ABRAHAM

aN HISTORY
ae
e(i
aes
ONL
Ee
ngal
Sern

AND
‘TRADITION
ae iia clan ee
ke
; ok

: at John Van Seters

 MEI Ul BUiijE
tH

Abraham in History and Tradition

 Abraham
in
History and ‘Tradition

John Van Seters

WITHDRAWN
FROM
KING’S COLLEGE LONDON
LIBRARIES

Yale University Press

New Haven and London
 PSSEO Iw SV De

Published with assistance from the foundation

established in memory of Rutherford Trowbridge.

Copyright © 1975 by Yale University.

All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part,
in any form (beyond that copying permitted by Sections
107 and 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law and except by
reviewers for the public press), without written
permission from the publishers.

Library of Congress catalog card number: 74—20087

International standard book numbers: | 0—300—01792-8 (cloth)
0-—300—04040—7 (pbk.)

Designed by John O. C. McCrillis

and set in Baskerville type.
Printed in the United States of America by
The Murray Printing Co., Westford, Massachusetts.

The paper in this book meets the guidelines for

permanence and durability of the Committee on
Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the
Council on Library Resources.

10-19) “3° 75 0 “haa eognre

 To
Frederick Victor Winnett
 Contents

Preface ix
Abbreviations xi

Introduction

Part I: Abraham in History

1. The Age of the Patriarchs
2. The Nomadism of the Patriarchs 13
3. Personal Names, Peoples, and Places 39
4 . The Social Customs of the Patriarchs
5 . Archaeology and the Patriarchs 104
Part II: Abraham in Tradition 123
6. Method I: A Critique 125
is Method II: Some Guidelines 154
8. The Problem of the Beautiful Wife 167
Q. The Birth of Ishmael and Isaac 192
10. The Lot-Sodom Tradition 209
it: Abraham and Isaac 227
12. The Covenant of Abraham: Genesis 15 249
13. The Priestly Traditions of Abraham 279
I4. Victory over the Kings of the East 296
15. Conclusions 309
Appendix 313
Index SD
 Preface

The subject of the patriarchs of ancient Israel has had a great deal of
attention for many years, not only among scholars but also in the
popular press. The continuous volume of archaeological discoveries
from the ancient Near East has fostered many efforts to reconstruct
the life and times of the forefather Abraham. In 1966 my colleague
Professor Norman Wagner of Waterloo Lutheran University (now
Wilfrid Laurier University), encouraged me to undertake a critical
review of the “archaeological”? evidence which was being used in
such presentations. Two articles arising out of this study were
subsequently published: “The Problem of Childlessness in Near
Eastern Law and the Patriarchs of Israel,” JBL 87 (1968): 401-8,
and “‘Jacob’s Marriages and Ancient Near Eastern Customs: A
Reexamination,” HTR 62 (1969): 377-95. These studies, pertaining
to family customs in the patriarchal stories, were part of a much
broader study then in preparation which was intended to deal with
all the alleged parallels from the early- and mid-second millennium
B.c. (see JBL 87:n.6).
But the promised review of this comparative data was delayed by
another consideration already expressed in my first article (p. 408).
This was the concern that any serious question about the antiquity of
the tradition in terms of biblical chronology also had very important
implications for elucidating the history of the tradition and for
explaining its present form and function or intention in Israelite
society. It is one thing to criticize the misuse of parallels in dating
the patriarchal stories, but quite another to try to reconstruct their
literary and ideological development. This latter question about the
history of the tradition has long been the preoccupation of German
biblical scholars, but their general assumption about the tradition’s
antiquity and basis in oral tradition caused me some misgivings
about their approach as well. Consequently I made an investigation
into both aspects of the Abraham tradition: the question of its
antiquity, and the history of its formation.
During a half-term academic leave spent at Yale University in the
winter and spring of 1973, I had the opportunity to write the present
manuscript. I wish to thank the Department of Near Eastern Studies
ix
x PREFACE

of the Yale Graduate School and members of the faculty of the Yale
Divinity School for their warm hospitality. Special thanks are due to
William W. Hallo, curator of the Babylonian Collection in the
Sterling Library and to Stephen Peterson, Librarian, and his staff in
the Yale Divinity School Library for their assistance during my work
at Yale. I am also grateful to the Canada Council for a research
grant to cover expenses during this period of leave.
Since the completion of this manuscript in July 1973 other articles
and books related to the subject of this work have continued to
appear, and I have made minor revisions to include some of them.
However, there is one book which has just now appeared, Thomas L.
Thompson’s The Historicity of the Patriarchal Narratives: The Quest for
the Historical Abraham (BKAW 133, 1974), which calls for special
comment. This book represents a considerable overlap of the subject
matter contained in Part One of my book and independently comes
to many of the same conclusions regarding the antiquity of the
patriarchal traditions. Since I myself have been publicly calling for
such a reexamination since 1968 it is not surprising that one should
finally appear, and I gladly welcome this support. Nevertheless,
there are still so many differences in perspective and in details that I
have not attempted to revise my own work to include any discussion
of Thompson’s. My own manuscript stands as an independent review
of the data relevant to the question of the “historicity” of the
Abraham tradition and then seeks, in Part Two, to carry forward the
implications of this into a study of the tradition’s formation.
I wish to express my appreciation to Yale University Press for
their patience and interest in this work since it was first suggested to
them several years ago. Jane Isay of the Press has been especially
helpful in seeing it through the various stages of preparation. And
a great deal of credit must go to my wife for the preparation of the
typed manuscript and for assistance in many of the mundane tasks
associated with publication.
This book is dedicated to Professor Frederick Victor Winnett,
former teacher and now colleague and friend. In his presidential
address to the Society of Biblical Literature in December 1964 he
called for a “reexamining of the foundations” of pentateuchal
criticism. The present volume is hereby offered, ten years later, as
my response to that appeal.

June 1974 Joun VAN SETERS

 Abbreviations

AASOR Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research.

AHw W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwérterbuch, Wiesbaden,
O. Harrassowitz, 1965~-.
AFSL American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literatures.
ANET J. B. Pritchard, ed., Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating
to the Old Testament, 3rd. ed., Princeton, Princeton
University Press, 1969.
AOAT Alter Orient und Altes Testament.
AOTS D. W. Thomas, ed., Archaeology and Old Testament
Study, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1967.
BA The Biblical Archaeologist.
BAR The Biblical Archaeologist Reader, vol. 2, D. N. Freedman
and E. F. Campbell, eds., Garden City, Anchor
Books, 1964.
BASOR Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research.
BBB Bonner Biblische Beitrage.
BH Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia.
Bi Or Bibliotheca Orientals.
BRL Bulletin of the John Rylands Library.
BR Biblical Research.
BWANT Beitrage zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen
Testament.
BA Biblische Keitschrift.
BZAW Bethefte zur Keitschrift fiir die Alttestamentliche Wis-
senschaft.
CA Current Anthropology.
CAD The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the
University of Chicago, ed. A. H. Oppenheim et al.,
Chicago, 1964—.
CAH The Cambridge Ancient History, rev. ed., vols. 1 and 2,
Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, issued in
separate fascicles, 1961-70; 3rd. ed. 1973-.
CBO, Catholic Biblical Quarterly.
CH The Code of Hammurapi.
xi
xii ABBREVIATIONS

DBS Dictionnaire de la Bible, Supplément, ed. I. Pirot, A.

Robert, H. Cazelles, and A. Feuillet, Paris, Letouzey
and Ané, 1928-.
DMAL G. R. Driver and J. C. Miles, The Assyrian Laws,
Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1935.
DMBL G. R. Driver and J. C. Miles, The Babylonian Laws,
2 vols., Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1952-55.
EB Early Bronze Age.
Encyc. Fud. Encyclopaedia Judaica, ed. Cecil Roth, 16 vols., New
York, Macmillan, 1971-72.
Ex. Times Expository Times.
FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und
Neuen Testament.
HTR Harvard Theological Review.
HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual.
IDB The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, ed. G. A. But-
trick, 4 vols., New York, Abingdon Press, 1962.
IEF Israel Exploration Journal.
AOS Journal of the American Oriental Society.
FBL Journal of Biblical Literature.
FCS Journal of Cuneiform Studies.
FEA Journal of Egyptian Archaeology.
FEOL Jaarbericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap
Ex Oriente Lux.
77P Journal of Furistic Papyrology.
NES Journal of Near Eastern Studies.
FSOR Journal of the Society of Oriental Research.
78S Journal of Semitic Studies.
LB Late Bronze Age.
M-AL Middle-Assyrian Laws.
MB Middle Bronze Age.
MDIK Mitteilungen des deutschen Instituts fiir dgyptische Alter-
tumskunde In Kairo.
MDOG Mitteilungen des deutschen Orientgesellschaft.
MVAG Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatisch-Agyptischen Gesellschaft.
OB Old Babylonian.
OTS Oudtestamentische Studién.
RA Revue d’Assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale.
RB Revue biblique.
 ABBREVIATIONS xiii

SBS Stuttgarter Bibelstudien.

SBT Studies in Biblical Theology.
SG Studium Generale.
SVT Supplements to Vetus Testamentum.
TB Theologische Biicherei.
TLA Theologische Literatur zeitung.
TAZ Theologische Kertschrift.
VT Vetus Testamentum.
YOS Yale Oriental Series.
ZA Keitschrift fiir Assyriologie und verwandte Gebrete.
ZAW Keutschrift fiir die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft.
ZDMG Keitschrift der deutschen morgenlindischen Gesellschaft.
ZDPV Keitschrift des deutschen Paldstina-Vereins.
ZKTh Keitschrift fiir Katholische Theologie.
ZTK Keitschrift fiir Theologie und Kirche.
 a? o
344

2 io

5
on

Bin ot

iz een sles ie
eel RAIN caplet MaleMGa. ges
as
a
ie ee «
a
ey err pe Lon aa
o~. . if : ‘ y 2 a %, apr2
Me ne hia aon a —— wv

His
a il a “5 vod
y
i] <= ce 0% a 7 - on

4
; aa
-
‘ )
= 7

eg, 1
_ —— Ge,

~ < Ri

A 7 _

) - °

~ ier
ty t
. i ”
os
1% n=

=e i

y 7 '
8
7 aa h

Ay
S "i é
Ay :
8
s i (pe

atea yaa wus NS > ;

Righs
Het a hd aia) tee

silts hy
oe
 Introduction

While the biblical tradition of Abraham is relatively short, com-

prising only a few chapters in Genesis (12-25) and brief allusions in
only a few other places in the Old Testament, the discussion sur-
rounding it has grown to very great proportions. This has now
rendered it difficult to encompass in a single volume both a critical
evaluation of the study of this tradition and a new detailed textual
examination of the tradition itself. The present study is therefore
offered as a prolegomenon to a history and exposition of the Abraham
tradition.
The issues involved in such a task may be set out as a series of
problems that will serve as a guide to the pursuit of our investigation.
A basic problem is the antiquity of the tradition or any part of it. A
great deal of attention has been given to this question in the interest
of Hebrew origins, often to the exclusion of other considerations
regarding the tradition’s form and development. On the other hand,
where the concern has been on the literary or preliterary history of
the tradition, there is always a necessary presupposition about the
tradition’s antiquity or historical setting which plays a major role in
the conclusions reached by such a work. Since any study of the
biblical form and growth of the Abraham tradition cannot escape
the prior question of dating the stories involved, a review of the
arguments having to do with dating must be the first task of this
book.
The problem of dating the tradition is complex, and a one-sided
approach could be quite misleading. There is the matter, on the one
hand, of dating the written form of the tradition and, on the other,
of deciding on the antiquity of the tradition elements behind the
written form. The fact that the question is put in this way means
that two levels of data are regularly discussed: those which are
regarded as the oldest and as reflecting the preliterary level of the
tradition, and those which are related to the tradition’s literary
formation and to the concern of the writer or writers. Of course this
cannot be reduced to an exercise in merely designating a number of
I
2 INTRODUCTION

late elements as anachronisms introduced into what is otherwise

regarded as an ancient tradition. Literary judgments can help us
discern the extent to which such late references are an integral part
of the unit as a whole. So any effort at dating the tradition cannot be
entirely independent from a close literary examination of the tradi-
tion as well.
The kinds of data relevant to the problem of dating the Abraham
tradition are also complex. One type of evidence pertains to refer-
ences in the stories to names of peoples and places, social customs,
and economies, which may be set against the broader Near Eastern
historical and cultural background of the second and first millennia
B.c. It is this type of data which has attracted the most attention for
dating the patriarchal traditions, and it can be dealt with, at least in
a preliminary way, prior td any discussion about the literary forma-
tion of the tradition. I have endeavored to give an extensive review
of the very numerous and detailed arguments related to this kind of
data at the beginning of this study before I discuss the literary form
of the tradition.
The results from this type of evidence for dating are not very
conclusive in dealing with either the preliterary or literary levels of
the Abraham tradition. However, this is not the only type of data
used in fixing the tradition’s historical background. Many scholars
have put much weight on the question of the tradition’s form. A
distinction is made between the degree to which the tradition
reflects an oral form originating in a preliterate stage of Israelite
society with certain social functions in that setting, and the literate
form of the later historical periods, representing the more special
concerns of the author. In the latter case the data important for
dating actually arise through a literary and form-critical analysis
of the tradition itself and cannot, therefore, be dealt with prior to, or
independent of, such a study. Consequently evidence for dating the
tradition will be a by-product of literary criticism of the tradition,
which is the major concern of the second part of this study.
Still a third type of data for dating the Abraham tradition is its
reflection of particular stages in Israel’s self-understanding as a
people and the development of its social and religious consciousness
and concerns. These data are probably the most elusive and can only
be discussed after the antiquity or lateness of the various tradition
elements has been established and after the general literary character
 INTRODUCTION 3

of the tradition has become quite clear. Of primary importance here

will be the comparison of the Abraham tradition with the perspec-
tives of other biblical materials, such as the prophetic books and
the Deuteronomic corpus, which have a greater degree of certainty
as to their dating and their relationship to Israelite history.
It should not be assumed from these remarks that dating the
Abraham tradition is the only, or even most important, concern of
this study. The fact that so much attention must be given to it is a
reflection of discussion on this part of the Bible in the last few decades.
The dating of the tradition is only preliminary to an understanding
of the nature and function or intention of the tradition, which is the
real objective of this investigation. The most direct approach to this
objective is a literary study with a scope broad enough to include
the consideration of any possible preliterary form of the tradition as
well. This will involve, first, an extensive review of literary method as
it relates to the study of the Pentateuch in general and to the patri-
archal narratives in particular. I do not entirely agree with the ways
in which the methods of literary criticism, form criticism, and tra-
dition history have been developed since the time of Wellhausen.
Consequently, it cannot simply be a matter of applying given
methods to a certain block of literature. The literary study is itself
intended to be an attempt at developing a new methodology in the
course of analyzing the material. Thus the two primary foci of this
literary examination will be the form and development of the tradi-
tion, on the one hand, and the function or intention of the tradition
in its historical and sociological context, on the other.
It is fair to ask whether, by limiting this study to the Abraham
tradition, I can actually do what I have set out to do. It may be
argued that these biblical chapters are not a completely self-
contained unit of tradition and that many historical and literary
questions go beyond these limits to include the other patriarchal
narratives and even the rest of the Pentateuch. At some points I have
felt the weight of this argument and made allowance for it. Thus, for
instance, on the questions of dating I have considered arguments
having to do with the patriarchal narratives as a whole. On the
literary side I have also included the story of Isaac in Gen. 26, since
it has so many close parallels with the Abraham tradition. But a
further extension to include the Jacob stories in a literary analysis
would make this study far too cumbersome.
4 INTRODUCTION

There is also the opposite danger of selecting narrower limits, such

as concentrating on a particular unit within the Abraham tradition.
But this does not allow for any significant review of the literary
method or comparison of variety of forms and sources within the
tradition as a whole. This present study seeks to raise more basic
questions about the present method of evaluating the traditions
about early Israel. The Abraham tradition is a most suitable unit for
this purpose. It contains, in a reasonably short compass, a variety
of literary phenomena, such as the frequent presence of doublets,
different types of literary genre and important thematic passages, all
of which make it crucial for the development of any literary criticism
for the Pentateuch as a whole.
To summarize: the study will review, in Part One, the nonliterary
arguments for the dating of the patriarchal narratives. It will then
proceed, in Part Two, to a literary analysis of the Abraham tradition
in Genesis, giving particular attention to the question of the develop-
ment of its literary form and, if any, its preliterary antecedents. It
will also be concerned with the use of the Abraham tradition in
various social and historical contexts corresponding to the evidence
for dating and to its relationship to other parts of the biblical
tradition.
 PART I

Abraham in History
 CHAPTER 1

The Age of the Patriarchs

The first question that must be dealt with in any study of the patriar-
chal traditions is that of the historical milieu out of which they arose.
Now it may be disconcerting to many students of the Bible that this
issue should be resurrected once again, for it was apparently settled
by the last generation of Biblical scholars who dominated the field of
Near Eastern studies.1 In fact so broad had the general consensus
about a patriarchal age in the second millennium B.c. become, that
it is found in virtually every basic history and introduction in the
Old Testament field. Reference to Mari or Nuzi hardly needs any
explanation; their existence and significance are now common
knowledge among Near Eastern scholars.
The securing of a historical background for the patriarchs in the
second millennium B.c. was considered a hard-won gain against the
older criticism such as that expressed by Wellhausen, who concluded
that the patriarchal age only reflected the times of the later writers
and not an older period in Israel’s history.? This sentiment is very
well expressed by W. F. Albright:
Until recently it was the fashion among biblical historians to
treat the patriarchal sagas of Genesis as though they were
artificial creations of Israelite scribes of the Divided Monarchy
or tales told by imaginative rhapsodists around Israelite
campfires during the centuries following their occupation of the
country. Eminent names among scholars can be cited for
regarding every item of Gen. 11-50 as reflecting late invention,
or at least retrojection of events and conditions under the
Monarchy into the remote past, about which nothing was
thought to have been really known to the writers of later days.

1. A bibliographical note appears at the end of this chapter.

2. J. Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel (New York: World Publishing
Co., Meridian Books, 1957), pp. 318-19.
8 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

The archaeological discoveries of the past generation have

changed all this. Aside from a few die-hards among older
scholars, there is scarcely a single biblical historian who has not
been impressed by the rapid accumulation of data supporting
\|the substantial historicity of patriarchal tradition.
The archaeological discoveries, mentioned by Albright, have
included not only the exploration of ancient sites in Palestine but
also the opening up of the rich cities of Mesopotamia, North Syria
and Anatolia: Ur, Babylon, Nuzi, Mari, Alalah, Ugarit, and
Hattusas (Bogazkoi). Their archives have yielded knowledge of
second millennium history throughout the Levant as well as the
names of persons, peoples, and places. Law codes were found,
along with private legal and economic documents and personal and
state correspondence, which gave a cross section of the social customs
and mores of the times. Against this background, comparisons with
the patriarchal narratives were made, and claims were established
about the context of these stories in the second millennium B.c. The
confidence inspired by these discoveries is very well reflected in a
remark made by G. Ernest Wright:
We shall probably never be able to prove that Abram really
existed, that he did this or that, said thus and so, but what we
can prove is that his life and times, as reflected in the stories
about him, fit perfectly within the early second milliennium, but
imperfectly within any later period. This is an exceedingly
important conclusion, one of the most important contributions
which archaeology has made to Old Testament study during the
last four decades.
However, cracks have begun to appear in this imposing edifice
which indicate that the foundations may not be so secure after all.
Firstly there has been little movement in the last fifty years towards
agreement on when, within the second millennium, the patriarchs
actually lived. Albright and Glueck have defended a date of MB I at
the turn of the third to second millennium.5 Many others, such

3. The Biblical Period (Pittsburgh: The Biblical Colloquium, 1950), p. 3.

4. Biblical Archaeology, p. 40.
5. W. F. Albright, “‘Abram the Hebrew: A New Archaeological Interpretation,”
BASOR 163 (October 1961): 36-54; N. Glueck, ‘‘The Age of Abraham in the Negeb,”’
BA 18 (1955): 2-9; idem, Rivers in the Desert, ch. 3.
 THE AGE OF THE PATRIARCHS 9

as Wright and Bright, prefer the MB II, or Old Babylonian period

(around the nineteenth to seventeenth centuries B.c.).6 Still others,
such as Cyrus Gordon, have urged the Late Bronze-Amarna Age.’
In Germany the tendency is to speak only in general terms of an
early settlement period.®§ This range of opinion represents at least
an eight-hundred-year spread, but if the dating of the patriarchal
age cannot be fixed more precisely than this, then it has scarcely
beenestablished
at all. cn Wisely e a
Secondly the approach to the patriarchal traditions which is most
prominent in German scholarship is to emphasize the nomadic
character of Israelite origins.? Parallels are drawn to nomadic
customs and sociological phenomena, and all nomadic elements of
Israelite culture are traced back to their nonsedentary beginnings.
This approach actually represents much less of a break with older
scholarship which always had a certain interest in nomadic origins.1°
Nevertheless, recent German scholarship places a_ substantial
number of the patriarchal traditions in the prehistorical nomadic and
early settlement phase of Israel’s history because of its criterion of
nomadism. In contrast to this approach, most of the comparisons
made with the patriarchal stories by American scholars are largely
based on sources which represent settled agricultural communities
and citylife. If such parallels from sedentary life are admissible, and
German scholars appear to admit their validity,!! then the nomadic
criterion would seem to have little value for establishing what-is
primitive inTsraelite life. Tf, on the other hand, one is convinced that
Israel was originally nomadic, then the Genesis stories which reflect
manners of the settled life must reflect this viewpoint after Israel
itself became completely sedentary in spite of the dating of the
parallels. But one cannot have it both ways. The contradiction of
illustrating the patriarchal nomadic origins by non-nomadic parallels
must be resolved. It is at this point that the two approaches of

6. Wright, Biblical Archaeology, pp. 40-52; Bright, History of Israel, pp. 69-78.
7. Old Testament Times, pp. 100-119.
8. Noth, History of Israel, pp. 121-27; Eissfeldt, CAH?, pp. 10-17.
g. See esp. A. Alt, Der Gott der Vater BNWANT 111/12 (1929), translated by R. A. Wilson
as ‘“*The God of the Fathers,” in Essays on Old Testament History and Religion (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1966), pp. 1-77; see also G. Fohrer, Introduction to the Old Testament (New York
and Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1968), pp. 121-26.
10. See W. Robertson Smith, Lectures on the Religion of the Semites (Edinburgh, 1889).
11. See Fohrer, Introduction, pp. 121-24.
 10 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

American and German scholarship on the patriarchs have never

really been resolved.!2
Thirdly there is a weakness in the way in which the comparisons
have been made. So strong is the prejudice for an early date that no
serious consideration is given to material outside of this period.
Sometimes it is even systematically excluded.1% Only in a few in-
stances have some of the parallels now begun to be questioned on
the basis of materials dating to a later period. Ironically most of
these latter materials have been available for a long time, yet it is
more usual to find an appeal to a particular Nuzi, Mari, or Alalah
text as the all-important parallel without any perspective on the
history of such customs over an extended period of time. How can
the claim be repeatedly made that the customs in the patriarchal
stories reflect only the “early or mid-second millennium” unless it is
shown that they were no longer current at a late date? While there
has been a great deal of interest in the social and legal history of the
second millennium which has produced numerous studies on many
different facets of society, nothing comparable exists for the first
millennium. The obvious prejudice for the second millennium,
created largely by the mood in biblical studies, has resulted in very
meager treatment of the first millennium materials. This is also
reflected in the standard reference work for Old Testament students,
J. B. Pritchard’s Ancient Near Eastern Texts,}4 in which there is
scarcely anything at all in the area of social and legal documents
from the later periods. Such a one-sided treatment of parallels by
scholars dealing with the patriarchal stories does not inspire con-
fidence in existing studies and more closely resembles an apologetic
than a scholarly investigation.16
The task before us in this first part of the study is clear. It involves
reviewing all the various kinds of arguments used to support the
notion of a patriarchal age. In examining these arguments I will try

12. Some attempt at a mediating position is made by deVaux, Histoire, pp. 9, 172-79,
who for this reason plays down the importance of social customs (see pp. 230-43).
13. Note the statement by J. M. Holt, The Patriarchs of Israel (Nashville: Vanderbilt
University Press, 1964), pp. 25ff., on the limits of his investigation.
14. J. B. Pritchard, ed., Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, 2nd ed.
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1955); idem, Supplementary Texts and Pictures
Relating to the Old Testament (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969).
15. A rather strong attack on this apologetic approach was made by Morton Smith,
“The Present State of Old Testament Studies,” JBL 88 (1969): 19-35.
 THE AGE OF THE PATRIARCHS Lig

to illustrate the abuses and weaknesses to which I have referred.

