Category Archives: Bible

Form Critical Approaches to the Psalms Post Gunkel

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There have been many modifications and refinements of the form critical method since Gunkel (for a summary of Gunkel’s approach to the Psalms, see my previous post A Form-Critical Classification of the Psalms according to Hermann Gunkel).

Many problems still remain with the form critical approach to the psalms. Recent literature has definitely exhibited more caution about the specific social and cultic settings proposed for the psalms. While earlier form-critical work has continued to be useful — if not essential — to recent psalms scholarship, its usefulness is found in the literary and stylistic features that it highlights, as well as its broad suggestions about situations in life.

Wisdom in the Psalms?

The mouths of the righteous utter wisdom,
and their tongues speak justice.
The law of their God is in their hearts;
their steps do not slip (Ps 37:30-31).

A persistent problem that has continually dogged the form-critical approach to the psalms is the lack of agreement on certain forms. No where is this disagreement felt more than with the wisdom psalms (although Royal psalms would be a close second). Norman Whybray has even refered to the task of identifying wisdom psalms as “making bricks without straw.” While Gunkel’s (Introduction to Psalms; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com) characterization of wisdom psalms as having a didactic intent and personal and individual expressions of experience has generally been accepted by scholars, as well as his identification of Psalms 1, 34, 37, 49, 78, 105, 106, 111, 112, and 127 as wisdom psalms, no two scholars are in agreement that these are the only criterion and even on what psalms are wisdom psalms! Other criterion include: learned authorship, specific stylistic features (such as “better than” sayings, numerical sayings, adress to sons, alphabetic compositions, extensive use of metaphors, etc.), common motifs, a mood of private devotion and piety, and a concern for order. This has led some scholars, such as Norman Whybray and Roland Murphy, to identify many more wisdom psalms in the Psalter. In contrast, James Crenshaw (The Psalms: An Introduction [Eerdmans, 2001], 87-95; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com) questions the very category of wisdom psalms. He notes:

I do not see any profit in attributing such psalms to the sages when we know so little about the authors and their social contexts. Perhaps we should limit ourselves to what can definitely be affirmed: some psalms resemble wisdom literature in stressing the importance of learning, struggling to ascertain life’s meaning, and employing proverbial lore. Their authorship and provenance matter less than the accuracy and profundity of what they say (p. 94).

Here is a listing of wisdom psalms according to some recent scholars:

Gunkel/Begrich: Psalms 1, 37, 49, 73, 91, 112, 127, 128, 133.
Murphy: Psalms 1, 32, 34, 37, 49, 112, 128 (and wisdom influence in Psalms 25, 31, 39, 40, 62, 92, and 94).
Kuntz: Psalms 1, 32, 34, 37, 49, 112, 128, 133.
Whybray: Psalms 8, 14, 25, 34, 39, 49, 73, 90, 112, 127, 131, 139.

Laments Post Gunkel

As noted above, there have been many refinements of Gunkel’s approach to the psalms and the laments — as the most popular type of psalm found in the book of Psalms — has received its fair share of attention. Some of the most significant changes in the interpretation of the individual laments since Gunkel have centred both on his description of their structure (Formensprache), as well as his reconstruction of their putative setting in life (Sitz im Leben).

By and large, Gunkel’s formal treatment of individual laments has been accepted by most scholars with only minor changes, most of which consisted of refinements or elaborations of the various components that make up the lament. For instance, Westermann, in his Praise and Lament in the Psalms, fleshed out the “lament proper� in lament psalms by identifying its three main constituents which varied in importance at different times:

  • the complaint against God,
  • the psalmist’s lament over personal suffering, and
  • the complaint against those who oppose him, i.e., the enemy.

A more extensive refinement on Gunkel’s classification has been offered by Craig Broyles in his Conflict of Faith and Experience in the Psalms. He has suggested a further division of the individual laments into complaints (psalms where Yahweh is accused of wrongdoing on behalf of the psalmist) and pleas (psalms where the Yahweh is not responsible but is appealed to for help). While this distinction is helpful, at times the distinction between the two categories is ambiguous. It does highlight, however, an important question about the primary nature of the lament and related issues of nomenclature (e.g., should the genre be labeled laments or complaints, etc.; see my post on Laments, Complaints, Prayers, Pleas, or Petitions?).

One component of the individual lament that has received a fair amount of attention is the “certainty of hearing� that often occurs near the end of lament psalms (though not necessarily). What has attracted the attention is the sudden change in mood from despair to confidence. For example, in the ending of Psalm 6, the psalmist declares (seemingly) out of nowhere that Yahweh has heard his supplication:

Depart from me, all you workers of evil,
for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.
The Lord has heard my supplication;
the Lord accepts my prayer.
All my enemies shall be ashamed and struck with terror;
they shall turn back, and in a moment be put to shame (Ps 6:8-10).

The most common explanation of this sudden shift is related to seeing a cultic setting behind the psalm in which a priest delivers an oracle of salvation that promises Yahweh’s response between the lament proper and the words of confidence. This view was advanced and solidified by Bergrich, who drew a number of parallel expressions between the lament psalms and the salvation oracles in Second Isaiah, and attempted to reconstruct what the oracle of salvation would of looked like. The biggest weakness with this view is that there are no extant salvation oracles in any lament psalms, and if this was the common practice, the reasons for omitting the oracle are not clear. Others have tried to explain the phenomenon by appealing to an inward psychological process whereby during his prayer the psalmist either recalls God’s past faithfulness or comes to grip with his situation and moves on, or recalls his faith in God the divine warrior. While there may be some vestiges of a cultic action behind the shift in tone, the notion of recollection of Yahweh’s past deeds or some similar faith-oriented explanation is just as if not more likely.

