“The Elusive Covenant”
If Genesis forms experience for us through its larger structure, then we should expect the stories within Genesis to manifest carefully controlled features of cultural unity. Far from being a collection of loosely related independent writings, the exact substance of each element in the book serves some immediate purpose in the larger design. At least this is the effect of Genesis as a literary composition, regardless of how diverse the original sources of material might have been. One task of hermeneutics, then, is to examine the smaller patterns of organization which engage each other in the larger structure to produce our unified sense of text. On the level of individual story analyses, we encounter a very precise juxtaposition of what Aristotle called “mythos” and “ethos.” These terms, forming the central elements of Aristotle’s conception of tragedy, have in modern usage come to signify the pattern of basic values of a people and the disposition, character, or attitude peculiar to a specific culture or group.
Mythos in tragedy is especially concerned with the “structure of events.” As Paul Ricoeur expresses this point:1
Tragedy, as a poem, has sense and reference. In the language of Aristotle, the “sense” of tragedy is secured by what he calls the “fable,” or the “plot” ( mythos). We may understand the mythos of tragedy as its sense, since Aristotle keeps putting the emphasis on its structural characters; the mythos must have unity and coherence and make of the actions represented something “entire and complete.”
We see in Ricoeur’s statement something very similar to the idea of structural models as defined by Claude Lévi-Strauss, which “must make immediately intelligible all of the available facts.”2 Lévi-Strauss also makes the point that an effective structural model, in addition to presenting the immediate “sense” of facts, provides the basis of logical transformations—for each structural model there is an implied family of models functioning under a “law of the group.”3 It is not surprising that Lévi-Strauss would turn to Greek myths as part of the exposition of his basic concepts, since the mythic forms within Classical Greek culture show clearly the very relations of structure and transformation in which he is most interested.
The same, I believe, is true of many of the individual stories in Genesis. Unlike the diverse collections of plays, narratives, and poems comprised in Greek literature, however, biblical materials have been given to us in a set order, a macrostructure which gives us immediate appreciation of stories as transformations of each other. It is important to note here that Lévi-Strauss argues against the analysis of texts as myths, since texts are removed from the domain of spoken language (speech, la parole, or we might rather say “speeches” in the sense of rhetoric), while myths reside especially in the domain of speech and the unconscious structured aspect of language (la langue).4 In the Aristotelian sense of mythos, designed as it is for literary analysis, the difference between an active myth tradition and literary art seems irrelevant. The Torah, because its reading is a central feature of Jewish religious observance, is not entirely removed from Aristotle’s categories of “diction” (λέξις), “song” (μϵλοποιῖ𝛼), or “spectacle” (öψις), these forming the manner and media in which the text is brought to life.5 We can analyze biblical literature as literature using Aristotle’s categories, without bending them at all. As to the objects of tragic literature—“plot” (μύθος), “character” (), and “thought” (διάνοια) in that order of importance—we find in biblical literature many of the precise elements of Aristotle’s conception of aesthetic design.6
Ethos, the “things which make men what they are,” has also been given special emphasis in modern anthropology, namely in the interests and expressive terms of configurationalist ethnologists. Ruth Benedict developed her ideas of cultural types around characters from Greek myth, attempting to show by way of unitary contrasts the full sweep of differences between cultures.7 This ideally ordered, nearly “timeless” conception of difference is the core element in most definitions of “cultural pattern.” It is no accident, then, that Clyde Kluckholn, for all the structural formality of his approach, chose to stress “character” as the endpoint of cultural analysis.8 Nor is it unusual that he chose Greek culture to contrast with our own lifeways in some of his methodological essays; he was well-grounded in the classics, and, like Lévi-Strauss, highly sensitive to the relationships between structural interests and the exposition of the “manners and customs” of people.
We may use the cultural sense of ethos alongside its literary sense when approaching biblical stories, not only because the conventions of modern anthropological usage direct us along that path, but because both group and individual associations are inherent to the Aristotelian category. Both uses are also central to the biblical text, where we continue to encounter in the stories about individuals the passion, history, and social conception of Israel as a cultural ideal.
My interests in structure and custom, composition and theme, cause me to seek in Genesis stories the common features of plot which allow us to find the cultural order behind actions, words, and contexts. Among the features we have observed in Genesis stories so far in this book, kinship relations and place lie at the core of most of the narrative. I have attempted to show the structural sense in which these, along with the narrative structure itself, are a coextensive system. What happens through spatial reference has importance in kinship reference, and the two together are the narrative structure. This approach is not inconsistent with the study of myth proper, but it need not be confined to myth. Indeed, structurally homologous models are regularly generated from quite different cultural or natural phenomena. We now ask the questions, then: What kinds of patterns emerge when we apply kinship and themal models to several stories possessing common narrative features, such as Genesis 12, 20, and 26? Do we discover differences of expressed sentiment or character? Do we discover systems of narrative (hence kinship) transformation? How do the results of such minute analysis relate to or inform the conception of overall structure in Genesis? Along the way we must also consider other questions of critical importance. How do the Genesis traditions compare with similar materials from other cultures? What can we say, for example, about the ethos of Israel in relation to the kinds of ethos portrayed in Greek tragedy?
Cross cultural comparison is necessary and appropriate on this level of reading, since some direct parallels will help develop the point that the kinship concerns of Genesis are not unique to Israel. Indeed, the patterns and concerns of kinship in traditional cultures show strong general tendencies, so that what at first appears to be a myriad of differences resolves into a relatively few key concepts and constructs.9 On the level of the text, kinship relationships in Genesis display a specific pattern flowing from these generalities. Thus, in addition to direct comparison, we shall build an internal analysis elaborating on the particular “theory of the text” this book offers. A truly anthropological reading of Genesis and related biblical materials, a reading building “ethnographic” interests out of the literary artifact, will provide for us the strongest means of cultural comparison while it channels our appreciation of the immediate cultural case.
Kinship, Place, and Story Types
Typology, that is, simple differentiation, and classification, the organization of a series of types into a structured system based on features common to the group, are the principal bases through which George Coats developed his excellent treatment of narrative genres in Genesis.10 These activities are fundamental elements of the analysis of mythos. Coats recognizes nine major types of narrative material, along with numerous minor types, assigning scriptures to the categories based upon structural, linguistic, contextual (“setting”), and intentional criteria.11 To the major narrative forms may be added genealogy, yielding a list of ten kinds of key scriptural characterizations: saga, tale, novella, legend, history, report, fable, etiology, myth, genealogy. The classification of Genesis documents, then, proceeds through judgments placing units in a hierarchic narrative structure. For example, an etiological unit—one explaining the derivation of a cultural practice or the name of a patriarch or place—may form a substructure in a tale, legend, or some other higher-order unit. Through such classification, Coats’s treatment of redactional questions in Genesis is particularly illuminating, as is also the force of his arguments for general structural design.12 In the present analysis, I attempt to employ some cross-cutting typological notions drawn from general kinship theory, specifically some ideas about matrimonial alliance and group identification, while considering some of Coats’s narrative units against my own structural divisions. Thus, I draw narrative structure or “plot” from my own and Coats’s readings of units, consider the organization of events in terms of the social organization of the text (another aspect of mythos), and judge the features which may be attributed the status of “custom” or “character” for the group of units as a whole. The full analysis is a straightforward application of mythos and ethos, both in the sense of “narrative as stories about individuals” and the broader idea of “consistently applied customs and rules pertinent to a group.” The material under analysis also draws into consideration the biblical texts associated with marriage and contract laws, as well as biblical parallels from other parts of the Hebrew Bible. A few direct parallels from Greek myth also cast light on the social intentions of some of the stories.
Matrimonial Alliance in Biblical Narrative
The larger structural depictions of kinship ties in Genesis, such as those seen in Figure 1, do not adequately show elements of pattern from particular marriage narratives. Family-tree diagrams are merely the background against which each individual story is read, and an overall design to which each story contributes. Marriage reports fall mainly between Genesis 11 and 41 and concern the central patriarchal marriages of Abram/Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Esau, Judah, and Joseph. To these may be added the unsuccessful marriage attempts of Sarai/Pharaoh, Sarah/Abimelech, Rebekah/Abimelech, Dinah/Shechem, and Joseph (Genesis 39). These narratives and reports form the “alliance” connections we observed through vertical reading of chapter-based chiastic structure (see again Figure 20). One other story, the seduction of Lot, is associated with “sexual sin” and the conflict-separation connections of the text, and is not considered here in spite of the offspring produced.
Figure 21 presents the textual units of these marriages and alliance attempts, employing my divisions of Genesis and those of Coats. The figure underscores the difficulty of defining “how much” material from a narrative is pertinent to a particular incident, plot, or cultural concern. Because Coats’s units are framed on genealogical reports and life-cycle structure, they correspond roughly to mine.13 His effective use of narrative types showing the tiered patterns of story organization also provides some fine points explaining the placements of some of the minor reports, such as the marriages of Esau and the Egyptian alliance of Joseph.