But above all I want to consider anew the question of whether or not
the patriarchal narratives do reflect a retrojection of conditions and
perspectives of the monarchy or later into the remote past. To do
this I will examine parallels from this late period alongside of those
proposed from earlier times. In other words we must ascertain
whether the notion of a “patriarchal age”’ is basically historical or
idealistic and ideological. Let us now turn to the evidence to answer
this question.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

1 In the last few decades, almost all the histories that deal with
ancient Israel, the introductions to the literature of the Old Testa-
ment, and the commentaries on Genesis have adopted the position
that a large part of the patriarchal traditions come from a period in
the second millennium B.c. Some of the leading figures in biblical
scholarship who have helped to shape this opinion or have given
strong support to it are as follows: W. F. Albright in his early works,
The Archaeology of Palestine and the Bible (New York: Revell, 1932;
and ed., 1933; 3rd ed., 1935); From the Stone Age to Christianity:
Monotheism and the Historical Process (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
Press, 1940; 2nd ed., 1946); and in many subsequent works including
one of his most recent, Yahweh and the Gods of Canaan (Garden City,
N. Y.: Doubleday, 1968). His influence is also reflected in the works
of his students G. Ernest Wright, Biblical Archaeology (Philadelphia:
Westminster Press, 1957); and John Bright, A History of Irsrael
(Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1959; 2nd ed., 1972). Also
influential were the writings of E. A. Speiser in numerous scholarly
articles, now available in Ortental and Biblical Studies: Collected
Writings of E. A. Speiser, ed. J. J. Finkelstein and M. Greenberg
(Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1967); and his
recent commentary, Genesis, The Anchor Bible (Garden City, N. Y.:
Doubleday, 1964). Other works by leading scholars of the English-
speaking world are: Cyrus H. Gordon, Introduction to Old Testament
Times (Ventnor, N.J.: Ventnor Publishers, 1953), with later
editions issued under new titles; Nelson Glueck, Rivers in the Desert:
A History of the Negeb (New York: Farrar, Straus and Cudahy,
12 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

1959); T. J. Meek, Hebrew Origins (New York: Harper, 1936;

end ed., 1950); and H. H. Rowley, “Recent Discovery and the
Patriarchal Age,” BFRL 32 (1949-50):44-79. Among French-
speaking scholars, see: Edouard Dhorme, “Abraham dans le cadre
de Vhistoire,” RB 37 (1928) :367-85, 481-511; 40 (1931):364-74,
503-18 (reprinted in Recueil Edouard Dhorme ; études biblique et orientales
[Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1951], pp. 191-272); Roland de
Vaux, “‘Les patriarches hébreux et les découvertes modernes,”
RB 53 (1946) :321-48; 55 (1948) :321-47; 56 (1949) :5-36 (cf. his
more recent position in “Les patriarches hébreux et lhistoire,” RB
72 [1965]; and Histoire ancienne d’Israél, des origines a Vinstallation en
Canaan [Paris: Le coffre, 1971], pp. 157-273); Henri Cazelles,
*‘Patriarches,’ DBS 7, cols. 82-156; André Parrot, Abraham et son
Temps, Cahiers d’archéologie biblique 14 (Neuchatel: Delachaux &
Niestlé, 1962), translated by J. H. Farley as Abraham and His Times
(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1968). German scholarship, however,
has been more cautious. See M. Noth, The History of Israel, 2nd ed.
(New York: Harper, 1960); cf. his later statement in Die Urspriinge
des alten Israel im Lichte neuer Quellen (Arbeitsgemeinschaft fiir For-
schung des Landes Nordrhein-Westfalen: Cologne, 1961); and Otto
Eissfeldt, “Palestine in the Time of the Nineteenth Dynasty,”
CAH, rev. ed. (1965), fasc. 31.
 CHAPTER 2

The Nomadism of the Patriarchs

The patriarchal traditions of Genesis are generally thought to

reflect an age of nomadic existence by the forefathers of Israel prior
to settlement.! In spite of the specific disagreement about dating the
“age of the patriarchs” it is still strongly affirmed that the stories
present a portrayal of a nomadic way of life which can be documented
from the textual remains of the second millennium B.c. This general
thesis is so basic to the current study of patriarchal tradition-history
that it needs to be reviewed at the very beginning of this study.
The literature on the nature of nomadism has become quite
extensive in recent years; however, its main features as it relates to
the Near East seem clear enough.? Before the introduction of the
camel as a basis of nomadic life, all nomads were breeders of
small livestock, principally sheep but perhaps also goats. They also
kept asses as a means of Je ugesy as and as beasts of burden.
Such nomadism is frequently called “seminomadism”’ to distinguish
it from the camel nomadism which represents a somewhat different
way of life.2 But the term “‘seminomad” is problematic in that it
1. DeVaux, Histoire, pp. 213-23, contains a good review of the subject with references to
the current literature. See also Joseph Henninger, ‘‘ Zum friithsemitischen Nomadentum,”’
in Viehwirtschaft und Hirtenkultur, Ethnographische Studien, ed. L. Foldes (Budapest: Aka-
démiai Kiadé, 1969), pp. 33-68, which contains an extensive bibliography. Henninger’s
work, however, is marred by the fact that he accepts uncritically the patriarchal narra-
tives as primary data for second millennium nomadism, and it can only be used with
great caution. A valuable collection of essays on the subject is contained in F. Gabrieli,
ed., L’antica societa beduina, Studi Semitici 2 (Rome: University of Rome, 1959). See also
Manfred Weippert, The Settlement of the Israelite Tribes in Palestine (SBT 2/21, London:
SCM. 1971), pp. 102-26.
2. For second millennium nomadism, see especially the studies of J.-R. Kupper, Les
nomades en Mésopotamie au temps des rois de Mari, Bibliothéque de la Faculté de Philo-
sophie et Lettres de l’Université de Liége 142 (Paris, 1957); D. O. Edzard, Die ‘zweite
Zwischenzeit’ Babyloniens (Wiesbaden: O. Harrassowitz, 1957), PP. 30-433 idem, in
E. Cassin,J.Bottéro, andJ.Vercoutter, eds., The Near East: The Early Civilizations (London:
Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1967), pp. 180-86; see also works in n. 1 above.
3. On the problem of terminology see Henninger, “ Nomadentum,” pp. 53-57.
13
14 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

suggests, as well, a process of settling down, which is not necessarily

the case for all sheep-breeding nomads. Another term used for
second millennium nomadism is “‘ass-nomadism,”’ used in contrast to
camel-nomadism.4 But this term is also a misnomer because asses
were not herded or bred like the later camel herds and were second-
ary in importance to sheep. Large numbers of donkeys are only
mentioned in connection with caravan activity, and such commercial
enterprise is only carried on by settled, urban communities, or by
certain seminomadic groups under the direct supervision of urban
communities.» So donkey breeding can hardly be regarded as
characteristic of the nomadic life itself. One may use the qualification
“‘sheep-breeding”’ nomad if a distinction is needed to avoid confusion
with the camel-nomads or bedouin of the first millennium B.c. and
seminomads of pastoral tribes in the process of settling down, but
other terms such as ‘‘ass-nomad”’ should be completely avoided.
One of the fundamental characteristics of nomads is their practice
of transhumance. Nomads are primarily shepherds or herdsmen
who must move their livestock from summer to winter pasture along
with their whole families, and -because of this seasonal movement
they have no fixed abode. This must be qualified somewhat for the
second millennium B.c., since the sources do speak of steppe-region
settlements of a semipermanent nature that included sheep pens
and living shelters.® It is a curious fact that tents are not mentioned in
the Mari archives at all and only rarely in other second millennium
sources.’ This is in contrast to the tent encampments of the bedouin,
which are a most distinctive feature by the mid-first millennium B.c.
Nevertheless it is clear that the nomads did move with their total
population at certain times of the year. It must be remembered
that there was private and state ownership of flocks and herds in the
settled community as well, and transhumance of animals with a
4. See Albright, ‘Abram the Hebrew,” BASOR 163: 36-54.
5. For criticism of Albright, see deVaux, Histoire, pp. 217-20; Henninger, ‘‘ Nomaden-
tum,”’ pp. 52-56; H. Klengel, ‘“‘Zu einigen Problemen des altvorderasiatischen Noma-
dentums,” Ar. Or. 30 (1962): 593; M. Weippert, ‘‘Abraham der Hebraer? Bemer-
kungen zu W. F. Albrights Deutung der VAter Israels,” Biblica 52 (1971): 407-32.
6. On this terminology see A. Malamat, ‘‘ Mari and the Bible: Some Patterns of Tribal
Organization and Institutions,’’ AOS 82 (1962): 146-47; Weippert, Settlement, pp. 115-
25.
See Kupper, Nomades, pp. 14-15; G. Dossin, “‘ Les bédouins dans les textes de Mari,”
in L’antica societa bedouina, p. 51 n. 36; Henninger, ‘‘ Nomadentum,” p. 56, who notes the
rather late development of the black tents of the nomads.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 15

shepherd was also necessary for these peoples.’ In this case, however,
the owner of the flocks and the families of the shepherds remained
stationary while only the hired hands traveled with the animals.
The sheep-breeding nomads were limited in their movement to
the steppe region of the desert within proximity to a water supply for
their animals.® Only with the later domestication of the camel and
its use as the principal animal of the nomads could the beduoin
penetrate deep into the desert and fully utilize the oases of northern
Arabia. In the second millennium the nomads were largely res-
tricted to the outer edge of the Syrian desert adjacent to the settled
lands of the fertile crescent with frequent incursions, both friendly
and hostile, into the land of the Sown. Some of the nomads made the
transition from pastoralists to farmers, while others were dependent
upon trade or raiding for their agricultural products. It is also
possible, even for full nomads such as the ‘‘Benjaminites” of Mari,
that a little agriculture was carried on while they were quartered at
their winter pastures.!° But this does not reflect any great move to a
sedentary life on the part of these nomads.
Another characteristic of nomads frequently mentioned in the
sources of both the second and first millennia is their belligerence
toward the settled regions. They are described as constantly raiding
and plundering the towns and agricultural land, so that designations
for nomadic groups often became synonyms for robbers and outlaws.
Much of this belligerence may have been due simply to the struggle
for survival, the necessity to obtain food when it was scarce. Conflict
between the Desert and the Sown was often at its highest in times of
general famine. Furthermore not all nomads were warlike. Some
entered into peaceful relations with the settled communities in
8. G. E. Mendenhall in ‘‘The Hebrew Conquest of Palestine,” BA 25 (1962): p. 69
n. 7, has gone to the other extreme in denying nomadism altogether and regards it all as a
case of ‘‘seasonal transhumance of sheep-herding villagers,” but the distinction between
such villagers and the nomads is quite clear in the texts. See the response to Mendenhall
in Weippert, Settlement, p. 125.
g. See deVaux, RB 56:13 and the map indicating relative precipitation in the Near
East; idem, Histoire, pp. 220-21; see also the map in L. H. Grollenberg, Atlas of the
Bible (London and Edinburgh: Nelson, 1956), p. 29.
10. Kupper, in Nomades, p. 58, suggests that it was the state that provided the Benja-
minites both seed and land from the royal estate to encourage their sedentarization. The
nomads, however, did not take the decisive step of raising large cattle and were still
primarily dedicated to the care of their sheep.
11. On this point see J. A. Brinkman, A Political History of Post-Kassite Babylonia, 1158-722
B.c. (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1968), pp. 387-89.
16 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

exchange for certain seasonal pasturing rights and for purposes of

commercial transactions. They may have become mercenaries or
even have adopted temporary servitude for a livelihood. Nevertheless
it is true that a certain antagonism frequently existed between the
pastoral and the sedentary way of life.
From the above sketch it should be fairly obvious that there is very
little in the patriarchal stories that reflects the nomadic life of the
second millennium. The Abraham stories, more than any of the
others, suggest that the patriarch was a “‘resident alien” (ger)
term not entirely appropriate as a general designation for nomad.
Abraham also is considered to have had an original homeland in a
settled region, whether Ur or Harran. It is true that he lived in
tents and moved his livestock from place to place, but these move-
ments do not clearly suggest transhumance. He moves about the
land and thereby lays claim to-what God has given him, which his
offspring will inherit. The theme of land inheritance is utterly
foreign to the nomadic way of life but a fundamental principle of the
settled economy. In the Jacob story it is already assumed that the
“land of Canaan”’ is Jacob’s homeland, which he will give as an
inheritance to his sons. Furthermore both Laban and later Jacob
(in the Joseph story) represent landed gentry with large flocks as
well as other wealth, which their sons and hired shepherds pasture.
There is nothing nomadic about this. The one nomadic detail, that
of the tents, is more suggestive of the first millennium than of the
second.
The patriarchs’ animals have also been a matter of considerable
debate. They include sheep, goats, asses, cattle, and camels. While
Sheep and asses are known to have been used by the nomads of the
Mari Age, the other animals are not. Furthermore, it is not possible
to regard any one animal in the Abraham story as predominating
since, apart from goats, they are given about equal weight in the
biblical accounts. The attempt, for instance, to categorize Abraham
as an ass-herdsman and caravaneer fails entirely to get any support
from the tradition. Cattle are certainly animals of the settled land
and not part of the nomadic culture. It should also be pointed out
that asses, cattle, sheep, goats, and even camels were herded in
Palestine in the period of the Judean monarchy, since Sennacherib
12. Gen. 23:4; cf. Gen. 15:13. See cognate terms in Gen. 12:10; 17:8; 19:93; 20:1;
213 23,345 26:3; 28:4; 32:5; 35:27; 36:75 37:13 47: 4,9.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 17

indicates that he took large numbers of these animals as booty in his

Judean campaign of 701 B.c.13 The kinds of animals which Abraham
possessed may not have been exceptional for many wealthy Judeans
living in the time of the late monarchy.
A special comment is necessary on the mention of camels.14 Most
scholars, even those who argue for an early date for the patriarchal
traditions, regard the mention of camels as an anachronism.15 How-
ever, the attempt to view these references as glosses which replaced
earlier mention of donkeys is entirely unconvincing.16 The camels in
such stories as Genesis 24 and 31 are quite integral to the accounts.
There has been a great deal of debate over the question of the
earliest domestication of the camel. Some evidence shows that a
limited domestication was already practiced in Arabia in the third
millennium B.c. But there is no evidence for any widespread domesti-
cation of camels, for camel-nomads in the Near East in contact with
the Fertile Crescent, or for camels used by sheep-breeding nomads
in the second millennium B.c. The occasional representation of a
camel on a monument or the finding of camel bones in an early
archaeological context in no way changes this picture. Only with
the first_millennium~—s.c._was-the camel fully domesticated as a
riding and_burden- -carrying animal,’ and it was not until the
eighth and seventh centuries that it became commonplace as a
beast of burden within the region of arable land as well as the desert.
Some studies have been made of the social organization and
institutions of nomads in the Mari Age.18 What is revealing about
these studies is how little these nomadic sstructures correspond to data
in the Old Testament,
fae aa especially in the patriarchal stories. For
instance, the term goy in the patriarchal stories does not have the
13. ANET2, p. 288.
14. See deVaux, Histoire, pp. 214-16 and the literature cited there.
15. The attempt by some to allow for the use of a few camels by the patriarchs in the
second millennium B.c. seems to me a case of special pleading for apologetic reasons and
not a judgment of historical probability. See J. A. Thompson, in JDB 1: 490-19; K. A.
Kitchen, Ancient Orient and the Old Testament (London: Tyndale Press, 1966), pp. 79-80.
16. So also deVaux, Histoire, p. 216.
17. This is the date suggested by W. Dostal, ‘‘The Evolution of Bedouin Life,”’ L’antica
societa bedouina, p. 22. I do not accept the often repeated statement that the references to
the camel-riding Midianites of Judges 6-8 is the earliest historical reference to camel
domestication. This is still a traditional source contained in a late historical work that also
needs critical evaluation.
18. Malamat, ‘‘ Mari and the Bible,” AOS 82:143-50; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 221-23;
Weippert, Settlement, pp. 112-25.
18 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

meaning of a tribal unit of families as the term gdyum/gawum seems

to have in the Mari texts. Instead it refers to the later nations and
political states with which the ancestors are associated. This is
especially true of the theme of patriarchal promises in which it is
predicted that the ancestors will become a great nation (Gen.
12729=¢3)97:4=6; 16; .205:48:18; 21519,18; 505035) ganic a4fOng:
48:19). Futhermore, the Mari term for a nomadic settlement,
hasarum, corresponds to the settlements, h¢sérim, of the Ishmaelites
(Gen. 25:16) as well as the Kedarite settlements of the Neo-Babylo-
nian period (Isa. 42:11). But the manner of life of the Ishmaelites is
contrasted with that of Israel’s forefathers (Gen. 16:12; 21:20-21).
In contrast to the social and economic structures of nomadic society,
which seem to emphasize groups bound together by kinship rela-
tions, the patriarchs represent single households augmented by
various levels of subordinates, including bought and house-born
slaves.19 In Genesis 14 Abraham is able to arm 318 of his slaves for
his night attack; yet there is no mention of any assistance from fellow
tribesmen. Likewise the herdsmen who are mentioned in some of
the stories are always viewed as part of the personal household of the
patriarch, similar to the large household of Nabal, I Samuel 25,
and not a reflection of a triba] unit.2° The stories also speak of male
and female slaves, and their role in these accounts is often of primary
importance.?! Such a slavery-based economy is not part of the
nomadic way of life because it has no need for a cheap labor force,
and there is nothing in the second millennium sources to suggest that
nomads retained slaves as part of their social way of life. Slave
ownership has its place in the settled urban economic system of
antiquity with its stratification of society and its large private
households, its royal and temple estates.22 In this connection the
term bn byt in Gen. 15:3 calls for some special comment. It appears
to be equivalent to the Late Babylonian term mdr biti which has the
1g. Gen. 125,16; 13:2; 14:14; 15:3; 17:12-13, 23, 27; 18:7; 20:14; 22:3f.; 24:2ff;
26:13; 30:43; 31:1; 32: 5ff.
20. Gen. 13:5-8; 26: 15ff.
21. See especially chaps. 16; 2138-21; 24.
22. On slavery see I. Mendelsohn, Slavery in the Ancient Near East (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1949); idem, IDB 4:383-91; R. deVaux, Ancient Israel, Its Life and
Institutions, trans. J. McHugh (London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1961), pp. 80-
go. Cf. J. P. M. van der Ploeg, ‘‘ Slavery in the Old Testament,” SVT 22 (1972): 72-87.
On pp. 81f. van der Ploeg comments on slavery among the patriarchs, but his compari-
sons with slaves among Arabs of recent times is hardly very helpful.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 19

rather vague meaning of a “‘member of a household” in the sense of a

functionary in the service of a household. These individuals were
perhaps freemen above the rank of slave, but a large household may
have had several mar bitati.23 Such a social structure, which includes
slaves of various kinds as well as servants and hired hands of different
rank and responsibility, has no relevance for a pastoral-nomadic
society. It reflects the complex system of a settled economy.
Perhaps the most sedentary portrayal of all the patriarchs is that
of Isaac in Gen. 26:12~13, in which he is presented as practicing
agriculture. This is usually explained as a semi-nomadic transitional
step which should not be used to deny the general nomadic character
of the whole tradition.24 However, the story itself does not really
suggest this. First, one cannot speak here of any limited form of
agriculture, but only of completely sedentary activity comparable
to that of the local population (cf. also Gen. 20:15). Nor is Isaac
temporarily settled on royal lands as was the case with the Benjami-
nites in the Mari texts which refer to nomadic agriculture. Isaac pays
no tax for his produce and he does not leave of his own free will to
care for his flocks; he is asked to leave. He also has a powerful
independent household with flocks and herds of cattle, great wealth,
and numerous slaves or retainers. In fact he is the envy of the Philis-
tines. There isnothingin allof this to suggest -a nomadic group, the
only nomadic. element being the rather incongruous reference to
saac’ s tent in verse 25.
~On the other hand, most scholars who speak of the nomadism of
the patriarchs have in mind the population migration of the second
millennium, with which Abraham in particular is associated. This
was not
ot just a matter of regular transhumance, but a massive move-
ment into the settled
-d
lands. Such a migration may have resulted
from overpopulation of the steppe region, periods of general famine
leading to shortage in the usual grazing lands, or general weakness of
the settled lands in resisting nomadic incursions. It was not the
result of a wish by large numbers of nomads to suddenly become
farmers, and the regions into which the nomads moved often re-

23. See CAD 2:295f.; G. Cardascia, Les archives des Murasu (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale,
1951), pp- 11-12. Cf. Mendelsohn, Slavery pp. 57-58; and AHw 2: 616, where the meaning
of “‘ household slave”’ represents an older understanding of this term.
24. DeVaux, Histoire p. 222; G. von Rad, Genesis, trans. John H. Marks (Philadelphia:
Westminster Press, 1961), p. 265.
20 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

mained predominantly pastoral.25 Such major migrations have been

identified with specific historical periods; so the question arises as to
what extent the patriarchal stories reflect a very specific period of
migration. In order to deal with this issue, it is necessary to enter into
a more detailed review of the various nomadic migrations of the
second millennium.26 And since camels, tents, and Arab tribes are
mentioned in the Genesis stories, the Arab migration of the first
millennium will also have to be included. It is not my intention to
give a survey of the political history of one and a half millennia, but
only to clarify the historical nomadic background sufficient to
evaluate the possible connection of the patriarchs with any of them.
The Amorites
The Amorites first make their appearance in historical records in
the time of Sharkalisharri, King of Akkad, in the twenty-third
century B.c. They are identified as the nomadic Semites associated
with the region of Amurru, the ‘‘west-land.’’2? This Akkadian term
designated primarily the area of the Syrian desert north of the
Palmyrene oasis, centering in Mount Bishri and enclosed by the
Euphrates on the north and the Syrian mountains on the west.?8
By the end of the third millennium .B.c., during the Third
Dynasty of Ur, the infiltration of Amorite nomads into the settled
regions of Mesopotamia became a very serious problem.?9 While
some of these West-Semitic immigrants were peacefully absorbed
into the settled population of the valley, the tide of migration
eventually became too great to hold back and gradually all the
northern and western regions of the empire came under Amorite
control. While the final blow to Ur itself was dealt by Elam, it was
largely the Amorite migration which was responsible for the dis-
integration of power during the Ur III empire.
In Syria and Palestine during the late third millennium there is an
almost complete absence of historical texts by which to evaluate their
25. Edzard, The Near East, pp. 183-85.
26. For a general treatment of Semitic migrations, see S. Moscati, The Semites in Ancient
History (Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 1959).
27. On the Amorites, see Moscati, ibid., pp. 52-62; Kupper, omades, pp. 147-96; idem,
CAH? 2:1, 1-36; I. J. Gelb, ‘‘The Early History of the West-Semitic Peoples,” FCS 15
(1961): 24-47; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 63-69.
28. Dossin, ‘“‘Bédouins,”’ pp. 38-39.
29. J. Bottero, CAH? I:2, 559-66; C. J. Gadd, CAH3 I:2, 625-28; Edzard, Zweit
Kwischenzeit, pp. 30-43; idem, The Near East, pp. 157-186.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 21

situation. Yet it seems fairly clear from the archaeological remains

that the whole region was overrun by nomadic groups that des-
troyed most urban centers of the country. The succeeding archaeolog-
ical phase, the so-called Middle Bronze I period,?® was largely
nomadic, well attested by the many hundreds of tombs of this
period that have been found throughout Palestine, but with very
little evidence of any permanent settlements. The few references to
Palestine in the contemporary Egyptian texts of the First Inter-
mediate period and early Middle Kingdom seem also to confirm this
picture.?! Although many different explanations have been given for
the appearance of MB I, the most persuasive is that which associates
it with the Amorite nomadic movement, which was also felt in
Mesopotamia at the same time.
In place of the unified empire of Ur III there arose a large
number of individual “Amorite” kingdoms throughout Mesopo-
tamia. In Syria it appears that urban life was also quickly restored,
very likely by the settling down of these same nomadic groups.
Hamath on the Orontes is perhaps the best example of this, having
cultural contacts both with the nomadic MB I in Palestine and with
the new urban centers of Upper Mesopotamia.?? However, Palestine
itself is somewhat different. The transition between MBI and the
new urban phase of MB II A is quite sharp, and it would seem
to indicate that after the new urban phase in Syria was already
quite advanced, Palestine was colonized directly from the inland
Syrian region. This situation in Palestine may also be reflected in the
so-called ‘‘execration texts” of the late Middle Kingdom in Egypt.3
These texts contain place names of Palestine and southern Syria
along with the names of their chieftains or princes who were hostile
to Egypt and so were ritually cursed. The personal names all belong
to the northwest Semitic (Amorite) type and clearly link this
development of urban civilization with the rest of the fertile crescent.