Since Gunkel’s time there is also a new appreciation for the individuality of each psalm (though it should be noted that as is often the case, it was Gunkel’s students, and not Gunkel himself who applied form-criticism too rigidly). Because form-critical descriptions tended to focus on what is generic and not what is specific, earlier form criticism often resulted in a psalm’s individuality to be glossed over. This new concern is due in part to the renewed interest in Hebrew poetry, and in part to dissatisfaction with the large collection of psalms that didn’t fit neatly into any one genre. What is clear, however, is that a psalm’s internal poetic structure needs to be determinative in breaking down a psalm into stanzas, etc., rather than a predetermined generic mold.

Most of the debate since Gunkel has focused on the Sitz im Leben of the lament psalms, and, on a more theoretical level, on the relationship of Sitz im Leben to form. To a large extent, the discussion of the setting revolved around the identity of the “I� and the enemy in the laments. The debate surrounding the identity of the “I� in the psalms has its roots before Gunkel with the work of Smend, who argued that the “I� in many psalms is not an individual but a personification of the community. Gunkel, and Balla in accord with him, argued that this may be the case when a connection is made explicit (e.g., Ps 129; though I understand the liturgical reference to Israel in the first verse as redactional), and appealed to “Jeremiah’s confessions� and the psalms that seem to make a distinction between the psalmist and other Israelites (e.g., Ps 35) to support the view that the “I� is an individual.

A modified version of Smend’s view has been resurrected in the last century with the work of Birkeland (a student of Mowinkel). He argued in two publications that since the enemies are clearly foreign nations in communal laments, and the enemies in individual laments are describe with similar terms, and are even at times explicitly identified as foreign nations (see Ps 9), then the only logical conclusion is to maintain that the enemies in individual laments are also foreign nations. This view presupposes that the “I� in virtually every individual lament (Birkeland has been rightly criticized for his unequivocal statements) is a representative of the nation, likely the king, which would make them royal psalms. Mowinckel, who had originally maintained (in his Psalmenstudien) that the Sitz im Leben of the individual laments was a healing ritual in which the psalmist would go before the priest in the temple and ask for healing (This view was based on Mowinckel’s understanding of the enemy as the “worker of evil�, i.e., a sorcerer who is responsible for the psalmist’s illness), was partially convinced by Birkeland. Mowinckel’s modified view, as found in his The Psalms in Israel’s Worship, distinguished between personal psalms of lamentation with sorcery and a healing ritual as their setting, and national psalms of lamentation in the “I-form.� The notion that the “I� is the king representative of the nation has also been argued recently by John Eaton (Kingship and the Psalms [SCM, 1975]; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com) and Steven Croft (The Identify of the Individual in the Psalms [Sheffield, 1987]; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com), though neither of them are as dogmatic or extreme as Birkeland.

Other settings that have been proposed for the individual laments include a juridical setting in which the psalmist, who had been unjustly accused, would flee to the temple to undergo a trial in order to clear his name (e.g., Beyerlin). He would then pray the psalm to encourage Yahweh to adjudicate a fair judgment. Along a similar vein, Delekat proposed that the laments were originally inscriptions left in the temple by those seeking refuge. Attempts have also been made to understand the enemies in light of socio-economic conditions within Israelite society. Gerstenberger has argued that the context for the laments may be the postexilic family clan, rather than the temple, and that the enemies may often be from within the clan (see his Psalms: Part 1: With an Introduction to Cultic Poetry [Eerdmans, 1988; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com). The laments, then, would be used in a ritual to restore harmony to the clan and rehabilitate the individual. The late Gerald Sheppard takes a similar view, arguing that that laments were read aloud in the temple and were meant to be overheard by the enemies (members of the ruling class?), thereby exposing them to the community and perhaps leading them to repentance.

All these proposed settings for the individual laments have some merit, though it seems more likely that a multiplicity of situations lie behind the laments. There are a number of psalms in which the setting appears to be one of illness (though Mowinckel’s understanding of the “doer of evil� as a sorcerer was clearly overstated, as he himself eventually admitted). Ps 6 has already been mentioned, and there are many other psalms that make reference to the psalmist’s pain and wounds (e.g., Pss 13; 38). But there are also psalms in which there appears to be a juridical setting where the psalmist is pleading his innocence, e.g., Pss 4, 5 (what the specific setting is, however, can only be answered with speculation). There are also psalms in which the enemies do seem to be equated with foreign nations (though it is not clear to me that this means that the “I� in the psalms therefore needs to be a king or ruler), and others where the enemies appear to be from within the same group. And finally, there are also many laments (the majority?) in which the enemy appears to be a personal enemy of the psalmist who poses a real (or perceived; cf. Keel) threat to the poet.

