A second support for the idea of a matrimonial alliance between Abram and Lot comes from the comparison of Abram’s and Jacob’s life cycles. As we have already observed, these patriarchs each underwent transformations of character at the end of their periods of mobility. The story of the rescue of Lot and the conflict between Jacob’s group and the Shechemites (Genesis 34) immediately precede these transformations. The Shechemite affair also involved a proposition of matrimonial alliance and the capture of women. The structural analogy suggests that Abram’s regional strife is tied to matrimony, clearly as an “honorable” defense, in contrast to the dishonorable contract and strife into which Jacob is drawn by his sons.
A third support for the alliance of Abram and Lot rests in the fate of Lot’s line. When Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed (Genesis 19) Lot’s wife dies, and the incestuous events leading to the births of Moab and Ammon soon follow. A standard interpretation of Lot’s wife “looking back” is that she is concerned for her kinsmen in the cities. This does not totally fit with the notion of Lot’s righteousness, however, the theme which allows him to be rescued in the first place. Is he really supposed to have married into the families of Sodom and Gomorrah? If we compare Lot’s situation once again to Judah in Genesis 38, using the parallel posited in the chiasmus of life-death reports, we find that Judah’s first wife is stated to be a Canaanite. The origin of Tamar, however, is not stated. I suggest that when the origin of a woman is not specified in the text, her appropriateness as a spouse is not in question. Thus, Lot’s wife, whoever she is, is not significant in the text because of her background. She is significant precisely because she is removed from the scene. The question we must ask, then, is what kind of kinship justification is operative in the removal of the woman, setting up the opportunity for Lot’s incest?
If we postulate an implied connubium on the basis of evidence from Genesis 12-17, then at some point the relationship must be broken to accommodate the unfolding social transformation of Abram to Abraham. Since a connubium equalizes the status of the three Terahite lineages, we would expect to see continual marriages in the pattern expressed in the marriages of Milcah, Rebekah, Leah, and Rachel. These women all marry up one generation. Thus, if we looked in Abram’s line for the woman who should be given to Lot, we would look for a daughter of Isaac. Similarly, one generation up, the wife of Haran would be a daughter of Abram, and one generation down the women given to Moab and Ammon would be the daughters of Jacob—the women of Israel!
I suggest that the genealogical material implies a connubium specifically so it can be rejected through the Lot narratives. The message is simple: Israel will not give its women in marriage to the other groups of the region; it stands as an endogamous group. The narrative rejection comes in three points. First, the circumcision symbol of Genesis 17 identifies the lineage in close association with God. Lot, having separated from Abram in Genesis 13, is not party to the Covenant of Circumcision. If we accept the arguments of Simeon and Levi about circumcision (Genesis 34:14—16), then the covenant prohibits Isaac from forming (continuing) a marriage alliance to the descendants of Lot. Second, Lot’s wife is killed, thus negating any implied structural connections between Abram and Lot. Finally, the origin of the Moabites and Ammonites (Genesis 19:30-38) provides a cultural justification against association with the descendants of Lot.
A final argument supporting an implied connubium connecting Abram, Nahor, and Haran (Lot) is territorial. Terah brought his entire household to northwest Mesopotamia where Nahor becomes associated with the placenames Haran, Paddan-Aram, and Aram Naharaim. Abram moves south and becomes associated with Canaan, specifically the highlands around Bethel. Lot separates from Abram and becomes associated with the Transjordanian area. These positions establish a triangular pattern conducive to a “closed” circulation of women (Figure 7).