The broader genealogical context makes Esau’s marriage to Mahalath, the daughter of Ishmael, and Joseph’s marriage to Asenath, the daughter of the Egyptian high priest, quite significant within the overall marriage system. Esau’s Canaanite marriages are appended to the attempted alliance story involving Rebekah and Abimelech, and are not considered in this analysis. The brief report of his marriage to Mahalath accompanies Isaac’s instruction to Jacob to seek a wife in Aramea, and so is linked as a preface to the Jacob marriage scenario. Note that the Esau reports fall at the beginning and end of Coats’s “tale of strife” within the larger Jacob-Esau novella, while Genesis 38 and 41 stand in a roughly similar opposition in the Joseph Novella, the major part of what Coats calls the “Jacob Saga.” The attempted seduction of Joseph is closely linked with Genesis 38 and includes information necessary to the full interpretation of the brief report of Joseph’s actual marriage. Thus, even minor marriage reports take on major functions in the overall narrative construction and alliance “meaning” system.
Scriptural references in the central column of Figure 21 are those I believe are critical to understanding the structural situation created by the account. Emphasis with the scriptural reading is on action, the genealogical connections being formed mainly through the broader narrative. Our concern is with the movements of patriarchs or other characters along paths of social or territorial connection. Such movements may be one-way or two-way and may result in a permanent or temporary change in status. Status changes may involve (a) territorial exclusion, (b) marriage, (c) replacement of the previous generation, or succession, (d) generation change for marriage, (e) servitude, (f) imprisonment, (g) alliance, (h) impoverishment, including loss of material wealth or a spouse, and finally (i) redemption, including any rectification of a past reversal. Each of the stories speaks of at least one social or territorial boundary, the boundary often being an important place in the ideal geographic system now familiar to us (see again Figures 10 and 11).
Figure 21. Marriage reports, matrimonial alliances, and alliance attempts of Genesis 12-41, considered against the narrative genres and organization developed by George Coats.
Turning now to the general patterns formed by the cases, we should note that within the general pattern of Near Eastern patrilineal tribalism, maternal descent is traced in order to define alliance-forming groups. “Alliances” are formed when a patrilineage gives wives to another group, often involving a series of marriages in successive generations. Such wife-giving is usually one-directional, meaning that a group stands as either “wife-giver” or “wife-taker” toward another lineage, not both. The lineage to which a maternal reference looks in such cases is patrilineal. A group of men related to a common ancestor form an “agnatic” association. At the closest level of relationship, a lineage or group of lineages descended from brothers will possess strong social bonds founded in their common paternal ties. At more distant levels of agnatic association, men will see each other as potential allies through marriage. A man will distinguish, then, among three basic social associations: his own lineage or lineage group, the agnatic group from which his mother came, and the groups who might potentially take sisters in marriage. Unlike some of the social systems with similar marriage rules, no system-wide social groups regulate the marriage associations or degrees of agnatic affiliation.14 The alliance associations among lineages may be quite fluid through time. At any point in time, however, very precise group and alliance designations may be in effect. The transformations of such nomenclature through the generations is often the subject of genealogical assertions of precisely the form we encounter in Genesis.
The marriage reports and narratives in Genesis fall into three basic “story types.” I call these types: (a) withdrawn woman narratives, (b) central marriage narratives, and (c) redemption narratives. The three types serve different purposes in the overall set of social definitions in the text. Withdrawn woman stories account for group definition by citing instances of wife-giving which are thwarted or rejected as either impossible or invalid. The central marriage stories provide examples of an ideal form of alliance continuity. These are basically wife-taking accounts which turn out well, but which also point out some of the pitfalls of alliance negotiations. Finally, redemption narratives deal with issues of family obligation for different statuses within a household. As we shall see, the three types of stories are closely connected in form, such that some narratives fit into more than one of the categories simultaneously. We will view each of the types individually, then consider the more complex issue of narrative interpretation from the perspective of alliance principles.
The most well-recognized cases of “withdrawn” women are found in Genesis 12, 20, and 26. The topical correspondence of these “deception” stories has long been noted, forming a rich field for analysis in most Genesis commentaries.15 Three other stories in Genesis offer immediate parallels involving marriage. These are the union of Abram and Hagar (Genesis 16), the story of Joseph’s near seduction by Potiphar’s wife (Genesis 39), and the story of the “humbling” of Dinah (Genesis 34). The kinship homologies of the six stories are presented in the graphs of Figure 22. The four situations represented by the collection resolve to conflicts between groups, conflicts between husbands and wives, and conflicts of fathers and sons. In the basic form of the story type, a married woman is offered to a man of rank, but is withdrawn because of some intervention. The result in each case is the territorial or social exclusion of individuals left on the lower rank-generation position and a change in the material and/or blessing status of the individuals. In each case the status change of the woman is two-way.
Taking the situations individually, we may first note that Genesis 12, 20, and 26 also stress the “agnatic” connection of husbands and wives. This point serves as an important example of the difference between literal and social readings of the text. If we read Genesis 20 literally, then Abram and Sarai are brother and sister tracing through a biological father, but unrelated tracing through their mothers. Abraham’s statement that Sarah is his “sister” can mean that they are related as parallel cousins, descendants of a common male eponymous ancestor from different patrilineages standing in a relationship of wife-takers and wife-givers. A more exact kin tie for Abraham and Sarah is only implied in the text, mainly in the parallel of Sarah to the Terahite alliances represented by Rebekah, Leah, and Rachel. Reading the statement of Genesis 20 literally, Abraham and Sarah could be direct parallel cousins—children of men in the same generation. But the more likely case is that Sarah is intended to be the sister of Bethuel, forming the generational difference between husbands and wives we find in the other central marriage reports.16 This is the precise relationship obtaining between Isaac and Rebekah in Genesis 26.
Generation can be taken as a metaphor of rank or relationship of clientage, stressing the common practice in traditional systems of weaker lineages attempting to strengthen their position by marrying women into stronger lineages. This social feature is often accompanied by reservation of polygamy for elites.17 Asymmetrical marriages based on rank also help support institutions of kingship or chiefdomship in many societies, as has been amply observed in royal dynasties throughout the world. Wife-takers, then, whether genealogically connected or not, are often of higher rank than wife-givers. This holds true for most marriages in Genesis. An important aspect of clientage in Genesis is “servitude” or “slavery.” Such retainers, including the “handmaidens” of ranking women in the lineages, figure prominently in the dealings of the family. It is through this kind of familial association that the stories of Hagar and Joseph fit into this story pattern.
The union of Abram to Hagar, though only temporarily recognized as a valid marriage, turns the rank formula of Genesis 12 around. In other terms, Abram’s attempt to marry his wife “up rank” ends with his being given Hagar by Sarai; as wife-taker of an Egyptian woman, Abram is implied to be of higher status than Pharaoh, the source of the given woman. Of course, on the surface level of the story, Hagar is supposed to bear a child for Sarai. We must note, however, that the “given” woman never acts as a surrogate mother, and the child is never recognized by Sarai/Sarah. Thus, the expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael after the birth of Isaac is a reasonable parallel of the expulsion of the patriarchal couples in the deception stories. In each case the woman involved makes a two-way rank transformation, and the territorial exclusion of the lower rank “couple” is permanent. Note also that Sarai’s barrenness is directly paralleled in the house of Abimelech in Genesis 20, and may even by implication be attributed to the “plagues” on Pharaoh’s house in Genesis 12. This is joined by the blessing and fertility promised to Ishmael, part of an alternation of “wealth” and “blessing” themes seen when Genesis 12, 16, 20, and 26 are taken in narrative order.
Figure 22. Examples of the “withdrawn woman” story type from Genesis:
(a) Genesis 12; (b) Genesis 16; (c) Genesis 20; (d) Genesis 39; (e) Genesis 26; (f) Genesis 34.
The story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife presents the antinarrative of the first four cases. The woman attempts a conjugal relationship by moving “down” in rank/ generation, the equivalent of approaching a “son” of her husband. Her temporary transformation of status is thwarted, and she returns to her husband who then excludes the man involved, sending him into further impoverishment, from slavery to prison. It is noteworthy at this point that Joseph’s eventual marriage to the daughter of the “high priest” Potiphera is a strict parallel of alliance to Egypt found at the end of the Ishmael story (Genesis 21:21). For both Ishmael and Joseph, then, the apparent curse of exclusion from a promising family ends with alliance to the acknowledged power on the southwest of Canaan. Similarly, the union of Hagar to Abram, like Joseph’s tie to Egyptian officialdom, involves both marriage and “non-marriage.”
Genesis 34 is a thematically rich tale incorporating the “withdrawn-woman” pattern alongside principles of matrimonial “redemption.” The story depicts Jacob as not moving with force when his daughter is “humbled” by Shechem, an act which amounts to marriage by capture.18 Jacob had already entered into a contract for land, an indication of settling into the locality parallel to the other thwarted alliance scenarios, and we are led to believe that he might actually enter into a marriage alliance with Hamor. The story also includes the expressed patriarchal fear, after the killing of Hamor by Simeon and Levi, that other groups of the region will exterminate Israel. Like Abraham and Isaac, Jacob fears for his safety because the men of a place into which he has moved have found one of the women of his group beautiful. The fact that Dinah is a more marriageable token in the plot than the patriarch’s wife does not change the social point that Israel, having newly settled in the territory, is placed in a “wife-giving” situation. The conclusion of the story in warfare and escape also parallels the territorial-exclusion themes of the other “withdrawn-woman” stories. Indeed, the killing of Shechem, Hamor, and their kinsmen actualizes the threats explicitly posed for Pharaoh and Abimelech in Genesis 12, 20, and 26.