The point that I’m making is that it is not necessary — or even desirable — to try to find “the� Sitz im Leben of the laments. And even if there was one original setting for them, I think that it is unlikely that we could determine it with any certainty. This is because of the stereotypical and formulaic nature of much of the descriptions in the laments. The situation of the psalmist and the nature of his trouble is never specified and can often fit a variety of contexts. Therefore to try to limit the setting of the laments moves against the direction in the psalms themselves. From a slightly different angle, modern folklore studies have also underscored the fact that the interaction between the performer, his material, and his audience is often quite complex and cannot be understood in simple one-to-one terms. The notion that a genre has a one-to-one connection with a single setting is not born out by the evidence. Even a genre like a hymn, which most would place in the cult, is equally at home in a variety of contexts as history and usage has proven (e.g., Gerstenberger, who places many in the context of synagogal worship). Moreover, while there is likely an original oral (and cultic) background to the lament psalm, at some time they were written down and transmitted throughout the community and used again and again by different people in different contexts. Quite opposite to the notion that something was lost by writing it down, the stereotypical character of the laments (and the psalms in general) allowed for diverse and rich usage. Some laments may even have been composed in such a general way so that they could be used in a number of different personal situations.

This is a perspective that Patrick Miller has done a lot to advance, and I think that he is essentially correct (see his Interpreting the Psalms [Fortress, 1986; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com). The open-endedness of the laments make them fruitful quarry for theological reflection. As Miller has argued, this open-endedness allows the laments to be appropriated by people in all sorts of different situations within and without the community of faith. This, however, does not mean that one should not attempt to determine some of the possible settings of the laments. Some knowledge of their setting helps us contextualize our theological reflection and ground it in human experience.

For more thought on Lament psalms and their place in the church, see my post, The Costly Loss of Lament for the Church.


McDonald on the Biblical Canon

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Danny Zacharias has an interesting interview on the canon of the Bible with Lee Martin McDonald over at Deinde. The interview revolves around the recently published third edition of McDonald’s book, The Biblical Canon: Its Origin, Transmission, and Authority (Hendrickson, 2007; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com). The interview is interesting, though I wish McDonald would have expanded on some of his views of the orgin and role of the LXX for canon studies!

McDonald also edited a collection of essays with James Sanders that is also essential reading for those interested in questions of canon: The Canon Debate (Hendrickson, 2002; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com).

Some other books on the question of canon include the following:

  • John Barton, Holy Writings, Sacred Text: The Canon in Early Christianity (Westminster John Knox, 1998; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com)
  • Roger Beckwith, The Old Testament Canon of the New Testament Church (Eerdmanns, 1985; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com)
  • Hans Freiherr von Campenhausen, The Formation of the Christian Bible (Translated by J. A. Baker; Fortress Press, 1972; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com
  • Christine Helmer and Christof Landmesser, eds., One Scripture or Many? Canon from Biblical, Theological, and Philosophical Perspectives (Oxford University Press, 2004; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com
  • Martin Hengel, The Septuagint As Christian Scripture: Its Prehistory And The Problem Of Its Canon (Baker, 2004; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com
  • Bruce M. Metzger, The Canon of the New Testament: Its Origin, Development, and Significance (Oxford University Press, 1997; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com)
  • Andrew E. Steinmann, The Oracles of God: The Old Testament Canon (Concordia Academic Press, 1999; Buy from Amazon.ca or Amazon.com

Of the above I would wholeheartedly recommend Hengel and the Helmer and Christof Landmesser volume, though all of them are worthy of reading.


Christmas According to John, Part 2

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[Merry Christmas everyone! This is the second part of a Christmas sermon presented here with only minor editing. The first post may be found here]

John’s Metaphysical Manger (John 1)

The second passage I want to direct our attention to helps us understand some of the theological implications of the birth of Jesus. The passage I am referring to is chapter one of John’s gospel. In this highly metaphysical and philosophical passage the significance of the birth of Christ is interpreted theologically.

1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

14 And the Word became flesh and lived [tabernacled] among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. 15 (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ �) 16 From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 17 The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.

The Mystery of Christmas: The Incarnation

This passage tells us a number of things about that baby in a manger. In particular it tells us something about the divintiy of the Word and the ministry of the Word.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God.â€? John tells that the baby in the manger is divine; God made human, God incarnate. John’s Christmas account revels in the mystery of the incarnation. The word “incarnation” and the adjective “incarnate” come from the Latin in carne “in flesh.â€? Note the progression: In the beginning was the Word, and the word was with God, and the word was God. Note that John says not that “God was the wordâ€?, but that “the word was God.â€? John is not saying that the Word is “a god,â€? as though the Word was a lesser god alongside the supreme God; nor is John saying that the Word was simply “divine,â€? nor does John say that the Word did god-like things without possessing the divine nature; rather John is saying that the Word is God in his very nature, yet without exhausting the being of God. The baby in a manger was fully human and fully God. He was God incarnate: “the Word became flesh and dwelled among us.â€?

The divine nature of the Word is seen in his activity in creation (vv. 1–5), revelation (vv. 5, 9–12, 18) and redemption (vv. 12–14, 16–17); in all these God expresses himself through the Word. The baby in the manger, the Word made flesh, was with God at the beginning and all things came into existence through him. The Word also reveals God to us. Paul says that Jesus is “the image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15). Both the deity and the humanity of Jesus are fundamental to his saving work. It’s because Jesus is God the Son – the Word made flesh – that we can know God, it’s because Jesus is God made human, that we can understand his death as the supreme evidence of God’s love for us.

There is more to Christmas than our minds can comprehend… when we come to Christmas, when we look upon that baby in a manger we are looking upon God incarnate. We are looking upon a mystery. There’s More to Christmas than Meets the Mind.

The Paradox of Divine Condescension

And this is the mystery of Christmas. Here you have the paradox of divine condescension; the mystery of God accommodating Godself, God becoming human.

