Biblical kings, good and bad (1)

Jeroboam sacrificing to his idol, oil on canvas by Claes Corneliszoon Moeyaert, 1641

Jeroboam sacrificing to his idol, Claes Corneliszoon Moeyaert, 1641

A consistent theme of the biblical books of 1 & 2 Samuel and 1 & 2 Kings (which was probably originally written as one book but was divided into four because it wouldn’t all fit on one scroll – in the Septuagint and other ancient versions it is one book in four parts known as 1-4 Kings) is that almost all the kings do evil. Measured against king David as the benchmark very few are up to standard. The overall impression one gets from reading the book of Kings is that both Israel and Judah had a succession of bad kings, with only a handful of exceptions. In the case of the northern kingdom of Israel it seems that they all get a bad report. If there were any good kings it appears that they could only be found in Judah, and then rarely.

In this series of posts I plan to explore whether or not all the kings of Israel and most of the kings of Judah were thoroughly bad, why almost all of them are judged as doing evil in the eyes of God, where the writer got his information, and how the book of Kings came to be in the form we have it today.

I’ll start with the phrase which recurs frequently (more than 30 times) throughout Kings: he “did what was evil in the sight of the LORD” which is sometimes followed by “and did not completely follow the LORD, as his father David had done,” or words to that effect. In the records of the northern kings (Israel) this description typically follows the form “He did what was evil in the sight of the LORD, and followed the sins of Jeroboam son of Nebat, which he caused Israel to sin,” while the southern kings (Judah) are sometimes measured against the standard of David, such as Solomon:

For when Solomon was old, his wives turned away his heart after other gods; and his heart was not true to the LORD his God, as was the heart of his father David. For Solomon followed Astarte the goddess of the Sidonians, and Milcom the abomination of the Ammonites. So Solomon did what was evil in the sight of the LORD, and did not completely follow the LORD, as his father David had done (1 Kings 11:4-6).

Sometimes this condemnation is combined with a description of the particular evil that he committed, such as  “They made their sons and their daughters pass through fire; they used divination and augury; and they sold themselves to do evil in the sight of the LORD, provoking him to anger” (2 Kings 17:17), but more often than not we aren’t given any details about they did that was particularly evil.

First, we need to look at the book of Kings in its literary context. Scholars often refer to the book as being part of the “Deuteronomistic History.” This terminology began with a German biblical scholar, Martin Noth, who proposed that Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, 1-2 Samuel, and 1-2 Kings form a single literary presentation of the history of Israel. [1] Since Noth’s groundbreaking work scholars have come up with several theories about who wrote the Deuteronomistic History (hereafter DtrH), whether it was an individual or group of people, if it was written over a lengthy period or at one time, if it went through a process of revision, addition, editing and redaction, if so, by whom, and when the process was finished. Scholars are a long way from reaching a consensus about this. In this series I will touch on some of these issues. The reason Noth, and others, have given the name “Deuteronomistic” to this group of biblical books is that they seem to share ideas, terminology and themes with the book of Deuteronomy. For example, the phrase about kings doing evil in the sight of God  is traditionally identified as a significant marker of Deuteronomism since similar phrasing is found in Deuteronomy 4:25; 9:18; 17:2; 31:29.[2] Because it shares similar language and themes with the DtrH, Jeremiah is also often classed as being “Deuteronomistic” and so some scholars have argued that the writer of Jeremiah may have played a significant role in producing the DtrH. I will also explore this connection later in this series.

I should state from the outset that I’m not intending to write a commentary on Kings, or to go through every king in Israel and Judah’s history! My particular interest is in the Jehu dynasty – a succession of five kings in the northern kingdom – and this interest was sparked primarily because my PhD thesis is on the book of Jonah, and the prophet Jonah is mentioned in Kings in connection with Jeroboam II, a king in the Jehu dynasty. It seems like an odd place to begin, but I will start with Jeroboam II because it was this king which aroused my interest in the kings in the first place. While looking at the mention of Jonah in 2 Kings 14, I noticed that the book of Kings generally treats the Jehu dynasty favourably (including its account of the reign of Jeroboam II with its naming of Jonah), although it assesses all of the kings in this dynasty with the standard formulaic “He did what was evil in the sight of the LORD, and followed the sins of Jeroboam son of Nebat, which he caused Israel to sin” (e.g. 2 Kings 13:2). I wondered why the record on the one hand seemed to treat them positively, but then on the other hand each king was condemned for doing evil. What evil?