30. See most recently W. G. Dever, ‘‘The Peoples of Palestine in the MB I Period,”
HTR 64 (1971): 206-09.
31. ANET 2 pp. 414-418, 444-446. See also G. Posener, CAH$ I: 2, 537-558; W. A. Ward,
Egypt and the East Mediterranean World, 2200-1900 8.c. (Beirut: American University of
Beirut, 1971), pp. 19-47.
32. See W. G. Dever, ‘‘The ‘Middle Bronze I’ Period in Syria and Palestine,” in Near
Eastern Archaeology in the Twentieth Century, ed. J. A. Sanders (Garden City, N. Y.: Double-
day, 1970), pp. 146-50.
33. ANET 2 pp. 528-29; see Posener, CAH? I: 2, 555-58 and literature cited there.
22 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Nevertheless alongside of this developing sedentary civilization

there were large numbers of West-Semitic peoples who still remained
nomadic in varying degrees. This is particularly clear for the whole
region between Syria and the Middle Euphrates, as revealed by the
administrative archives of Mari.34 Within the borders controlled
by Mari there were some nomads such as the Haneans who were in
the process of being settled, mainly in the Upper Euphrates region
of the Balih and Habur rivers. Others, such as the Benjaminites,
remained more nomadic and hostile, and their movement extended
over the whole region from the Middle Euphrates to inland Syria.
The situation for Syria and Palestine does not appear to be essen-
tially different from this, though epigraphic evidence in the Mari
texts for this region is rather sparse.
With the demise of the Twelfth Dynasty in Egypt this West-
Semitic culture was able to gain a significant foothold in the eastern
Delta region. At Tell ed Deb‘a on the eastern branch of the Nile an
urban settlement corresponding closely to those of Palestine was
already established in the Thirteenth Dynasty.35 These foreign
occupants of the Delta eventually paved the way for the complete
foreign control of Egypt by the Hyksos (hq: hswt, “foreign rulers’’),
who began the Fifteenth Dynasty. These foreigners were not an
obscure invading horde from the distant north but were clearly
part of the West-Semitic civilization which dominated the whole of
the fertile crescent at that time.
Now it should be pointed out that the term “‘Amorite”’ is often
used as an academic convention indicating ethnic and linguistic
affinity among all the West-Semitic nomads and sedentary popula-
tion from the late third millennium to the mid-second millennium
B.C. But this usage may lead to serious misunderstanding by students
of the Old Testament. The term Amurru (Amorite) is of Mesopota-
mian origin and in South Mesopotamia it always seems to mean the
nomadic peoples from the north-western steppe region.3? It never

34. See the works in n. 2 above; also G. Dossin, ‘‘ Les bédouins dans les textes de Mari,”
in L’antica societa bedouins, pp. 35-51.
35. M. Bietak, “‘ Vorlaufiger Bericht tber die dritte Kampagne der ésterreichischen
Ausgrabungen auf Tell ad Dab‘a ... 1968,” MDIK 26 (1970): 15-42; see also reports
of J. Leclant, Orientalia 37 (1968): 98-100; ibid., 38 (1969), pp. 248-251.
36. On the Hyksos see J. Van Seters, The Hyksos: A New Investigation (New Haven &
London: Yale University Press, 1966).
37. Dossin, ‘‘ Bédouins,”’ pp. 38-39.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 23

applied to such peoples of Palestine, and the Egyptian terminology

for these Asiatics is quite different. At Mari and Alalah, however,
Amurru developed a special meaning, referring to a sedentary
kingdom of central Syria.?8 In the later Amarna Age of the four-
teenth century B.c. this Amurru emerges as a strong unified kingdom
of central Syria. And this is the only use which Amurru has in the
Egyptian sources of the Amarna and Ramessid periods or in the
Hittite correspondence until the demise of this kingdom in the
upheavals of the population migrations, about 1200 B.c. The term
Amurru lived on in the cuneiform sources for many centuries, but it
became a rather archaic and general designation for the region of
Syria-Palestine with no precise ethnic or political delineation.?9

Abraham and the Amorite Migration

The coming of Abraham to Palestine has frequently been explained

as having been associated with this Amorite migration of the second
millennium.4° The Biblical traditions suggest two “stages in the
travels of Abraham’s family. First there is a move from Ur in
southern Mesopotamia to Harran, and then a migration from
Harran to Palestine. Regarding the first phase the text speaks of
‘Ur of the Chaldeans,” which is inappropriate for the second millen-
nium, so many scholars strike out “Chaldeans” as an anachronistic
gloss and consider the reference to Ur to be related in some way to
the city under the Third Dynasty of Ur. The cause of the migration
from Ur is usually attributed to the nomadic upheavals wwhich des-
Se hee a .
troyed the Ur III empire.
Objections to this reconstruction are many. Firstly, Abraham’s
family
is represented as sedentary in Ur prior to their move.
Secondly, the journey to Harran would have been directly against
the tide of nomadic migration in this period and a move from one
urban center to another. It is also not even certain that Harran
existed in the Ur III period, and no texts as yet attest to any con-
nection whatever between Ur and Harran in the second millennium.
A movement from Ur to Harran in the early second millennium
38. Kupper, Nomades, pp. 179-81; idem, CAH? IT:1,27; deVaux, Histoire, p. 27, n. 43.
39. J. Van Seters, “The Terms ‘Amorite’ and ‘Hittite’ in the Old Testament,” VT 22
(1972): 64-81; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 68-69.
40. Bright, History of Israel, pp. 78-82; Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity,pp. 236—
40.
24 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

for migratory or other reasons is not at present historically explic-

able.4!
The move from Harran to Palestine in the second millennium is
also problematic. Harran is mentioned first in the so-called Cap-
padocian texts and in the Mari archives of the nineteenth and
eighteenth centuries B.c.42 While the town had some importance as a
caravan station in trade to Anatolia, it was only a minor principality
under the control of other major centers.43 There were many nomads
in the region, and some even had a treaty relationship with the king
of Harran. But these nomads very likely came, whether permanently
or seasonally, from the steppe region of the Syrian desert, a con-
siderable distance south of Harran. In the same way nomads moved
from the western edge of the Syrian desert into central Syria-
Palestine, which has a climate and annual rainfall similar to that of
Harran. This means that there is no sociological or historical reason
to suggest that nomads migrated from Harran to Palestine.
On the other hand there must be some reason for the prominence
given to the two cities of Ur and Harran and for their close association
with one another. This can only reflect a time when both cities were
att their height, and this exactly fits the Neo- Babylonian period and
‘the reign ofNabonidus in particular. Harran,, Aramean
an city in
the country of Bit-Adini, rose to a position of special importance in
the Assyrian empire as a political and religious center from the
mid-eighth century onward.*4 There is reason to believe that the god
Sin of Harran was one of the major deities representing the Aramean
population who, along with the gods of Assyria and Babylonia,
confirmed the Assyrian kings in their kingship so that special status
was given to the city and its temple. This continued into the Neo-
Babylonian period and was especially evident in the reign of
Nabonidus, who was apparently related to the royalty and priest-
hood of this city and gave to it exceptional honor. At the same time
Ur, which also had an ancient temple to Sin (Nanna), received
considerable attention from Nabonidus, who restored its temples and

41. See C.J.Gadd in AOTS, p. 94.

42. See references cited in deVaux, Histoire, pp. 189-90.
43. Kupper, Nomades, pp. 48-49.
44. See the extensive treatment on Harran by J. Lewy, “The Late Assyro-Babylonian
Cult the Moon and its Culmination at the Time of Nabonidus,”” HUCA 19 (1945-46):
405-409.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 25

installed his daughter as the high priestess of Sin.45 It is even

speculated that Nabonidus was attempting to make Sin, a deity
specially venerated by the Arameans, the principal deity of the
empire with Ur and Harran the two main religious centers. Ur at this
time was in the heart of that region dominated by the Chaldeans,
the population group that had provided the previous rulers of the
Neo-Babylonian empire. Nabonidus, however, was an Aramean who
represented that element of the population in Southern Mesopotamia
but at the same time was directly related to the Arameans of the
Upper Euphrates. The Arameans had always maintained some
antagonism toward the older population of Mesopotamia, particu-
larly Babylon. Consequently, Babylon with its god Marduk’ repre-
sented a certain rivalry for honors with these cities and was never
strong in its loyalty to the king.
Besides this close contact between Ur and Harran, there was
another avenue of communication that was most important in this
period. Quite early in his reign Nabonidus left Southern Mesopota-
mia and, proceeding by way of Harran, marched through Syria-
Palestine to the oasis of Teima in North Arabia, where he established
his residence for ten years.46 His intention, though somewhat
obscure, was probably to establish economic control over the
important western incense trade which went from South Arabia by
way of Western Arabia and the oases of the Hejaz to Palestine,
Syria, Egypt, and beyond.*” This move to Teima dramatically
emphasizes the great importance of the “king’s highway” from
Harran to North Arabia. There are, of course, strong indications
that during the Assyrian empire the importance of this trade route
was already realized. Beginning in the mid-eighth century the
Assyrian kings constantly campaigned against north Arabian tribes
along this route and penetrated the desert as far as Adumatu
(Al Jauf).48 But it is entirely unjustified to read back into the second
millennium this development of the “king’s highway.”
One can therefore conclude that the notion of the household of
45. J. A. Brinkman, “ Ur: 721-605 B.c.”’ Orientalia 34 (1965): 241-58; G. Roux, Ancient
Traqg (London: Allen & Unwin, 1964), pp. 318-19.
46. ANET®, pp. 562-63.
47. See H. W. F. Saggs, The Greatness That was Babylon (New York: Hawthorn Books,
1962), pp. 145-49; Roux, Ancient Iraq, p. 322.
48. See the royal inscriptions from the time of Tiglathpileser III to Ashurbanipal,
ANET 2, pp. 284-300.
26 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Abraham moving from Ur of the Chaldeans to Harran and subse-

quently to Palestine fits most appropriately into the mid-sixth
century B.c. Even if we admit that the connection with Ur may be a
Tater extension of the tradition, the notion of a journey from Harran
still fits best into a period toward the end of the Assyrian empire.
This certainly seems preferable to those efforts that try to harmonize
the movements of the patriarchs with the Amorite migrations of the
early second millennium.
Israelites, Moabites, Edomites and Ammonites
The major migration of nomads that dominated the latter part of
the second millennium B.c. resulted in the establishment, in Pales-
tine and Transjordan, of the peoples of Israel, Moab, Edom and
Ammon. We are not concerned in this study with the problem of
evaluating the Biblical texts relating to the settlement of Israel and
the Transjordanian nations as reflected in the exodus and conquest
traditions of the Old Testament.49 It is quite evident that they
stand in sharp contrast to the patriarchal traditions, so that one
must look outside ofthe Biblical settlement traditions ifthere is to be
any possibility of associating the stories of Genesis with the late
second millennium s.c. Such extra-Biblical sources are the so-
called Amarna letters from Syrian and Palestinian princes to the
Egyptian court and Egyptian royal inscriptions and other archival
documents of the Eighteenth to the Twentieth Dynasties.>9
The Amarna letters indicate that a nomadic people, the Hapiru,*!
were particularly active in Palestine in the late fifteenth and four-
49. For recent comprehensive treatments of the settlement see M. Weippert, The Settle-
ment of the Israelite Tribes in Palestine; and deVaux, Histoire, pp. 443-620.
50. See especially W. Helck, ‘‘ Die Bedrohung Palastinas durch einwandernde Gruppen
am Ende der 18. und am Anfang der 19. Dynastie,’’ VT 18 (1968): 472-80.
51. The literature on the Hapiru problem is now very extensive. However, the recent
studies bearing most directly on the Amarna Age are: J. Bottéro, Le probléme des Habiru
a la ge rencontre assyriologique internationale (Paris, 1954); idem, ‘‘ Habiru,” in Reallexicon
der Assyriologie und vorderasiatischen Archdologie, eds. E. Ebeling and B. Meissner, 4 vols.
(Berlin: W. de Gruyter, 1932-), vol. 4, pt. 1 (1972), pp. 14-27; M. Greenberg, The
Hab|piru (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1955); idem, “ Hab/piru and Heb-
rews,” in World History of the Jewish People, vol. 2, The Patriarchs, ed. B. Mazar (New
Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1970), pp. 188-200; Weippert, Settlement,
pp. 63-102; idem, “Abraham der Hebraer?’” Biblica 52: 407-32; K. Koch, ‘Die
Hebraer vom Auszug aus Agypten bis zum Grossreich Davids,” VT 19 (1969): 37-81;
R. deVaux, “‘ Le probléme des Hapiru aprés quinze années,”’ JNES 27 (1968): 221-28;
idem, Histoire, pp. 106-112, 202-208.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 27

teenth centuries and, in cooperation with Labyu, ruler of Shechem,

they probably controlled a large part of the hill country of Western
Palestine. Under the military-minded Pharaohs Haremheb, Seti I
and Ramesses II, vigorous campaigns were made against them.
Ramesses carried his conquest as far as Moab in Transjordan.52
Similar campaigns were conducted against the Shosu (J3sw) in
Edom and Seir and in southern Palestine, in the “hills of Huru’’.53
The Egyptian records from the Nineteenth and Twentieth Dynasties
show both the Hapiru (‘frw) and Shosu as state slaves and as
Egyptian mercenaries, with considerable numbers settled in the
Delta.
W. Helck has suggested that these nomadic peoples, the Hapiru
and Shosu, were in fact the precursors of the Moabites, Edomites,
and Israelites.°4 Moab and Edom are mentioned as places, and Israel
as a tribe, for the first time in the texts of the Nineteenth Dynasty.
In Ramesses II’s campaign against Moab towns such as Dibon are
mentioned, but nothing is said about any kings or princes of the
region. Moab was probably only in the early stages of its settlement
before any monarchy existed there. The land of Edom occurs in a
document from the time of Merneptah which mentions Shosu from
Edom being given access to the Eastern Delta in order to water their
flocks. The nomadic Shosu are also associated with Seir, a synonym
for Edom, in the documents from Ramesses II and III. In a stele of
Merneptah Israel appears as the name of a tribe subdued by Egypt,
but Helck has proposed that the stereotype listing of these names
points to their earlier origin in the time of Ramesses II or Seti I.
The picture of the settlement of Israel and the Transjordanian
peoples®> which these texts suggest is that the process was a long and
gradual one with its greatest intensity in the thirteenth century.
It was not a very peaceful process for the settled communities of
52. K. A. Kitchen, ‘Some New Light on the Asiatic Wars of Ramesses II,” FEA 50
(1964) :63-70.
53. R. Giveon, ‘The Shosu of Egyptian Sources and the Exodus,” Fourth World Congress
of Jewish Studies: Papers I (Jerusalem, 1967), pp. 193-96; idem, Les bédouins Shosu des
documents égyptiens (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1971); see also M. Weippert, “Die Nomaden-
quelle: Ein Beitrag zur Topographie der Biqa‘ im 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr.,” in Archdologie
und Altes Testament: Festschrift fiir Kurt Galling, ed. A. Kuschke and E. Kutsch (Tubingen:
Mohr, 1970), pp. 259-272.
54. Helck, VT 18:472-80.
55. On the archaeological data for this region see N. Glueck, “Transjordan,” in AOTS,
PP- 429-453-
 28 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Western Palestine, though in Transjordan there was little settlement

to offer resistance to the newcomers. However there must have been a
fairly close association between the nomadic peoples of south Pales-
tine and Transjordan in order to motivate such a deep penetration
into Edom and Moab by Ramesses II.
The Biblical picture that suggests that Edom and Moab were
already settled kingdoms before Israel arrived may have to be
modified_in the light of this evidence. These nomadic movements
_modine
were all largely contemporary and closely related, and the develop-
ment of separate nations was certainly a later stage. It is also likely
that the Ammonites, perhaps related to a subsequent nomadic
wave, came later when Moab and the eastern Israelite tribes were
already settled.°® This is not to suggest that the settlement of the
Israelite tribes was not internally much more complex or that all of

fairly definite relationship bese these nomadic tribes of the

fourteenth and-thirteenth-centuries and the later nations of Israel,
Moab and Edom. These peoples were kept largely iin check by the
Egyptian authorities until the arrival of the “Sea- Peoples,” after
which Egyptian presence in Palestine ceased.
The stories of Genesis represent the patriarchs as related directly
to the Edomites and somewhat more indirectly to the Ammonites
and Moabites. The eponymous ancestors of these groups are pre-
sented as having migrated into Transjordan at the same time that the
ancestors of Israel laid claim to Palestine through the divine promise.
In their migrations as well as in their more pastoral or nomadic way
of life they are contrasted sharply with the older autochthonous
population. In these respects one might be inclined to recall the
migrations of the fourteenth and thirteenth centuries described
above. However it is doubtful if such a conclusion is warranted.
Firstly, the tradition suggests that the Ishmaelite Arabs also belong
to this same migration _period, which is extremely unlikely. It
further implies that the Arameans were already settled in their
regions prior to the Israelite and Transjordanian settlement, which
was certainly not the case.
Secondly, since Israel had traditions which specifically dealt with
56. Cf. G. M. Landes, “Ammon,” JDB 1: 108-114. This article presupposes that the
patriarchal stories give primary historical data for the second millennium on which to
reconstruct a history.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 29

settlement of the land it is doubtful that the patriarchal traditions

were ever viewed as a history of the settlement. On the contrary, the
patriarchal age is kept quite distinct from the period of settlement as
an era of promise. As such it functioned as a way of rationalizing
and legitimating various territorial claims, relationships withn neigh- Bon
boring groups ofpeoples and other political and_social_phenom-
ena of later historical _periods. Such a function for myths about
‘eponymous ancestors and heroes was apparently quite common in
Ancient Greece and can be assumed in these traditions as well.” In LaL
fact the presence of eponyms in the tradition actually takes for
granted the later existence of these states and the relationships
between them. But if one removes the eponyms of the Transjor-
danian states from the tradition then there is no longer any connec-
tion with the Late Bronze Age migrations mentioned above.
Thirdly, the atmosphere of the patriarchal stories is certainly far
different from that portrayed in the Amarna letters and Nineteenth
Dynasty inscriptions. There is no reflection whatever of the Egyptian
presence in Palestine. Abraham’s adversaries in Genesis 14 are from
Mesopotamia and “Hatti” (?) but not from _Egypt,.which certainly
doesn’t fit this period. The sons of Jacob slaughter the inhabitants of
Shechem, the one city that, in the Amarna letters, seems to cooperate
so much with the Hapiru. The peaceful atmosphere which for the
most part predominates in the patriarchal stories does not give any
hint of the kind of nomadic movement which we have from the
extra-Biblical sources of the late second millennium B.c. We must\
therefore conclude that any resemblance between the patriarchal
stories and the migrations of the Late Bronze Age into Palestine and
Transjordan is entirely superficial. \\0.
The ioncls 5M

The origins and early history of the Arameans are beset with
many difficulties.58 When the Arameans came into the full light of
history at the end of the twelfth century B.c. it is clear that they were
still a nomadic people. The first reference to them is in the Assyrian
57. See especially the study of Martin P. Nilsson Cults, Myths, Oracles, and Politics in
Ancient Greece (Lund: Gleerup, 1951).
58. R. A. Bowman, “Arameans, Aramaic, and the ei 7 (1948) :65-90; idem,
“Arameans,” in JDB 1: 190ff.; A. Dupont-Somme r, “Sur les débuts de V’histoire Ara-
méene,” SVT 1 (1953): 40-49; Moscati, Semites, pp. 64ff., 96f.; deVaux, Histoire, pp.
194-98.
 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY
30

where they are associated with the Ahlamu.

royal inscriptions,
made its first appearance in
This name, along with another, Sutu,
into prominence in the
the Mari Age, but the Ahlamu only came
ian kings attempted to
thirteenth to twelfth centuries when the Assyr
Euphrates region. Some
control their movements in the Upper
mu with the Arameans;
scholars have tried to identify the Abla
in the earliest reference
indeed, the two terms appear linked together
of Tiglath-pileser I.
to the Arameans, found in the inscriptions
desig nation meaning
The term Ahlamu is interpreted as a social
ti, however, has shown
‘nomadic confederates” or the like.°® Mosca
cannot be maintained,
that the reasons suggested for this position
nomadic groups.°°
and that it is only a case of two closely associated
appea rance of the Ara-
It is entirely likely that by the time of the
Sutu had become rather
means, or soon after, the terms Ahlamu and
no longer carried any
general sociological terms for nomads and
the earlier references.
accurate ethnic connotations, as they did in
side of more precise
The use of archaic traditional terminology along
ian royal inscriptions,
modern terms is quite characteristic of Assyr
as it is of Near Eastern documents generally.
ate explanation.
The name “Aramean”’ itself is without adequ
as associated with
There has been some effort to see the name
as the Akkadian and
various places which occur in references as early
t from each other,
Ur III periods. But these places are very distan
Minor and in the
located in the northern mountains of eastern Asia
ons which hardly
Diyala River region east of the Tigris—two locati
and of these nomadic
commend themselves as the original homel
n perso nal names
peoples. Supposed references to _Arameans in certai
ut foundation.®
of the Mari age have also been firmly rejected as witho
dual Ara-
On the other hand, a few possible references to indivi
with a refere nce in a four-
means occur in the Ugaritic texts along
“‘the fields of the
teenth century cuneiform text to eglét aramima,
region in
Arameans.’’62 This expression probably points to the steppe
correspond
northeastern Syria, but the location is not definite. It may

59. Dupont-Sommer, SVT 1: 4off.

303-07; D. O. Edzard, “ Mari
60. S. Moscati, “The Aramean Ahlamu,” JSS 4 (1959):
und Aramaer ?” ZA n.s. 22 (1964): 142-49.
61. Kupper, Nomades, pp. 112-113.
p. 197.
62. Dupont-Sommer, SVT 1: 46-47; deVaux, Histoire,
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 31

to a reference in a text from the time of Amenophis III which

mentions p> 2rmw, “the land of the Arameans.’’6? The context of
this inscription is also no help in locating the region.
Before 1200 B.c. the Arameans were scarcely considered a threat
to the settled communities of the fertile crescent. However by the
time of Tiglath-pileser I (1115-1077) there were large numbers
moving into the Upper and Middle Euphrates regions and causing a
serious threat to the political and economic stability of these areas.
There is some reason to believe that famine was a principal factor
in motivating the nomadic raids into the settled land. There is a
complete lack of direct historical sources for Syria in this period,
but the decline of both Hittite and Egyptian authority as well as the
devastation caused by the Sea-Peoples left the Levant without an
effective unified force to resist the hordes of hungry nomads. By the
mid-tenth century the Arameans had firmly established their
control of most of inland Syria and the Upper Euphrates, while
_Aramean nomads continued to raid Northwestern Babylonia.%4
In the ninth century, during the time of Ashurnasirpal II, the
first reference to the Chaldeans appears. In it a part of southern
Babylonia is called mat Kaldu, and under Shalmaneser II], about
650, we learn the names of the principal tribes of the region as
Bit-Dakkuri, Bit-Amukani and Bit-Jakin.®° From this time on the
Chaldeans were a major political and economic element in this
region and a primary concern to the Assyrian Empire.
Whether the Chaldeans can be considered merely a part of the
general Aramean migration is uncertain. Numerous smaller tribal
groups which are specifically designated as Aramean began to
appear in the Assyrian records only in the time of Tiglath-Pileser III
(745-27). They lived in the eastern Babylonian region and in these
documents are kept quite distinct from the Chaldeans even though
they often made common cause with them against Assyria.
In Syria the Arameans founded a number of small kingdoms:
Sobah, Bit-Rehob, Ma‘akah, Geshur, Damascus, and Hamath in

63. E. Edel, Die Ortsnamenliste aus dem Totentempel Amenophis III, BBB 25 (Bonn: Hanstein,
1966), pp. 28-29; cf. Weippert, “‘Die Nomadenquelle,” p. 260, where the reading is
disputed.
64. About the impact of the Arameans on Assyria see G. Roux, Ancient Iraq, pp. 226ff.
65. See esp. J. A. Brinkman, A Political History of Post-Kassite Babylonia.
32 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

the south and central regions,®6 and in the north around Aleppo the
Bit-Agushi, and in Upper Euphrates the Bit-Adini and the Bit-
Bahiani. Alongside of these Aramean states were other older, urban
populations which often created certain cultural and_ political
antagonism. In Syria the Arameans shared land with the Canaanite-
Phoenician cities that occupied the coastal plain and the Neo-
Hittite kingdoms that dominated the inland region from Hamath to
Carchemish, though the Arameans gradually took over control of
most of these latter states. These Neo-Hittite kingdoms were founded,
after the fall of the Hittite empire about 1200 B.c., by Anatolian
peoples who moved into Syria.®’ In southern Babylonia the Chal-
deans appear to have assimilated more readily with the Babylonian
population even though they retained to a large extent their tribal
structures. The Arameans, however, remained much more aloof and
even hostile to the older population, though they cooperated fairly
readily with the Chaldeans against their greater foe, Assyria.
By the ninth century the Aramean kingdoms of Upper Mesopo-
tamia were incorporated into the Assyrian provincial system, and by
the end of the eighth and early seventh centuries Assyrian military
might was able to unify the whole of the fertile crescent under its
control. This meant that all the Aramean political states along with
the many other diverse ethnic elements were incorporated into the
vast provincial system of the empire, with the exception of a few
vassal kingdoms like Judah. Since the Arameans were such a large
and important element in the population of Upper Mesopotamia and
Assyria proper, Aramaic became the principal language of the
empire.®8 The wealth and power of the Arameans was based on
their success in controlling important trade routes from the Arabian
Peninsula to the Euphrates, from Syria to the lands of the East, and
from the Persian Gulf to Assyria.
Turning again to the stories of Genesis one is immediately struck
by the strong sense of identity which the patriarchs seem to have with