At root, to save us God came not in his full glory as God but rather as a human; God came as a baby crying in his mother’s arms, a baby that required feeding and changing, a baby that was entirely and hopelessly dependent on others. God hid his glory, he limited himself. Remaining one with and equal to God he took the form of a slave. By becoming one with us, he was able to share our sorrows, bear our burdens, and ultimately die a criminal’s death and atone for our sins and unite us to God.

That is the real meaning of Christmas, and it’s my prayer for all of us — as we get together with friends and family, as we eat turkeys and hams, as we do all these good things — it’s my prayer that we would also realize that there is much more to Christmas than meets the eye and that the miracle of Christmas is not how much turkey you can eat, but it is that God so loved the world that he was willing to take on human flesh and enter this world as a helpless baby… a helpless baby that would one day die a criminal’s death on behalf of us all.

Amen.


Christmas According to John, Part 1

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[Since I am going to be quite busy the two days with family, church, and preparing a turkey dinner for twenty people, I thought I would post some more informal Christmas meditations. The next couple posts are made up of one of my Christmas sermons; I reproduce it here in two parts with only minor editing. – TFW]

Sometimes I don’t think we realize the full significance of Christmas because we focus too much on a romantic and idealized version of the Christmas story: Joseph and Mary going to Bethlehem and not finding any place to stay the night, end up giving birth to baby Jesus in a manger, etc. This quaint and romantic idea is epitomized in the Christmas carol, “Away in a Manger.�

Away in a manger, no crib for His bed,
The little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head.
The stars in the sky looked down where He lay
The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.

The cattle are lowing, the poor Baby wakes,
But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes;
I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.

But there is nothing quaint or romantic about the Christmas story as told in the gospels of Luke and Matthew.

Luke’s story highlights how when Jesus was born, how he came to the dregs of society – to the poor, to the outcasts. Jesus was born in a peasant home or perhaps even a cave for animals and was placed in a dirty animal feeding trough (for those of you who have dogs… imagine not cleaning your dog’s food dish for a year and then think about whether or not you would want to let a baby play with it!), then to top it off his “healthy beginningsâ€? visit was made by a bunch of filthy lowly shepherds – outcasts of society.

Matthew’s story isn’t a whole lot better! Matthew doesn’t say much about Jesus’ birth, but he does recount how when Jesus is a toddler he was visited by some wise men (astrologers) who recognized him as a future king… while this was nice and while I’m sure they appreciated the gifts they brought, the astrologers also alerted Herod to the existence of a potential challenge to his power – which made Mary and Joseph and Jesus flee to Egypt (anyone who has ever taken a two-year old on a long driving trip knows what fun they must have had along the way!)

Thus, the Christmas story isn’t quaint or romantic… and I think that we have to work hard to o make sure it doesn’t become so familiar that it looses its power for us!

But this morning I want to direct our attention to a couple of Bible passages that may at first glance be unlikely candidates for a Christmas message. Both are attributed to the Apostle John, and both also give accounts of the birth of Jesus, so to speak: The first I have dubbed John’s “Apocalyptic Adventâ€? (Revelation 12) and second is John’s “Metaphysical Mangerâ€? (the first chapter of John’s Gospel).

Both of these stories will give us a very different perspective on Jesus’ birth, and will teach us a couple things about Christmas that the traditional stories don’t.

John’s Apocalyptic Advent (Revelation 12)

The first “birth story� I want us to take a look at is perhaps the weirdest one in all scripture. It comes from the book of Revelation – a book that also gets the award for being perhaps the weirdest in the Bible. It’s a book that is notoriously difficult to interpret. It’s full of symbols and apocalyptic language. It reveals the first lesson that I want us to take home today: There’s More to Christmas than Meets the Eye.

When Jesus was born, it was far from a regular everyday birth: it was an event of cosmic and eternal significance. It was an event which had massive implications in the spiritual realm. Now, the traditional Christmas stories also point towards this cosmic significance of Jesus’ birth: Luke has the multitude of angels announcing Jesus’ birth to the shepherds and Matthew recounts how astrologers find a heavenly sign of the birth of a king. But these signs pale in comparison with what was revealed to John:

12:1 A great portent appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. 2 She was pregnant and was crying out in birth pangs, in the agony of giving birth. 3 Then another portent appeared in heaven: a great red dragon, with seven heads and ten horns, and seven diadems on his heads. 4 His tail swept down a third of the stars of heaven and threw them to the earth. Then the dragon stood before the woman who was about to bear a child, so that he might devour her child as soon as it was born. 5 And she gave birth to a son, a male child, who is to rule all the nations with a rod of iron. But her child was snatched away and taken to God and to his throne; 6 and the woman fled into the wilderness, where she has a place prepared by God, so that there she can be nourished for one thousand two hundred sixty days. (NRSV)

The passage continues to recount of a great war in heaven between Michael and his angels and the dragon… and how the dragon suffered an initial defeat and then a final defeat and how God’s kingdom has come the kingdom of God and the messiah… etc. So here we have a surrealistic and highly symbolic portrayal of the birth of Christ and its cosmic and spiritual implications: that with the coming of Christ there erupted a great war in the heavens, a war in which God was ultimately victorious.

This sounds more like something Gandalf or Elrond would say in The Lord of the Rings than anything you would think you would find in the Bible! And its something we really don’t know what to do with. From early on we are brought up to trust our senses and be skeptical of anything that can’t be verified by them. Most of us have a hard time believing that the world as we see it is really not the world as it is. And even if we believe it, we don’t seem to live any different because of it!

But the reality is (at least the reality presented in the Scriptures) that the world as we see it is not the world as it is. And Christmas as we typically see it – a cute baby in a manger – is not Christmas as it is.