2 Kings 14:25 says that Jeroboam II “restored the border of Israel from Lebo-hamath as far as the Sea of the Arabah, according to the word of the LORD, the God of Israel, which he spoke by his servant Jonah son of Amittai, the prophet, who was from Gath-hepher” (2 Kings 14:25). Jonah’s message in 2 Kings was one of comfort and hope for Israel “for the LORD saw that the distress of Israel was very bitter; there was no one left, bond or free, and no one to help Israel” (2 Kings 14:26). The historical narrative continues with an odd negative expression: but the LORD had not said that he would blot out the name of Israel from under heaven (v.27). It’s odd precisely because it is in the negative: “but the LORD had not said …” and it’s unusual to see things expressed this way in the Hebrew Bible. It implies that someone – although we’re not told who – was saying just that, namely that God would blot out the name of Israel, and that this message through Jonah specifically refuted this. We’re not told who was saying this, but we do get a clue later in the Bible (I’ll return to this).

To be continued …

[1] Martin Noth, Überlieferungsgeschichtliche Studien: Die sammelnden und bearbeitenden Geschichtswerke im Alten Testament (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1957); English translation: Martin Noth, The Deuteronomistic History (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1981).

[2] Kurt Noll, however, has pointed out that the actual phrase occurs only in Deut 17:2 and argues that it begs the case for Deuteronomism in Kings. Kurt L. Noll, “Is the Book of Kings Deuteronomistic? And Is It a History?,”  Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament 21, no. 1 (2007): 68.

Hanukkah’s Christian connections

Today is the fifth day of the eight-day Jewish festival of Hanukkah (חֲנֻכָּה‬ “dedication”) – a festival which commemorates the re-dedication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem during the revolt against the Seleucid empire by the Maccabees (Judah Maccabee and his four brothers, and their supporters). The Maccabees were revolting against occupation by the Seleucid Empire in general, but more particularly against the desecration of the Temple (which begain in 167 BCE when Antiochus IV ordered an altar to Zeus to be erected in the Temple, banned circumcision, and ordered pigs to be sacrificed at the altar of the temple). The revolt began soon after and the Temple was liberated in 165 BCE.  Judah Maccabee ordered the Temple to be cleansed and a new altar to be built. The Temple was re-dedicated and this re-dedication has been commemorated ever since in the festival of Dedication (Hanukkah). The custom of lighting candles every night during the eight days and nights of the festival originated in a story told in the Talmud that for the re-dedication it was necessary to find undefiled pure olive oil for the candelabrum, or menorah, in the Temple. The story goes that only one flask was found and with only enough oil to burn for one day, yet it miraculously burned for eight days, the time needed to prepare a fresh supply of oil for the menorah. An eight-day festival was declared by the Jewish sages to commemorate this miracle. Since then Hanukkah is commemorated by lighting one candle on the first day, two on the second, etc, until eight candles are lit on the eighth and final night of the festival.

The story of the revolt, the liberation of the Temple, and its re-dedication is told in the books of 1 & 2 Maccabees. The first book of Maccabees was originally written in Hebrew, but this Hebrew original has been lost and it has been preserved in a Greek translation in the Septuagint, the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible which was popular with early Greek-speaking Jews and Christians. The second book of Maccabees was written in koine Greek, the “street Greek” which was also the language of the New Testament. (The books known as 3 & 4 Maccabees which are found in some Orthodox Christian Bibles have nothing to do with the story of the Maccabees and deal with entirely different events).

Interestingly, the books of 1 & 2 Maccabees which tell the story of Hanukkah are not included in the canonical Hebrew Bible as these books are in Greek, not Hebrew. They are, however, included in many Christian Bibles including the canons of the Catholic and Orthodox churches, and those Protestant churches which include the Apocrypha in their Bible. It’s interesting that these books which tell the story of the origins of this important Jewish festival are found in many Christian Bibles, but not in the Jewish canon, although Christians have never commemorated Hanukkah as a Christian festival (although some other Jewish festivals are celebrated by Christians under different names, such as Passover=Easter and the Festival of Weeks  [Shavuot]=Pentecost/Whitsunday).

There is also one more Christian connection to Hanukkah which I find interesting. The Hebrew Bible never mentions Hanukkah (as the Hebrew canon was probably completed by the time 1 & 2 Maccabees were written), but the New Testament does mention it. In the Gospel of John a casual reference is made to Jesus being in the Temple in winter during “the festival of the Dedication” (John 10:22) which is a clear reference to Hanukkah.