66. B. Mazar, “‘The Aramean Empire and its Relations with Israel,” BA 28 (1962):
g7ff. (Reprinted in BAR 2:127-151).
67. See O. R. Gurney, The Hittites (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1961), pp. 39-46;
see also W. F. Albright, ‘‘The Amarna Letters from Palestine, Syria, the Philistines and
Phoenicia,” CAH, fasc. 51, pp. 43-46.
68. A. Jeffery, “Aramaic,” in IDB 1: 186-190.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 33

the Arameans. The patriarchal origins are traced primarily to the

region of Harran in northwestern Mesopotamia. This region is
designated as either Aram-Naharaim, “Aram of the Upper Eu-
phrates,’’®® or Padan-Aram, “country of Aram.’’?9 The relatives of
the patriarchs in this area are called “‘Arameans.” Even outside of
Genesis, the cryptic liturgy of Deut. 26:5 states: ‘““A wandering
Aramean (¢rammi °obéd) was my father and he went down to
Egypt.” This last reference, however, could mean no more than “a
perishing nomad” and refer to Jacob’s forced descent to Egypt
because of famine.?!
The brief glimpses which the stories provide of the patriarch’s
Aramean kin (Gen. 11: 32ff.; chaps. 24, 29-31) suggest that they have
a close and peaceful association with the cities of Harran and Nahor.
In Genesis 24 the Arameans are the sedentary dwellers of Nahor
itself, while in the Jacob story Laban, the Aramean shepherd, is
nevertheless a resident of Harran. This picture of the Arameans as
settled in the Upper Euphrates (Naharaim) could reflect historical
reality any time between the tenth and the fifth centuries, but not
any earlier.
Some scholars are prepared to admit that the references to Ara-
means in the patriarchal stories are anachronistic.’ However they
are usually explained as resulting from a modernization of termino-
logy of a more ancient tradition. Because the Arameans, like the
Amorites, migrated from the same steppe region into the fertile
crescent, they can be regarded as really reflecting the earlier Amorite
migration in more modern terminology.’ Against this suggestion it

69. On the meaning of this term see J. J. Finkelstein, ““ Mesopotamia,” NES 21 (1962):
73-92.
70. For this meaning see J. Simons, The Geographical and Topographical Texts of the Old
Testament (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1959), p. 7. Cf. Bowman, JDB 1: 191, who translates the
phrase as “road of Aram”’.
71. D. D. Luckenbill, ““The ‘Wandering Aramean,’” AFSL 36 (1920): 244-45, suggests
that the Hebrew phrase corresponds to the expression “‘fugitive Aramean”’ in the Sen-
nacherib Taylor Prism, col. 5:22f., with the general meaning of “nomad.” See also
Mazar, BAR 2:130, n. 8; and Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity, p. 238.
72. See J. C. L. Gibson, ‘“‘ Observations on Some Important Ethnic Terms in the Penta-
teuch,”’ ZVES 20 (1961): 229-234; and deVaux, Histoire, -p. 198.
73. This has led to the misleading term ‘‘ Proto-Arameans”’ for Amorites of an earlier
period. See Noth, Die Urspriinge des alten Israel im Lichte neuer Quellen, pp. 29-31; and
deVaux, Histoire, pp. 198-201.
34. ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

must be stated that the Old Testament knows nothing of such an

identity between Amorites and Arameans. In fact it emphasizes
most strongly its total distinction from the “Amorites.’” Furthermore,
the explanation only has merit if it can be shown on other grounds
that the patriarchs indeed belonged to the earlier nomadic move-
ment of the second millennium. But I have given reasons against
such a view, and I can find no evidence to suggest that an older
tradition has been modernized in this way.
The question nevertheless persists as to how this feeling of kinship
with the Arameans could have originated or developed in the time of
the Israelite monarchies, since for the most part there was con-
siderable warfare between Israel and the Aramean states of Syria
during this period. Yet such a question overlooks the fact that the
patriarchs are viewed as related not to the Syrian Arameans but to
those around Harran. Only Laban by virtue of the reference to a
territorial boundary with Jacob in the northeast Gilead region
(Gen. 31:47ff.) suggests some association with Syria. But it is in
this story also that Laban shows a certain hostility toward Jacob,
although he is a resident of Harran.
One can only speculate as to what gave rise to the feeling of kin-
ship with the Arameans of Northwestern Mesopotamia, but there
are a few factors which might be considered. Firstly, the regions
inhabited by Israel, the nations of Transjordan, and the Aramean
states of Upper Euphrates all had the same basic economy, which
was largely pastoral or semi-agricultural. And they had similar
socio-political structures with an emphasis on tribal divisions.
Secondly, the Assyrian Empire had united this whole Western region
to a very large extent by the gradual abolition of national bound-
aries and the greatly increased communication between the regions.
Thirdly, the Assyrians’ deportation of a large number of Israelites to
the Habur and Balih valley regions as well as the interchange of
Arameans into Palestine would certainly have encouraged a sense
of identity with the Arameans and the Harran region in the late
monarchy. However it is likely that this sense of identity developed
only after the demise of the Aramean states of Syria.
This rather late cultivation of a sense of identity with the Arameans
seems reasonable in light of the late development of the important
King’s Highway from Harran to North Arabia and the extension of
this route to Ur by the Aramean ruler of Babylonia, Nabonidus.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 35

The Arabs

Another nomadic movement which forms part of the back-

ground for the patriarchal narratives is the coming of the Arabs on
the scene of Near Eastern history.74 The earliest reference to the
Arabs in cuneiform sources occurs in an inscription of Shalmaneser
III, which refers to a certain Gindibu, the Arab leading a contingent
of 1000 camels as part of a coalition against the Assyrians at the
battle of Qarqar in 854 B.c.?5 One may deduce from this that the
Arab nomads, characterized by domesticated herds of camels,
were becoming a significant political factor in the Near East by this
time. Their military cooperation with the kings of Syria-Palestine
also suggests economic relationships, probably centering on caravan
incense trade between South Arabia and Syria-Palestine which had
probably developed by this time.
References to Arabs, as well as to their camels, in cuneiform
sources are rare until the mid-eighth century. From the time of
Tiglath-Pileser III (745-727) of Assyria to that of Nabonidus (555-
539) of Babylon the cuneiform texts make frequent mention of the
Arabs of North Arabia. This permits a considerable knowledge
about the various Arab tribes and subgroups of the region. It is
clear that by the eighth and seventh centuries B.c. the Arab settle-
ments in the oases of the Hejaz flourished, some having their own
kings and queens. Arabs also occupied the region between North
Arabia and the borders of Egypt, creating considerable pressure for
the state of Edom and eventually for Judah. The source of their
wealth was an active caravan trade in incense, gold, and precious
stones, to judge from the booty in the Assyrian annals. These com-
modities, coming from the kingdoms of Southern Arabia by camel
caravan, were destined for markets in Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and
beyond. It was probably the control of these trade routes which
motivated the Assyrian campaigns against the Arabs.

74. See Moscati, Semites;J. A.Montgomery, Arabia and the Bible (Philadelphia: Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania Press, 1934); A. Jeffery, “Arabians,”’ JDB 1: 182-83; and G. Ryck-
mans, ‘‘ Het Oude Arabie en de Bijbel,”” JEOL 14 (1955/6): 73-84.
75. ANET2, p. 279. For all the references to Arabs in cuneiform sources see T. W. Ros-
marin, ‘“Aribi und Arabien in den babylonischen-assyrischen Quellen,” JSOR 16 (1932):
1-37; S. Parpola, Neo-Assyrian Toponyms, AOAT 6 (Kevelaer, Ger.: Butzon & Bercker,
1970); William J. Dumbrell, The Midianites and their Transjordanian Successors (Th.D.
thesis, Harvard University, 1970), pp. 192-246.
36 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

In the Neo-Babylonian period the Arabs continued to be an

important political and economic entity.”6 After Nebuchadrezzar’s
campaigns in Transjordan (582 B.c.) Ammon and Moab seriously
declined as political entities and the Qidri (Kedarites), a major
tribe among the Ishmaelites, infiltrated and occupied most of the
region. Nabonidus made a campaign against the oasis of Adumu
(Al Jauf), the heart of Kedar, and in his subsequent sojourn at
Teima tried to come to terms with those Arab tribes through whose
region the West Arabian caravan trade travelled.
There is some evidence to suggest that even before the fall of
Babylon Cyrus the Great subdued North Arabia and took it out of
Babylonian control.’? In any case, soon after the decisive victory
over Babylon in 539 B.c. the Cyrus Cylinder boasted of Persian
hegemony over North Arabia by stating that, among others from
the West, ‘“‘the kings of Amurru dwelling in tents”’ paid him homage
and tribute.?8 There can be little doubt that this phrase referred to
the king of Kedar and related tribes and oases of North Arabia.
Furthermore, under Cambyses the Kedarites assisted the Persians in
their Egyptian campaign, providing support and water for travel
through the region from Palestine to Egypt. The Kedarites at this
time occupied the area as far north as Gaza, and perhaps as a
result of their assistance to the Persians they gained control or
access to a considerable part of the Eastern Delta. However the fact
that they made an annual “gift”? of rooo talents of incense to the
Persian authorities points to submission to Persia as well as to the
source of their wealth and power through the incense trade.’9 The
Kedarites continued to be a dominant presence in the region of
North Sinai and South Judah throughout the Persian period and
until the rise of the Nabateans, who replaced them.
In the tradition of Abraham, the patriarch is presented as the
father of the Arabs. This comes out most clearly in the genealogies,
but it is also expressed in the stories of Hagar and her son Ishmael.
76. For this and the subsequent period see A. F. Rainey, “The Satrapy ‘Beyond the
River,’”’ Australian Journal of Biblical Archaeology 1:2 (1969): 51-78; W. J. Dumbrell,
“The Tell el-Maskhuta Bowls and the ‘Kingdom’ of Qedar in the Persian Period,”
BASOR 203 (Oct. 1971): 38-44.
77. R. P. Dougherty, Nabonidus and Belshazzar, YOS 15 (New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1929), p. 109.
78. Ibid.
79. Rainey, “Satrapy,” pp. 53-55.
 THE NOMADISM OF THE PATRIARCHS 37

The presentation of Ishmael in these stories is in keeping with the

role and importance of the Ishmaelites from the late eighth century
B.c. onwards. A. Jeffery states :8°

The description of Ishmael in Gen. 16:12 as a “‘wild ass of a

man whose hand is against every man and every man’s hand
against him” suits remarkably well the Beduin of N. Arabia,
whose raiding of settled folk has been a perennial factor in Near
Eastern History. Gen. 21:20 speaks of him as dwelling in the
desert area stretching from the land of Midian to the borders
of Mesopotamia, which is precisely the area in which we find
the Arab groups mentioned in the cuneiform inscriptions.
It is, likewise, noteworthy that in one of the Assyrian inscriptions a
certain troublesome Arab queen, Samsi, is compared to a “wild
ass-mare.’’81
Furthermore the extant patriarchal traditions suggest a long
association between the Arabs on the one hand and the Arameans,
Israelites, and Edomites on the other. Edom (Esau) is mentioned as
intermarrying with the Ishmaelites. This represents the increasing
Ishmaelite presence in the south Transjordanian region and the
Negeb at the end of the monarchy and early exilic period. Likewise
there is evidence that toward the end of the Assyrian Empire and in
the Neo-Babylonian period there were strong cultural and economic
connections between the Arameans of Harran and North Arabia.®?
It is little wonder, then, that the development of patriarchal associa-
tions with Aram-Naharaim should also include a sense of affinity
with the Arabs of North Arabia. This was a view of the world in the
mid-first millennium B.c. and can hardly be put into any earlier
period.

Conclusion

In reviewing the conclusions reached thus far it should be empha-

sized that we are only concerned in this chapter with the question of
nomadism in the patriarchal narratives. Most of the stories seem to

80. IDB 1: 182.

81. ANET2, p. 284.
82. See Lewy, HUCA 19: 410ff., for these connections. For the earliest association of the
Arabs with Babylonia see I. Eph‘al, ‘‘‘Arabs’ in Babylonia in the 8th Century B.c.,”
JAOS 94 (1974): 108-115.
38 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

portray only a general pastoralism, whether of large or small live-

stock. The people’s way of life is contrasted with that of the city-
dwellers with a hint of antagonism towards this corrupt social form.
Considering the basic characteristics of nomadism—transhumance,
belligerence, and migrations—the stories, on the whole, reflect
little of the nomadic way of life, and a distinction is made between the
patriarchs and the full nomads of the desert or even the hunters.
Abraham appears as the most nomadic of the patriarchal triad,
but the frequent references to tents and camels point to first millen-
nium phenomena. There is also little evidence of nomadic belli-
gerence in their wanderings within the land of Palestine.
Furthermore, the patriarchal narratives do not present us with a
nomadic migration in progress. There is nothing that points either to
the Amorite migration of the early second millennium or to Israel’s
own settlement in the late second millennium B.c. The stories gene-
rally assume that the Arameans have settled in their respective
regions, particularly the Upper Euphrates, and that the Arabs are
already a fact of life in the desert and semi-desert regions to the
south and east of Palestine and Transjordan.
Abraham’s “‘migration”’ from Aramean Harran to Palestine and
Jacob’s journey to and from Harran suggest a period no earlier than
the late Assyrian Empire. Abraham’s move from Ur of the Chal-
deans to Harran, on the other hand, is a specific historical allusion to
the time of Nabonidus. These journeys can hardly be construed as
nomadic migrations, and their function in the tradition must be
sought in quite a different direction. There is nothing in this pres-
entation of the “nomadic” patriarchs which is inappropriate to the
portrayal of pastoral life in the period of the late Judean monarchy
or exilic periods, but there is much that speaks against the choice of
any earlier period.
 CHAPTER 3

Personal Names, Peoples, and Places

One of the most frequent arguments used for placing the patriarchs
in the early second millennium B.c. concerns their personal names.!
It is suggested that these correspond very closely with West-Semitic
(““Amorite’’) names of that period. But there are two fundamental
problems with the argument based on personal names of the patri-
archs. The first is that most of the names are eponyms of tribes,
which means that while the tribal entities may all go back to the
second millennium—that is, to the time of the Israelite settlement—
the stories about the eponymous ancestors may all be much later.
Consequently, a discussion about such names has significance for
the question of the origin of the tribes and their settlement,? but no
bearing upon the dating of the patriarchal narratives. For this
reason we may immediately exclude from consideration the names
of the twelve tribes of Israel as well as the names “Israel” and
“‘Jacob.”” Even the name Isaac is an eponym, to judge by its occur-
rence in Amos 7:9,16 where it refers to the northern kingdom of
Israel. This leaves Abraham as the only important patriarchal
name under consideration. It seems very: unlikely that this name
was ever an eponym for a tribal group; at least there is no indication
of this in the Old Testament.
1. Bright, A History of Israel, pp. 70-71. Bright goes so far as to say that the names of the
patriarchs ‘‘fit perfectly in the nomenclature of the Amorite population of the early
second millennium rather than in that of any later day.”’ See also Albright, From the
Stone Age to Christianity, p. 237; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 190ff. Yet the argument by M. Noth
that the West-Semitic population represented by these names is really “* Proto-Aramean”’
is based primarily on the continuity of name types from the early period to the later
Arameans, which would contradict Bright’s statement. See Noth, “‘ Mari und Israel, cine
Personennamenstudie,”’ Geschichte und Altes Testament, ed. G. Ebeling (Tiibingen: Mohr,
1953), PP- 127-52, esp. 152; also J. C. L. Gibson, ‘‘ Light from Mari on the Patriarchs,”
FSS 7 (1962): 51.
2. Noth, The History of Israel, pp. 53-68; cf. idem, “‘ Mari und Israel,” pp. 144-46.
3. See J. J. Stamm, ‘‘Der Name Isaac,” Festschrift A. Schddelin (Bern: H. Lang, 1950),
pp. 33-38.
39
40 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

The second problem with dating from names is that in the end it
is so entirely inconclusive. The reason is that most of the features
which characterize West-Semitic names of the early second millen-
nium can be found in those of the late second millennium as well and
in many Canaanite or Phoenician, Aramaic, Arabic, Nabatean and
Palmyrene names throughout the first millennium B.c.4 In fact,
seventy years ago F. Hommel was so impressed with the similarity
between the “‘Amorite”? names of the Old Babylonian period and
South Arabic names that he characterized the First Dynasty of Baby-
lon as South Arabic.® Such a conclusion seems amusing in retrospect,
but it is also very instructive. It is sufficient to recognize that the
very conservative character of proper names, even when they are no
longer understood, results in similar names and name formations for
all the West-Semitic peoples over a very long period of time.
Nevertheless, it is necessary to give some consideration to the name
“Abram,” and its variant ‘““Abraham.’’® One suggested explanation
of the name “‘Abram”? is that it should be associated with the Old
Babylonian name, abam-rama (var. aba-rama).” With the loss of
mimmation this would be represented in a consonantal text as 051%
and incorrectly pronounced as Abram. This name, however, is not
“Amorite”’ but native Akkadian. Nor is it limited to the Old Baby-
lonian period but was apparently still in vogue in the Neo-Assyrian
period as a male and female name.8
A more obvious and commonly accepted explanation of the name
4. The following are some of the primary collections and studies of personal names of the
Ancient Near East. Amorite: Giorgio Buccellati, The Amorites of the Ur III Period (Naples:
Instituto Orientale di Napoli, 1966); H. B. Huffmon, Amorite Personal Names in the Mari
Texts (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1965). Ugaritic: F. Grondahl, Die
Personennamen der Texte aus Ugarit (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1967). Akkadian:
J. J. Stamm, Die akkadische Namengebung MVAG 44 (Leipzig, 1939). Israelite: M. Noth,
Die israelitischen Personennamen im Rahmen der gemeinsemitischen Namengebung BWANT 3, pt. 10
(1928). Phoenician and Aramaic: H. Donner and W. Rollig, Kanaandische und Aramdische
Inschriften, 3 vols. (Wiesbaden: O. Harrassowitz, 1962-64), vol. 3, ‘‘ Index.’ Palmyrene:
J. K. Stark, Personal Names in Palmyrene Inscriptions (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971). Pre-
Islamic Arabian: G. Lankester Harding, An Index and Concordance of Pre-Islamic Arabian
Names and Inscriptions (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1971).
5. F. Hommel, The Ancient Hebrew Tradition (New York, 1897), pp. 56ff.
6. For a general discussion with references to the literature see deVaux, Histoire, pp. 190—
91; Noth, ‘‘ Mari und Israel,” pp. 143-44.
7. A. Ungnad, “ Urkunden aus Dilbat,”’ in Beitrage fiir Assyriologie 6, pt. 5 (1909): 82. It
was popularized by W. F. Albright, “‘The Name Shaddai and Abram,” JBL 54 (1935):
194. See also Bright, History of Israel, p. 70.
8. Stamm, Akkadische Namengebung, p. 292; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 190-91.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 41

is to associate it with the West-Semitic form abt-ram, “ (my) father is

exalted.”’® This style of nominal sentence name with these or corres-
ponding elements was very common throughout the second and first
millennia B.c. in West-Semitic names.!° In the name Abram the
medial hireq, 7, has quiesced, but this phenomenon is very common
in Biblical as well as in Phoenician, Aramaic and Arabic names.
Sometimes the same name is spelled with or without the hireq as in
the cases of Abner and Absolom which rarely have the hireq, and
Abishai which is rarely without it.1!
The name Ab(i)ram occurs in a few instances in ‘the second
millennium in texts from Ras Shamra,2 but it is also possible that
it occurs in a place name, phgr °brm, “the fort of Ab(i)ram,” found in
the list of Shishak’s campaign to be situated in southern Judah.13
There is no reason to suspect that the name has any connection with
the patriarch. The two elements of the name, abi and ram, occur in
both second and first millennium names. A number of Phoenician
rulers have the name “‘Ahiram” or “‘ Hiram” in which the element
alu, “brother,” replaces abi, “father,” a very common interchange
in West Semitic names.14 Consequently, there is nothing about the
name Abram that points especially to the second millennium more
than the first.
The most obvious explanation of the variant “Abraham” is to
consider it as a dialectic form of “Abram.” In some Semitic dialects
the weak verbal stems, particularly medial waw, may contain a
secondary hé, for example Heb. béf= Aram. bht.15 This dialectic

g. Noth, ‘*‘ Mari und Israel,”’ p. 143; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 190-91.
10. See Noth, Israelitischen Personennamen, pp. 15ff., 145; and Huffmon, Amorite Personal
Names, pp. 261-62. Note, however, that this name type is not so common in ‘‘Amorite”’
names but is very frequent in West-Semitic, Canaanite-Phoenician, and Arab names.
11. Albright (JBL 54:193) objects to the connection between Abram and Abiram be-
cause of the loss of medial i, which he regards as unusual. But this is a problem of the
pronunciation tradition resulting from an alphabetic script. In early examples, such as
Ugaritic abrm, abmlk, ahgm, the hireq is not represented, but these probably correspond
to Hebrew Abiram, Abimelek, Ahiqam (see Grondahl, Personennamen aus Ugarit, pp. 86—
87. In Aramaic there occurs the name 13n8 which corresponds in form to Hebrew 3xnk,
pronounced by MT Ahab without the hireq. But Aramaic can also have forms written
with the hireq, 36°38, which are similar to Hebrew 20°nx, Ahitub (see Donner and Rollig,
Kan. und Aram. Inschriften 3:53).
12. Grondahl, Personennamen aus Ugarit, pp. 86-87.
13. B. Mazar, ‘‘The Campaign of Pharaoh Shishak to Palestine,” SVT 4 (1957): 65.
14. See Donner and Rollig, Kanaandische und Aramdische Inschriften 3: index.
15. So Albright, JBL 54:203; and deVaux, Histoire, p. 191.
42 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

phenomenon is found in a few instances in Ugaritic and Phoenician

(though not with weak verbs) but is more characteristic of Aramaic
and South Arabic. The name Abraham actually appears in the
nineteenth century B.c. in the Egyptian execration texts as, °bwrhn’
(Aburahana), where it belongs to a ruler of a town Sm‘n (=Amarna
Samhuna) situated in Galilee.16 But the name also seems to occur in
South Arabic as well.1? One can only conclude that the possible span
for the use of ““Abraham”’ is as great as for that of ““Abram.”’
The other personal names which appear in the narratives are
likewise inconclusive in dating the traditions. The name Laban is
very likely a toponym, but the element /bn occurs in personal and
geographic names over a long period of time.18 The name, Sarah
(var. Sarai), ‘‘ Princess,’ and its semantic equivalent, Milcah, belong
to a class of feminine names that has a wide provenience in the
Ancient Semitic world.!9 Also common as a type are the feminine
names related to animals, such as Leah, ‘“‘cow’’, and Rachel,
““ewe’’.20 The meanings of some names, such as Lot and Rebekah,
remain uncertain. ,
The patriarchal stories likewise abound in names of peoples, tribes,
countries, and cities, and these names have also been used as argu-
ments for the antiquity of the traditions.2! Consequently a review
of these names, or at least those which may have any bearing on
dating, will be undertaken below. Of course some names are more
significant than others depending on how integral they are to a
number of traditions. Other names are indecisive because their
history may span the whole period under review. It is the overall