It’s kind of like The Matrix… when we accept Jesus as Lord and Savior, when we take the blue pill, so to speak, and a whole new reality opens up to us. We recognize the world that we thought we knew is really only some of the story. (Of course, a major difference between reality and The Matrix is that there is continuity between the world or our senses and the spiritual world… rather than discontinuity as in The Matrix.)

So the first lesson I want us to take home with us today is that There’s More to Christmas than Meets the Eye. The birth of Jesus represents an event of such spiritual magnitude that is only surpassed by his death on the cross — and that should amaze us!

The second passage I want to direct out attention to this morning helps us understand some of the theological implications of the birth of Jesus… but I will turn to that in tomorrow’s Christmas post.

For those of you who celebrate Christmas, have a great Chrstmas eve.


The Septuagint Psalm Superscriptions (Part 2) Personal Names and Notions of Authorship (Best of Codex)

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[Originally posted 3rd July 2005]

There are a total of 37 places where the LXX Psalter has either additions (13x) or expansions (24x) to the superscripts in comparison to the MT Psalter. While these may be classified in a number of ways, I will discuss them under four headings: personal names; genre designations, liturgical notices, and situational ascriptions. This blog entry will focus on personal names. (Note: Chapter and verse references are to the MT with the LXX indicated in parentheses).

Personal Names in the LXX Psalm Superscriptions

In the MT many of the psalms have references to personal names in the superscripts (typically with the preposition ל l). Seventy three psalms contain David; others have Asaph (12x; Pss 50; 73–83); the sons of Korah (11x; Pss 42; 44-49; 84-85; 87-88); Solomon (Pss 72; 127); Ethan (Ps 89), Heman (Ps 88), Moses (Ps 90), and possibly Jeduthun (Pss 39; 62; 77). With rare exceptions, the construction lamed + name is rendered with an articular dative. This includes all of the Asaph psalms and virtually all of the Korahite psalms (there are two contested cases where υπεÏ? + genitive is used: Ps 46(45) and 47(46)). In connection with the David psalms, Pietersma has argued that the six places that Rahlfs uses a genitive in his lemma text should be read as datives. Of the two psalms with Solomon in their titles, one is translated by a dative (Ps 127(126)), while the other is rendered by εις Σαλωμων “for Solomon” (Ps 72(71)).

David in the Septuagint Psalter
In the LXX there are a number of instances where personal names are added, including Jeremiah and Ezekiel in Ps 65(64); Haggai and Zechariah in Ps 146(145); 147:1-11(146); 147:12-20(147); and 148. Most of the changes in personal names, however, relate to David, the “sweet psalmist of Israel.” In 13 cases the LXX adds a reference to David (Pss 33(32); 43(42); 71(70); 91(90); 93(92); 94(93); 95(94); 96(95); 97(96); 98(97); 99(98); 104(103); 137(136). (I should also note that there are two instances where references to David are omitted in the Greek tradition: Pss 122(121) and 124(123)). In all but one instance (Ps 98(97)), the LXX adds this association to psalms that are untitled in the MT. The question that immediately comes to mind are whether these additions reflect a different Hebrew text or are the product of transmission history. Unfortunately, it is difficult to gain any critical purchase on this question since Ï„á¿· Δαυιδ is the default rendering of לדוד. In three cases it is more than likely that the additions reflect a different Hebrew text, as there is textual evidence to support the variant reading, whether among a few Masoretic texts (43(42)), or among the DSS (e.g., 11QPsq has לדוד in Ps 33(32); and 11QPsa and 4QPse also have לדויד in Ps 104(103).

The remaining ten instances are more difficult to access. Al Pietersma, in his study “David in the Greek Psalms” (VT 30 (1980) 213-226), suggests that the Davidic references in Pss 71(70); 91(90); 93(92); 95(94); 96(95); and 97(96); may be called into question because other elements of the LXX superscripts are clearly secondary. While this is essentially a “guilty by association” argument, it’s the best we can do considering the evidence. This leaves four superscripts that add an association with David: Pss 94(93); 98(97); 99(98); and 137(136). It is almost impossible to make any determination with Ps 94(93), as the superscript is uncontested. As a royal psalm, it may be understandable why Ps 98(97) would attract a Davidic superscript, though this does not help explain Ps 99(98) (contra Pietersma). The only superscript where some judgment may be made is Ps 137(136). There is quite a bit of variation among the textual witnesses, with many of them including an ascription to Jeremiah, and some conflating the two and associating the psalm with David and Jeremiah. The textual rivalry between David and Jeremiah could be an indication that the psalm was originally untitled, as it is in the MT tradition and Qumran.

Jeremiah & Ezekiel in the Septuagint Psalter
As noted above, some Greek texts of Ps 137(136) include a reference to Jeremiah in their superscripts. The association with Jeremiah in the Greek tradition is perhaps understandable considering the psalm’s exilic setting, though according to biblical tradition Jeremiah never goes to Babylon. There is a tradition, however, that places Jeremiah in Babylon. In fact, 4Baruch 7:33-36 Ps 137(136):3-4 is actually put into the mouth of Jeremiah. The text reads as follows:

For I [Jeremiah] say to you that the whole time we have been here, they have oppressed us, saying “Sing us a song from the songs of Zion, the song of your God.” And we say to them, “How can we sing to you, being in a foreign land?”