These diverse forms of evidence suggest that Genesis makes Abram initially subject to a northern circle of marriage alliances. The form of the alliance permits the taking of wives from the region of northwest Mesopotamia, specifically among the descendants of Nahor, but does not clearly link Sarai to Nahor’s line.41 Further, the text implies that Lot’s wife should originate in Abram’s group, but does not specify her origin. The change of status of Abram under the Covenant of Circumcision calls forth a new social association. Thus, the text presents a set of images consistent with a connubium, but emphasizes the social identification intended to replace it. In this sense, the first half of the Abraham cycle posits a period of history and a social organization prior to the covenant promises.42
With the Covenant of Circumcision an important new principle of alliance is established for the line of Abraham. The men of the line may take wives from other groups, but after the covenant they do not give their sisters as wives outside the circumcised alliance. The “circumcised” constitutes the group within which men exchange sisters to create tribal definition. As we shall see, the transformation of Jacob to Israel further delimits the application of the principle. This means that the “circumcised” group is an imperfect entity. The flaw, likely an intentional irony, is a creation of the compilers of the text who generated the contrasts of Esau and Jacob, and later Ishmael and Isaac. Both sets of brothers are brought into conflict. A division in the interests of the parents in each case identifies the source of trouble. Both situations result in the blessing and political legitimation of the younger son over the elder. These instances fit with theological affirmations of the providential character of the deity supporting the patriarchs. Sociologically, the cases define the origins of powerful groups to the south of Israel. Let us examine the characters individually.
Ishmael is brought into Genesis through a very clear segmentation of an originally independent story cycle. Several commentators express this view, including Bruce Vawter, Gerhardt von Rad, and Hermann Gunkel.43 Vawter notes the discontinuity of Ishmael’s age, supplied by the priestly source, with the imagery of Genesis 21, and cites the topical continuity of this Elohist segment about the expulsion of Hagar with the Yahwist material in Genesis 16. Von Rad offers a similar argument, which is consistent also to the source treatment in the standard work of Gunkel. The fragments of the Ishmael story are manipulated to supply dramatic contrast between Ishmael and Isaac. We might question why particular pieces of the narrative were placed in their present context without more efficient modification, but the effect of the redaction for kinship purposes is clear. Ishmael is born prior to the Covenant of Circumcision, so he shares in its foundation with Abram. Indeed, Ishmael and Abram go together and become the first circumcised representatives of Abram’s house (Genesis 17:13-27). But Ishmael becomes the sign of conflict between Hagar and Sarai, a dispute in which Abram seems tortured with conflicts of his own (cf. Genesis 16:6 and 17:18-20; 21:9-11). For the most part the potential direct conflict between Ishmael and Isaac is only weakly suggested (Genesis 21:9 has Ishmael “playing with” or “making fun of’ Isaac), or simply declared in general terms (Genesis 16:12 and 25:18). Sociologically, Ishmael is a clear threat to Isaac.
The problem of Ishmael’s presence may be interpreted on two different levels. First, there is the question of individual succession in the line of Abraham. Second, there is the question of alternatives of group alliance through marriage, represented both in the origins of Hagar and Sarah and the ties of Abram to Egypt and Haran reinforced by the marriages of the two sons. The act of circumcising Ishmael suggests Abraham’s closure of the debate over the legitimacy of the boy. Ishmael was never accepted by Sarah, but Abraham clearly held him in favor. Thus, although Ishmael’s mother is considered a slave, he stands as a legitimate successor of Abraham as long as he is part of Abraham’s household.
The case of Ishmael is interesting in comparison to several rules listed in the Mishpatim (see Exodus 21:7-10). These rules state first that a female slave taken as a concubine may not be sold to foreigners, but is instead to be sold back to her original household. If her food, clothing, or conjugal rights are violated, however, the woman may leave freely, according to the next two provisions in the sequence. These rules suggest that if Abraham intended to keep Hagar and Ishmael in the group, he would be required to maintain her in a manner which, if we are to believe Sarah’s actions in the text, would be totally unacceptable to Sarah. On the other hand, if Sarah’s wishes were to be followed by Abraham without treating Hagar unfairly, he would have been required to sell her back. The conflict hinges on the complication created by Sarah’s transformation of status from barren to fruitful. The sense of the text is that the two women are threats to each other’s conjugal rights and status as wives (which might well include markers of food and clothing).44 That Abraham ultimately sends Hagar away rather than selling her back to Egypt suggests that her rights were, in the end, abrogated. In this context, Ishmael’s legitimacy is rejected by his expulsion, but is affirmed by the manner in which his mother is sent away.