The six marriage stories involving withdrawn offers of wives, then, are expressions of a common pattern of events, a common mythos. They also reflect several consistent themes about marriage alliance in general, most notably that failure of an alliance amounts to social, usually territorial, exclusion for the “offending” group. Further, a negotiation of alliance which is thwarted in process may result in a change of status and material wealth for both parties. These themes are inherent in the progressive theological stamp we view in the deception tales, as well as in the superb reversal of the surface narrative elements in Joseph’s encounter with the evil Egyptian woman.19
The marriage ties of the main line of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Figure 23) show a strict genealogical parallel for the marriages of Isaac and Jacob. They also imply continuity of the pattern on the generation of Abraham. The major difference in the marriage accounts for Isaac and Jacob is in the manner through which alliance is achieved. In the first case, Abram sends a servant to the north to find a wife for his son. The servant must swear an oath to Abraham from which he will be released only if he cannot convince a woman to return with him. I have already commented on the contrast between Abraham’s hesitancy to send Isaac north versus the long period of servitude Jacob spends before escaping with his wives and possessions back to Canaan. The escape theme incorporates a friendlier version of the territorial exclusion pattern we have observed in the stories of thwarted alliance. Thus, Abraham’s action succeeds in maintaining an alliance tie without the risk of strife. By sending a representative, a “token” of himself, Abraham accomplishes the marriage through exchanges of brideprice (gifts to the allied line) and bridewealth (counter-gifts brought by Rebekah on her trip south). Even in the context of this negotiated marriage, some reluctance to send the woman is expressed in Laban’s attitude.
The bridewealth of Rebekah is a counterpart of material possessions gained in the escape scenes of Genesis 12, 20, 26, and 34. In this context, we should note that of the principal matriarchs, only Rebekah does not encounter a problem with barrenness at some point. Rebekah is a close counterpart of Leah, whose barrenness is only an interruption of childbearing. Sarai/Sarah, by reason of her early barren status and the form of co-wife struggle in which she engages, is a counterpart of Rachel. The parallel of Sarai versus Hagar and Leah versus Rachel develops reversals of loved/unloved and fertile/infertile statuses. Rebekah’s “loved” and “fertile” character development, then, places a stamp of approval on the manner of Isaac’s marriage.
Rebekah’s birth of twins gives emphasis to her fertility. The Jacob cycle (Coats’s Isaac Saga) transfers the strife themes to the sons. Esau is loved but not blessed, Jacob is blessed but unloved, and their respective increases through procreation are differentiated. Esau’s lineage is traced through five sons born to three wives (Genesis 36), with emphasis on the Canaanite origins of the women (Mahalath, indeed, does not appear in the lists). Jacob has twelve sons of whom two are dropped (Joseph and Levi) only to be replaced by Joseph’s sons. Thus, though Esau’s line is a “great nation” and is linked to kingship, Israel is increased by more than twice the measure of Edom and the Rachelites number as many sons as all the first-generation offspring of Esau.
Figure 23. Central marriages of the patriarchal line in Genesis: (a) Abraham’s servant obtains Rebekah for Isaac, and the couple replaces Abraham and Sarah; (b) Jacob goes to Laban for a wife, escapes with wives and sons, and replaces Isaac.
We have already noted that the ties of Abraham and Sarah in Genesis 20 are identical socially to those of Isaac and Rebekah in Genesis 26. The text of Genesis implies an interesting reversal of rank of the Terahite sons. Not only does Abram leave the land of his father, and more specifically the territory of his brother Nahor, but he takes the generationally subordinate Lot with him. In marriage terms, this suggests that Abram’s departure involves a similar segmentation to that of Laban and Jacob. This would explain why Abraham would not be quick to send his son back to the north; in Aramea Abraham’s lineage is regarded as subordinate in rank, even though they are wife-takers from the line of Nahor. This interpretation draws a much more urgent comparison between Sarai and Hagar, women standing as independent tokens of alliance to higher-ranking lineages on the southwest and northeast. The status of the line of Abraham, then, like the apparently elevated status of Esau in Edom, is dependent upon maintenance of territorial separation. Continued marriages to the “high lineage” of Aramea on Jacob’s generation represents the means through which final social segmentation is achieved and a new connubial order is established.
The final Aramean marriages, however, do not come without substantial risks. Because of his travel to Haran, Jacob suffers a temporary reduction of rank as he joins the household of Laban. Reading the genealogical connections in social terms, Laban is the ranking lineage leader within a “Bethuelite” or “Nahorite” alliance group. He is a true “individual” in the narrative, having succeeded to the position of paramount chief. This accounts for Laban’s key involvement in the marriage negotiations for Rebekah, a background which makes his position firmly established when he encounters his direct parallel cousin Jacob. As a co-lineal subordinate from the perspective of rank, Jacob’s marriages force him into a period of extended coresidence and servitude. This “brideservice” is brought to an end only by escape, a form of redemption through which Jacob reoccupies the territory of Abraham’s exclusion, and succeeds to the position of ranking lineage leader in place of Isaac.
The two central marriage accounts in Genesis provide alternative forms of alliance behavior for a segmented group of relatively low status, negotiation from a distance and bride capture. Jacob’s departure from Laban enacts a plot similar in several essential features to the story of Dinah and Shechem. In Genesis 34 Jacob’s relatively mild, almost accepting posture toward the marriage offer of Hamor is based upon a careful assessment of his strength. Laban also judges his strength in a case of wife-taking running against his ultimate corporate interests. The killing of Hamor’s lineage by Simeon and Levi is instructive, for it points out the danger of Jacob’s final encounter with Laban. Jacob was accused, after all, of taking women and property belonging to Laban. The outcome suggests that Jacob’s strength was sufficient to avoid bloodshed at the hands of Laban’s household.
Overall, Genesis stresses the idea that genealogical distance produces greater probability of distrust among agnatic kinsmen, along with the need for separate residence because of lineage growth. The more extreme results of these tendencies take the form of separation to avoid strife. This feature is identical to the separations of more closely related kinsmen, “brothers” in conflict over succession. The textual juxtaposition of Jacob’s separations from Laban and Esau affirms this point. The central theme of agnatic segmentation accounts for the literal weaving of conflict-separation stories with marriage stories shown in Figure 20. The ethos of the cases is consistent, but the mythos is different for the two kinds of stories. Separation of distantly linked or rank-determined groups is cast in terms of marriage potentials, while separation of closely-related men is stated in terms of strife over blessings. Genesis drives home the point that relationships between kinsmen ought to be close, but that even the ties of brothers are usually marked by competition and tension. The narratives constantly reassert the idea that the transformation of a distant agnate or rank-equivalent male into an in-law, an ally by marriage, maintains social cohesion and political strength. The presentation of political tensions through kinship affirmations is not only realistic on this point; it is quite practical.
Tales of redemption introduce cultural themes limiting or defining appropriate action of members of immediate households. As with the stories about withdrawn women, the redemption pattern displays close connections with the central patriarchal marriage patterns. The stories included in this group are the Dinah episode, the marriage of Esau to Ishmael’s daughter, Joseph’s marriage to the daughter of Potiphera, and the novella of Judah and Tamar (Figure 24). I have provided two graphs of Esau’s marriage (Figure 24, b and d) which underscore the overall pattern similarities of the group. One graph links the Esau marriage report to the plot of Genesis 34, and the other ties it to the structure of Genesis 41. My rendering of the Judah and Tamar plot is also accomplished in two graphs, one depicting the initial rejection of Tamar’s marriage contract, and the other showing the resolution of Tamar’s marriage to Judah’s lineage. Positioning of the patriarchal lineage on the graphs also reflects the difference between the “southern” or “western” alliance pattern represented by the marriages of Esau and Joseph (and also Ishmael, who married an “Egyptian” woman) versus the Canaanite territorial association of Judah’s marriage.
The Joseph, Esau, and Dinah stories illustrate well how rank and generation influence matrimonial situations. Note that if we leave Esau on his original generation with respect to Ishmael (Figure 24b), then his marriage to Mahalath becomes a structural counterpart to the graph for Genesis 34 (Figure 24a). Because Esau to an extent rivals his brother by virtue of territorial exclusion, and because Jacob replaces Isaac, the alternative graph (Figure 24d) is probably a more accurate rendering of the textual intention of Esau’s Ishmaelite alliance. Because of the stated social interactions of Genesis 34, such manipulation of the Dinah story structure is impossible. Regardless of how we interpret the “narrators point of view” graphically, the three stories are clearly variants contrasting wife-giving and wife-taking episodes pertinent to the line of central patriarchs.
The marriages of Esau and Joseph show correspondence in movements of the married couple “up rank.” This is textually signified by Esau’s ultimate association with “kingship” in Edom, and in Joseph’s elevation from prisoner to overseer of Egypt. Esau and Ishmael constitute “great nations” developed after segmentation from the main line. Unlike Jacob, who becomes tied to Laban’s household, the narrative implication when Esau goes “to Ishmael” for a wife is that he maintains territorial association with Isaac for the moment. His ultimate territorial placement in Seir puts him on equal rank level with Ishmael, accomplishing the transformation from Figure 24b to 24d. Mahalath, then, moves up a generation and out of territorial association with her father’s lineage, producing the successful marriage structure stressed in the central patriarchal marriage narratives.