While there is a possibility that the superscript led to 4Baruch making the association, it seems more plausible the other way around because 4Baruch has Jeremiah in Babylon, where singing the psalm makes sense. In addition, in 4Baruch there is no indication that Jeremiah is quoting Scripture.

The reference to Jeremiah in Ps 137(136) is not the only one found in the LXX Psalter. The prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel are mentioned together in Ps 65(64). The full superscript reads as follows:

εἰς τὸ τέλος ψαλμὸς Ï„á¿· Δαυιδ ᾠδή ΙεÏ?εμιου καὶ Ιεζεκιηλ á¼?κ τοῦ λόγου τῆς παÏ?οικίας ὅτε ἔμελλον á¼?κποÏ?εύεσθαι
To the end. A psalm for David. A song. Of Jeremiah and Ezekiel from the account of the sojourning community, when they were about to go out.

The superscript is somewhat contested, though Rahlfs considered it OG. What is interesting about this superscript, is that like the previous example, there is a double association: a connection with David and with Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Unlike the previous example, it is not clear what triggered the association with Jeremiah and Ezekiel. Within the psalm itself there are no explicit connections with these prophets or the return from exile in general. The reference to “Zion” and the addition of “Jerusalem” in v. 2 may suggest this is one of the “songs of Zion” mentioned in Ps 137. While these (and others I won’t bore you with) readings of the Greek translation may provide some clues as to why the association was made, it is more certain that the association is due to an inner-Greek development rather than a different Hebrew parent text. This is almost certain due to the fact that the superscript employs the atypical conjunction ὅτε, and that the grammatical construction of the modal μελλω (“about to”) plus a complementary infinitive is never found elsewhere in the LXX Psalter, and thus is not congruent with the translator’s technique.

Haggai & Zechariah in the Septuagint Psalter
The final two individuals that we meet unexpectedly in the superscript of the LXX Psalter are the post-exilic prophets Haggai and Zechariah. Ps 146(145); 147:1-11(146); 147:12-20(147); and 148 all include Αλληλουια, Αγγαιου καὶ ΖαχαÏ?ιου “Hallelujah. Of Haggai and Zechariah” (or “A Hallelujah of…”). If you look beyond Rahlfs’ text, then Haggai and Zechariah also show up in Ps 149 and 150, as well as 111(110), 112(111), and even 138(137) and 139(138). Of courses, not all attestations are as strong textually, though it is interesting to note how the tradition surrounding Haggai and Zechariah grew.

How the association of Haggai and Zechariah with these psalms arose is a perplexing question. F. W. Mozley (The Psalter of the Church, Cambridge University Press, 1905, p. 188), conjectures that Haggai and Zechariah were compilers of a small collection of psalms from which these psalms were taken. While that may be the case, a more plausible solution may be to look in these psalms for connections to the post-exilic community. Both Martin Rösel (“Die Psalmüberschriften Des Septuaginta-Psalters,” in Der Septuaginta-Psalter, Herder, 2001, pp. 125-148) and Al Pietersma (“Exegesis and Liturgy in the Superscriptions of the Greek Psalter,” in X Congress of the IOSCS, Oslo 1998, Society of Biblical Literature, 2001, pp. 99-138) appeal to Psalm 147(146) as the text that triggered the initial association. Verse 2 in the LXX has an explicit reference to the return from exile. The texts read as follows:

οἰκοδομῶν ΙεÏ?ουσαλημ á½? κÏ?Ï?ιος καὶ Ï„á½°Ï‚ διασποÏ?á½°Ï‚ τοῦ ΙσÏ?αηλ á¼?πισυνάξει
The Lord is the one who (re)builds Jerusalem; and he will gather the dispersed [diaspora] of Israel

The translation of the Nif’al participle from נדח “drive away” by διασποÏ?α is atypical. Elsewhere the translator renders נדח by εξωθεω“to expelâ€? (5:11) or απωθεομαι “expel, banish” (62[61]:5). Rather than these more general terms, in the passage under question he employs a technical term for the exilic dispersion, διασποÏ?α. Perhaps significant, is the fact that this term also shows up in some witnesses in connection with Zechariah in the superscript to Ps 139(138). This reference to the exilic dispersion in Ps 147 may have spawned the initial association with two prominent figures of the return, Haggai and Zechariah, which then expanded to include other psalms. The fact that the names are in the genitive may suggest these superscripts are products of transmission history, as it is unclear what the Hebrew text could have read to produce such a translation (If the Hebrew was lamed + name, then you would expect an article in the Greek, and there is no precedent for a construction “the hallelujah of Haggai and Zechariah”).

Personal Names and Authorship

One question that comes up in examining the LXX superscripts is how the translator understood the notion of authorship. Interestingly, it appears to be the case that the Greek translator (one of the earliest biblical interpreters) did not see the personal names in the superscripts as an indication of authorship, as a genitive construction would be expected. For example, Didymus the Blind (a 4th century Alexandrian theologian) makes the distinction in the Tura Psalms commentary in connection with Psalm 24:

(Ψαλμος τω δαυιδ): εις τον δαυιδ ο ψαλμος λεγεται αλλο γαÏ? εστιν “του δαυιδ” ειναι και αλλο “τω δαυιδ” λεγεται, οταν η αυτος αυτον πεποιηκως η ψαλλων. “αυτω” δε λεγεται, οταν εις αυτον φεÏ?ηται.
The psalm says “to David,” for others are “of David” and others “to David.” It says “of David,” when he made/wrote it or sang [it]. But it says “to him” when it was brought to him.