16. See W. F. Albright, ‘‘The Land of Damascus between 1850 and 1750 B.c.,”? BASOR
83 (1941): 343; deVaux, Histoire, p. 191. On the identification of sm‘n see Y. Aharoni, The
Land of the Bible: A Historical Geography, trans. A. F. Rainey (Philadelphia: Westminster
Press, 1967), p. 106.
17. Albright, BASOR 83:34, cites both °brhn and yhrhm as occuring in South Arabic.
These names appear as \n738 and oman’ in vol. 2 of G. Ryckmans, Les noms propres
sud-sémitiques, 3 vols. (Louvain: Bureaux du Muséon, 1934-35), but in Harding, Index
of Arabian Names, they appear as °brhm (p. 11) and yhrm (p. 689).
18. See J. Lewy, ‘‘ The Old West Semitic Sun God Hammu,” HUCA 18 (1944) : 434, n. 39,
Pp. 455ff.
1g. John Skinner, Genesis. International Critical Commentary, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh:
T. & T. Clark, 1930) pp. 237-38; Noth, Israelitischen Personennamen, p. 10; J. J. Stamm,
“‘Hebraische Frauennamen,”’ in Hebrdische Wortforschung SVT 16 (1967): 326.
20. Noth, Personennamen, p. 10; Stamm, “Frauennamen,” p. 329.
21. Seen. 1 above.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 43

impression which the names suggest that is of decisive importance

in the end.
The Israelites did not regard themselves as autochthonous in the
land of Palestine, but as interlopers among another settled popula-
tion. This population was designated by various names, such as
Canaanites, Amorites, Hittites, and Philistines, known from historical
sources of the second and first millennia s.c. There were other
terms, however, such as Perizzites and Hivites, which are quite
inexplicable or whose identity is very much debated. These terms,
generally, do not/seem to have been used in any very precise ethnic
sense but are viewed as interchangeable for the same peoples. In
some cases preference for a particular name seems to depend upon
the literary source in which it is found, though caution should be
used in making such terminology a strict criterion of source analysis.
As indicated in the previous chapter, an attempt has frequently
been made to identify the patriarchs with the Amorites of the early
second millennium B.c.22 What is surprising about this attempted
identification is how strongly the Old Testament contradicts it. The
Amorites are mentioned in a stereotyped list of the autochthonous
peoples along with the Canaanites and Hittites,2° and in the Table
of Nations (Gen. 10:15-19) they are regarded as only a subgroup of
the Canaanites. In Gen. 15:16 the Amorites are regarded as the pre-
Israelite population of Palestine in a way quite characteristic of
Deuteronomy, especially with its strong pejorative overtones.24 The
distinction between these Amorites and Abraham and his descend-
ents is clearly made. Gen. 14:7,13 suggests that the Amorites
occupied the hill country of Judah around Hebron and as far south
as the Judean towns of Hazazon and Tamar, but that beyond this
point the nomadic Amalekites held sway.
Now it is true that the urban population of Syria and Palestine
in the first half of the second millennium B.c. consisted of a prominent
element of North-West Semitic peoples, commonly designated by
modern scholars as ‘“‘Amorite.”’ This usage of Amorite, however, 1s
22. For the use of the term ‘‘Amorite’’ in the Old Testament see deVaux, Histoire,
a 129-31; J. Van Seters, ‘‘ The Terms ‘Amorite’ and ‘ Hittite’ in the Old Testament,”
YT 22 (1972): 64-81; cf. Noth, ‘‘Nu 21 als Glied der ‘ Hexateuch’—Erzahlung,” <AW
8 (1940/41): 181-89; and Gibson, JES 20: 220-24.
23. Gen. 15:20-21 (cf. Ex. 3:8,17; 23:23,28; 34:11; Deut. 7:1; 20:17; Josh. 24:115
Ezra 9:1).
24. See Van Seters, VT 22:72-78.
44 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

merely an academic convention and does not correspond to historical

terminology in the second millennium sB.c. Amorite (MAR.TU/
Amurru) is an Akkadian term, which in Old Babylonian was used
for the direction west—that is, the western desert—or to designate
the nomadic peoples of the Syrian steppes.25 In the Mari archives of
the Middle Euphrates and in the Alalah texts of North Syria, Amurru
designates a specific political state in central Syria between Qatna
and Hazor and is not a general term for nomad or west as in Baby-
lonia. This special sense of Amurru as a political state also continues
throughout the period of the Egyptian empire in Asia and is the
only usage which is found. There is not a single instance from the
second millennium B.c. in which the term Amorite includes Palestine
or Transjordan or any parts of them.?® After the demise of the king-
dom of Amurru in the late thirteenth or early twelfth century B.c.
there was no longer any distinctive ethnic group or political state
known as Amorite.
The explanation for the Biblical use of the term Amorite as
applied to Palestine comes from the royal inscriptions of the Neo-
Assyrian Empire.?? In these texts the term Amurru is used as a rather
archaic designation for all the peoples of the West with whom the
Assyrians came into contact. Consequently, with the Assyrian expan-
sion of power in the eighth century all the states and peoples of
Syria, Phoenicia, Palestine and Transjordan were regarded as belong-
ing to the country of Amurru.?8 Its boundaries were given as ex-
tending from the Euphrates to the borders of Egypt, just as they are
in the Old Testament, and in Gen. 15:18 in particular. The use of
the term Amorite in the Old Testament generally, and in the Genesis

25. For the meaning of Amurru in the Old Babylonian period see G. Dossin, ‘Les
bédouins dans les textes de Mari,” L’antica societa bedouina, pp. 38ff.; D. O. Edzard, Die
“zweite Lwischenzeit’’ Babyloniens (Wiesbaden, 1957), pp. 30ff.; idem, The Near East:
the Early Civilizations (London, 1967), pp. 180-186; J.-R. Kupper, Les nomades en Meésopo-
tamie au temps des rois de Mari, pp. 147-196.
26. On the unhistorical nature of the traditions about the ‘‘Amorite”’ kingdoms of
Transjordan seeJ.Van Seters, ‘‘ The Conquest of Sihon’s Kingdom: A Literary Examina-
tion,’ JBL gi (1972): 182-197.
27. For all the Assyrian references see S. Parpola, Neo-Assyrian Toponyms, pp. 17-18.
28. See D. D. Luckenbill, Ancient Records of Assyria and Babylonia, 2 vols. (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1926-27) vol. 2, no. 239; ANET2 p. 287. The recent work
by A. Haldar, Who Were the Amorites? (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1971), is quite unreliable.
Among the many errors it contains is the attempt to read back into the second millen-
nium the use of the term ‘“‘Amurru”’ in these Neo-Assyrian inscriptions (p. 26)!
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 45

stories as well, is dependent upon this scribal development in Assyrian

terminology.
The case is very similar for the use of the term “‘Hittite.”29 In
Gen. 10:15f Hittite or its equivalent Heth occurs as a subgroup of
the Canaanites second only to Sidon, and in Gen. 15:20 as one of
the autochthonous inhabitants of Palestine alongside of the Amorites.
Throughout Gen. 23 as well as in 25:9 and 49: 20ff. the inhabitants
of Hebron are called Hittites, although in Gen. 14:13 they are
called Amorites, and in Judges 1:10 they are Canaanites. In Gen.
26:34; 27:46, and 36:2 mention is made of Esau marrying Hittite
wives but these women are further identified as being Canaanite and
women of the land (Gen. 28:1ff. and 36:2). There seems to be no
clear distinction in Genesis among the terms Canaanite, Hittite, and
Amorite, though a preference may be seen in the use of any one term
by a particular literary source, and in this respect the term Hittite is
usually assigned to the Priestly source.
In the Egyptian and cuneiform texts of the second millennium
B.c. the land of the Hittites (Hatt) stood for the homeland of the
successive Hittite kingdoms of Anatolia.?9 Following the destruction
of the Hittite empire, about 1200 B.c., there was a migration of
peoples from Asia Minor into North Syria. This led to the establish-
ment of the so-called Neo-Hittite states of Carchemish, Aleppo, and
Hamath,?! with the result that this region became known as the
“land of Hatti’ in Assyrian inscriptions down to the ninth century
B.c. However, with these “‘ Hittite” states’ complete loss of independ-
ence to the Assyrian empire and their incorporation into the provin-
cial system of government and with the general tendency of the whole
of inland Syria to become Aramaic, the term Hatt: lost any specific
ethnic or cultural connotation. It simply became an archaic desig-
nation for the political states of the West, frequently corresponding
to Amurru.32 Esarhaddon (680-669), for instance, includes among
the “kings of Hatti” those of Tyre, Judah, Edom, Moab, Gaza,
Ashkelon, Ekron, Byblos, Arvad, Samsimuruna, Beth Ammon and
Ashdod—virtually the same list of nations that Sennacherib’s

29. Van Seters, VT 22:66, 78-81; cf. Gibson, JNES 20: 224-27.
30. On the Hittites see O. R. Gurney, The Hittites (Harmondsworth, England: Pelican
Books, 1961); A. Goetze, Kleinasien, and ed. (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1957).
31. Gurney, Hittites, pp. 39-46; W. F. Albright, CAH, fasc. 51, pp. 43-46.
32. See Parpola, Toponyms, pp. 157-58.
46 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

inscription calls ‘“‘Kings of Amurru.”3% This understanding of the

land of Hatti extends into the Neo-Babylonian period and even
later?
The use of the word Hittite in Genesis corresponds only to this
archaic and non-ethnic use from the late Assyrian empire onward.
In fact while the term Hatti continued to be used for the whole
region of the west and specifically for the sedentary population,
Amurru took on a new specialized use by the late Neo-Babylonian
or early Persian period and referred to the region of North Arabia.®°
This might account for the shift away from the Deuteronomic use
of the term Amorite and the deliberate preference in the Priestly
source for Hittite.
As mentioned above, the term Canaanite in Genesis is largely
synonymous with Amorite and Hittite, and is a designation for the
original inhabitants of the “land of Canaan” (Palestine) without
implying a specific ethnic meaning.?¢ The land of Canaan in the
Old Testament, however, is not the equivalent of the “land of
Amurru”’ or the “Hatti land” of the late Assyrian inscriptions but
differs from them in two important respects. Firstly, the designation
is completely absent from the Assyrian inscriptions of the first
millennium B.c. Secondly, to judge from references outside of the
patriarchal stories, the land of Canaan does not have the same
geographical extent as the land of Amurru. The dimensions of the
land of Canaan (Num. 34:2-12; Ezek. 47:15-20; Josh. 13:2-6,
cf. Gen. 10:15-19) indicate that it extends only as far as Lebo—
Hamath on the Upper Orontes and does not reach the Euphrates
as does Amurru. Furthermore Canaan does not include any territory
east of the Jordan even though it does include Damascus and the

33. Luckenbill, Ancient Records, vol. 2, no. 690; ANET2 p. 291; cf. n. 28 above.
34. See D. J. Wiseman, Chronicles of Chaldean Kings (626-556 8.c.) (London: Trustees of
the British Museum, 1956), pp. 69-70 for references in the text to Hatti, and pp. 25,
28, and 30-31 for commentary. For a Hellenistic reference see ANET2, p. 317. DeVaux
(Histoire, p. 133) overlooks these references when he states that the term Hatti disappeared
from cuneiform texts after Esarhaddon. His general conclusions, however, are the same as
mine. Note a similar development for the term Gutium in W. W. Hallo ‘‘Gutium,”
Reallexicon der Assyriologie 3, pt. 9 (1971): 717-19.
35. See Dougherty, Nabonidus and Belshazzar, p. 109.
36. The references to “‘Canaanites” are Gen. 12:6; 13:7; 34:30; cf. 34:2, where the
same peoples are called “‘ Hivites.”’
t
PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES. 47

region east and north of it.8” Since the dimensions of the land of
Canaan do not correspond to Israel’s boundaries at any time in its
history it must also represent an idealization just as the land of the
Amorites does. The question then arises as to how such a geographic
designation arose and whether it has any bearing on the problem of
dating the traditions which use it. This calls for a brief survey of the
use of Canaan and Canaanites in extra-Biblical sources.38
Considerable confusion has been created by the current scholarly
use of the term Canaanite to represent certain distinct cultural,
archaeological or linguistic phenomena of the second millennium
B.c. or earlier. It has also been suggested that the Canaanites
were a Semitic migration of peoples which some place earlier and
some later than the Amorites. In fact, such a modern usage of the
term does not correspond to the ancient usage and can only lead
to serious misunderstanding in any historical study of the second
millennium B.c.?9
The name of the country or people is entirely unknown until the
early fifteenth century B.c., after which it occurs rather frequently
throughout the period of the Egyptian Empire. Efforts to explain
or delimit the term on the basis of etymology have not been very
successful. The meanings ‘“‘purple’”’ and “merchants” are both
probably secondary formations based on a certain contact with the
people and products of Canaan, or at least a part of it. So while
these meanings would point to the Phoenician coast, the term
Canaan cannot be entirely defined geographically on that basis.4°
37. See Y. Aharoni and M. Avi-Yonah, The Macmillan Biblical Atlas (New York: Mac-
millan Co., 1968), p. 41, map 50. The suggestion by M. C. Astour, in ‘‘ The Origins of the
and
Terms ‘ Canaan,’ ‘ Phoenician,’ and ‘ Purple,’”’ ZNES 24 (1965): 348, that Canaan
Amurru are synonymous terms in Amarna and the Bible is incorrect and seriously weakens
his study.
38. For a discussion of these sources see the following works: B. Maisler (Mazar), “Canaan
ibid.,
and the Canaanites,” BASOR 102 (1946): 7-12; Gibson, JNES 20: 217-20; Astour,
pp.
346-350; deVaux, ‘“‘Le pays de Canaan,” JAOS 88 (1968): 23-30; idem, Historie,
124-26.
Canaanites in
39. Such a usage is found, for instance, in W. F. Albright, ‘“‘ The Role of the
(Garden
the History of Civilization,” The Bible and the Ancient Near East, ed. G. E. Wright
Canaanites (Lon-
City, N. Y.: Doubleday, 1961), pp. 328-62; K. M. Kenyon, Amorites and
Press, 1966); cf. Gibson, JNES 20: 220; and deVaux, Histozre,
don: Oxford University
PP- 135740:
JAOS 88: 23-25;
40. For a review of the various etymological approaches see deVaux,
idem, Histoire, pp. 123-24.
48 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

The cuneiform and Egyptian sources are somewhat ambiguous

about the location of Canaan. The earliest source, the statue of
Idrimi from Alalah seems to suggest a northern limit to Canaan in
the region of the coastal town of Ammia, located a short distance
north of Byblos.4! The Amarna letters specify the towns in Phoenicia
as far south as Acco and inland to Hazor as being part of Canaan
and clearly indicate that the kingdom of Amurru to the north did
not lie within its limits. Its more precise boundaries, however, are
somewhat debatable. A suggestion that has recently been put
forward is that Canaan was one of three provinces of the Egyptian
Empire in Asia.42 The farthest north was Amurru. The middle
province was Upi, which included Damascus and northern Trans-
jordan above the Sea of Galilee and the Beqa Valley with its center
in Kumidi. The rest of the region to the south as far as Egypt, but
not east of the Jordan, was included in Canaan, and its capital was
at Gaza. Even after the kingdom of Amurru came under Hittite
control the boundaries of the other two provinces remained stable
until virtually the end of the empire. In general usage in the
Nineteenth Dynasty, however, Canaan and Huru (=the Hurrian
land) 4 were largely synonymous terms which stood for the Egyptian
holdings in Asia. Yet in spite of Ramesses II’s campaigns in Trans-
jordan there is no indication that Canaan or Huru included this
region.
The latest extant Egyptian reference to Canaan comes from a
Twenty-second Dynasty (ca gth to 8th century B.c.) inscription
that mentions “‘a royal messenger of Canaan and Philistia.’’44 This
would suggest that with the establishment of the Philistine presence
the designation Canaan may have become more restricted again to
the Phoenician coastal region. There is some evidence to suggest
that this more restricted Canaan was used by the Phoenicians them-
selves as the archaic name for their homeland.45
R. deVaux has recently pointed to the striking correlation be-

41. S. Smith, The Statue of Idrimi (London: British Institute of Archaeology in Ankara,
1949).
42. DeVaux, AOS 88:27; idem, Histoire, p. 125.
43. See A. H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica, 3 vols. (London: Oxford University
Press, 1947) 1: 180.
44. G. Steindorff, ““The Statuette of an Egyptian Commissioner in Syria,” FEA 25
(1939): 30-33.
45. For the late references see Maisler, BASOR 102: 7-8; deVaux, FAOS 88: 23.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 49

tween the Egyptian administrative use of the term Canaan and the
delineation of its boundaries in the Old Testament.46 This is especi-
ally interesting in the case of Josh. 13:2ff. which states that the
northern border of Canaan is the “‘boundaries of the Amorites.”
This is the only use of Amorites in the Old Testament which corre-
sponds to Egyptian administrative terminology, and not to the
idealized archaic usage of the Assyrian texts.47
DeVaux further suggests that this conception of the land of
Canaan was adopted by the Israelite tribes when they first entered
the land in the late Nineteenth Dynasty.48 However this ‘proposed
dating has a number of serious weaknesses. First of all, the dimen-
sions of Canaan were far beyond those gained by the early tribes,
and it is hard to see how they could have appropriated such an ideal
and felt themselves the inheritors of this land. It also specifically
conflicted with their own historical reality of settling east of the
Jordan River. Such a term could hardly have been functional to
them, and one can scarcely imagine pedantic antiquarian interests
on the part of the tribes to preserve it. The one population element
with the greatest continuity from the period of the empire to the
first millennium, the Phoenicians, apparently only retained at most
a very restricted conception of Canaan applicable to themselves.
Secondly, all the references to the precise dimensions of the “‘land of
Canaan”’ are in rather late texts of the Old Testament, as deVaux
also admits. The Ezek. 47:15-20 passage is particularly significant
because it points to the fact that this “land of Canaan” was the
land that formed the exilic ideal of the promised land and thus
stands in contrast to the earlier “‘land of the Amorites,’’ which dom-
inates Deuteronomy. Thirdly, this careful delineation of all the
borders of Canaan reflects a very scholarly sophistication and learn-
ing that is certainly not characteristic of tribal traditions but that
was the result of scribal court education.?9
In the light of these objections to an early date for the adoption
of the term Canaan in its extended sense, I would propose a different
solution. The suggestion of an Egyptian origin for the “land of
Canaan” is very likely correct, and therefore its usage must have

46. deVaux, JAOS 88:29; idem, Histoire, pp. 126-27.

47. See Van Seters, VT 22: 72-78.
48. deVaux, Histoire, p. 128; idem, JAOS 88: 30.
4g. See the “‘ Letter of Hori” in ANET?, pp. 476-77.
50 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

come into Judah at a time when Egyptian influence on the court

was quite strong. This points to the Saite period in Egypt and the
last days of the Judean monarchy.®° The Pharaohs of this period
revived Egyptian ambition for an Asian empire and were very
much involved in Judean affairs. In support of this imperial dream
were a consuming passion for the archaic and a revival of old terms
and forms. It is true that there is no evidence from Egypt that the
term Canaan was used at this time to designate Palestine. But there
is some evidence that such archaic names as Amor and Huru (the
old synonym for Canaan) were revived and used through this
period and down into later times.*!
If this Egyptian use of Canaan was taken up during the Saite
period (late 7th and 6th centuries B.c.), it would explain how a new
ideal of the promised land arose after the western tribal territories
had been lost. Its obvious archaic usage in Egyptian sources would
have encouraged a similar use in Hebrew traditions about early
times and would have given rise to the notion that the autochthonous
population was ‘“‘Canaanite.’”’ Certainly no corresponding Egyptian
use of the term ‘Canaanite’? existed in the time of the empire.
There are also some indications of attempts at scholarly harmoniza-
tion of the two different scribal traditions: the Assyrian and the
Egyptian. One way was to assign the Amorites and Hittites (and
other primitive peoples) to the hill country, while the Canaanites
were said to “dwell by the Sea and along the Jordan” (Num. 13:29).
This -division probably recognized a Western Asian definition in
50. On the general characteristics of the Saite period see A. H. Gardiner, Egypt of the
Pharaohs (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961), pp. 352-363.
51. In the “decree of Canopus” from the Hellenistic period the two names are given side
by side as p3 é5 p3 -Imr p3 ts n3 HB rw, “the region of Amor, the region of the Huru,” and
this is said to correspond in the Greek to °ék té Syrias kai Phointkés, ‘‘ from Syria and Phoeni-
cia.”” (See Gardiner, Onomastica 1: 180*-181*.) In a late demotic text, R. A. Parker,
A Vienna Demotic Papyrus on Eclipse—and Lunar—Omina (Providence: Brown University
Press, 1958), pp. 6-7, one finds the following list of foreign countries: 3 Grty, “‘ the Crea-
tans,” ‘ybr (var. ybr), “‘ the Hebrew (land),” 63 ‘yrm, “‘the Amorite land,” £2 t% p3 >Jsur,
“the land of the Syrians’’ (or Mesopotamia ?). The text is Roman but its Vorlage may be
Hellenistic or Persian. D. B. Redford in ‘‘The ‘Land of the Hebrews’ in Gen. XL 15,”
VT 15 (1965): 531-32, wants to date the original as early as the Saite period. Weippert’s
argument (Settlement, p. 93, n. 162) for an even earlier date suggests a serious misunder-
standing of the text. The form and influence may have been Babylonian but there was
certainly not a ‘“‘Babylonian original” of this text. For additional late references to
Huru see H. Gauthier, Dictionnaire des noms géographiques, 7 vols. (Cairo: Société royale de
géographie d’Egypte, 1925-31) 4:151-52.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 51

which Canaan meant the Phoenician coast. Another method of

harmonization is found in the Table of Nations (Gen. 10:15~-109).
There the list of primeval nations was construed in such a way as to
make Canaan the father of all the primeval peoples but with Sidon
as the first-born and Heth (Hatti) the next in line. The list’ gives
special emphasis to the Phoenician cities, but the mention of “Hama-
thites,” while not quite accurate according to the stricter boundary
limitations, may be an allusion to the northern border of Lebo—
Hamath. In the patriarchal stories themselves the authors are con-
tent for the most part merely to let the various terms stand as
synonyms for one another (see also Ezek. 16:3). On the basis of this
reconstruction one would have to assign the use of the term Canaan-
ites, when it has reference to the greater land of Canaan, to the
period of the late Judean monarchy at the earliest.
Another name which is used for the primitive population of
Palestine is the Hivites. Besides appearing in the list of indigenous
nations, it occurs in Gen. 34:2 as the designation of the population of
Shechem. There has not as yet been any identification made between
the Hivites and any historical people of the Near East. In the story
of Genesis 34 the father of the eponym Shechem is called Hamor,
which is the Hebrew word for “‘ass.”’ Some attempt has been made,
on the basis of the Septuagint, to regard the term Hivite as originally
Horite, but the change is not supported by the other versions and
seems arbitrary.°2 Consequently the term Hivite must remain
inexplicable and of no concern to the present subject.
On the other hand, the name Horite does seem to correspond to
a Near Eastern people, the Hurrians.53 They were a movement of
non-Semitic peoples largely contemporaneous with that of the
Amorites but with their center of radiation in Armenia. Consequently
their primary impact was on Upper Mesopotamia, where they
established their first kingdoms in the early second millennium.
They did not become a major power until after the founding of the

52. On the Hivite question see deVaux, Histoire, p. 134.

53. For a recent survey of the Hurrians see deVaux, ‘‘Les Hurrite de Vhistoire et les
Horites de la Bible,” RB 74 (1967): 481-503; idem, Histoire, pp. 69-71, 86-91; also Van
Seters, The Hyksos, pp. 181-190. For evidence of at least a few Hurrians in Palestine in the
earlier OB period see A. Malamat, ‘‘Syro-Palestinian Designations in a Mari Tin In-
ventory,” [EF 21 (1971) : 35-36; also the text discussed by A. Shaffer in W. G. Dever et al.,
Gezer I: Preliminary Report of the 1964-66 Seasons (Jerusalem: Keter Press, 1970), pp. 111—
113. The archaeological findspot of this text, however, makes the dating uncertain.
52 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

kingdom of Mitanni in the Upper Euphrates region in the late

sixteenth century B.c. About this time they also became strong enough
to penetrate into Syria-Palestine in considerable numbers. They
were not a nomadic movement but a military elite that had a repu-
tation as charioteers, or maryannu. There is no evidence that their
presence was the result of conquest, although some became rulers of
various cities. While they were probably always a minority and
largely Semiticized, the Egyptians recognized the importance of
this elite urban element by calling the whole region of Syria-Palestine
under their control the Huru land.54 This name came into common
use in the Amarna Age and through the Nineteenth Dynasty. Yet
long after the empire ended the Egyptians commonly referred to
Syria-Palestine and its inhabitants by this archaic geographic term,
even when there was virtually no ethnic trace of the Hurrians left.
A difficulty which thus arises with the Biblical Horites is how they
came to be regarded as the original inhabitants of Edom (Gen. 14:6;
36:20-30; Deut. 2:12).55 It seems inappropriate to associate
charioteers of this group with such a region, and at any rate archae-
ological evidence suggests no great urban settlement in the area in
the Late Bronze Age. Perhaps the explanation is that the authors of
these references knew from Egyptian sources the name Huru as an
archaic designation for the people of Palestine. However in trying
to localize the primitive nations in relation to later peoples they
associated the Hurrians, most inappropriately, with Edom. There
is, of course, no exact period with which to connect this development,
although it more likely belongs to a time of Egyptian influence in
Israel’s court than to any other. As with the term Canaan, this
would suggest the Saite period.
The Philistines are brought into the patriarchal stories by one
author who identifies Abimelech, the king of Gerar and his people
as Philistines (Gen. 26:1ff.) and the region around Gerar as the
“land of the Philistines” (Gen. 21:32). The Philistines are not
regarded as one of the autochthonous nations, for Israel knew the
tradition which remembered that they had come from Crete (Amos
9:7). But there are also some indications to suggest that the Phili-
stines were regarded as already present in the land when Israel
entered (Judg. 3:3), and this would be consistent with the source
54. Gardiner, Onomastica, 1: 180*-186*
55. See deVaux, Histoire, pp. 133-34.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 53

in Genesis. Nevertheless many scholars who argue for the antiquity

of the patriarchal traditions are prepared to admit that this reference
to Philistines is an anachronism. However this still does not settle
the question of the dating of such an anachronism so the history of
the Philistines in Palestine will be briefly considered.5¢
At the end of the thirteenth century B.c., the Levantine coast
received a devastating attack from a group of migrating peoples,
called in Egyptian records the ‘“‘Sea-Peoples.”” They came by both
sea and land, and among the group which took part in the decisive
battle against Ramesses III were the prst, “the Philistines.”? The
Egyptians were successful in stopping the invasion of Egypt, and the
Philistines were apparently settled in the destroyed cities of the
southern coastal plain of Palestine. There they formed a pentapolis
of Gaza, Ashkelon, Ashdod, Gath and Ekron. The Philistines appar-
ently inherited the territorial administration of Palestine from the
Egyptians. Biblical accounts about the early period of Israelite
history refer to the rulers of the five Philistine cities as s¢ranim, a
foreign word which has been associated with the Greek tyrannos, or
“tyrant.” The Philistines remained the dominant power in Palestine
until the rise of the Davidic monarchy, after which time they were
largely confined to the coastal region from Gaza to Ekron. In spite
of periodic disputes over territory between Judah and the Philistines
the region of Philistia, known by this name in Egyptian and Assyrian
sources, remained fairly stable. The names of the five principal cities
and their kings also occur frequently in accounts of the wars of the
Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian kings. Finally Nebuchadrezzar
put an end to Philistine independence and exiled many of its inhabi-
tants. Only the history of individual cities of the region continues,
though remembrance of the archaic name of this region lived on
into Roman times, when the name given to the whole land was
“Palestine.”
The references in Genesis are rather inconsistent with the historical
outline. This book does not use the term seren,* the oldest term for
the ruler of a Philistine city, even though this title was in use as late

56. See the recent surveys in J. C. Greenfield, IDB 3: 791-953 M. L. and H. Erlenmeyer,
and M. Delcor, ‘‘ Philistines,” DBS 7, cols. 1233-88; T. C. Mitchell, ** Philistia,”’ in
AOTS, pp. 405-429; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 468-74; W. F. Albright, CAH?, fasc. 51, pp. 24-
33; R. D. Barnett, ‘‘The Sea Peoples,” CAH2, fasc. 68; J. C. Greenfield, ‘‘ Philistines,”
Encyclopaedia Judaica, 13: 399-403.
54 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

as the united monarchy. Genesis also speaks about a Philistine king

of Gerar, but this is not one of the five royal cities, and there is no
other historical record of a Philistine monarchy at Gerar or at any
other city apart from the pentapolis. Furthermore, when Abraham
and Isaac enter into treaties with the Philistines no other ruler
except Abimelech (with a. Semitic name!) is mentioned. Yet in the
book of Judges and in the stories from the time of Saul and David,
the five rulers of the Philistines always act in concert.
The solution to this problem is partly literary, but also partly
historical. As I hope to show below, the earliest version of the story
spoke only of a king of Gerar without any ethnic qualification. It
was a later writer who identified Gerar as a place ‘“‘in the land of
the Philistines’? and therefore, he had to regard the king as a
Philistine. Yet this connection would only have been possible after
the pentapolis had been broken and only a vague notion of a region
called Philistia remained. This, in my judgment, seems to point
again to the exilic period.
In a few instances in Genesis the patriarchs are called Hebrews,5”
although these references are rather isolated from the main body of
patriarchal traditions. In Gen. 14:13 Abraham is called a Hebrew
(“ibri) in a context in which Mamre (an eponym for Hebron) is
called an Amorite—both terms clearly intended as ethnic. However
Genesis 14 is regarded by many scholars as separate from the rest
of the Abraham stories and often considered as “‘late midrash.’’58
All the other occurrences of “‘Hebrew” in the patriarchal stories
are in the Joseph story, which is also regarded as not integral to the
Jacob traditions, but a separately created novella.5® Here Joseph is
called a Hebrew by the Egyptians (Gen. 39:14,17; 41:12). He
describes his own origin as from the “‘land of the Hebrews” (Gen.
40:15), which is synonymous with “land of Canaan” in the rest of
the story. The brothers are called Hebrews, as distinct from
Egyptians (Gen. 43:32). All these references are clearly ethnic, and
the choice of Hebrew over Israelite or Jew is probably intended to
avoid an obvious anachronism.