Figure 24. Examples of the “redemption” story type from Genesis: (a) Genesis 34; (b) Genesis 28, unsegmented Esau; (c) Genesis 41; (d) Genesis 28, segmented Esau; (e) Genesis 38, Tamar rejected; (f) Genesis 38, Tamar redeemed.
My comparison of Esau’s marriage to Joseph’s redemption places Israel on the same rank level as Pharaoh. This is warranted by Jacob’s blessing over Esau, and the attendant succession of Israel to Isaac’s position as lineage leader. This produces for Ishmael and Esau a rank equivalence comparable to that of Potiphera and the redeemed Joseph (Zaphenath-paneah). The equation is significant given the reduction of Israel’s status produced by the move to Egypt in the conclusion of Genesis. Once again, the text carefully defines rank transformation through territorial movement.
Joseph’s elevation of rank is more straightforward than Esau’s. In the process he is redeemed from the injustice of his imprisonment, reclothed, renamed, and given the daughter of “the high priest,” a man who stands as his religious counterpart in the kingdom. The social division between Joseph and Potiphera is one of lineage and political function, and is stressed again in Genesis 47 when the priests are excluded from the enslavement produced by Joseph’s political administration. The marriage between the two lineages is the only example of lasting coresidential alliance in Genesis. The only nearly similar situation is the near marriage of Dinah to Shechem, a most interesting case because of its ties to the redemption theme. Simeon and Levi represent the “brother’s” interest and control over sisters in matters of marriage, a parallel of Laban’s influence in Rebekah’s marriage and the expressed concern of Laban’s sons over Jacob’s acquisition of property in Laban’s household. When Dinah was abducted (“humbled”), she was transformed into a de facto wife and the subordinate rank of Simeon and Levi was asserted. In structural terms, Shechem attempted to enforce a rank differentiation similar to the graphs of Figure 24c and 24d on Jacob’s sons. The “married” status of Dinah is also evident in that the narrative leaves Dinah in the household of Hamor during the period of negotiations between the two groups.
When Simeon and Levi kill Shechem, they eliminate Dinah’s husband. This does not eliminate the marriage, however, since other kinsmen could redeem the woman through application of a levirate rule. Thus, the brothers also kill all of the “able bodied men” of Shechem’s group, including the patriarch Hamor. This assures that no man of Shechem’s lineage living or forthcoming can legitimize Dinah’s married status by producing offspring.
The levirate rule is usually discussed in terms of its provision of continuity of the male line, but it also has important connotations about the legal status of the woman involved. Recall that Jacob does not request permission to leave Laban until the birth of Joseph, the offspring unequivocally legitimizing his conjugal tie to Rachel. Note also that when Judah decides to reject Tamar’s union with Shelah, he sends her back to the household of her kinsmen; she remains, in a sense, only betrothed. The circumcision agreement of Simeon and Levi with Shechem, in fact, offers them a means of identifying potential levirs within Hamor’s household. The ritual enactment also symbolically reverses the rank assertions of Shechem’s bride capture, for it suggests the taking of Hamor’s line into the “circumcised” house as slaves. In the end, the men are not enslaved, but their wives are taken and Dinah is reclaimed. The penalty is not severe, as it is often read, when seen in the context of alliance withdrawal, rank assertion, and lineage continuity for Israel.
The levirate rule lies behind the text of Genesis 34, but is the explicit subject of the story of Judah and Tamar. Genesis 38 is structurally more complex than Genesis 34 and shows close connection to both the Dinah episode and the account of Joseph’s marriage. The immediate parallels of Genesis 34 and 38 are striking. Simeon and Levi incur the wrath of Israel, just as Er, and more specifically Onan, are offensive to God because of their Canaanite status and because of Onan’s breach of fraternal obligation. The wrath is differently motivated, however, since the action of Simeon and Levi may be construed as a “righteous” killing of Canaanites. In either case, Canaanites are “evil,” but the affront to patriarchal authority by Simeon and Levi is merely taken to the level of debate with Jacob.
Structural positioning of Simeon and Levi as parallel to Er and Onan is by no means a superficial parallel, especially given other themal symmetries of the stories. The key female characters, for example, are quite precise analogs of each other, women “offered” as wives on the base generation of the patriarchal lineage. In each case the marriage contract is withdrawn, for Dinah by the wife-givers and for Tamar by the wife-taker. This withdrawal is accomplished by different generations, but in both cases the patriarch is victimized by the withdrawal. Whether Judah’s action was correct depends, in great measure, upon our interpretation of the origin of Tamar. We know that Judah’s first wife is a Canaanite, but Tamar’s origin is not stated. Recalling the patterns of successive wife-taking from a single line in the central genealogies, Tamar is by implication a Canaanite. This is probably the preferable reading of the text, though as noted before an “unidentified” woman takes on a special status in Genesis. We should also note that the parallel story of Ruth continually stresses the Moabite status of Ruth. The key to resolution of Tamar’s status, then, is structural, relating to the difference between wife-giving and wife-taking as actions of the Abrahamic central lineage. That is, all of the cases of a woman from the central line being offered as a wife are thwarted, while the descendants of Abram take wives from Aramea, Egypt, the Ishmaelites, and even from Canaanites. Recall that even if Simeon and Levi would not give their sister to Shechem, they certainly had no problem with taking Hamor’s women and converting them into wives. Thus, even if Tamar is a Canaanite, her status as a potential wife rests more on her “personal character” than on her background.
The structural reversal of Dinah and Tamar is similar to the reversal of “killing” and “killed” posited for Simeon and Levi against Er and Onan. Dinah “went out to the women of the land to visit,” an action suggesting that she might become like them in custom. When the women of Shechem were brought into Israel, Jacob gave instructions to “his family and all the others who were with him: “Get rid of the foreign gods that you have among you; then purify yourselves and put on fresh clothes’ ” (Genesis 35:2; cf. Deuteronomy 21:10-14). Tamar also changed her garments, from the widow’s costume to the clothing of a temple prostitute, an image playing to Judah’s Canaanite sexual association. Thus, Tamar moves the plot through her own “righteous act” disguised in treachery and deceit. Her act strikes the blow of redemption, just as Simeon and Levi violently cut off the redemption of Dinah. In having Judah perform her redemption, Tamar makes the genealogical shift which parallels the marriage movements of the central genealogies. She then symbolically affirms her “in-group” status by changing into her widow’s clothing immediately after the conjugal enactment with Judah. Tamar is not an evil woman, but one willing to accept her obligations to the patriarchal line to whom she has been given, with the result that Judah is blessed with progeny, his fertility reaffirmed and his household brought from danger of extermination.
The parallel of Israel and Judah in Genesis 34 and 38 is an excellent example of what Aristotle called “thought” (διάνοια) in tragedy. He described the kernel of difference between “thought” and “ethos” as follows:20
The third property of tragedy is thought. This is the ability to say what is possible and appropriate in any given circumstances; it is what, in the speeches of the play, is related to the arts of politics and rhetoric. The older dramatic poets made their characters talk like statesmen, where those of today make them talk like rhetoricians. Character () is that which reveals personal choice, the kinds of thing a man chooses or rejects when it is not obvious. Thus there is no revelation of character in speeches in which the speaker shows no preferences or aversions whatever. Thought, on the other hand, is present in speeches where something is being shown to be true or untrue, or where some general opinion is being expressed.
Confronted by his sons’ actions, Israel states the obvious: “You have brought trouble upon me by making me loathsome to the inhabitants of the land, the Canaanites and the Perizzites. I have so few men that, if these people unite against me and attack me, I and my family will be wiped out” (Genesis 34:30). This is a statement about possibilities, what is to be expected from the situation. The response of Simeon and Levi is a manifestation of the ethos of the story: “Is our sister to be treated as a harlot?”
Harlot? To be sure, the reference makes sense of the Judah and Tamar plot, where Tamar must specifically be treated as a harlot in order to redeem herself. And the response of Judah when confronted with his personal signs of patriarchal status is parallel to Israel’s statement to his sons, though not in the form of complaints we might expect him to have. He says, “She is more in the right than I am, since I did not give her to my son Shelah” (Genesis 38:26). Here we find a statement of what is appropriate, the recognition that Judah’s personal choice in the situation was wrong. Thus, what has been interpreted as a negative treatment of Judah yields one of the finest examples of his personal honor, just as the portrayal of a weak Israel in Genesis 34 plays on the themes of honor and obligation.
Turning to the parallels of Genesis 38 and 39, we find two examples of an action pattern common to Genesis narrative, but developed with special emphasis for the characters of Judah and Joseph. In each story the brothers have the symbols of their status taken from them, then used as evidence against them in a judgment. Judah surrenders his “seal, cord, and staff,” and when he cannot redeem them fears being made a laughingstock. The counter image has Joseph running naked from the clutches of a seductress, she grasping his clothing, the only real “possession” he might claim as his own. These farcical situations are to be compared with the portrayal of an Isaac so blind and old that he cannot tell the difference between the young Jacob and the true Esau, saying: “Ah, the fragrance of my son is like the fragrance of a field that the Lord has blessed . . .” (Genesis 27:27).