To all my Jewish friends חַג חֲנֻכָּה‬ שָׂמֵחַ – Happy Hanukkah!

The Sign of Jonah

jonah-and-the-whale.jpgThe New Testament doesn’t say much about the prophet Jonah, although the little it does say has made him an important figure in Christianity, his time spent inside the fish prefiguring the death and resurrection of Jesus.

The only references to Jonah in the New Testament are in a saying by Jesus recorded in both Matthew and Luke. The two accounts are similar although different so I put them both below with the words they have in common highlighted in red.

MATTHEW 14:39-41; 16:4

But he [Jesus] answered them, “An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.  40For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth. 41The men of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold, something greater than Jonah is here.

… 16:4  An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah.” So he left them and departed.

LUKE 11:29-32

When the crowds were increasing, he [Jesus] began to say, “This generation is an evil generation. It seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah. 30For as Jonah became a sign to the people of Nineveh, so will the Son of Man be to this generation…32The men of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold, something greater than Jonah is here.

It can be seen that the words in red are common to both Matthew and Luke, but in both accounts they are ‘split’ with different words in between. So which of the two accounts records the actual saying of Jesus? The most likely explanation in my view is that the words in red are the ‘actual’ saying of Jesus and that both Matthew and Luke have copied them from a source which they both accessed. There is a widely held view amongst New Testament scholars (known as the “two source hypothesis”) that when Matthew and Luke were written the writers had two written sources in front of them: one was the gospel of Mark, as large parts of Mark appear word-for-word in both Matthew and Luke; the other was an unknown source which scholars often call ‘Q’ which is an abbreviation of the German word Quelle, or ‘source’. If we compare Matthew and Luke in their entirety we discover that much of these two gospels are identical. If we extract those sections which are identical to Mark the remainder is what scholars call Q. An interesting thing about Q is that it consists primarily of sayings of Jesus, with no narrative. It appears that at some stage, before Matthew and Luke were written (although possibly after Mark) a document was written which listed many of the sayings of Jesus, and this is what we now call Q. It doesn’t exist any more, or at least it hasn’t been found anywhere. But who knows, maybe it will turn up some day in a monastic library (like some of the best manuscripts available of the New Testament) or in a Judean cave (like the Dead Sea Scrolls). It appears that another very early Christian text called the Didache, or teachings of the apostles, may also have used Q as a source, but that is another discussion to be had.

It would be a reasonable explanation then that the actual saying of Jesus which may have been sourced from Q went like this:

An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.  The men of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold, something greater than Jonah is here.

The problem is, this leaves the reader to guess what this “sign of Jonah” was. Both Matthew and Luke inserted their own explanations into their accounts. This isn’t uncommon as we see this kind of thing happening quite a bit in ancient texts which quoted from earlier ones. In this case, however, Matthew and Luke provide different explanations for Jesus’ saying. Matthew says the sign would be “just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.” Luke on the other hand says “as Jonah became a sign to the people of Nineveh, so will the Son of Man be to this generation.” We don’t have a case of the two writers recording Jesus’ saying differently (and hence one or both of them ‘misquoting’ Jesus) but of them both recording the same saying but inserting their own explanations, and these explanations differed.

The modern reader is still left to wonder what the “sign of Jonah” meant as the two explanations are different. Luke’s explanation isn’t that different from the saying of Jesus as it focussed on the people of Nineveh and their reaction to Jonah’s preaching. But Matthew’s explanation steps right away from this and offers an allegorical interpretation of the story of Jonah. It is not surprising that a story as strange as Jonah’s which has a host of unusual features (such as someone surviving inside a fish for three days) would attract an allegorical interpretation, and there is evidence in Rabbinic sources that this method of interpretation was applied from an early time. One interpretation, for example, is that Jonah represents Israel and as he was vomited by the fish so Israel was ‘vomited’ from their land when they went into captivity. Leviticus 18 uses precisely this kind of language to describe the land of Canaan vomiting out its inhabitants (18:25) and threatens the same for Israel if they do not keep the statutes and commandments God has given them: “lest the land vomit you out for defiling it, as it vomited out the nation that was before you” (18:28).