57. For discussion of the biblical references see deVaux, Histoire, pp. 202-08; Gibson,
FINES 20: 234-36.
58. DeVaux, Histoire, p. 211.
59. See most recently the full discussion by D. B. Redford, A Study of the Biblical Story
of
Joseph, Genesis 37-50, SVT 20 (1970).
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 55

It is difficult to date the use of the term Hebrew as an equivalent

for Israelite within any very narrow limits. The term Hebrew occurs
in the book of Jonah (1:9), which is admittedly a late work, and it
also appears in both Jewish and non-Jewish literature of the Hellen-
istic and Roman periods.6° Hebrew with the meaning of Israelite
also occurs in Deut. 15:12-17 and Jer. 34:9,14—texts of the late
monarchy—but these are usually regarded as interpretations of an
earlier law on the Hebrew slave in Exod. 21:2-6 that cannot be so
easily dated. In the story of the Exodus the term Hebrew is regu-
larly alternated with Israelite. It is also found in the accounts of
warfare between Israel and the Philistines (I Sam. 4:6ff.; 13:3ff.;
14:11,21; 29:13). On the basis of these occurrences it has sometimes
been suggested that the term Hebrew belongs to the pre-monarchy
period. But this argument is misleading. The dating of these stories
is debatable and may very well be late. Hebrew (‘tbri) is always
used in a context in which Israelites are in contact with foreigners,
and such stories are abundant in the period of time before the
monarchy and after the exile but rare during the monarchies of
Judah and Israel.®
The question about dating the term Hebrew has been confused
by a further issue: whether or not the term is ever used in a non-
ethnic, sociological sense. It has been argued that the earlier use of
the term was in fact non-ethnic, and that only later did it take on an
ethnic meaning equivalent to Israelite or Jew.®* But a non-ethnic
meaning of the term is not obvious in any of the passages in which
it is used and certainly not in Genesis. In. fact the issue only arose
because the term Hebrew was identified with the non-Biblical
designation Hapiru used in the second millennium B.c. Because of
the very extensive discussion of this question in the scholarly liter-
ature some consideration must be given to it here.®
The name of this people occurs in various forms throughout the
second millennium B.c. In cuneiform texts it is written either with
the ideogram SA.GAZ or in syllabic writing as fapiru. In the alpha-
betic script of Ugarit it is written as ‘pr and in Egyptian hiero-
glyphs as ‘prw. The earliest references to the Hapiru occur in the

60. See deVaux, Historie, p. 202.

61. See also Redford, Joseph Story, p. 201-03.
62. See Koch, VT 19:37-81.
63. See the works cited in Chap. 2, n. 55.
56 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Old Assyrian texts followed by frequent occurrences in the Mari and

Alalah archives. These all suggest a rather bellicose and nomadic
people located primarily in the region of North Syria and the Upper
Euphrates. Very early the ideogram SA.GAZ “bandit,” was
applied to them and became a regular ideogram for Hapiru with
its strongly negative connotation. The Hapiru appear most often in
the texts as bands of soldiers, either as belligerents or as mercenaries.
Essentially the same picture emerges in the latter part of the
second millennium B.c., whether in the Idrimi inscription from
Alalah, the Hittite treaties with Ugarit and Amurru, the Amarna
letters, or the Egyptian texts. These texts give considerable informa-
tion about the activity of the Hapiru in Syria and Palestine. On the
other hand, the portrayal of Hapiru as militant nomads in these
texts is complicated by the fact that in texts from the fifteenth
century B.c. at Nuzi, east of the Tigris River, they appear as entering
into a contractual servitude in return for their livelihood. However
this situation may be due largely to their geographic isolation from
the main body of Hapiru in the West and cannot be construed
as normal for an understandmg of the term Hapiru elsewhere.
Similarly the presence of Hapiru as slaves in Egypt from the Eigh-
teenth to Twentieth Dynasties indicates that they were probably
prisoners of war, much as other ethnic groups were in this period.4
The diversity of references to the Hapiru in time, place, and man-
ner of life has given rise to the notion that the Hapiru do not represent
a specific people but are, instead, a social class. In further support
of this judgment is the fact that their personal names do not belong
to one particular ethnic group.*5 On the other hand attempts to
derive a sociological meaning for Hapiru from etymological study
have not been very successful.66 Against such a sociological usage is
the fact that it is difficult to see why a foreign term would be used
in Akkadian and Egyptian documents for different social phenomena
instead of using native terms.
R. de Vaux has recently suggested that Hapiru should be viewed
as an ethnic term in spite of their geographic dispersion and varying
social status. Their role in the Near East is paralleled to a large
64. This was apparenily the case with the Shosu in Egypt. See R. Giveon, Les bédouins
Shosu des documents égyptiens (Leiden: F. J. Brill, 1971), pp. 219-31.
65. See Greenberg, Hab/piru, p. 87.
66. See deVaux, Histoire, pp. 109-110; Weippert, Settlement, pp. 81ff.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 57

extent by other bellicose, nomadic groups, such as Sutu, Lulahhu

and Shosu.§? The fact that some persons such as Idrimi of Alalah
lived for a time among them does not argue against this, for Idrimi
is never actually called a Hapiru.®8 It still seems to me most reason-
able to regard the term as an originally ethnic one that acquired
some sociological and derogatory connotations such that it could
apply to similar or only loosely related nomadic groups. It was not
unlike the development of the term Aramean of a later day.69
We now come to the question of whether there is any connection
between the term Hapiru and Hebrew, and there are two aspects
to this question that should not be confused. Firstly, there is the
historical question of whether or not the Israelite settlement in
Palestine is a part of the larger Hapiru nomadic movement, and
secondly there is the question of whether or not the two terms are
linguistically equivalent. In our earlier discussion we accepted the
historical arguments which suggested that there was some relation-
ship between the two groups. However this cannot be taken to
immediately solve the linguistic question of whether or not the term
Hapiru can be equated with the term Hebrew (‘zbri). It is not so
easy to account for the difference—that is, the shift from p to b—
since both terms are West Semitic, and there would be little reason
for a corruption in any primitive and virtually contemporary tradi-
tion.7° It is possible that the term ‘¢bri is a late degenerated archaism
of the earlier Hapiru (‘apiru), which was revived along with other
archaic terms that also suffered some corruption.7! On the other
hand it might have had an entirely different origin that is now much
more difficult to discover. Yet at some stage in Israel’s history the
term Hebrew was used to imply an ethnic unity of both Judeans

67. Histoire, pp. 111-12.

68. Weippert’s criticism of deVaux, in “Abraham der Hebraer?” Biblica 52 (1971):
412ff., rests on the reference in the Idrimi inscription: ‘‘I lived for seven years among the
SA.GAZ (Hapiru) people.”’ Weippert interprets this to mean that he became a Hapiru.
But it can also be taken as similar to the situation of the exile Sinuhe who lived for several
years among the ‘amu, although he always remained an Egyptian.
6g. Another parallel would be the Shosu (s3sw) nomads of Southern Palestine in Egyp-
tian sources of the Late Bronze Age. It is likely that the name is still preserved in Hebrew
Sose[Sdsim (1 Sam. 14:48; Judg. 2:14,16; 2 Kings 17:20; Isa. 17:4; Jer. 30:16, 50:11) in
which it has the meaning of ‘‘robbers,”’ “‘ plunderers.” In late Egyptian and Coptic shos
means “‘shepherd’’ but also ‘‘Arab.” See R. Giveon, Les bédouins Shosu, pp. 261-64,
70. Cf. the linguistic arguments by Weippert, Settlement, pp. 74-82.
71. See above, no. 70, for a similar development of Shosu.
58 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

and Israelites vis 4 vis foreign nations, and this is why it always
occurs in such contexts in the historical traditions. It was, likewise,
a most suitable term for designating the ancestors of the people in
relation to foreigners; thus, it was used in the patriarchal stories.
There is certainly no compelling reason to believe that it is early
and every reason to suspect that it is late. However in spite of all the
discussion about the term Hebrew, it remains very inconclusive in
dating the patriarchal narratives.
In the previous chapter the relationship of the patriarchs to the
Arameans, particularly those of Upper Mesopotamia, was discussed.
Now the various toponyms and tribal names associated with the
Arameans in the patriarchal narratives must be considered. The
general region in which the ancestral home of Harran is situated is
called Aram-Naharaim in the Old Testament.?? The last element
in this name occurs first in the Eighteenth Dynasty in the Egyptian
sources as Nhrn, and in the Amarna letters as Nahrima.”? It was
apparently a word for the region within the bend of the Euphrates
as far east as the Habur, possibly with some extension west of the
Euphrates as well. It does not seem to have been either an Akkadian
term or one used in the region itself but a creation of the scribes of
Syria-Palestine. At some time after the Arameans settled in that
general region the refix ‘“Aram”’ was applied to the term, which is
how it appears in the Old Testament.
A synonym for Aram-Naharaim that appears in the P redaction
of Genesis is Paddan-Aram (Gen. 25:20; 28:2,6,7; 48:7). This is
the Aramaic equivalent of the Hebrew s¢dé-Aram “field of Aram”?
or “country of Aram”? (Hos. 12:12[13]).74 Both Aram-Naharaim
and Paddan-Aram are devoid of any political connotations and
reflect neither the time of the independent Aramean states nor that
of the later Assyrian provinces in the region. As they stand the
terms simply suggest an area in which Arameans lived; they give
little indication of any historical period.
Abraham’s origin in Aram Naharaim is further stressed in the
tradition by the association of a number of place names in the
region of Harran with Abraham’s immediate family (Gen.
72. Gen. 24:10; Deut. 23:5; Judg. 3:8; 1 Chron. 1936; Psi6079)
Ln the dicission of this term by J. J. Finkelstein, “‘ Mesopotamia,” JNES
21 (1962):

74. Simons, Geog. and Topog. Texts, #419, p. 7; cf R. A. Bowman,

in ‘‘Arameans,”
IDB 1: 191, who interprets the expression as “‘road of Aram.”
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 59

11:22-32).75 Abraham’s father is called Terah, which corresponds

to the town name Til Turahi (var. Til 8a Turahi), while the name of
his brother (or grandfather?) Nahor may be seen in the place name
Nahuru (OB) or Til Nahiri (Assyr.).76 The name of Abraham’s
other brother, Haran (with h instead of h), cannot be so easily
identified with Harran (Heb. Haran), especially since the city is
thought to have existed before the family arrived from Ur. The father
of Nahor is Serug, whose name corresponds to Sarigi, another town in
the area. All these places are listed in the Neo-Assyrian texts as being
in the Balih valley region near Harran. The fact that Harran and
Nahor (Nahuru) appear in second millennium sources from the Old
Assyrian texts and Mari archives has led some to stress the jmpor-
tance of these names as indicative of the antiquity of the tradition.’
But two of the names do not occur, and one of them, Sartgi (Serug)
seems to have been a different name, Batna, in the Old Babylonian
period.”8 The father of Serug is Re’u (Gen. 11:21-22), and this
name is connected with Ru’ua, an Aramean tribe of southeastern
Mesopotamia and is known from the mid-eighth century onward.’®
The significance of this name in the genealogy must be to emphasize
the original connection between the Arameans of southern Meso-
potamia and those of the Upper Euphrates.
Another list of Arameans is found in Gen. 22:20-24, in two
parts. In the first part eight sons of Nahor by his wife Milcah are
listed, and of these four names can be clearly identified as place or
tribal names.89 Chesed represents the Chaldeans of Southern

75. See the treatment of this genealogy by A. Malamat, “King Lists of the Old Baby-
lonian Period and Biblical Genealogies,” JAOS 88 (1968): 163-73 (esp. p. 166); also
deVaux, Histoire, pp. 189-90. For the Assyrian sources see Parpola, Toponyms, pp. 306,
354-56.
46. On the use of Til in these names see Malamat, AOS 88: 166, n. 13. There are some
names in Assyrian texts that alternate in the use of Til, for example Barsip and Til
Barsip, so the prefix Til cannot be used as an argument against the Assyrian form of the
name.
77. W. F. Albright, From the Stone Age to Christianity, pp. 236-37; J. Bright, A History of
Israel, p. 70; deVaux, Histoire, p. 190.
478. Finkelstein, JNES 21: 77-78.
79. B. Moritz, ‘‘Die Nationalitat der Arumu—Stamme in Siidost—Babylonien,”
Oriental Studies Dedicated to Paul Haupt, ed. C. Adler and A. Ember (Baltimore: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1926), p. 193.
Geog. and Topog. Texts, 7419, 40, 48, 68; cf. Albright, ‘‘Dedan,” Ge-
80. See Simons,
schichte und Altes Testament, Festshrift A. Alt, ed. G. Ebeling (Tiibingen: Mohr, 1953),
pp. 8-9, n. 2.
60 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Mesopotamia. Buz and Hazo are known from Assyrian sources

(primarily seventh century) as two oases, Bazu and Hazu, situated
in Northeastern Arabia. Uz is known from the Book of Job to have
been in the North Arabian region, but its exact location remains
uncertain.8! The other four names in the list may be personal
names exclusively, since they cannot at present be identified as
eponyms.82 The second part of the list names four sons of the con-
cubine Reumah, and of these Tebah and Maacah share their
names with Aramean regions of Syria known from first millennium
sources.83 This genealogical scheme suggests that in the view of its
author the primary group of Arameans in the Upper Euphrates had
most important connections with the peoples of southern Meso-
potamia, both with the Chaldeans and with certain north Arabian
regions close by, which may have been Aramaic-speaking. What is
surprising is that the relationship with the Syrian Arameans is given
such a lowly status after the complete decline of the Syrian Arameans
in the late Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian empire. This reconstruction
of Aramean relations very fkely reflects the world of the seventh or
sixth centuries B.c.
In the previous chapter it was noted that in the Hagar-Ishmael
stories Abraham was considered to be related to the Arabs of North
Arabia. In further support of this connection Genesis 25 gives two
lists of Arab peoples descended from Abraham through secondary
wives.84 The first group (vv. I-5) are the offspring of Keturah, a
name clearly related to Heb. g@téret “‘incense,”’ and it is therefore
very likely that the author has organized the list to include those
involved in the incense trade.85 The names of the first three sons,
while Arabic in character, cannot be identified with certainty as
place names. On the other hand, the tribe of Midian is very familiar,

81. Albright, “‘Dedan,” p. 8; but cf. Simons, Geog. and Topog. Texts, #19, p. 8.
82. Kemuel is a personal name in Num. 34:24 and 1 Chron. 27:17. Bethuel is a personal
name in the story of Laban (Genesis 24). Pildash and Yidlaph are not easily explained as
Semitic names.
83. Simons, Geog. and Topog. Texts, pars. 19, 766 (see index).
84. For a recent full discussion of these names see F. V. Winnett, ‘‘The Arabian Genea-
logies in the Book of Genesis,” Translating and Understanding the Old Testament, ed. H. T.
Frank and W. L. Reed (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1970), pp. 171-96 (esp. 188-96).
See also Montgomery, Arabia and the Bible, pp. 42-46; A. Jeffery, ‘Arabians,’ IDB
1: 182-83; Albright, ‘‘Dedan,” pp. 9-12; Skinner, Genesis, pp. 349-54.
85. This was a suggestion made in a seminar of the Department of Near Eastern Studies,
University of Toronto, by Professor Israel Ephal in the winter of 1972. See also Skinner,
Genesis, p. 350.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 61

referring to the Arabs living in northwestern Arabia along the east

coast of the Gulf of Aqaba. The Old Testament knows them as
merchants of spices in Isa. 60:6, along with Ephah, a ‘“‘son” of
Midian. The sons of Midian, Ephah and Epher, are mentioned in
eighth-century Assyrian inscriptions as Haiappa and Apparu and
have been identified with the towns Ghwafah and ‘Ofr. Another son
Hanoch may be the eponym of the town Hanakiya in the same
region. Abida has been linked with the tribe Ibadidi, regularly
associated with the Thamud. It may also have given its name to
the modern Bad‘, an important oasis in ancient Midian. Elda‘ah
is not listed as a place name, but it does occur as an Arab royal name
in Assyrian and Sabean inscriptions and may point to southern
connections.86
Following Midian among the names of Keturah’s sons are two
closely related regions, Ishbak and Shuah. These appear in the
Assyrian sources as Yasbuq and Suhu and are located in the steppe
region of northern Syria.8’ Their place in this genealogy indicates
that they must have been the northernmost Arab tribes involved in
the incense trade. Similarly, the presence of Sheba and Dedan, the
sons of Jokshan (variant for Joktan), in this list must have a different
function from that in Gen. 10:7,26. They were both important
centers in the incense trade. Sheba (Saba) was, of course, the
southern terminus, while Dedan was a major emporium located in
the oasis of el‘Ula in the northern Hejaz. It is mentioned in both
Biblical and Arabic sources from the sixth century B.c. onward, but
not earlier.88 Dedan’s absence even from Assyrian sources, given

86. For the occurrence of two royal names in the table of nations see M. C. Astour,
“Sabtah and Sabteca, Ethiopian Pharaoh Names in Genesis 10,” JBL 84 (1965): 422-
25.
a: Albright, ‘‘Dedan,” p. 9, nn. 4 and 5. However, there is no need to consider that
these tribes ‘‘ migrated from much further south” because close geographical affinity is
not the organizing principle. Cf. Winnett, “‘ Genealogies,”’ p. 193. Jeffery (IDB 1: 182-83)
regards the connection of a southern Sheba with northern Dedan as strange and looks
for a northern Sheba, relating it to the Sabai of the Assyrian texts. However, these Sabai
cannot be easily located.
88. See Albright’s treatment of Dedan. However, his use of the Table of Nations to find a
reference as early as the tenth century B.c. has no independent historical value; cf.
Winnett, “‘ Genealogies,” p. 172, who regards the Genesis references as exilic. Further-
more, Albright’s identification of Tidnu/Didnu of the Ur II period with Dedan may be
firmly rejected; cf. J. Bottéro, CAH?, fasc. 29:30, where he identifies Tidan/Didan with
the region of Mt. Basar in North Syria. See also A. van den Branden, “La chronologie de
Dedan et de Lihyan,” Bi. Or 14 (1957): 13; and F. V. Winnett and W. L. Reed, Ancient
Records From North Arabia (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1970) pp. 31, 99-101.
62 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

their intense interest in the region, is significant. The sons of Dedan,

Asshurim, Letishim and Leummim, are rather enigmatic. One
suggestion is to identify Asshurim as “Syrians,” since Ashur (r)
is mentioned with this meaning in late texts.89 It may be that the
names suggest foreigners or a mixture of peoples resident at Dedan
in merchant colonies there. In any case this text on the sons of
Keturah, under the guise of a genealogy, gives a picture of the
wide-ranging incense trade carried on by the various Arab tribes
and localities in the sixth century B.c.
The second list of Arab tribes (Gen. 25:13-16) gives the genealogy
of Hagar-Ishmael. These two names were very likely quite distinct
tribal groups which the author has linked together as mother and
son in order to relate them both to Abraham. Both Hagrites and
Ishmaelites are mentioned in Ps. 83:7 (ET:6) as Arab tribes hostile
to Israel, similar to the statement in Gen. 16:12. The Hagrites are
situated in Moab while the Ishmaelites are in Edom. The mention
of Edom could refer to the Negeb as well as the country east of the
Arabah if the psalm is postexilic. While it has been dated quite
early by some, this seems hardly likely.9° The reference to Gebal,
v. 8(ET: 7), is to an Arab tribe that was in this Transjordanian region
in the latter part of the sixth century, according to a recent archaeo-
logical discovery.®! There is considerable evidence that the whole of
Transjordan was dominated at this time by Arab tribes who largely
replaced the older states and who constituted a threat for Judah as
well.9? This development is also reflected by the Chronicler (I Chron.
5:10,15ff.) when he anachronistically places the Hagrites in Trans-
jordan in the time of Saul and also mentions them as the chief
inhabitants of Transjordan at the time of the settlement. But these
are merely the reflections of the Chronicler’s own day, when the
Hagrites and the closely related Itureans (Jetur) were the principal
population element in Transjordan.
It is doubtful that the Hagrites can be identified with the Haga-

89. Winnett, “‘Genealogies,”’ p. 190.

go. B. Mazar, ‘‘ The Historical Background of the Book of Genesis,” NES 28 (1969):
79-80.
gi. See S. H. Horn, “‘Chronique,”’ RB 79 (1972): 425, which mentions the discovery of
an ostracon dated about 525 B.c. and containing a reference to the Bené Gubla. This
tribe is also mentioned by Josephus, Ant. 9:188 as the Gabalitai.
g2. See W. J. Dumbrell, “‘The Tell el-Maskhuta Bowls and the ‘ Kingdom’ of Qedar
in
the Persian Period,” BASOR 203 (Oct., 1971): 40-41.
 PERSONAL NAMES, PEOPLES, AND PLACES 63

ranu of the eighth-century Assyrian texts.93 Against it is the differ-

ence between Heb. h and Akkadian h, as well as the fact that the
Hagaranu appear to be an Aramean tribe of southern Mesopo-
tamia.94 Yet the Assyrian references do suggest a close association
between the Hagaranu and the Nabatu similar to the connection
between Hagar and the Nabaioth in the genealogy of Hagar-Ishmael
(v. 13). The Hagrites, however, are known from the classical geo-
graphers and pre-Islamic sources as Arab tribes living in North
Arabia.9> The Ishmaelites, on the other hand, are very probably
identified with the Sumuwil of the Assyrian annals dating from the
time of Sennacherib onward.9® The king of Sumw’il is also called
the “‘king of Arabia” or the “‘king of the Qidri’”’ (Kedar). One of
the gates of Nineveh, the “Desert Gate,” was so called because
“the men of Sumu’il, the men of Tema” entered the city through
it with their royal tribute. This connection of the Ishmaelites with
Teima (Tema) is further strengthened by the discovery near ancient
Teima of two inscriptions in ancient Teimanite script that refer to
a tribe or kingdom of SM‘L.9? Elsewhere in ancient North and South
Arabic the name is rendered by ysm‘l, though there is evidence of
orthographic inconsistency.98
Among the sons of Ishmael in Gen. 25:13-16 those attested in
Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian sources are the Arab tribes of
the Nabaioth (Nabaitu), Kedar (Qzdri), Massa (Masaz) and Adbeel
(Idiba’ili). The prominence given to Nabaioth has always tempted
an identification with the Nabataeans but against this is the differ-
ence (t/t) in the two names. Furthermore the name written as nbyt
with unemphatic t has actually been found in inscriptions in the