Hebrew stories, at times, make a laughingstock of the patriarch in order to drive home the serious point that the line is blessed. Such comedic elements, a “dumb luck” sense of the text, is in stark contrast to the effects of fate in Greek tragedy. In the Oedipus story, for example, the plot includes a violated patriarch, twin sons who struggle, a thwarted marriage alliance, and threats to lineage continuity; and in the end, everybody dies except Oedipus and Creon, the lineages come to an end, the marriage alliance is dashed, and every other sinister turn of events is enacted. The plots of the Dinah and Judah stories kill only those necessary to furthering the story development or social premises of alliance, and end with validations of lineages or kingly lines rather than termination. Indeed, aside from Genesis 38, no character in the Joseph cycle meets a tragic death.
Overall, the three story types pertaining to marriage in Genesis yield a highly consistent series of genealogical, rank, and alliance affirmations. The many vignettes contribute to a whole social conception, in the process resolving many elements of narrative action which otherwise might appear mystifying or contradictory on casual reading. The power of these structural elements is brought to full force through their interweaving and themal connection. It remains for us to observe some of the more refined sense of story development through formal analysis. In this task we may seek a provisional closure to a genealogically grounded reading of the “founding” book of the Torah.
Mythos of Patriarchal Succession
Claude Lévi-Strauss devised his notion of the “atom” of kinship through wide cross-cultural analysis of traditional systems of family reckoning.21 The atom recognizes first that kinship rests upon ties of alliance represented in the relationships of husbands and wives and of men of lines married to one another, either a man and his wife’s brother or, more usually, a man and his mother’s brother. Second, kinship rests on modes of filiation running between generations, from either father to son, or again, from a man to his sister’s son. The “atom” then, consists of key links expressed in the diagram:
Individual cultural systems are distinguished by the way each of the relationships of this diagram are expressed in particular patterns of behavior, obligation, respect, and corporate identity. We should not be surprised, then, that the essential framework of kinship relations in Genesis should expressly reflect the basic unit of kinship. Of greater importance is our ability to construe the specific ethos, or cultural configuration, created for the unit by the Genesis narratives. In order to accomplish this task, it will be helpful to identify specifically how the basic structure is expressed throughout the text, as well as in some related texts from Hebrew and Greek literature. We may begin by observing that the central genealogies stress a one-generation difference between husbands and wives, such that a man is seen as occupying the same generation as his mother’s brother. This convention recognizes the relative ranking of wife-givers to wife-takers, as we have seen, and sets up the potential discord between agnatically related uncles and nephews.
Three other points of discord are found in the Genesis texts, in each case associated with one of the other kinds of relationship of the elementary structure. That is, fathers and sons, husbands and wives, and siblings all engage in different kinds of struggle. Genesis handles sibling rivalry through pairs of brothers or sisters, producing the general kinship structure for stories shown in Figure 25a. The graph shows the relationships of husband and wife on the upper generation, the sibling relationship as sons of the primary line, and the other two relationships as a link between wife-giving and wife-taking groups, the actual wife-giver being on the lower generation.
Comparing Figure 25a to Figure 22, it will be immediately apparent that the central patriarchal marriages present an ideal situation of rank and marriage equations. The patriarch brings in a woman or women from the allied line, has “two sons,” resolves the competition of the sons with blessings, and is then replaced by a son who starts the process again. Isaac provides the case of direct sibling rivalry, the competition of twins, while Jacob presents the case of general sibling rivalry, the sons of two competing mothers.
Additional development of the same ideal structure finds expression in several other Genesis stories, as well as in the book of Ruth and the Oedipus cycle of Greek literature (Figure 25, b-f). In wife-taking stories, the structure includes a third male sibling, while in wife-giving versions of the structure the third sibling is a female (cf. Figure 25, b and d against c, e, and f). The “third sibling” position is sometimes occupied by a true brother or sister (Er-Onan-Shelah, Simeon-Levi-Dinah,Eteocles-Polynices-Antigone), but more often involves a conflation of generations created by succession of a patriarch (such as Oedipus-Eteocles-Polynices-Antigone, Perez-Zerah-Shelah, joseph-Manasseh-Ephraim). Stories about the redemption of women produce complex conflations of descendancy. Obed, for example, might be counted as “Mahlon’s son” if we consider Ruth’s redemption to be a levirate performance for Mahlon. Ruth’s redemption, however, is linked to the land of Elimelech. In this sense she replaces Elimelech’s wife, Naomi, in a marriage arrangement similar to the surrogate tie between Sarai and Hagar. Under these conditions Naomi is redeemed and becomes the child’s “nurse,” so Obed becomes a “brother” of Mahlon and Chilion. A similar situation emerges in Genesis 38 for different reasons. Tamar’s generational movement to Judah for redemption replaces a dead wife, bypassing redemption through Shelah. Perez and Zerah, then, become Shelah’s brothers, replacements for the dead Er and Onan. A third variation on this theme is seen in the Oedipus myth. Oedipus moves “up rank” and “up generation” to replace his father and redeem his (now childless) mother. He thus replaces himself through Eteocles and Polynices, and becomes the brother of his own children. Joseph’s structural parallel with Oedipus is based on pure rank assertions, the narrative distinguishing between Potiphar and Potiphera. Thus, though Potiphar’s wife represents the risk of an “incestuous” breach, Joseph successfully avoids the situation and replicates the “two son” birth pattern.
Reference to the genealogical structure moves the plot in each of the stories under consideration. In the Jacob marriage narratives, for example, it is noteworthy that mention of Laban’s sons prompts Jacob’s move toward separation from his uncle (Genesis 31:1). What is usually termed the conflict of Jacob and Laban, then, is actually a conflict between Jacob and the rest of his allies in the household. Recalling the hierarchy of textual units suggested by George Coats (Figure 21), we find that most of the Isaac and Jacob saga divisions entail fraternal strife, sororal strife, rank conflicts of allies, or father-son conflicts. This does not mean that discord is the only potential of the family links, but that discord is a potential which surfaces periodically as a feature of plot. Thus, Isaac “loves” Rebekah, but she intervenes to help Jacob deceive the patriarch at the time of blessing; Jacob favors Joseph, but political blessing is given to Judah in accordance with a strict recognition of Leah’s superior rank over Rachel. These features of the text give the narratives literary tension and expose the underlying “legal” sense of the premises affirmed by patriarchal or other character actions.
The patterns of conflict resolution in Genesis, then, are the primary target for a study of ethos. I see four themal currents running through the narratives pertinent to these interests: (a) threats to lineage continuity, especially threats to the patriarch or matriarch; (b) violations of patriarchal authority by members of the household, (c) lineage validations through women and children, (d) justice in the final resolution of familial disputes. As we view the development of these themes we will stress the Genesis texts, then compare them to the two outside cases of Ruth and Oedipus.
The central patriarchal narratives reflect various kinds of threats to lineage continuity. This is an explicit theme in all of the deception tales concerning Sarai, Sarah, and Rebekah, since the patriarch identifies his wife as a “sister” out of fear for his life (Genesis 12:12; 20:11; 26:9). A second kind of threat is also developed in these stories, the problem of barrenness, brought into explicit statement in Genesis 15:2-3: “But Abram said, ‘O Lord God, what good will your gifts be, if I keep on being childless and have as my heir the steward of my house, Eliezer? . . . See, you have given me no offspring, and so one of my servants will be my heir.’ ” We can also argue more broadly that the long brideservice of Jacob and the enslavement of Joseph constitute endangerment of a lineage. Viewing the stories of Figure 25, we find that the highest ranking lineage representative in each case feels subject to a threat against continuity of his line.
The specific fear has different sources and enters the plot in different ways, but is usually tied to some action within the immediate household. Judah’s fear is linked to his interpretation of the deaths of his sons; he believes Tamar is responsible for the losses, and so he sends her back to her kinsmen under the false pretense that Shelah is “too young” to perform the levirate duty. That he had no intention of giving Shelah to Tamar is indicated by his thought: “He must not die like his brothers” (Genesis 38:11). This is reinforced by his self-judgmental statement, “She is more right than I, since I did not give her my son Shelah to be his wife” (Genesis 38:26).
Joseph’s master suffers fear from a different kind of misconception. He believes his slave has violated his wife, a breach of domestic authority with the connotation of “incest.” Though Joseph is not a son, as a ranking servant in his master’s household the violation of the patriarch’s bed would constitute a grave sexual sin against Potiphar’s family. Joseph’s punishment also threatens his lineage, since as a prisoner he would lose any hope of marriage. Though Joseph’s avoidance of sexual sin is successful, then, it produces the nadir of his personal experience in Egypt. Potiphar’s reaction to his wife’s allegation can be understood as motivated by fear of “replacement” by a member of his household, a very similar fear to that of Laios in the Oedipus story.
Such fear is also weakly developed in the story of Dinah and associated texts. The deception of Shechem and the killing of Hamor and his household by Simeon and Levi can be read as a bold and righteous act, but it places the brothers in the position of acting with patriarchal authority. The text is reasonably clear in disassociating Jacob from the negotiations or killings. His reaction, as the truly responsible individual in the household, is to fear that other people in the vicinity will band together and exterminate him and his lineage. This threat, and the threat posed by the unruly sons, are resolved in different ways. Israel escapes extermination by movement, and then “scatters” the brothers in their blessing, removing their tribal status. Loss of lineage identity in name is an appropriate punishment for a crime which threatened the continuity of Israel’s “whole” social interests.