The conditions of Isaac’s birth complicate matters by providing an offspring for the foremost, clearly highborn woman within Abraham’s house. Isaac is the first son born to Abraham, the most prominent man of circumcised status. Isaac is a pure symbolic expression of the covenant, a gift provided by divine intervention (see Genesis 17:17-21 and 18:13-14). The narrative suggests that the divine plan will supersede all human intervention. Thus, Abraham’s desires and Sarah’s fears express the covenant clearly, giving it precision in human terms. Isaac becomes the first son of a patriarch circumcised in accordance with God’s direction, on the eighth day of life (Genesis 17:12; 21:4).
Ishmael is territorially placed on the southwest in the Paran wilderness, the district of Shur east of Egypt. He takes a wife from his mother’s kinsmen (Genesis 21:21), confirming an alliance to Egypt, and he shares association to the boundary point Beer-Lahai-Roi; when Rebekah joins Isaac to become his wife he is encamped at Lahai Roi, the well named by Hagar immediately prior to Ishmael’s birth (Genesis 16:13-15; 24:62).
Isaac not only succeeds Abraham, but he remains in the same geographic area as his father. After the establishment of the Covenant of Circumcision, Abraham traveled toward the south and became essentially fixed in the hinterlands of Gerar where he established several wells (Genesis 20:15 and 21:22–32). The trip to Moriah for the sacrifice of Isaac (Genesis 22) is the only major movement of either Abraham or Isaac out of the axis running between Beer-Sheba and Hebron/Mamre. Both Abraham and Isaac deceived Abimelech in Gerar (Genesis 20 and 26), and Isaac reestablished the wells of his father (Genesis 26:16–25). The crucial point is that Isaac is never directly placed in any of the northern localities, nor is Abraham, and they never travel outside southern Canaan.
The distinction of brothers in the Abrahamic succession is continued with Esau and Jacob. For twins there can be no resolution of status by differentiating between mothers. Esau has every right to expect a prominent blessing according to strict rules of succession. But in this case the mother becomes involved on behalf of the younger son, and the father favors succession through the elder. So far, the parallel with Ishmael and Isaac is clear enough. It is Jacob, however, even with his father’s blessing, who is sent away from his father’s house. This is first justified by reference to Esau’s anger at losing his birthright (Genesis 27:42–45). A second justification is more informative from a social perspective. Rebekah complains about Esau’s wives, Canaanite women, and Isaac sends Jacob to Laban for the purpose of obtaining a wife (Genesis 27:46–28:2). If we recall that Abraham expressly prohibited his servant from taking Isaac to Haran (Genesis 24:5–6), we may wonder about Isaac’s intention in so freely allowing his own heir to make the trip. Such a question is bolstered by our knowledge of what is about to happen in Jacob’s relationship to Laban. In any event, the wish of Rebekah is consistent with the effect of alliance systems to keep related women in the household. For his part, Esau adds insult to injury in the situation by taking Mahalath, the daughter of Ishmael, as his third wife. His action is intended to please his parents (Genesis 28:8–9), but the result is a formal matrimonial alliance between the circumcised lines of Ishmael and Isaac. The unwitting insult by Esau in recognizing the lineage of Ishmael is consistent with his character. Like Briar Bear, he plods through the text being duped or merely acting simple at every turn. Esau’s third marriage, however, formalized his distinction from Jacob, and helps set the stage for his territorial placement upon Jacob’s return. That is, Esau’s identification with Edom and his location in the Seir district provide the territorial complement of the social ties implied by his marriage to Mahalath.