So while the Old Greek translation does not seem to indicate authorship, the growing trend in later witnesses is to spell out authorship explicitly by using the genitive. This suggests that the emphasis on individual authorship grew with time.

The evidence from the Greek Psalter fits nicely with a theory of Burton Mack’s I came across a number of years ago in an article entitled, “Under the Shadow of Moses: Authorship and Authority in Hellenistic Judaism” (SBL Seminar Papers 21 (1982) 299-318). In this article Mack argues that the interest in individual authorship only developed as Israel interacted with Hellenism. In the same way that the Greeks had their famous individuals, so too Judaism began to emphasize their own: Moses and the Pentateuch, Solomon and wisdom literature, and — as is clear from the Greek Psalms — David and the Psalter. The growing Davidic connection in the LXX Psalter is also paralleled in 11QPsa, where the prose piece notes that David composed over 4000 psalms “by the spirit of prophecy.”


Friedman on Humour in the Hebrew Bible

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The Owings Mills Times has a small news report on a lecture Richard Friedman gave at a local synagogue. Here are some excerpts:

Friedman said it is difficult to get away from humor in the Jewish culture because it is part of the religion.

“It’s an integral part of our lives,” he said.

….

Jokes abound in the Torah, the five books of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy, Friedman said. The humor is especially obvious if the books are read in Hebrew. The Hebrew language lends itself to puns, he said.

The three pages of the Bible that are devoted to Jonah strike Friedman as the funniest. He said in Hebrew there are 35 puns in the story of Jonah.

The cast is composed of Jonah, who doesn’t want to do God’s bidding; a whale, who has to tote a poetry-writing prophet in his gut for three days and three nights, and a town full of repentants, people and cows who go around in sack cloth and ashes.

Jonah feels betrayed because he told the people they had 40 days to repent. God forgave them after only three days. After all, he did have his reputation as a prophet to consider, Friedman said.

Jonah leaves in a tiff, and goes to sit on a hill to sulk. In the end, Jonah learns a lesson about taking himself so seriously. The repentant people, not to mention the cows covered in ashes, are just as important as he is.

Friedman said jokes help people stay involved, whether they are attending a lecture or reading the Bible.

“Jokes are fun, they are a part of life, and they serve a purpose,” Friedman said. “They give comic relief when the lecture or book gets boring.”

I think that the humour in the Hebrew Bible is one of its most neglected features (see my previous post on this topic here).

Richard E. Friedman is the Davis Professor of Jewish Studies at the University of Georgia, and Katzen Professor of Jewish Civilization, Emeritus, at the University of California, San Diego. He has written a number of books, including Who Wrote the Bible? (HarperSanFrancisco, 1997; Buy from Amazon.ca | Buy from Amazon.com), The Hidden Face of God (HarperSanFrancisco, 1996; Buy from Amazon.ca | Buy from Amazon.com), and most recently The Bible with Sources Revealed (HarperSanFrancisco, 2005; Buy from Amazon.ca | Buy from Amazon.com). The latter is a translation of the first five books of the Bible — Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy into English, differentiating textual sources by type styles and colors.


Bible Stops Bullet

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The Bible can save your life — literally! Associated Press reports about a man in Florida “credits two small Bibles in his shirt pocket for saving his life when they stopped a bullet.”

Wow… just think what they could have stopped if he actually had the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible as well!

UPDATE: This is a bit from Woody Allen that Michael noted in the comments that I felt should be included in the actual post.

Woody Allen: “Years ago, my mother gave me a bullet…a bullet, and I put it in my breast pocket. Two years after that, I was walking down the street, when a berserk evangelist heaved a Gideon bible out a hotel room window, hitting me in the chest. Bible would have gone through my heart if it wasn’t for the bullet” (source).

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Is the SBL in Need of Medicine?

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The most recent Chronicler of Higher Education has an article entitled, “What’s Wrong With the Society of Biblical Literature?” by Jacques Berlinerblau.

While I don’t have time to fully engage the article, I think it raises a number of good points, but misses the mark on just as many. I agree that it would be good to have a “census” of members (“census” sounds so biblical; I just hope our census fares better than King David’s!) to see where people are at on a whole variety of issues. I agree that the society should make a concerted effort to popularize good biblical scholarship (I think that the “SBL Forum” is a step in the right direction). Perhaps a glossy magazine is in order?

In regards to the academic freedom issue, I don’t see how an academic society (which is what SBL is and will always be; sorry Jacques) can really have much input except by encouraging standards to which institutions can strive. The SBL is not an accrediting agency. Finally, in regards to his recommendation to create “a form of biblical scholarship that goes beyond theology and ecumenical dialogue” I am not quite sure I agree with this proposal or even his perception that is is already not happening.

Perhaps the biggest problem I have with Berlinerblau’s article is that it seems just too American. Perhaps it is just my sensitive Canadian ears, but many of the examples seem to be too nationalistic (e.g., “America is in the midst of a religious revival,” suggesting that the SBL should aspire to the likes of the Brookings Institution [PEN isn’t quite as bad a comparison since one of its goals is to foster international literary fellowship], or that it should address “the rising use of Scripture in American public life,” etc.). The SBL is an international organization with members from every continent in the world; it needs to focus on promoting and fostering excellent biblical scholarship on an international level.

I also think that many of Berlinerblau’s criticisms are unfair. For instance, in regards to the great divorce between AAR and SBL, the reason why AAR tries to explain their position on their website is because they are the ones who went forward with divorce proceedings, not SBL. I guess the SBL could have a little note on their site saying, “We don’t want to separate, we love you, please come back,” but I don’t think it would work!