The stories of Ruth and Oedipus reinforce the idea that patriarchal concern with continuity can take extreme forms. The elder potential levir in Ruth, for example, publicly acknowledges his concern that he will “depreciate his own estate” should he redeem Ruth in order to exercise his claim to Elimelech’s land. Read against Deuteronomic law, the Elder is brought to shame:
If, however, a man does not care to marry his brother’s wife, she shall go up to the elders at the gate and declare, “My brother-in-law does not intend to perform his duty toward me and refuses to perpetuate his brother’s name in Israel.” Thereupon the elders of his city shall summon him and admonish him. If he persists in saying “I am not willing to marry her,” his sister-in-law, in the presence of the elders, shall go up to him and strip his sandal from his foot and spit in his face, saying publicly, “This is how one should be treated who will not build up his brother’s family!” (Deuteronomy 25:7-9)
Whether such public shaming actually ever occurred is difficult to say, but the strength of the images is stirring.22 The sandal-stripping is much milder in Ruth, consisting of a sign of binding agreement between two men. But the overall effect of narratives and rules about the levirate is emphasis of the seriousness of this familial obligation. In the case of Onan, the levirate obligation is clearly linked to responsibilities of obligation to both the father and the dead brother. This underscores the tension existing between fathers, like Judah and Jacob, who think in terms of their own reproductive increase, and sons who must defer to these patriarchal interests until such time as they can in fact assert their own authority. In Genesis as elsewhere, this comes only upon the death of the father, unless the son is banished from his kinsmen.
The Oedipus story gives the threat to lineage continuity its most extreme form, wherein Laios attempts to kill the son in order to avoid the son’s patricide and ruin of the lineage by defilement of the mother. Once his plan is thwarted, the myth plays out the tension of father and son in a “blind” scenario in which the worst fears of the patriarch are actualized. The Joseph story enacts a similar turn of events. Joseph is presented as a righteous member of Potiphar’s household, a man who must endure unjust consequences because of the evil wife’s defilement of the patriarch’s honor. Potiphar’s action, however, creates the very “replacement” he is trying to avoid. Joseph is brought out of prison by Pharaoh and elevated to a position superior to that of Potiphar, and is given a highborn woman as a wife.
A wide array of instruments for termination of a lineage derives from the narratives: retribution for bloodguilt, failure to fulfill fraternal obligations, disrespect for patriarchal authority, incest, and the loss of sons through natural or divine causes. From the point of view of a patriarch, the loss of violating members of the household, no matter how trusted they might have been before generating the threat, is preferable to having the household brought to ruin or extermination. A patriarch may even be willing to face personal “shame” rather than face what he regards as a serious threat to his lineage. Such shame might come from public pronouncement, as in Ruth, or through breach of a contractual obligation, as in Judah and Tamar. Each story in Genesis seems to develop a new variation on the sources of patriarchal fears and possible means of countering them.
But Genesis also makes clear that patriarchal fears are not always warranted. The distinction between the premises of family responsibility and individual motivations is strongly developed in each case. Thus, Judah and Potiphar display correct motivations but wrong perceptions of events. The conflict of Israel and his sons demonstrates that pragmatic actions may be incorrect when considered against the assumptions of responsible action within or between corporate groups. Although the narratives seem to move in terms of crisp pronouncements of “right” and “wrong,” on a deeper level the narratives blur our potential to unequivocally judge action. Unlike the Greek development of these themes, where the plot almost mechanically plays out the most extreme actions and consequences, the Hebrew narratives give a sense of “real-life” situations. The interplay of theme and countertheme is even given voice through the characters, such as Judah, who ends up weighing the merit of his case against that of Tamar, acknowledging his error, and going on with his affairs.
Violations of Patriarchal Authority
I have already amply noted that Simeon and Levi violated their father’s authority. Violations of the patriarch were also carried out by Potiphar’s wife and Tamar. The three stories provide a rich expansion on the themes of acceptable and unacceptable infringements on the patriarchal honor. Joseph’s honor, given his status as a slave, would not be a major concern for the unfortunate Potiphar, and so he is left with a wife who clearly dishonors him. But we know that Joseph’s redemption sets the matter of his honor right, and at least metaphorically accomplishes the replacement Potiphar feared. We may also understand the wicked wife’s actions as a violation of Joseph which could have ended his lineage possibilities. Joseph comes to power because of his abilities as a “seer,” and also because the plot of Genesis 39 spells out his honor in a familial matter. In other terms, the attempted seduction of Joseph is an essential ingredient in his total character development, a means of establishing for him an image commensurate with the taking of responsibility. As we shall see, this is also the critical link between Genesis 39 and 38. But let us recall that Joseph’s dreams in Genesis 37 cause him to flaunt his position among the brothers, and even raise questions in Jacob’s mind:
Then he had another dream, and this one, too, he told to his brothers. “I had another dream . . . this time, the sun and the moon and eleven stars were bowing down to me.” When he also told it to his father, his father reproved him. “What is the meaning of this dream of yours? . . . Can it be that I and your mother and your brothers are to come and bow to the ground before you?” So his brothers were wrought up against him but his father pondered the matter. (Genesis 37:9-11)
Other stories in the central genealogies involve the violation of the patriarch by wives or sons. Jacob steals the blessing of Esau by deceiving his father with his mother’s help. Jacob is deceived by Leah at their marriage. Jacob tricks Laban out of his possessions, and Rachel steals Laban’s household gods. Deception also flows in the other direction, along with the mistrust and fear characteristic of the patriarchs. In other terms, “violation” is the counterpart of “fear” in a system of mistrust running up and down the family rank structure, manifest through textual features of deception, reversal of blessings, escape, banishment, incest, and open confrontation.
Tamar’s violation of Judah, for example, displays a balance of family interests offsetting Judah’s fear. Tamar was “justified” by her motivation toward removing an injustice to her. But she proceeded very carefully. Judah was not brought to ruin or extreme public humiliation, suffering a milder tarnish to his pride because he was forced to admit his culpability. When Judah acknowledged the signs of his authority honorably, he actualized to an extent his fear of “being made a laughingstock.” Because Judah was allowed in the narrative to pronounce his own guilt, he is shown to manifest the kind of judgment worthy of a leader. His “character” is exposed in such a way that the contrast drawn with Joseph in Genesis 38 and 39 is not one of “bad” versus “good,” but instead one which places the two brothers on similar levels of potential.
It is again helpful to observe the notion of violation through the stark images of the Oedipus story. When Laios lost his life to the stranger on the road to Delphi, he also lost his kingdom. The young Oedipus moved on to Thebes and solved the riddle of the Sphinx. Through his action Oedipus is given the kingdom and the queen, Jocasta. Jocasta was, in effect, a sign of kingly authority. But the relationship she established with her son also violated her family’s honor, specifically the honor of both father and son. Thus, Jocasta stands as a symbol of a tragic family fortune, in contrast to Tamar, the daughter-in-law who bears twins as her own curse but her husband’s blessing. The struggling twins of the Oedipus cycle represent the ultimate violation of the father, since in the Greek religious tradition their deaths deny Oedipus a Theban afterlife.23 Struggling twins in the Hebrew traditions yield kings, like Esau, Jacob, and Perez, the ancestor of David. In the balance of violation and fear, then, the Hebrew narratives develop a specific theme of providence, given voice through Joseph’s statement to his brothers: “Have no fear. Can I take the place of God? Even though you meant harm to me, God meant it for good, to achieve his present end, the survival of many people” (Genesis 50:20).
The covenant promises of God to the central patriarchs especially include fertility. For Abraham and Isaac, fertility extends beyond the immediate lineage to the creation of parallel lines, the “nations” of Ishmael and Esau. For Jacob, fertility means the culmination of the promises, the creation of a powerful “chosen” people. In order for this new social identification to be achieved, the potential fraternal strife and paternal challenges by sons must be overcome, and the brothers brought under a lasting social canopy. The final promises of the brothers to each other in Genesis 50, whether Joseph actually enslaves the others or not, accomplishes this end, for it guarantees the continuing social identification of Israel through generations.
We must note, however, that the life of Jacob and his sons is more beset with strife, deception, and difficulty than either of the two preceding generations. In this context the signs of lineage validation take on critical importance. The form of validation is established in the central narrative patterns, specifically in the households of Abraham and Isaac, then brought to logical conclusion in the story of Jacob. In each generation the form of validation is the same, consisting of the elements of proper marriage and fertility. Wives and children, then, are the signs of lineage success, more important than access to land or material possessions.
Proper marriage involves the pattern asserted throughout the marriage narratives, union with a woman one-generation down from a colateral lineage. Agnatic association is not the essential feature of successful alliance, but most of the structural and symbolic information in Genesis and other biblical sources suggests that agnatic association is preferred. This is consistent with the reconstruction of ancient Jewish social organization presented by Norman Gottwald (see pp. 55-56), where lineages (beth-’avoth) are collected in alliance groups (mishpāhāh) functioning as agnatic associations within larger agnatic units, the tribes (shēvet). We must remember, though, that the actual genealogical link between men of different alliance groups might not be any more traceable than the relationship between men of different cultural confederations in Canaan. Because the “tribal” associations of Genesis are discussed as agnatic ties, Genesis presents an ideal model for what was in fact a much more fluid social system.