The posited second stage in the formation of Israel, spanning the narrative reports from the establishment of the Covenant of Circumcision through the transformation of Israel, is essentially identical with the lifetime of Isaac (Genesis 21–36). Let us recall that the birth of Isaac (Genesis 21) is supposed to be within a year of the establishment of the covenant, and that the intervening story deals with Lot. But the “stage” is more appropriately a territorial construct (Figure 8). From the point of view of the text, time and place are one coextensive system. The final territorial associations of the brothers on the two generations are real associations undoubtedly born in some actual political competition of real groups, and provide in Genesis a formal sociological justification of relatedness among the diverse “southern” Canaan groups. Circumcision serves as a weak, imperfect, identification of southern alliances, clearly juxtaposed against the Aramean connections posed for Abram, Isaac, and Jacob. For their part, Ishmael and Esau are comparable to Ammon-Moab in becoming “peripheral” to the core political fabric of the text.
This leaves for us the concern of the last alliance marriage between Jacob and northwest Mesopotamia. By analogy, the northern region is the counterpart of Egypt—it is distant and a source of wealth (Genesis 12 and 30:25–43). The final separation of Jacob and Laban, accomplished through an oath and sacrifice (Genesis 31:43–55), puts Jacob on his own en route to Canaan and the final confrontation with his brother. Jacob’s transformation to Israel is thus associated in the narrative with his separation from Laban (independence and wealth), his final differentiation from Esau (legitimacy through blessing), and the death of Isaac (ascendancy to his inheritance). These events announce the creation of a new social order. After final genealogical embellishments pertaining to Israel are noted, the reader of Genesis is fully prepared for the Joseph cycle.
In his recent work The Bible Without Theology, Robert Oden posed two questions, one of which the preceding analyses have partially considered, and the other upon which we are about to proceed:45 “Why is it that the patriarchs enter into the kinds of kinship relations they do? How do the resulting kinship alliances shape both the narratives before us and the issue of who is included and who is excluded from Israel?” Oden develops his answers to these questions through analysis of the Jacob story, Genesis 12–36. This is in part because he regards the transformation of Jacob to Israel as the essential social process recounted in Genesis, and to a great extent in the Torah. Even though I press the notion of “social system” into earlier sections of Genesis than Oden, his stress of the symbolic centrality of the “Israel” label is both appropriate and correct in detail. Oden makes two other points which bear repeating. First, he warns against the conclusion “that the kinship tensions within the Jacob narratives offer proof that these narratives were composed against the background of changing residence and settlement patterns.”46 This is an absolutely essential point to recognize, for even with the precision of the kinship relationships posited in the text, it is unlikely that we can differentiate actual historical process from practical political assertions which are mainly fictional. Oden’s other point considers whether kinship studies will ever provide a foundation for any historical conclusions. He suggests that such conclusions might be possible in the future. If by “historical conclusions” we refer to a process of establishing historicity of Genesis narratives, I doubt we shall ever engage in such a process. On the other hand, if “historical conclusions” refer to assessment of the communities responsible for the narrative composition, I am more optimistic. Much of the preceding analysis has engaged broad redactional questions. In developing kinship mǫdels pertinent to the definition of Israel, I expect the results to point to relatively refined periods in the later history of Judaism. Effective results will emerge, however, not from the pure political intentions of the text, but from consideration of the kinship connections against a background of Judaic law and refined literary assessment of the patriarchal characterizations. This is because the placement of a patriarch in a structure suggesting his downfall, as for example through incest, can represent an illustration of his honor. In the end, patriarchal narratives do not so much represent “case law” as they do examples from legend. Their use in calling forth later codes and pronouncements succeeded precisely because they presented ideal, or sometimes even impossible situations.
With these thoughts in mind, let us begin consideration of the social meaning of “Israel” by observing that Jacob’s sons form a large scale marriage circle which is independent and politically antagonistic to outsiders. When we continue to read the relationships within Israel as those between groups, we recognize that Genesis speaks in an ideal way about the organization of a constellation of tribes which had their existence in Canaan long after the supposed patriarchal period. A fictive, preterritorial notion of Israel is highly pertinent to the interpretation of territorial events presented in much later historical or quasi-historical scriptures. But a preterritorial Israel is part of the ideological assessment of social change. Thus, if the Terahite connubium creates an historical fiction and territorial association to express the principle of exogamy, and the Covenant of Circumcision similarly founded offers the principle of endogamy, then Israel integrates the two principles. The name identifies a collection of kinsmen who practice endogamy, at least as regards the giving of women, and also creates divisions that could practice exogamy. We must say “could” with emphasis because nowhere in any of the traditions is exogamy mandated. Indeed, later we see endogamy within the tribal units. Nonetheless, Israel is a fundamental social identification which informs us about the tension between “alliance” and “segmentation” as continuing social processes.47 There is much evidence that a preterritorial Israel is simply a fiction constructed to justify an historical alliance system.48 Genesis is not bad sociology and not bad social history, as long as we do not press for the historicity of the narrative.