93. See Parpola, Toponyms, p. 141.

94. However, see Nahrima for Naharaim cited above (p. 58).
95. Simons, Geog. and Topog. Texts, #4102, p. 39. See also Giveon, Les bédouins, pp. 166-67,
for Egyptian hkrw from the Persian period.
96. For this identification see J. Lewy, ‘‘The Late Assyro-Babylonian Cult of the Moon
and its Culmination at the Time of Nabonidus,’”’ HUCA 19 (1945-46): 432, n. 143. See
also the discussion in Winnett and Reed, Records from North Arabia, pp. 93-96. A parallel
for the Assyrian rendering of Sumu’il for Ishmael is the Assyrian Sirril for Israel.
g7. Winnett and Reed, Records, pp. 93-96.
g8. Harding, Index of Arabic Names, lists sm* (p. 328) and. bnw sm‘ym (p. 329), but also
sm°l (p. 328) ysm@l and ysm‘l (p. 671) and °sml (p. 46), as personal or tribal. There also
seems to be a tribal group hjrm as in the phrase sbn sm‘y d hjrm (p. 177), as well as a
tribal group hjrm (p. 609). Are these merely orthographic variants? See G. Ryckmans,
Les noms, p. 307.
64 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

neighborhood of Teima.99 In the Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian

periods the Qidri seem to be the leading tribe of the Ishmaelites and
play an important political role in the west.19° Included also among
the sons of Ishmael are the eponyms of two important oases: Tema
and Dumah_ (Adumu/Adumatu), both of great importance in the
late Assyrian Empire and throughout the Neo-Babylonian Empire.
The last three names on the list belong together because they
probably represent tribal elements of Transjordan. Two of them,
Jether (Itureans) and Naphish, are Hagrites (I Chron. 5:19), and
Kedemah also belongs in the eastern Moab region (Deut. 2:26).
Mibsam and Mishma were probably Ishmaelite or Kedarite tribes
in south Judah. By the time of the Chronicler they were so fixed in
the region that they appear as part of the tribe of Simeon (I Chron.
4:25). Nothing can be said about the name Hadad, which is other-
wise unknown. The list seems to represent a confederacy of tribes
that lived on the southern and eastern borders of Judah (Gen. 25:18;
cf. 16:12; 21:20-21) with an extension of their influence or control
as far as the major oases of northern Arabia. The same reality is
reflected in a number of Old Testament texts from the late mon-
archy to the postexilic period in which these Arab tribes play a
major political and economic role.!1
The lists of Arameans and Arabs may be interpreted as represent-
ing a view of these peoples in the sixth century B.c. but not much
earlier than this. These lists should not be regarded as simply late
material added to old traditions. On the contrary, they are quite
consistent with the way in which the stories speak about the Ara-
means and Arabs. Their authors’ intent, at least in part, was to
relate the ancestors of Israel (and therefore Israel itself) to the two
major peoples which dominated the world of the Neo-Babylonian
period. It was most appropriate to endeavor to express this relation-
ship in the language of eponymous ancestors and mythical origins.

gg. Winnett and Reed, Records from North Arabia, pp. 38-39, 113-20. Cf. now E. C.
Broome, *‘ Nabaiati, Nabaioth and Nabataeans,” JSS 18 (1973) : 1-16.
100. Dumbrell, BASOR 203: 40-44; A. F. Rainey, ‘‘ The Satrapy “Beyond the River,’”’
Australian Journal of Biblical Archaeology 1 (1969): 51-78.
101. Job 1: 13ff.; 2:11; 6:19; 32: 2,6; Isa. 21:1-17; 60:6-7; Jer. 2:10; 6:20; 25:23;
49: 7-8, 28-30; Ezek. 25:13; 27:20-22; 38:13. For recent discussion of Isaiah 21 see
Dumbrell, BASOR 203: 41.
 CHAPTER 4

The Social Customs of the Patriarchs

This chapter will take up the question of the Near Eastern back-
ground for family customs, laws, and other social forms reflected in
the patriarchal narratives.1 While it may be argued by some that an
account of an ancient tradition can always be updated by changes in
terminology for peoples and places, it is much harder to do so in the
case of social customs. They are often so integral to the course of the
story, as for instance the practice of giving a maid to one’s husband,
that it is difficult to see how the custom could be updated without
changing the whole tradition. Indeed, many scholars have seen in
these patriarchal customs the strongest criterion for considering the
Genesis stories to be of great antiquity.
Most students of Old Testament literature have by now become
quite familiar with the references to legal materials from the second
millennium B.c. which have been used for comparative purposes.
The various law codes of the second millennium are quite accessible
through the translations in J. B. Pritchard’s Ancient Near Eastern
Texts? as well as the translations and legal commentary by G. R.
Driver and J. C. Miles. Alongside of these codes and at least
as important in this discussion are the various collections of legal
documents that pertain to family laws and business contracts.4

1. See deVaux, Histoire, pp. 230-243. This is easily the best general treatment of the
subject at the present time and has a comprehensive bibliography which does not need to
be repeated here. Cf. Bright, History of Israel, pp. 78-79, who takes an apologetic approach
in defense of an early date and does not fairly represent the critical views and contrary
evidence presented by Greenberg, Tucker, and Van Seters.
2. ANET, pp. 159-197; ANET8, pp. 523-528.
3. G. R. Driver and J. C. Miles, The Assyrian Laws (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1935),
cited as DMAL; idem, The Babylonian Laws, 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952-55),
cited as DMBL. A new German translation of the law codes is available in R. Haase,
Die keilschriftlichen Rechtssammlungen in deutscher Ubersetzung (Wiesbaden: O. Harrasso-
witz, 1963). A comprehensive bibliography can be found in the article ‘‘Gesetze,”’
Reallexicon der Assyriologie, vol. 3, pt. 4 (1966): 243-97.
4. A sampling of these may be seen in ANET?, pp. 217-20; ANET8, pp. 542-47.

65
66 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Blocks of such materials have come from many of the major archives
of the second millennium. Among these collections, the Nuzi texts
have played a very prominent role because of the unusually large
number of family archival documents which have come from this
site and from the related site of Arrapha.® These have given rise to
the most extensive discussion of parallels with the family customs of
the patriarchs, especially by C. H. Gordon and E. A. Speiser.®
The numerous studies on comparative family law have concentrated
almost exclusively, up until now, on second-millennium sources.
Far fewer social and legal materials from the early to mid-first
millennium exist. There are only a few fragments of a Neo-Baby-
lonian code,’ although texts of older codes were preserved into the
later period.’ In addition there are some collections of family and
business documents, primarily from Assyria and Babylonia but also
the important Aramaic papyri from Elephantine.? Only this last

5. For the publication of the texts see: E. Chiera and E. R. Lacheman, The Joint Expedi-
tion with the Iraq Museum at Nuzi, Publications of the Baghdad School, 6 vols. (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, American Schools of Oriental Research, 1927-39)
cited as JEN; E. Chiera et al., Excavations at Nuzi, 8 vols. (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1929-62), also known as the Harvard Semitic Series, vols. v, ix, x, xili-xvi, xix, and
cited as HSS v, etc.; C. J. Gadd, “Tablets from Kirkuk,” RA 23 (1926): 49-161, cited
as Gadd. See also the transliterations and translations in E. A. Speiser, ‘‘ New Kirkuk
Documents Relating to Family Laws,” AASOR 10 (1930): 1-73; R. H. Pfeiffer and
E. A. Speiser, ‘‘One Hundred New Selected Nuzi Texts,” AASOR 16 (1936); E. M. Cas-
sin, L’adoption ad Nuzi (Paris: Adrien-Maisonneuve, 1938). For general treatments with
bibliography see R.-J. Tournay, “‘ Nouzi,’” DBS 6 (1960): 646-74; C. J. Mullo Weir,
““Nuzi,” AOTS, pp. 73-86; M. Dietrich, O. Loreta, W. Mayer, Nuzi-Bibliographie,
AOAT 11 (Kevelaer, Ger.: Butzon & Bercker, 1972).
6. C. H. Gordon, ‘‘ Biblical Customs and the Nuzi Tablets,’ BA 3 (1940) : 1-12 (reprinted
in BAR 2: 21-33); various essays by E. A. Speiser in Oriental and Biblical Studies, ed. J. J.
Finkelstein and M. Greenberg (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1967) ;
also throughout Speiser’s commentary on Genesis.
7. ANET2, pp. 197-98; DMBL 2: 324-347.
8. The lexical series ana ittifu is only found in Neo-Assyrian copies, while fragments of the
Hammurapi code have been found in both Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian texts.
g. Note the following collections: J. Kohler and A. Ungnad, Hundert ausgewdhlte Rechts-
urkunden aus der Spatzeit des babylonischen Schrifttums (Leipzig: E. Pfeiffer, 1911); idem,
Assyrische Rechtsurkunden (Leipzig: E. Pfeiffer, 1913); J. Augapfel, Babylonische Rechts-
urkunden aus der Regierungszeit Artaxerxes I und Darius II, Denkschriften der Akademie der
Wissenschaften Wien, Phil.-hist. Klasse 59/3 (1917); M. San Nicolo and A. Ungnad,
Neubabylonische Rechts- und Verwaltungsurkunden, vol. 1 (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1935);
E. W. Moore, Neo-Babylonian Business and Administrative Documents (Ann Arbor: University
of Michigan Press, 1935); G. Cardascia, Les archives des Murasu (Paris: Imprimerie
Nationale, 1951); M. San Nicold, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden des ausgehenden 8. und des Te
Jahrhunderts v. Chr., Abhandlungen des Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Phil.-
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 67

group has had any extensive discussion. Yet most of the first miilen-
nium materials have been available for a long period of time, much of
it before the major part of the second millennium materials even
came to light.
This raises an important issue in the whole approach to compara-
tive analysis of Biblical and non-Biblical materials. Far greater
attention has been paid to the legal corpus of the second millennium
than to that of the first millennium. No doubt this has been due
partly to the greater volume of texts from the earlier period. But
the primary reason is certainly the prejudicial treatment that the
second millennium has had in the area of law and social customs,
which was a direct influence from Old Testament studies. The
demand for knowledge about the second millennium was high
because of the interest in the question of Israelite origins, but interest
in the later period for the same materials was very meagre. There was
simply an assumption beforehand that the patriarchal folk culture
must be second-millennium and that anything later was irrelevant.!°
Such an assumption is completely rejected in this present study. In
fact no fair assessment can ever be made of parallels with the older
material unless some consideration is given to the question of cultural
continuity or change in the later periods. The fact that the Code of
Hammurapi was still highly esteemed in the later period certainly
suggests considerable continuity. On this basis alone it would be
very unwise to conclude that earlier practices were completely for-
gotten in later times.
Another problem with current comparative analysis is the way in
which parallels have been forced on the Old Testament narratives
with a rather strong hand. Admittedly narrative style does not

hist. Klasse, N.F. 34 (1951); M. San Nicold and H. Petschow, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden
aus dem 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr., ibid. N.F. 51 (1960). For the Elephantine texts see: A. Cowley,
Aramaic Papyri of the 5th Century B.c. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1923); E. G. Kraeling,
The Brooklyn Museum Aramaic Papyri (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1953); R. Yaron,
Introduction to the Law of the Aramaic Papyri (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1961); B. Porten,
Archives from Elephantine (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press,
1968), pt. III. See also the study of J. J. Rabinowitz, ‘‘ Neo-Babylonian Legal Documents
and Jewish Law,” Journal of Furistic Papyrology 13 (1961): 131-175. A small sampling of
these texts may be found in ANET?, pp. 221-23; ANET®, pp. 547-49. I have extended
this list of later texts because they are largely ignored in any general discussion of patriar-
chal customs, including deVaux’s survey (see n. 1 above), which is otherwise quite
complete.
10. The attack by Morton Smith on this attitude (JBL 88: 31) is entirely justified.
68 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

correspond to legal style; yet this should not be an excuse for license
but a reason for caution. It is not legitimate, in making such com-
parisons with extra-biblical material, to give a wholesale recon-
struction of the tradition “‘as it must have been” in order to make
the parallel fit, or to emend the narrative to include certain details
vital to the comparison. Such a method would allow one to prove
almost any relationship, early or late. Similar to this is the propensity
among some scholars to create “distinctive” customs which are,
in fact, artificially constructed by either a narrow consideration of
the material or a combining of heterogeneous materials which have
nothing to do with each other. It is too easy to lead non-specialists of
cuneiform astray by the supposed reconstruction of certain customs
which cannot stand up to very careful scrutiny.
This study would be greatly burdened by consideration of every
parallel of a legal or social custom which has been drawn to the
patriarchal stories. I have tried, therefore, to make a judicial
selection of those which seem most central to the discussion of dating
and which appear most influential in the creation of current opinion
about the age of the patriarchs. I have likewise tried to cover a
broad range of types as well as most of the Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob cycles in spite of the limits of my basic concern with the
Abraham tradition itself. However, I have largely excluded con-
sideration of parallels in the Joseph story because this tradition
piece is separate from the rest, and the parallels in it have been
thoroughly dealt with in a recent study by D. B. Redford.) His
conclusions are largely in harmony with those of the present study,
and I would have little to add to them.
These general remarks must now be tested by the treatment of
specific examples.
The Childless Wife
One of the examples of marriage customs in the patriarchal
stories which has frequently been cited as reflecting the second
millennium background is the account in Genesis 16 of the childless
Sarah giving her handmaid Hagar to Abraham, her husband, so that
he may have children by her.12 The childless Rachel does the same
11. A Study of the Biblical Story ofJoseph, Genesis 37-50, SVT 20 (1970).
12. See Gordon, BA 3:2~3 (same as in BAR 2: 22-93); Speiser, Genesis, pp. 119ff. Cf. my
fuller treatment of this story in ‘“‘The Problem of Childlessness in Near Eastern Law
and
the Patriarchs of Israel,” FBL 87 (1968): 401-08.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 69

thing (Gen. 30:3) by giving her maid Bilhah to Jacob, and even
Leah, who already has sons but has stopped bearing, gives her maid
Zilpah to Jacob in order to increase her offspring (Gen. 30:9).
The parallel that has frequently been drawn to this custom is the
law in CH #146 which states:
Ifa man has married a priestess and she has given a slave girl to
her husband and she bears sons, (if) thereafter that slave girl
goes about making herself equal to her mistress, because she has
borne sons, her mistress shall not sell her, she may put the mark
(of a slave) on her and may count her with the slave girls.13
The purpose of the priestess’ (naditu) giving the slave girl to have
children was to circumvent the law which prevented her from having
natural offspring of her own. Marriage contracts of Babylonia in this
period that have to do with such priestesses confirm the fact that the
regulation was for the wife’s benefit but also show that this practice
was restricted to priestesses who were childless by law.14
On the other hand there is an Old Assyrian marriage contract
from the nineteenth century B.c. that provides that if the wife is still
childless within two years she must purchase a slave woman who
will bear a child for the husband.15 Afterwards the wife may sell the
slave woman (contrary to the provisions in CH #146). A very
similar situation is provided for in an adoption and marriage contract
of Nuzi from the fifteenth century B.c.16 However, it is not clear in
this document what power the wife retains over the slave or her
offspring.1? These texts differ from the Old Babylonian laws and

13. The translation is taken from DMBL 2:57; see also the commentary in DMBL
1: 245-65, 305-06. Cf. the translation by T. J. Meek in ANET2, p. 172.
14. See M. Schorr, Urkunden des altbabylonischen Zivil—und Processrechts (Leipzig: J. S.
Hinrichs, 1913) nos. 3 & 4. See also those examples reproduced in DMBL, 1: 253ff. The
situation cited in Schorr, no. 205, in which the sons of the slave girl are regarded as the
sons of the first wife, is regarded by Driver and Miles (ibid., p. 304) as an exception. But
this is not the case. The document only states that on the day when inheritances are dis-
tributed the wife will inherit any future children of the slave girl as well. It is clear from
the witnesses that the first wife has eight sons, and it is against their possible claim that
the tablet is made. Thus, the text is not relevant to the Genesis stories.
15. See J. Lewy, ‘‘ Old Assyrian Institutions,” HUCA 27 (1956): 8-10; ANET8, p. 543.
In this contract the husband is allowed to marry a gadistum priestess in Asshur, but pre-
sumably she cannot bear him any children; see DMBL 1: 369-70.
16. HSS v:67. Cf. Speiser, AASOR 10, no. 2, pp. 31-32; ANET2, p. 220; Gordon, BA
3: 2-3.
17. Cf. Speiser’s different rendering of the text in Genesis, p. 120.
70 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

contracts in that the childless women are not priestesses. In this

respect they are closer to the Old Testament examples. But they
differ from the Genesis stories in that the provision in the contracts
is for the benefit of the husband, so that he may have offspring.
This is especially clear since both contracts forbid the husband’s
taking any other non-priestly wife. In contrast, the provision in the
patriarchal stories is for the sake of the wife, in order that she may
have children of her own. This is stated in Gen. 16:2 even though it is
known from the context that Abraham is also childless. It is clear
in the Jacob story, however, that Jacob already has children, and
thus it is only at the wishes of his wives that the maids bear more
children.18
In an Egyptian document of the late twelfth century B.c. there is
an account of how a childless couple together bought a female slave
who then bore three children, a son and two daughters.!9 At some
point after this the husband died, but the wife raised the three
children as her own. These three children along with the husband of
the eldest daughter all inherited the property from the wife and
mother as freemen with equal shares in the estate. There is every
indication in this text that the action of having children by a slave
girl was for the benefit of the wife as well as the husband.
There is another text from Nimrud, dated about 648 B.c., that is a
marriage contract.2° The relevant portion states that if the wife does
not bear offspring the husband may take a maid and the wife will
deposit her dowry for the future children. The maid’s children then
become her children, and the wife is also warned against treating the
maid improperly. The text is certainly the closest one of all to the
patriarchal narratives because the whole provision for having
children is presented from the wife’s viewpoint. The children become
hers and inherit her dowry. And the warning against improper
treatment of the maid certainly highlights Sarah’s behavior towards
Hagar. While there is obviously a long continuity of legal custom,
there also seems to be evidence of some social development in
terms of the specific rights of the wife. The patriarchal customs would
seem to reflect more closely the latter part of this continuum, the

18. See Van Seters, JBL 87: 403.

1g. A. H. Gardiner, “‘Adoption Extraordinary,” ZEA 26 (1940) :23-29.
20. B. Parker, ‘‘The Nimrud Tablets 1952—Business Documents,” Irag 16 (1954):
37-39, ND 2307; Van Seters, JBL 87: 406-07.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 71

mid-first millennium, than the early or mid-second millennium as

formerly proposed.21
““ Wife-Sister’? Marriages
The stories about the patriarch who pretends, for his own safety in
a foreign land, that his wife is his sister (Gen. 12:10-203; 20; 26:1-11)
call for special attention. It has been proposed by E. A. Speiser that
behind these stories lies a distinctively Hurrian marriage custom,
found elsewhere only in the Nuzi texts, in which the wife was also
adopted by her husband as a sister and thereby gained a status
superior to that of ordinary marriage.22 Such a custom, it is said, is
reflected in a “‘sister-adoption document,” tuppi ahatiiti.
There is some doubt as to whether Speiser has represented the
Nuzi material correctly. The clearest example of a sister-adoption
document is JEN 78 which states:
Document of sister-adoption of Zikipa son of Ehel-TeSup; his
sister Hinzuri for sister-adoption to Hutarraphi with 4 ammusni
he gave. Hutarraphi will give Hinzuri in marriage to whomever
he pleases and his money he will receive, and Hutarraphi 1 ox,
. sheep, 1 homer of grain, 2 minas copper, 9 minas wool,
equal to 20 shekels of silver to Zikipa has given and thus Zikipa:
‘20 shekels of silver, the dowry [rzhtu] to Hinzuri my sister in
the hem of Hinzuri I have bound; to Hutarraphi I have handed
her over.” If Hinzuri has a claimant, then Zikipa will clear her
and restore her to Hutarraphi. The declaration of Hinzuri in
the presence of these witnesses. Thus she spoke: “with my
consent for sister-adoption to Hutarraphi he gave [me].”
Whoever among them breaks the contract shall pay as fine one
mina of silver and one mina of gold. This tablet was written
according to the proclamation in the entrance of the palace in
Nuzi.28

21. See also the recent opinion by deVaux, Histoire, pp. 233-34; cf. Bright, History of
Israel, p. 79.
22. “The Wife-Sister Motif in the Patriarchal Narratives,” Biblical and Other Studies,
ed. A. Altmann (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1963), pp. 15-28, reprinted in
Oriental and Biblical Studies, pp. 62-82.
23. Based on the transliteration and translation by P. Koschaker, Neue keilschriftliche
Rechtsurkunden aus der El-Amarna Zeit, Abhandlungen der Sachsischen Akademie der
Wissenschaften, Phi.-hist. Klasse 39/5 (Leipzig, 1928), pp. 173-74. Cf a similar text,
HSS xix: 68.
We ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

It is clear from this text that Zikipa, the natural brother is not
giving his sister in marriage to her future husband. He is giving her
to an adoptive brother who in turn will have the responsibility of
giving the girl in marriage to a future husband who is unknown at the
time the document is drawn up. Jn any case, Hutarraphi will not be
Hinzuri’s husband, and any future husband Hinzuri may have will
not be regarded as a brother. As Koschaker pointed out long ago,
the form for “‘sister-adoption”’ is essentially the same as that of the
adoption formula for “‘daughter-adoption.”’24 The only difference in
the two situations is that instead of the girl’s father transferring to
another his responsibility to give his daughter in marriage, in the
ahatitu situation it is the brother of the woman who transfers his
obligations towards his sister to another person. This latter situation
only arises when the father is dead, and a brother, usually the
eldest, must assume some legal responsibility on behalf of his sister.
However, the brother’s authority is inferior to that of a girl’s father;
he does not receive the patria potestas, so he must have the consent of
his sister in any such transaction.25 Marriage, of course, is the
ultimate intention in both daughter-adoption and sister-adoption,
but this should not have led Speiser to regard the wife in the latter
instance as having a special wife-sister status. The eventual marriage
in both cases to someone other than the adopter is simply the
usual marriage form.
This same understanding of sister-adoption, afatitu, is emphasized
by two court declarations, HSS v:26 and SMN 1oog. In the first
text an unknown woman declares before witnesses:
“{To] Akawatil son of Elli upon the street my wealth I offered,
and as sister [ana ahatiti] I have been adopted. And Akawatil
shall manage my possessions; what is in my stores is in his
stores; since he has adopted me as sister he shall be of assistance
24. Ibid., pp. goff. See also the discussions in DMAL, pp. 161-68; M. Burrows, The
Basis of Israelite Marriage (New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1938), p. 23; A. van
Praag, Droit matrimonial Assyro-Babylonien (Amsterdam: N. V. Noord-Hollandsche Uitge-
vers Maatschappij, 1945), pp. 79ff. All of these studies follow Koschaker’s lead, which
disagrees basically with Speiser’s position. Yet Speiser has completely ignored all of them.
25. A. Skaist, “The Authority of the Brother at Arrapha and Nuzi,” 7AOS 89 (1969):
10-17. In this article Skaist criticizes Koschaker’s theory, in ‘“‘Fratriarchat, Hausge-
meinshaft und Mutterrecht in Keilschriftrechten,” ZA 41 (1933): 1-84, that Nuzi society
contained vestiges of a fratriarchal society. Skaist’s criticisms are also applicable to
Speiser’s wife-sister marriages and also to the ideas about fratriarchy in the patriarchal
stories by C. H. Gordon, ‘‘Fratriarchy in the Old Testament,” JBL 54 (1933): 223-231.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 73

to me. And Akawatil shall receive from my [future] husband 20

shekels of the money [paid] for me, and shall have the usufruct
of it [¢kkal]; and 20 shekels of silver my brother Elhinnamar
shall use [ikkal].26
In this document a woman entrusts herself to some public agent(?)
who will act as a brother to her and give her in marriage even though
she has a natural brother. The brother may be a minor but his
rights are still safeguarded. Once again the adopter does not marry
the adopted sister but only offers to arrange a marriage with a future
husband. In the second document, SMN 1009, a woman has
formerly been given in marriage by her brother, but now both this
brother and her husband are dead. Consequently, in a public act
her younger brother is obligated to act as her legal guardian with the
primary duty of finding another husband for her. The resumption of
this responsibility by the brother is called “‘sistership,” ahatitu, the
same terminology used for the obligations of the adoptive brother as
well.2” In HSS v:79 a brother gives his sister as a “daughter-in-
law”? (ana kallitt) to a man who will give her to one of his sons.28
The woman declares in the document that she is in “sister relation-
ship”? ahatiti to her real brother, and he continues to have some legal
obligations toward her.
There are three texts, however, (HSS v:80,69,25)29 which require
special consideration because they have given rise to Speiser’s mis-
understanding about “‘sistership.”” The document HSS v:8o is a
marriage contract (tuppi riksi) in which a brother gives his sister in
marriage to a third person. The bride-price is the equivalent of 40
shekels of silver of which 20 go to the brother and 20 are returned to
his sister as a dowry. This text is similar to others? and would call
for no special consideration except for its connection with the other
two. HSS v:25, which must be taken with HSS v:8o, is a court
declaration in which all the principals—brother, sister, and bride-
groom—declare their agreement and consent to the terms of the
contract.