A proper marriage, then, is mainly dependent upon the production of offspring who honor the elders, manifest strength of character, and display a sense of corporate responsibility toward members of their household as son or as patriarch. The two-son formula is employed widely in biblical and world traditions to express these validating aims. Sons who do not conform to the patterns of corporate responsibility are removed and passed over in blessings, while sons fitting the ideal succeed their fathers as patriarchs.
In the central genealogies the removed sons are Ishmael and Esau. Ishmael is invalidated through three mechanisms. First, he is circumcised with Abraham. This makes him something of a rival to his father, a highborn man among the initial circumcised group. In contrast, Isaac is the first son of a circumcised patriarch who is brought into the covenant on the eighth day of life, in accordance with God’s directions—Isaac is a more perfect symbol of the validating aspect of circumcision than is Ishmael. Second, after Isaac’s birth, Sarah sees Ishmael “playing with” her son (Genesis 21:9). The Hebrew has a negative sense, that Ishmael was “mocking” or “making fun of’ Isaac. This is the first indication of fraternal discord and, as such, disrespect also for the father. Finally, Ishmael’s mother was disrespectful of Sarah’s rights toward Ishmael and Abram, so Ishmael was never legitimized by unified parental recognition. In the end, after his banishment, we find Ishmael “set against his brothers.”
Esau also shows disrespect for his parents through his marriages. His Canaanite wives draw negative comment from Rebekah, and his Ishmaelite alliance through Mahalath adds insult. Esau marries in the “wrong direction” and so faces territorial exclusion. But the strife between Esau and Jacob does not leave the younger brother without culpability. Jacob “buys” the birthright under a form of duress.24 Jacob also deceives his father under the direction of his mother. I have pointed out that Isaac’s instructions to Jacob to seek a wife in Aramea have a negative sense similar to banishment, but we must also recognize that the trip validates Jacob in terms of proper marriage. Rebekah’s part in the deception of Isaac places her in a direct parallel with Sarah: the mothers act to determine the blessings of their sons, shifting succession from the natural inclinations of the fathers. The central cases of succession are instances of “mother knows best.” In each case the narratives provide the supplemental validation of blessings from God, first through the sacrifice of Isaac and later through Jacob’s theophany at Bethel (Genesis 28:10-19).
Turning to the stories graphed in Figure 25, in each case we again find the validation of lineage accomplished through births of “two sons” and action of a woman. The woman’s role in each of the biblical cases, moreover, involves violation of the patriarch through a form of deception. The deceptions of Tamar and Potiphar’s wife have already been discussed in detail; we may merely note again that each enables the birth of two sons, Tamar directly and Potiphar’s wife in an indirect way. We should also recall that the blessing of Manasseh and Ephraim are reversed, just as the birth order of Perez and Zerah is confused. Treatment of the sons of Judah and Joseph involves the subtle replay of important themes of validation. Asenath, because of her Egyptian status, lies as outside the connubial range of Israel as do Ishmael’s wife and daughter. Manasseh and Ephraim must be legitimized by adoption, the act being precipitated by the memory of Rachel’s death. The two sons thus replace the lost sons, Levi and Joseph, in the context of later genealogical reckoning. In their original context Manasseh and Ephraim may have been intended to be replacements for Levi and Simeon, the brothers scattered in the blessings of Genesis 49. In any event, generational replacement of the two boys is a formal recognition of succession to Joseph’s honored position, and provides a closer balance between sons of Leahite and Rachaelite heritage. Because of his Egyptian wife, Joseph never regains full social inclusion in Israel.
Perez and Zerah revive the predicament of twin sons, the “resolution” being the confusion created by a midwife who marks the hand of the elder with a red thread, only to have it withdrawn and the other brother born first. Because Perez is linked to the genealogy of David we know he is the primary successor of Judah, but he and his brother remain signs of the fertility of Judah rather than being elevated to the status of named lineages at the top of Israel’s social organization. Thus, Perez and Zerah replace Er and Onan, Judah’s sons killed by God. The most significant fact in the story is that Perez and Zerah are allowed to live. This must derive from some sense in which Tamar is “correct” as a wife of Judah. The most likely textual sign of her correctness is the generational status established for her in the plot of the story, taken together with Tamar’s action in the face of injustice. Looking back to the central marriage accounts, we should note that Tamar reconstitutes the same kind of deception which gave Jacob Leah instead of Rachel. Her “veiled” face prevented Judah from recognizing the woman presenting herself to him. Recall also that Rebekah veiled her face when she first encountered Isaac (Genesis 24:65), but that Rachel was embraced on her first contact with Jacob (Genesis 29:11). Seeing a woman’s beauty, indeed, is fully associated with less desirable unions throughout Genesis, as in all of the deception stories and the tale of the humbling of Dinah.
The same themes permeate the book of Ruth. Naomi directs Ruth’s encounter with Boaz at the threshing floor. When Ruth is discovered, Boaz cannot tell who she is. Ruth does not resort to a clear deception, but Naomi’s use of Ruth to assure her own redemption is a more “active” parallel with Tamar’s drastic measures. Naomi, after all, represents the case of a woman who might well not be accepted back into the group. Her husband had discontinued residence with his kinsmen, and the letter of the levirate rules in Deuteronomy (chapter 25:5) concerns brothers “who are living together.” Naomi had already produced sons, and hence could not claim redemption under the levirate rule. The fact that her sons died complicates her situation. These confusing aspects of the Ruth story have been much discussed, but not in the context of an overall Genesis marriage formula.25 My reading of Ruth sees the plot as a levirate deception in which the Elder levir is not adequately informed of Ruth’s status. In the end, Ruth’s union to Boaz is a simple contract marriage which is validated by a birth pertinent to the kingly line of David. Because of this topical thrust and the close pattern parallels of Ruth to Genesis 38, the story reaffirms my interpretation of Judah and Tamar as an “honor tale” showing Judah’s patriarchal strengths, and Tamar’s correctness as a wife.
Comparison of Genesis 38 and 39 with the Oedipus cycle also supports this view, as noted in the preceding section. The Oedipus story works on the theme of validation through a reverse logic, however, citing the circumstances where the status of a “validating” woman can produce lineage termination. The ancient Greeks would certainly have appreciated the mythos of Genesis, though they might not have liked the “character” of biblical patriarchs. What is clear in both traditions is that lineage validation is not a simple matter of patriarchal choice. It is based instead upon the strict adherence to rules of proper behavior, proper marriage, and proper assessments of situations. This brings us to the last prominent theme of conflict resolution, justice in domestic relations.
Justice in the Resolution of Conflict
Genesis resolves each of the major lineage oppositions it presents through application of a pattern of judgment. The pattern involves the elements: (a) a call for judgment, (b) human action, and (c) justice confirmed by divine blessing or curse. Consider, for example, Sarai’s complaint to Abram in their confrontation over Hagar: “Then Sarai said to Abram: ‘The wrong I suffer falls on you! I put my maid into your arms, and as soon as she found she had conceived, she looked with disdain on her mistress. May the Lord decide between me and you!’ ” (Genesis 16:5). The call for justice incorporates the idea of God as witness and judge. The implication of Sarai’s last statement is that God knows who is correct, and will act against the offending party in the dispute. This feature is more explicitly developed in the honorable separation of Jacob and Laban, where Laban says:
. . . May the Lord watch between you and me, when we are absent one from the other. If you mistreat my daughters, or take other wives besides my daughters, even though there is no man with us, remember, God is witness between you and me. . . . Note this heap and this memorial pillar I have set up between you and me. This heap is a witness, and the pillar is a witness, that I will not pass over this heap to you, and you will not pass over this heap and this pillar to me, for harm. May the God of Abraham and the God of Nahor, and the God of their father, judge between us.
In these two instances, opposite resolutions of the call for justice occur. Abram returns Hagar to Sarai’s control, resulting in Hagar’s mistreatment and escape; Laban and Jacob go their separate ways in peace, ending their long pattern of mutual deception. Divine validation of these “solutions” to conflict comes in the form of blessings.
The case of Hagar is complex, for, as we have already observed, Abram is in a difficult double-bind over the status of his wives. His return of Hagar to Sarai is only a short-term solution, heeding the complaint of Sarai. Hagar’s escape prestates the ultimate solution, but is incorrect because it removes from Abram the opportunity for just patriarchal action. The promise to Hagar of Genesis 16:7-14 is accompanied by a direction for her to return to Sarai, but Ishmael’s birth on the way precludes Sarai’s opportunity to recognize Ishmael. The plot carefully moves toward the final “just” solution in Genesis 21. After the birth of Isaac, Sarai again calls for justice, but Abraham is distressed over his son Ishmael. He receives an immediate promise of blessing for the boy, and so finally discharges Hagar and Ishmael to fully resolve the marriage strife for both women. Once the separation is accomplished, the blessing of the boy is repeated for Hagar and a well is miraculously provided to sustain Ishmael. The double resolution of the problem is characteristic of the Genesis narratives, as can be seen from the list of conflict resolutions shown in Table 3.