Anyhow, its an interesting article and I imagine it will generate much discussion in the weeks ahead.

(HT Blue Cord)


Laments, Complaints, Prayers, Pleas, or Petitions?

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In response to my post on The Costly Loss of Lament for the Church, Tim Bulkeley over at SansBlogue rightfully noted that I have tended to continue employ the designation “laments” when referring to what Gunkel called Klagepsalmen. Tim prefers the term “complaints” when referring to the same psalms:

These psalms claim that something is wrong with the world, usually complaining that God has not acted to right the wrong and go on to petition God to put it right. They seldom stop at merely lamenting the wrong.

Tim highlights a fairly common critique of the appropriateness of the term “lament.” I would agree that the term “lament” isn’t entirely satisfactory since in English “lament” tends to be understood passively as a cry of sorrow or grief. In this regard, the psalmist isn’t really “lamenting.” Rather he is describing his distress and appealing to God for aid. That being said, I don’t think that “complaint” is entirely satisfactory either. In common usage, “complaint” tends to be a minor expression of displeasure; you complain about poor service at a restaurant or when your ride is late. In this regard I wonder if using the term “complaint” trivializes the psalms in question.

A number of scholars don’t use either term, but prefer to use terms that derive from the biblical text itself. Thus, Hans-Joachim Kraus, in his excellent commentary on the Psalms, calls laments “songs of prayer” based on the general Hebrew term for prayer, תפלה tefilla. Craig Broyles makes a similar move in his commentary by calling these psalms “prayer psalms.” The rationale for this move is twofold for Broyles. First, he prefers to employ a designation derived from the psalms themselves (as I already noted). Second, he finds that the term “lament” gives undue prominence to one motif in the psalms.

I wonder if a more appropriate name for these psalms may be “pleas” or “petitions.” Gunkel and most other psalms scholars after him have recognized the most important element of the lament psalm is the plea or petition for help. Gerstenberger calls it the “very heart of a complaint psalm” and claims that “in fact, all the other elements can be interpreted as preparing and supporting the petition” (Psalms, FOTL, 13).

I am happy to continue to employ the traditional term “lament” — and even to alternate it with “complaint.” But if I wanted to adopt a more appropriate name, I would probably use something like “prayer of petition” or “plea.”


Kosher Concubines?

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There is an interesting article on “Kosher Concubines” in Arutz Sheva, an Israeli national online newspaper. The news story reports on a controversial article written by Professor Tzvi Zohar that proposes to deal with the problem of sex between unmarried religious Jewish young people by renewing the biblical institution of the pilegesh (פלגש×?), a sort of “kosher concubine.” The article (in modern Hebrew) appeared in the spring edition of the Israeli periodical Akdamot.

Here is an excerpt:

The thesis of Zohar’s article is that since scores of young men and women from the religious-Zionist community are shacking up together out of wedlock, something must be done to make this permitted in the eyes of Jewish Law.

….

To his understanding, there is no obligation for a couple to marry at all. However, in order that young unwed couples can have a clear conscience and shack up with each other until they find their permanent sanctified mates, he proposes to reinstate the Biblical practice of ‘kosher mistresses.’

This practice, he asserts, has been approved by a long list of respected halachic authorities in the past. All that a pilegesh has to do is go to the mikvah (ritual bath) according to the laws of Jewish family purity, in order to guard against the grave infraction of niddah, which outlaws physical contact with a woman during and shortly after her menstrual cycle. This would allow, Zohar asserts, young people to live together in a loving relationship without getting married, all under the “chuppah” [canopy] of Jewish Law.

The rest of the news story critiques Zohar’s questionable interpretation of the Jewish law. The biggest problem to his argument is that the in the Hebrew Bible a man who had a concubine lived with her on a permanent basis, just like a wife. In fact, concubines were pretty much the same as wives, though of a secondary rank. At any rate, the practice of taking a concubine in OT times is not really comparable to modern practices of casual sexual relationships.

Furthermore, while polygamy (technically polygyny) was practiced according to the Hebrew Bible and that men had more than one wife and/or concubines, this is never presented as an ideal. If anything, it is just the opposite. Here are a number of examples of polygyny in the Hebrew Bible:

  • Lamech with his two wives, Adah and Zillah (Gen 4:23)
  • Abraham with Sarah and his concubines Hagar and Keturah (Genesis 16; 25:1–2)
  • Jacob with Leah and Rachel (Gen 29:15–30)
  • Esau and his three wives (Gen 26:34; 36:2; 28:9)
  • Gideon with his “many wives” (Judg 8:30)
  • Elkanah with Hannah and Peninnah (1 Sam 1:2)
  • David with seven named wives (1 Sam 18:17–30; 25:38–43; 2 Sam 3:2–5) and additional unnamed wives and concubines (2 Sam 5:13)
  • Solomon and his royal harem of 700 wives and 300 concubines (1 Kgs 3:1; 11:3)
  • Rehoboam with his 18 wives and 60 concubines (2 Chron 11:21).

A few conclusions may be drawn from this list. First, it was rare to have more than one wife. Most of the examples cited are significant, whether leaders or rich or both. In addition, those that had more than one wife and/or concubine often suffered the consequences! In many of the above households polygyny was a major cause of significant problems. It is not very difficult to read between the lines and recognize the negative characterization of polygynous relationships (and of course, in some cases the condemnation is rather blatant).

At any rate, the article is certainly interesting — especially the discussion of Jewish halakah.