Jeremiah 51 portrays Nebuchadnezzar and Bel the god of Babylon as sea monsters that have “swallowed up” Israel: “he has swallowed me like a monster; he has filled his belly with my delicacies, he has spewed me out” (Jeremiah 51:34). Jeremiah use the same word that occurs in Jonah 1:17 for the fish swallowing Jonah (although it uses a different word for vomitting, and “sea monster”), and this may be further evidence that Jonah presents an image of Israel being vomitted out of captivity after being swallowed by the Babylonians. This doesn’t necessarily mean we should interpret Jonah allegorically, although it seems that some of the early Rabbis and Matthew did to some extent. It could be an allusion by the writer of Jonah to both the Leviticus and Jeremiah texts recalling the experiences of Israel being “spewed” from place to place as they go into exile and then being disgorged again by Babylon.

Matthew’s interpretation is similarly somewhat allegorical and adds another level of meaning. This is not to suggest that this was the original intention or meaning of Jonah, as we have clear evidence in the way the New Testament quotes the Hebrew Bible (and also in the way some of the Dead Sea Scrolls quote the Hebrew Bible) that later writers often re-interpreted earlier texts, giving them ‘new’ meanings which were appropriate to their own circumstances and relevant to their audiences. So Matthew gives a new meaning to the Jonah story for his audience. He saw a connection to Jesus’ resurrection while Luke apparently didn’t make the same connection. It suggests there is no ‘right’ way to read many of the stories in the Bible. For Matthew there was one way, for Luke another. Perhaps we can learn something from this when we try to make an argument from the Bible; that even the writers of the Bible read earlier biblical books in different ways.

Making fun of foreign kings (2)

Ninive, Koenigspalast / nach Layard - Nineveh, Assyrian palace / watercolour -

Painting of Nineveh by James Ferguson 1853

Good satire or parody can be hard to detect. The better it is, the more likely it is that someone will take it seriously and won’t get the joke. I well remember when I was a much younger man having a conversation with a good mate about the clichés that were used in church prayers far too often. Between us we came up with an impressive list of all the prayer-clichés we could think of. A few days later my mate’s church had a social function in the church hall and my friend was called on to say grace before dinner. Being young, brash, and a bit of a smart-arse, my friend decided to have some fun while having a pointed poke at what had become a traditional, yet irrelevant style of prayer. He made use of every one of those clichés in a rather lengthy parody of grace before dinner. Later that evening an elderly lady came to him and said “I’ve been a member of this church for forty years, and that was the loveliest prayer I’ve ever heard!” That’s a sign of truly clever parody – people will be divided as to whether it is serious (and in this case pious), or is making a joke at the expense of those who take it seriously.

The royal court scene in Jonah 3 in my view is a case of clever satire (and parody), which commentaries have traditionally interpreted very seriously (while missing the humour, and, therefore, the real point of the story). It must have been the briefest evangelistic campaign in history (Jonah preached for only one day in a city which normally took three days to cross), consisting of just five words (in Hebrew, a few more in English): עֹוד אַרְבָּעִים יֹום וְנִֽינְוֵה נֶהְפָּֽכֶת Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown! Remarkably, the people responded to this short message by repenting, proclaiming a fast, and putting on sackcloth (Jonah 3:4-5). It’s remarkable for several reasons: Jonah was unheard of in Nineveh, and had only just arrived; being from Israel his message would suggest that the god of tiny Israel was more powerful than all the gods of Nineveh and the mighty Assyrian empire; the five-word message gave no details and no call to repent or opportunity to avert the disaster. News of this reached the king, who immediately responded in much the same way as his people. His response was even more remarkable because he only heard the message second-hand, and was in a much better position to evaluate the likelihood that an unknown preacher from some backwater would know the fate of a great city like Nineveh, soon to be the most powerful city in the world. This is all so astoundingly unlikely the initial readers or listeners of this story would almost certainly have recognised it as humorous.