Returning to the case of Jacob’s separation from Laban, we find an even more complex statement of resolution. The oath of Laban and Jacob just observed is the call for justice enunciated by Laban, the functioning patriarch in the story, but constitutes the third search for resolution in the Jacob-Laban novella. This call is immediately followed by separation of the two kinsmen and an appearance of angels: “Early in the morning Laban arose, and kissed his grandchildren and his daughters and blessed them; then he departed and returned home. Jacob also resumed his journey, and angels of God met him. When Jacob saw them, he said: This is God’s camp.’ So he named that place Mahanaim” (Genesis 32:1-3).
Table 3. Repetitions of the conflict-separation narratives in Genesis, showing the patterns of calls for justice, action, and divine validation (also see Figure 20).
This final resolution and validation are preceded by a chiastically organized narrative in which Jacob makes two different requests for justice from Laban, centered on the divine promise of Genesis 31:3. Jacob’s first request presents his case for release after the birth of Joseph, and his second request charges Laban to prove any wrongdoing of which he is accused. His first request is justifiable under the legitimizing function of Joseph’s birth, but is met with refusal and an agreement for additional service to Laban. Jacob’s deception of Laban in this instance results in most of the flocks being transferred to Jacob’s ownership. The “magical” means Jacob uses for producing spotted, streaked, and speckled kids introduces the idea of hidden knowledge used against Laban—we need not engage in an argument giving Jacob knowledge of selective breeding. Jacob’s culpability is increased by his selection of “hardier” animals over “weaker” ones.
The second charge of Jacob follows his divine instruction to leave Laban and incorporates his escape plot and the theft of Laban’s household gods by Rachel. When Laban overtakes Jacob with a force of kinsmen, he charges Jacob with the theft and is deceived by Rachel during his search. Thus, Jacob’s second charge for justice is actually a false one, placing Laban in a more sympathetic position for the reader. The whole narrative underscores the tensions of wife-giver and wife-taker relationships founded in brideservice, and prepares us for the honorable discharge of the final separation.
Viewing Table 3, it is apparent that the Jacob-Laban struggle and resolution are neatly punctuated by the Jacob-Esau controversy. The two resolutions of Jacob’s primacy over Esau accomplish the transformation of the brothers from quarreling youths to individual patriarchs fulfilling the blessings of their father. Not only does Jacob obtain (and maintain through struggle) a divine blessing, but the individual calls for justice of Esau (Genesis 27:36-40) and Jacob (32:10-13) nicely oppose to show the anguish of their relationship. Jacob’s subordinate presentation to his brother at their final meeting fulfills Esau’s blessing promise that he would “throw off his yoke” to gain independence. Consistently with Esau’s character, he does not seem to realize what is happening. He accepts Jacob’s gift (a tribute? a price for the birthright?) but seems to actually expect his brother to follow him to Seir. For Jacob’s part, the presentation is a ruse, a diversion allowing his return to Canaan as Israel. In spite of the deception, if it is deception rather than honorable agreement, the brothers fulfill their blessings and leave each other on good terms. Each has his share of justice.
I include at the top of Table 3 the cases of Abram’s separations from Nahor and Lot. The Abram-Nahor separation is not accompanied by a call for justice, but the promise to Abram in Genesis 12:7 parallels the promise to Jacob of Genesis 31:3. This, together with Abraham’s reluctance to send Isaac to Haran, suggests that the initial movement of Abram prestates the general pattern of conflict resolution. The theme of conflict is explicit in the Lot stories, and is again resolved in double scenarios. First, Abram honorably discharges Lot, they separate with Lot taking the apparently most desirable area, and then God makes his promise to Abram. The second resolution accomplishes the kinship segmentation of Abram and Lot by killing Lot’s wife, likely a woman from Abram’s household, and bringing the younger kinsman into sexual sin.
The narrative of the second Abram-Lot segmentation presents the only central patriarchal example of “curse.” The scenario opens with Abraham defending Lot’s honor to God, and God honoring Abraham’s request by sparing Lot and his family from the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. In the process of Lot’s escape, the angels visiting him are demanded by the evil people of the city. His solution is to offer his daughters to the crowd, an action we may reasonably count as an unfortunate error of judgment. Thus, in the validation of Lot’s lineage, his blessing of fertility, he is given to the very daughters he would have victimized. Lot is reduced to the sin of incest. The event is marked by the absence of the divine, and located in a cave.
The conflict development of the Joseph novella incorporates a subtle differentiation of “character” and “motive” for the key sons of Jacob. The novella is characterized by independent calls for justice by Reuben, Judah, and Joseph. The Reuben and Judah contrast is interwoven between chapters 37 and 44, with the ultimate resolution of the conflict concentrating on the characters of Joseph and Judah. The general conflict between Joseph and his brothers involves his “bad reports” about the sons of Bilhah and Zilpah, his dreams which are interpreted by his brothers and father as involving unreasonable aspirations, and the general favor shown to him by Jacob. Genesis 37 quickly brings these conflicts to a head in the complex events at Dothan. In Dothan, when the brothers plot to kill Joseph, Reuben issues the first call for justice, suggesting that the boy be thrown into a pit so he might then restore the lad to his father. Reuben’s concern is as much for himself as for Joseph, but his planned rescue is thwarted by the first in a series of redemptions. Joseph is taken from the pit by Midianites even as the counterplan of Judah is unfolding.
The plan of Judah to sell Joseph represents a second call for justice, but involves taking the matter of judgment against Joseph to the brothers. Judah cites the potential of bloodguilt and the obligations of agnatic relationship as justifications for sparing Joseph’s life. Thus, Judah’s motive, to rid the brothers of the favored rival, is bad, but his justification is consistent with themes of lineage obligations and is openly stated. The plan is a clear infringement on patriarchal honor, as evidenced in the deception of Jacob after the crime is committed.
Reuben, in contrast, has a stronger motive, but sets himself against his brothers by his deceptive means. He is ultimately drawn into the plot of deception to save himself. The actions in both sequences involve theft, first of Joseph by the brothers and the Midianites, then of an animal which is killed to provide blood used in Jacob’s deception. The subtle difference between imprisonment and enslavement brings emphasis to the general rejection of Joseph’s attitude by all of his brothers.
We have already discussed the general resolution of this family conflict in detail. Here we may add simply that Joseph’s charges of espionage and theft are, like Jacob’s charge to Laban in Genesis 31:36-42, categorically false. As we have seen, the false charges bring forth Judah’s formal pronouncement of the true issue. The resolution by divine validation comes from Joseph’s own lips, both in his initial revelation of identity and in his final promise to his brothers. These statements, moreover, refer to the redemptions of Joseph’s rise in Potiphar’s house and his final elevation by Pharaoh, both of which are accomplished with copious references to divine intervention in Joseph’s affairs.
We find in these scenarios the counterpart of validation through marriage and fertility. Because fertility brings with it the necessity of differentiating offspring, God and the patriarch are continually called upon to resolve conflicts. Patriarchal action which is just results in validation by God, while the wicked and unjust are brought through divine action to some form of justice. Justice, in each case, seems to be structurally commensurate to the infraction. Thus, Lot is delivered to his daughters, Hagar is given her freedom because of her mistreatment, Sarah is given a son because Ishmael was denied her, Jacob is banished into brideservice for his theft, and Esau is given gifts and kingship for his loss of birthright and blessing. Justice, then, is the restoration of honor when family rights are violated, and so it cannot be discussed at all in the absence of violation.
This helps us understand why the text is the way it is. I recall a conversation I had several years ago with an ancient historian about my study of Genesis. When I spoke of the moral themes in the Torah he sneered: “What moral system is in Genesis—Adam and Eve lie to God, Cain kills his brother, Noah gets drunk, Abraham gives his wife to other men, Lot commits incest with his daughters, women cheat their fathers and husbands, Jacob and Joseph. . . .” My response to such viewpoints today is the same as it was then: I see the question of morality in Genesis as a matter of interpretation. But biblical interpretation is no easy matter. Most modern readers are equipped with only a few of the conceptual tools to begin reading. We encounter language barriers, cultural difference, editorial and theological bias of translation, and most of all, constant limitations of our willingness to meet the text on its own terms. My reading of Genesis is not the reading of Genesis, for it is never quite the same on each encounter with the text. I also know from the work of my colleagues that their experience is similar.
These comments move us far from Aristotle’s essentially static view of literature. After all the models, graphs, and charts, we find that interpretation is not simply a matter of structure, but is instead that activity wherein we allow our minds to move beyond structure to implication, and from implication to a total experience. Genesis is a book about signs, beautiful expressions of how God signified a relationship of commitment to human beings, a covenant with the patriarchs and their descendants. Genesis is an allegory of semiotic, a text which continually prompts our “reflections upon the role of signs in structuring experience.”26 Encounters with the text lead us toward the elusive covenant. The signs of the covenant appear, only to be defiled, then transformed into new appealing images loaded with the contradictions of the evolving narration. We must be constantly aware of the tenuous covenant between writer and listener, with the text as its signifier, its potentials and realized meanings leading the two apart. The graphs on the page may be fixed, but Genesis shimmers before us. Its meanings are illusions of our own flickering consciousness.
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