As sociology, Genesis looks very much like an effort to differentiate one sort of alliance system from others that might be possible. The fictions about the Abrahamic line construct several kinds of descent distinctions. One potentially important opposition is between “matrilineal” and “patrilineal” descent. Some analyses even suggest that Abraham represents the adoption of patriarchal rules after separating from “settled” or “matriarchal” kin.49 It is interesting to note that the name Bethuel (Laban’s father) can be read as a feminine name glossing as “maiden of God.”50 It is possible that the text presents a female from an oral tradition as a male. In the story of Rebekah’s marriage she identifies herself as the daughter of Bethuel “son of Nahor and Milcah,” yet in the negotiations it is Laban and his mother who receive gifts finalizing the marriage settlement (Genesis 24:53).
It seems likely that the subtle undercurrents of potential matriarchy are merely the artifacts of cross-cutting clan distinctions, female associations significant in marriage, similar to those of many patrilineal systems in the world, especially those of the Near East. Perhaps all that is at stake in Rebekah’s marriage is an identification of the kinds of people who normally would be involved in matrimonial negotiations; the prominence of the brother is certainly not unusual.
Openly stated or implied rules of lineage association in Genesis offer technical issues, establishing legal principles for the actual system being justified. This is rather like the kind of talk people in the United States use to differentiate the working of government during the period of the Articles of Confederation and after, or before and after the Supreme Court’s decision in the case of Marbury vs. Madison. A small change of principles, or even the emphasis of one principle over others, can make a tremendous difference in kinship practice.
Conflicts between co-wives or between wife and spouse, prefigured in the relationships of Hagar and Sarai, Sarai and Abram, or Rebekah and Isaac, come to full force in the competition between the sisters Leah and Rachel and in their respective marriages to Jacob. The situations involving “cast out” sons, in all cases the favorite of the father, and the subsequent rise of that son to blessings, position, and wealth, serve to illustrate diverse operative principles in the regulation of intra-family conflict. Ishmael, Esau, Jacob, and Joseph provide, from the point of view of their respective separation from brothers, different kinds of links to historical situations in Canaan.
Thus, preterritorial Israel only prefigures its territorial counterpart in social and cultural terms. Every story, every genealogical report, every tidbit of good or bad information is germane to the interpretation of the social array. But the traditions of Genesis are accurate and meaningful only for some “present” very far removed in time from the era it purports to represent. This realization does not demean the historical or theological significance of the scripture. In fact, for many of the faithful it adds to that significance. For those of us with literary, anthropological, and historical interests, the mythic sense of Genesis is an exciting realization, and a compelling impetus to reasoned interpretation of the conditions that have brought the text to its traditional written forms.
A full analysis of Genesis genealogies, including assessment of the tribes of Israel, must reach far beyond points of genealogy or social articulation. What are the structures through which layers of literary meaning are produced in the text? What is the articulation of kinship content with Judaic law? What can we say about who puts the meaning into our readings? Can we know the full intent of the text on a political level, or do we to some extent only create meanings for today, hopelessly far from the resonance of the original recitations? Do we draw structure and meaning from the foundation tradition, consciously or unconsciously making the text synonymous with our lives? Some content, no doubt, we read into the text, but much of even contemporary reading is consistent with notions we know must have been intrinsic to the scripture. Everywhere, there are notable regularities of pattern which stand out for our scrutiny.
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