So the king decided to issue a decree that everyone should fast and put on sackcloth. The problem with this is that everyone had already decided to do just that! His decree would therefore be meaningless, simply ratifying what the masses had already decided. It would confirm that the king wasn’t in control, and that the mob made the rules. Nineveh wasn’t a democracy, and wasn’t about to become one, so the king issued a different decree:

“By decree of the king and his nobles: No man or beast—of flock or herd—shall taste anything! They shall not graze, and they shall not drink water! They shall be covered with sackcloth—man and beast—and shall cry mightily to God. Let everyone turn back from his evil ways and from the injustice of which he is guilty.” (3:8)

The royal decree affirmed what the masses had already decided, but the king extended it to livestock as well! The animals even had to repent from their evil ways and cry out to God! The writer is having a joke at the king’s expense. He makes him out to be powerless – if he can’t rule his own people at least he can issue decrees to dumb cattle. The writer of Jonah has a final punchline right at the end of the book, where God is discussing with the prophet whether or not he should save Nineveh, because, after all, it was a big city with a lot of (dumb) people (because they couldn’t tell one hand from the other) but with “many cattle” (who were smart enough to cry out to God and to repent!) (4:11).

But there’s a twist in the story. When the king issues his decree he adds “Who knows? God may relent and change his mind; he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish” (3:9). In the words of one biblical scholar, this is “a piece of rather sophisticated theology” [1]. The Ninevite king demonstrated an apparent awareness of Hebrew scripture, or at least the theological issues which gave rise to or came out of those texts, because he uses the specific language of several texts in Deuteronomy, Jeremiah and Chronicles and frames it as a question in an almost identical way to the book of Joel. Is the writer implying that the Ninevite king was familiar with all these biblical texts? The idea is comical, which may very well be the point of the ridiculousness of the allusions. 

In using these texts in the way he does, the writer simultaneously ridicules the foreigner and makes his question the central issue of the story. The king would certainly have been unaware of one or other of these texts, yet the writer puts words into his mouth with which the reader or listener would have been familiar, implying that he was aware of the theological discussion about these texts. This is a story-telling device which is used elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible. Nebuchadnezzar is ridiculed on the one hand, but makes profound statements about God on the other. Naaman, a Syrian military commander, was humiliated by the prophet Elisha, but teaches the king of Israel a valuable lesson at the same time (2 Kings 5). It’s a clever device. It’s easy to ridicule a foreigner, but then to have sophisticated theological truths come from their mouths is akin to saying “See, these stupid idol-worshippers get it, why don’t you?” The audience is first softened by the humour, and in doing so the writer/speaker prepares them to be more receptive to the hard-hitting message that follows. 

[1] Good, Edwin M., Irony in the Old Testament.London: SPCK, 1965, p.50

Making fun of foreign kings (1)

Nebuchadnezzar-cameo

Cameo of Nebuchadnezzar on display in the Florence Museum, dated to 585 BC

Several times in the Hebrew Bible the writers make fun of foreign rulers, often with an interesting twist. Here are two examples which have some striking similarities.

Daniel 3 tells the story of Nebuchadnezzar’s golden statue and how he “sent for the satraps, the prefects, and the governors, the counselors, the treasurers, the justices, the magistrates, and all the officials of the provinces to assemble and come to the dedication of the statue” (v.2). And then, in case you missed it, the very next verse says “So the satraps, the prefects, and the governors, the counselors, the treasurers, the justices, the magistrates, and all the officials of the provinces, assembled for the dedication of the statue” (v.3). Then, once all these people had assembled the king makes a proclamation that “when you hear the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, drum, and entire musical ensemble, you are to fall down and worship the golden statue” (v.5).  Then, again in case you missed something, “as soon as all the peoples heard the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, drum, and entire musical ensemble, all the peoples, nations, and languages fell down and worshiped the golden statue that King Nebuchadnezzar had set up” (v.7). But just to make sure we really get the point, the writer tells us that certain officials came to him and said “You, O king, have made a decree, that everyone who hears the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, drum, and entire musical ensemble, shall fall down and worship the golden statue …” (v.10). Tiresome as it may be, we get the same list again in verse 15 when the king addresses three Jews: “Now if you are ready when you hear the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, drum, and entire musical ensemble to fall down and worship the statue that I have made, well and good.” Why do we need such repetition? It seems that the writer is emphasising that the Babylonians had an endless stream of officials and bureaucrats and that everything was done with a great deal of pomposity. He makes fun of it by repeating the long lists of officials and instruments.

The book of Esther begins by explaining that “King Ahasuerus sat on his royal throne in the citadel of Susa,  in the third year of his reign, he gave a banquet for all his officials and ministers” (1:3).  Then, at least ten times throughout the book, we are told about banquets. The book is actually structured around these feasts. It’s as though the writer is letting us know that it seems that all the Persian officials do is eat and drink wine! Like repetition in Daniel, the writer of Esther makes fun of the endless feasting of the Persians by mentioning it at every turn in the story.

These are possibly the two best examples of making fun of foreign rulers and their courts in the Hebrew Bible, but there are also other occasions when foreign rulers were ridiculed, suggesting it was a common practice. But these humorous stories often contain a twist and the joke is turned back on the reader or listener. More about that to follow in my next post.

Irony, satire and humour in 1 & 2 Samuel

 

78904_saulanointed_sm

Samuel anoints Saul. Ridpath, John Clark Cyclopedia of Universal History (Cincinnati, OH: The Jones Brothers Publishing CO., 1885)

To do justice to this subject I would need to write several posts, an entire book perhaps. Indeed, Virginia Ingram wrote an entire PhD thesis on irony and satire in the 9 chapters of 2 Samuel commonly called the “Succession Narrative”. [1] Who knows, perhaps when I’m done with Jonah I will turn my attention to satire elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible. In this post I’d like to follow-on with some thoughts introduced in previous posts about whether the ironies in Samuel about good-looking men are part of an ironic style which pervades the book.

The introduction to the “succession narrative” in 2 Samuel 11, for example, says:

In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel with him; they ravaged the Ammonites, and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem.

The writer couldn’t have been any clearer in highlighting the remarkable irony that when kings should have been fighting battles king David was at home gazing out of his window at a beautiful woman. The juxtaposition of two opposing ideas like “when kings go out to battle” with “David remained at Jerusalem” is a style the writer uses frequently in this book. In this case it highlights David’s failing as a king. One of the main purposes of a king was to fight battles; it was the expressly stated reason why the people wanted a king in the first place, to “govern us and go out before us and fight our battles” (1 Samuel 8:19). Yet David sends his general Joab to do his fighting for him. His affair with Bathsheba sets in train a series of disasters: first an adulterer, he then becomes a murderer, his family is a wreck, his administration of the kingdom is chaotic, there is civil war, his own son leads a coup against him, his friends and family abandon him in droves. And it all began because he wasn’t doing what the people wanted a king to do, and what he was appointed and anointed to do in the first place. As I’ve said before, the writer of 1 & 2 Samuel thinks monarchy is bad for Israel, and he demonstrates this by showing David, the “model” king to be a prime example of why it doesn’t work.

This juxtaposition of opposing ideas is similar to the positioning of the description of David as “ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome” immediately after the rejection of David’s good-looking brother on the basis that appearance is not important.  The writer of 1 & 2 Samuel seems to deliberately put seemingly contradictory statements side-by-side in order to draw attention to them. A further example of this, earlier in the story about whether or not Israel should have a monarchy, appears in the story about the elders of Israel coming to Samuel and saying “appoint for us a king to govern us, like other nations” (1 Samuel 8:5). Samuel disliked the idea and prayed about it. The LORD responded by saying to Samuel “Listen to the voice of the people in all that they say to you” (v.7). In fact he says it twice: “Listen to them” (again in v.9). Samuel returned to the elders and tried to talk them out of the idea, giving a long speech about all the bad things a king would do (vv. 11-18). But the people insisted on having a king, and Samuel prayed about it again. Again the LORD said “Listen to their voice and set a king over them” (v.22). So, having been told three times by God to give them a king, you would think that’s what Samuel would tell the elders. God was in favour and they would get their king. But what does Samuel do? “Samuel then said to the people of Israel, ‘Each of you return home'” (v.22). Samuel may, in fact, have reported fully about his conversation with God, but if so the writer has chosen not to tell us. He wants to leave the impression that Samuel was still convinced that he was right, and by implication, God was wrong, and he’s not going to tell the people that they will get their king after all! (This may sound shocking, but the prophet Jonah does something very similar, arguing with God about his policy of being compassionate and merciful! Job also argues with God about divine justice, and whether God is just in allowing the righteous to ever suffer. More about this another time). As the story continues, God has to later tell Samuel he’s going to send someone to him to be anointed as king, and he sends Saul to Samuel the next day. Samuel made no effort himself to find a king or even to ask God about it. He just sulks about not getting his way.  What would Samuel have preferred? The writer leaves us in no doubt about that, right at the start of the story: “When Samuel became old, he made his sons judges over Israel” (v.1). He didn’t have a problem with hereditary leadership, he just wanted it to be his own dynasty that ruled Israel!

In this story we have something of a repetition of an incident earlier in Israel’s history, also involving a judge and an attempt to establish a hereditary office. Judges tells the story of the judge Gideon who successfully saved Israel from their enemies. So impressed were the people with his victories that they said to Gideon “Rule over us, you and your son and your grandson also; for you have delivered us out of the hand of Midian” (Judges 8:22). Gideon’s reply was theologically almost identical to Samuel’s reaction later: “I will not rule over you, and my son will not rule over you; the LORD will rule over you” (v.23). However, there is a remarkable irony in the Gideon story in the events that follow. First, Gideon asks for the people to pay him a gold earring each (a tax if you like); then he uses this gold to make an אֵפֹד ephod, which was probably some kind of garment designating a high office (the same word is used to describe the garments of priests, especially the High Priest, and which was used in consulting God and determining the divine will). Then Gideon has a son and names him Abimelech (v.31) which literally means “My father is king”! So, having rejected the office and title of king, Gideon then levies a tax (like a king), produces a garment to designate his high office (like a king), and names his son “My father is king”. After the death of Gideon Abimelech goes about to establish himself as king, clearly on the supposition that Gideon had founded a dynasty.

By appointing his own sons as successors Samuel was following the precedent set by the judge Gideon. Theologically they were on the same page (God is Israel’s king), but in practice they ruled as kings and wanted their sons to rule after them. By using similar language in his story to that used in Judges, the writer of 1 & 2 Samuel is making a literary connection, letting the reader know that history was about to repeat itself. The juxtaposition of God’s words to Samuel, “give them a king”, set against Samuel’s words to the elders of Israel in the finale, “go home”, highlight the irony. Samuel was not opposed to hereditary rulership; he was opposed to the idea that it shouldn’t be his family that would rule! No wonder that Samuel criticised almost everything that king Saul did and undermined his kingship.

Not all irony is humorous, although it can be. However, the repetitive nature of the ironies in 1 & 2 Samuel, highlighted by the juxtaposition of conflicting ideas, tends to ridicule the key characters, principally Samuel and David, and portrays their weaknesses in a somewhat comic way.

[1] “A King and a Fool? Verbal irony in 2 Samuel 11:1-19:8a” 2016, Murdoch University

Biblical humour: left-handed men

Barack_Obama_signs_at_his_desk2_1024A recent article posted on the Biblical Archaeology Society’s site about left-handed people in the Bible put a smile on my face.

The article makes a good observation:

The Hebrew Bible mentions left-handed people on three occasions: the story of Ehud’s assassination of the Moabite king (Judges 3:12–30), the 700 Benjamites who could use the sling with deadly accuracy (Judges 20:16) and the two-dozen ambidextrous warriors who came to support David in Hebron (1 Chronicles 12:2). All of these stories of left-handed people in the Bible appear in military contexts, and, curiously, all involve members of the tribe of Benjamin.

The thing which looks to me to be intentionaly humorous is that all these left-handed men are from the tribe of Benjamin, and Benjamin means “son of my right hand“! There has to be an intentional, and possibly humorous, play on Benjamin’s name there.

In fact, the Bible has so many stories which refer specifically to meanings of names it seems fairly obvious that in some of these stories the name was actually made up to fit the story, or to ridicule a character. For example, in 1 Samuel 25:25 there is an incident concerning Nabal where his wife says: “My lord, do not take seriously this ill-natured fellow, Nabal; for as his name is, so is he; Nabal is his name, and folly is with him”. 

In Hebrew Nabal נָבָל (pronounced Naval) means “foolish”, “worthless” or “good for nothing”. [1]  Since it is unlikely his parents hated him so much as to call him “fool” from birth, so scholars discuss how the name might also be understood according to an alternative Semitic root meaning “noble.” The meaning “fool” would be a play on the double meaning of the name. Zeev Weisman deals specifically with the case of Naval as one of several pejorative names which ridiculed and smeared the bearers, noting that there is also a phonic association between the name Naval and the wordנַבֶל  (navel) wineskin which may be behind the account of Naval’s death: “In the morning, when the wine had gone out of Naval [like an empty wineskin, a navel], his wife told him these things, and his heart died within him”(36-37). [2]

There is certainly some wordplay going on here, and wordplay in the Hebrew Bible is often not just a case of being clever with words, but also of being playful with words in order to ridicule a character or simply to inject some humour in to the story.

[1] Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 663

[2] Zeev Weisman, Political Satire in the Bible (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 1998), 15-6.