26. AASOR 10, no. 29, pp. 62-63. Similar documents are HSS xix: 70 and Gadd, no. 31.
27. AASOR 16, no. 54.
28. AASOR 10, no. 25, pp- 57-58.
29. AASOR 10, nos. 26-28, pp. 59-61. Cf. the treatment of these texts in Koschaker,
“Fratriarchat” ZA 41: 14ff.
30. Cf. AASOR 16, no. 55.
74 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

The third document, HSS v:69, constitutes the problem.3! In

this document, called a tuppi ahati, the brother gives his sister to a
third party ‘‘as sister,”’ ana ahati, for 40 shekels of silver. Since all the
principals are the same as those in the marriage contract, HSS
v:80, Speiser has interpreted this transaction as complimentary to
the other so that the sister is both wife and adopted sister to the third
party. However, there is a more likely alternative. If ana ahati is the
equivalent of ana ahatiti, “‘for sister adoption,” as seems most likely,
then HSS v:6g is an act of sister-adoption like the others. But this
action in HSS v:69 was probably carried out before the marriage
agreement of HSS v:80 with the full intention that the third party
would act only as the adoptive guardian. The subsequent desire of
the adoptive brother to marry the girl himself required another
document of marriage from the real brother with the sister’s consent
and replaced the former act.
It certainly cannot be proven on the basis of these three documents
and to the exclusion of all others considered that women were
adopted as sisters and then married by their adoptive brothers as a
special kind of marriage. Nor can it be shown that a woman involved
in an ahatitu act gained anything more than legal protection from
the natural or adoptive brother, who was a guardian who could then
offer her to a prospective husband.3? This was no more than any
woman would have expected from her natural father or brother.
Furthermore, the only right or obligation of the brother that is
involved in the Nuzi texts is the brother’s duty to give his sister in
marriage in the absence of the woman’s father. But this custom is
otherwise known from the Old and Neo-Babylonian periods and
from the Elephantine papyri, so it constitutes nothing particularly
Nuzian or Hurrian.33 The peculiarity of Nuzi society is its fondness
for using the adoption formula for commercial transactions even to
the point of making marriage and the right to give in marriage a
salable commodity. But this did not necessarily create a variety of
different marriage types or place women on varying levels of social
status, as Speiser suggests.34 Consequently, the whole comparison
31. This text is Speiser’s point of departure in the study cited in n. 11 above.
32. See especially the conclusions reached by Skaist, JAOS 89:17.
33. Schorr, Urkunden, no. 3; San Nicold and Petschow, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden, nos. 1
& 3; Yaron, Laws of the Aramaic Papyri, :p. 45.
34. See also Burrows, Israelite Marriage, p. 23, where he denies that there is any evidence
to suggest that the social status of women ‘‘adopted” for the purpose of being given in
marriage was thereby affected in any way.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 75

between the supposed “ wife-sister status”? and the wife-sister motif of

the patriarchal stories completely disintegrates. There is no way of
usefully associating the afatiitu transactions of Nuzi with these
episodes.35
Turning again to the stories of Gen. 12:10-20; 20; 26:1-11, it
remains now to consider those aspects of the story which deal with
marriage customs. In all three stories the patriarch pretends to be the
brother of his wife. This would imply a change in status from a hus-
band to a woman’s guardian. In this latter pretended capacity
Abraham, in the first two accounts, apparently is regarded as having
given Sarah in marriage to the respective kings of Egypt and Gerar,
and in the first story, at least, he received ample compensation for
doing so. While the marriage is not described, it is clear that Sarah is
considered the wife of both Pharaoh and the king of Gerar, while in
the last story marriage to another was only a possibility. It has already
been noted that the practice of a brother giving his sister in marriage
is well known from both the second and first millennia, so the
narrative makes good sense without any alternate explanation.
Nevertheless it is possible that the narrator of the original story
(Gen. 12:10-20) is deliberately implying a double entendre in the
words of the patriarch, “She is my sister.”’ The intention of the
stratagem is to have the foreigners take the meaning in the quite
strict sense of a blood relative and legal guardian. But another sense
possible for more astute readers would be to understand the terms
“brother”? and ‘“‘sister”’ as affectionate synonyms for husband and
wife.36 It is particularly interesting to note that in Egyptian marriage
contracts from the sixth century B.c. the wife is referred to as
“*sister,” although it is quite clear from the context that the man’s
wife is not related to him by blood.?? In Gen. 20:12 a more explicit

35. Two studies on this problem that were not available to me when my own study was
made are: C. J. Mullo Weir, ‘‘The Alleged Hurrian Wife-Sister Motif in Genesis,”
Glasgow Oriental Transactions 22 (1967-70): 14-25; D. Freedman, “‘A New Approach to
the Nuzi Sistership Contract,’ The Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia
University 2 (1969): 77-85. S. Greengus, in a paper, “‘Sisterhood Adoption/Marriage in
Nuzi and the Bible” (American Oriental Society, Santa Barbara, Calif., 1974), also
reached conclusions similar to those above.
36. This usage is frequent in the Song of Songs and Tobit.
37. E. Luddeckens, Agyptische Ehevertrége, Agyptologische Abhandlungen 1 (Wiesbaden:
O. Harrassowitz, 1960), nos. 3 & 4, pp. 13-15. It may also have occurred in no. 2 from
the seventh century (the text is defective at this point), but it is not present in the ninth
century contract (no. 1), nor does it appear in any of those from the fifth century
onward.
76 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

reason for exonerating the patriarch of lying is made by giving more

concrete truth to his words.
The second feature of the story reflecting social attitudes is the
possibility of great moral wrongdoing as a result of taking the
patriarch’s wife in marriage. In Gen. 12:17 the seriousness of the sin
involved is implied in God’s judgment of a plague on Pharaoh’s
house. In Gen. 20:9 the predicament is recognized as a “great sin,”
and similar terminology is used in Gen. 26:10. All the ancient Near
Eastern law codes recognize adultery as a crime worthy of capital
punishment. On the whole, however, they stress that the offense is
against the husband and that he has the power to a certain degree to
mitigate the punishment. It is interesting to note, however, that in a
document from Ugarit of the late thirteenth century B.c. and in
Egyptian marriage contracts from the ninth to the sixth centuries
B.c., adultery is actually referred to as the “‘great sin.’’38 In the
Egyptian documents the following formula is used:
If I divorce the wife PN, my sister, who belongs to me ... except
for the great sin which one might find in a woman, I will give
her...

Here both the suggestion that a wife may be called a man’s sister
and a reference to the “great sin” as adultery occur together, just as
they do in the Genesis narratives. It is the customs and attitudes
reflected in these Egyptian texts, which may have been common also
in the neighboring Phoenician region, that provide the Vorlage for
these patriarchal stories and not the Nuzi texts as proposed by
Speiser. There is no reason whatever, on the basis of the present
stories, to look for a period distant from the first millennium narra-
tors to understand the customs reflected in them.

The Marriage of Rebekah

The proposed marriage of Rebekah to Isaac in Genesis 24 has
been described by Speiser as ‘‘a reasonable facsimile of a standard
Hurrian ahatitu document.’’39 Now as shown above the document for
sister-adoption has to do with the transfer of guardianship of an
38. W. L. Moran, *‘ The Scandal of the ‘ Great Sin’ at Ugarit,”’ ZNES 18 (1959):
280-81;
J. J. Rabinowitz, ‘‘The ‘Great Sin’ in Ancient Egyptian Marriage Contracts,”
FNES 18
(1959): 73. For the texts see Liiddeckens, Agyptische Ehevertrage, pp. 10-17.
39. Speiser, “‘ Wife-Sister Motif,” p. 26; see also idem, Genesis, pp.
181-82.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 77

unmarried woman from the real brother to an adoptive brother

who subsequently gives her in marriage to a prospective husband.
But Genesis 24 is about the marriage agreement of Rebekah itself
and there is no indication of any transfer of the duty of a brother to
the servant. It is Abraham, the father of the bridegroom, who is
arranging through the servant the marriage for his son as is the usual
practice in ancient Near Eastern law.
On the other hand, Bethuel, the father of the bride, is probably
dead, and his name in v. 50 is only a gloss as Speiser suggests.4° So
Laban acts along with his mother in his father’s place. But the mother
is not “incidental and without legal standing” as Speiser declares
her to be. She is prominent throughout the whole transaction from
v. 52 onward and should probably be substituted for the name of
Bethuel in v. 50 as involved in the initial marriage declaration.
Furthermore, the gifts are given by the servant to both mother and
brother together. In comparative Near Eastern law there are docu-
ments from both the Old and the Neo-Babylonian periods in which
the mother and brother of the bride act together in giving a daughter
and sister in marriage.4!
After the marriage has been agreed upon in vv. 50-51, mention is
made of gifts which are given to Rebekah, her mother, and her
brother. These cannot be regarded as the bride-payment (Bab.
terhatu, Heb. mohar) which was usually a fixed sum paid only to the
guardians and as part of the agreement. The gifts here (v. 53),
made subsequent to the agreement, are in the nature of ornaments,
and correspond much more to the betrothal gifts of Assyrian Laws.4?
The element of the story which Speiser regards as “most significant
of all’’43 for his early dating is Rebekah’s consent. It has already been
noted that in the Nuzi texts a man, in giving his sister in marriage
(HSS v:25) or in giving her into sister adoption (JEN 78), was
required to have her consent. This was probably necessary because
the brother’s authority was not as great as the father’s. But in the
Biblical story it is a question of exactly to what Rebekah consents.
In v. 51 the marriage has already been agreed upon: “Behold,

40. Speiser, ‘‘ Wife-Sister Motif,” p. 26; idem, Genesis, pp. 181-82.

41. For the OB period see van Praag, Droit matrimonial, p. 79. For NB texts see San Nicold
and Petschow, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden, nos. 1 & 3.
42. See DMBL 1: 265ff.; DMAL, pp. 193ff.
43. Speiser, “‘ Wife-Sister Motif,” p. 27; idem, Genesis, p. 185.
78 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Rebekah is before you, take her and go, and let her be the wife of
your master’s son, as the Lord has spoken.” The discussion in vv. 55ff.
seem to be concerned with whether Rebekah will remain for a few
days before departure. Her answer to the question, ‘Will you go
with this man?” is “‘I will go,’’ which may mean no more than that
she has agreed to set out for a distant land without the privilege of a
prolonged leave-taking.
Even if it is granted that Rebekah’s answer is ultimately a consent
to marriage, this should not be regarded as so exceptional. Once a
woman became free of the patria potestas through the death of her
father or through marriage she could have property of her own,
either an inheritance portion or a dowry, and she often had sufficient
means to arrange a second marriage after her first one ended, or even
a first one after her father’s death. The Code of Hammurapi and the
Assyrian Laws recognize this liberty.44 If, however, a marriage was
arranged through a brother as guardian, which was usual in the case
of virgins, consent from a woman of age would certainly be expected.
Neither the Nuzi texts nor the Biblical story need be regarded as
in any way unusual.
In conclusion, it is safe to state that in neither the stories about the
patriarchs acting as the brothers of their wives nor the account of the
marriage of Rebekah and Isaac is there any basis for comparing
these accounts with the afatitu transactions of the Nuzi texts. The
stories are quite intelligible on the basis of Near Eastern customs in
the first millennium B.c., the time of the narrator, and any features
that they share with the Nuzi documents are common to other areas
and times as well.

Jacob’s Marriages

In the discussion of patriarchal marriage customs a large place has

been given to Jacob’s marriages to the daughters of Laban as illus-
trating a special type of marriage called an errebu marriage, which
some believe is mentioned in cuneiform texts of the second millen-
nium B.c.45 It was argued that such a form of marriage existed in

44. GEL 2277:

45. M. Burrows, ‘‘ The Complaint of Laban’s Daughter,” 7AOS 57 (1937) : 259-76; idem,
“The Ancient Oriental Background of Hebrew Levirite Marriage,’ BASOR 77 (1940):
3ff.; E. Neufeld, Ancient Hebrew Marriage Laws (London: Longmans, Green, 1944), pp.
56ff.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 79

cases where a man adopted a son for the purpose of marrying him to
his daughter. In a recent review of this subject, however, I have
attempted to show that the whole notion of an errebu marriage as a
special type practiced in the Near East is a modern fiction.46 Under
Near Eastern law it was quite possible for an adopted son to marry the
daughter of the adopter because they were not related by blood.
This logically involved some special considerations, such as the fact
that no bride-payment was necessary since the father of the bride and
of the groom were now one and the same. However, the marriage
itself was certainly no different from any other normal marriage.
Nevertheless, since GC. H. Gordon has emphasized that certain
adoption texts of Nuzi which also contain provisions for marriage
between the adopted son and the adopter’s daughter are close
parallels of the Jacob story, the comparison requires some considera-
tion.4”? The fundamental issue in the alleged similarity is Jacob’s
adoption by Laban. If this cannot be demonstrated then the whole
basis upon which the Nuzi parallels to Jacob’s marriages have been
built is completely destroyed.
Gordon seeks a basis for Jacob’s adoption in the original encounter
between Jacob and Laban (Gen. 29:13f.). But neither the general
expression of kinship, “‘my bone and my flesh”? which could express
kinship as broad as a whole tribe (2 Sam. 19:1e2f.), nor the remark
that Jacob “‘stayed”? with Laban can be regarded as pointing to
declarations of adoption.*8 Adoption formulas are nowhere suggested
in the story. Nor can it be argued from silence in the early part of the
story that Laban had only daughters when Jacob arrived, which
would have led to Jacob’s adoption. Sons are mentioned as in
charge of the flocks of Laban (Gen. 30:35) only fourteen years after
Jacob’s arrival and only seven years after his marriages, and in
Gen. 31:1 the sons are Jacob’s rivals.
Another argument used to suggest that Jacob was adopted is
Laban’s outburst in Gen. 31:43: “The daughters are my daughters,
the children are my children, the flocks are my flocks and everything
you see belongs to me.” If there is any literal truth to Laban’s
46. J. Van Seters, “‘Jacob’s Marriages and Ancient Near Eastern Customs: A Reexam-
ination,’’ HTR 62 (1969): 377-395.
47. C. H. Gordon, ‘‘The Story of Jacob and Laban in the Light of the Nuzi Tablets,”
BASOR 66 (1937): 25-27; idem, “‘ Biblical Customs” BA 3:5-6. Cf. J. H. Tigay, “‘ Adop-
tion,”’ Encyc. Jud., col. 299.
48. Cf. S. Feigin, ‘‘Some Cases of Adoption in Israel,” ZBL 50 (1931): 186-200.
80 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

claim then this would certainly point toward Jacob’s adoption. But
the context makes it clear that it is only a cry of frustration that
Jacob has derived all his family and goods from him and left him
much poorer for it. It is an empty denial of Jacob’s claims in Gen.
31:38-42 that he earned fairly everything he has as a result of
twenty years of service. Laban has, in fact, previously admitted
Jacob’s right to his wives and property as well as his right to leave
(Gen. 30:25-343; 31:27-32). Consequently the arguments for Jacob’s
adoption are entirely lacking.
Arguments against Jacob’s adoption by Laban are quite decisive.
Laban refers to Jacob as his kin, which he was, but never as his son.
Similarly, Jacob never regards Laban as his father but only the
father of his wives (Gen. 31:4ff.), while Isaac remains Jacob’s
father and his paternal home is in Canaan (Gen. 30:25; 31:13,18).
This entirely contradicts the Near Eastern adoption documents in
which the adopter and adoptee are considered father and son, and
any statement by either to the contrary is a recision of the adoptive
tie. In adoption no connection is retained with the adoptee’s original
family or ancestral home.
Jacob has his own household (Gen. 30:30) and his own possessions
entirely separate from Laban’s property, earned by wages and not
by inheritance (Gen. 30:31ff.; 31: 6ff.; cf. 30:43; 31:1,18). In Near
Eastern adoption formulas, however, the adoptee does not own
property independent of the adoptive father, and he acquires right to
his property only by inheritance. To leave the adoptee’s household
would be to break the adoptive tie and forfeit the right to the prop-
erty. Furthermore, the fact that Jacob paid bride-money for his
wives while they were still in their father’s house (Gen. 29:15~-30;
30:26; 31:41), cannot be reconciled with adoption because it is
never required when the adoptive father of the groom and the
father of the bride are the same person. Only if the adoptive tie
is broken must the bride-money be paid retroactively as a penalty.49
In conclusion, it is safe to say that Jacob cannot possibly be con-
sidered an adopted son of Laban. The details that speak against this
are both numerous and essential to the story, while the arguments
used to support the notion of adoption are fanciful reconstructions
from silence. The Nuzi texts, HSS v:67 and Gadd 51 used by
49. See esp. Van Seters, “‘Jacob’s Marriages,” HTR 62: 383-86 for the parallel mate-
rial.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 81

Gordon in a comparison with the Jacob story disagree on the most

essential point—that of adoption.
Another passage in the Jacob-Laban story (Gen. 31: 14-16) calls
for some discussion, since it has also been compared with these Nuzi
texts. It states:

Then Rachel and Leah answered him (Jacob), “Is there any
portion or inheritance left to us in our father’s house? Are we
not regarded by him as foreigners? For he has sold us, and he
has had continuous use of what was paid for us.59 All the prop-
erty which God has taken away from our father belongs to us
and to our children; now then, whatever God has said to you,
do.

First of all, the daughters of Laban suggested that they had a right
to expect an inheritance portion of the paternal estate, but that there
was no longer any hope of attaining this. Some scholars have sug-
gested that since there were sons in the family, the sons would stand
to inherit all the property.5! This would interpret the remark of the
two daughters as a complaint against their father for having be-
gotten natural sons, which is nonsense. Sons were certainly expected,
and they had already been in the family by the time of the daughters’
marriages. Besides, the presence of sons in the family did not neces-
sarily eliminate the rights of the daughters to inherit property in
Near Eastern law.®2
The normal way for daughters to receive a share of the paternal
estate was through the dowry at marriage.5? It was marriage and
subsequent alienation from the father’s household, along with the

50. There is a technical phrase used in v. 15b which is often missed in translation,
wayyo’kal gam °ak6l et kaspént does not mean “‘he has used up the money given for us” (RSV),
but means only to have the usufruct or profit from it. The capital, that is what Jacob now
has, belongs to them. This use of the verb °k/ “‘to eat”’ derives this legal meaning from the
literal meaning in which in an inheritance document a share of land can be designated to
a son before the death of the father, but the father may continue to eat (akdlu) the produce
of this field in his lifetime. This usage was extended to the use of money as well, and its
usage was current in both the OB and NB periods. See CH #171, 178, 180, 181, and
DMBL 1:377-78; CAD 1/1, pp. 251-53.
51. Burrows, JAOS 57: 263; see also Gordon, BASOR 66: 26.
52. DMBL 1: 335ff.; see also Gardiner, JEA 26: 23-29.
53- DMBL 1:271ff. In the NB period an inheritance share (zittu) was often given as a
bridal gift or dowry (nudunni); see San Nicolo and Ungnad, Neubabylonische Rechtsur-
kunden 1, nos. 3 & 4.
82 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

receiving of a dowry that included their respective maids that elimin-

ated any further right to their inheritance—not the fact. that they
had brothers.
The most obvious explanation from the story itself is in the remarks
of the daughters and their brothers. The sons of Laban lament in
Gen. 31:1: “Jacob has taken all that was our father’s; and from
what was our father’s he has gained all this wealth.” They are
concerned that there will not be any property left for them. So also
the daughters consider that with what Jacob has already gained from
their father they can hardly expect anything in addition, especially
since his attitude toward Jacob has changed to disfavor (Gen. 31:2).
This is one reason why the wives may regard Jacob’s property as
their own as well (Gen. 31:16).54
The second complaint (v. 15) also permits two explanations.
According to the first explanation Laban has treated his daughters
as ‘‘foreigners”’ by the way in which he has used the bride-payment.®
A father had the right in Near Eastern law to keep the bride-
payment and to use it for himself. It was common practice, however,
as early as the Old Babylonian period and in the Nuzi texts to return
a part of the bride-payment to the bride as her dowry.>® Yet this
same practice was not limited to the second millennium, for in the
Elephantine papyri and in Arabic society of a more modern period
the whole of the bride-payment (mhr) was usually returned to the
bride.®? It is possible, therefore, to interpret the daughters’ complaint
as an objection to Laban’s not returning the bride-payment to them.
If they had been given Jacob’s service as their dowry, then all
Laban’s wealth gained after the first fourteen years would have been
theirs. In the subsequent six years this same wealth had returned to
Jacob, so that they could feel justified that God had restored to them
what was their rightful dowry and inheritance.58
On the other hand, a somewhat different interpretation of the
passage is also possible. From the time of the Middle Assyrian Laws

54. See Burrows, JAOS 57: 263-64.

55. On the bride-payment in Near Eastern law see DMBL 1 :240ff.; DMAL 142ff.;
Burrows, Israelite Marriage, pp. 16ff.; van Praag, Droit matrimonial, pp. 130ff.
56. DMBL 1: 253ff.; Speiser, AASOR 10: 22-24; Burrows, JAOS 57: 27ff.
57. Yaron, The Law of the Aramaic Papyri, pp. 47ff.; deVaux, Ancient Israel: Its Life and
Institutions, p. 27; Van Praag, Droit matrimonial, pp. 152ff.; Burrows, Israelite Marriage,
Pp. 44.
58. Burrows, JAOS 57: 271ff.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 83

onward the practice of giving a bride-payment, terhatu, seems to be in

decline.59 In fact, the term terhatu does not seem to occur in cuneiform
sources of the first millennium. In its place there is frequent mention
of the bride-gift, nudunni, which was either a gift given by the
parents of the bride as a dowry or a settlement of property given by
the bridegroom directly to his wife.60 This was the regular procedure
in the Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian marriage contracts. But
there is a Neo-Assyrian text from the late seventh century B.c. that
treats marriage as a purchase transaction.®! The relevant portion of
the text states:

Nihte8aru has come to an agreement with Nabu-rihtu-user

concerning Ninlil-hasina his daughter and for 16 shekels of
silver she has taken possession of her as a wife for Siha her son.
The wife of Siha she is. The money is completely paid.

The interesting feature of this text is that it does not use the ter-
minology familiar in marriage contracts, for nothing is said about a
nudunni or a terhatu. Instead the language is borrowed directly from
documents of purchase agreements having to do with slaves and
land.6? Here evidently a father has ‘“‘sold” his daughter into marriage
and in the latter part of the text he waives all right on the part of the
family to redemption or claim before the law. It is possible that a
crass form of “purchase-marriage”’ was still continued in the late
Assyrian period in which on rare occasion the marriage agreement
could resemble very closely a slave sale transaction.
The similarity of this Neo-Assyrian marriage document to the
complaint of Laban’s daughters becomes quite clear. Originally they
could have expected from their father a sizeable marriage gift. But
instead their father has treated them as foreigners, i.e., slaves, and
has sold them into marriage. It is the dowry they could have right-
fully expected at their marriage that Jacob has won back and that
belongs to them.

59. DMAL, pp. rogiff.

60. DMBL 1: 265ff.
61. J. Kohler and A. Ungnad, Assyrische Rechtsurkunden, no. 37, pp. 33ff.; cf. p. 451.
62. On the significance of the phraseology: tupif PN ina libbi x Siklu kaspi ... talgi, which is
used in this text, see CAD 4:231. See Kohler and Ungnad, Assyrische Rechtsurkunden, nos.
38-40, pp. 34ff., where the same terminology is used for the sale of slaves, and no. 36,
pp. 32ff., for the sale of property.
84 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

It may be difficult to decide which marriage custom provides the

best explanation of the Biblical passage: the one in which the bride-
payment became a part of the dowry, or the one in which the
“purchase-marriage”’ of the Neo-Assyrian period actually resembled
a slave purchase in contrast to a marriage with a dowry, nudunni.
To my mind, the second explanation comes closer to the actual
words of the daughters with their mention of being “sold” mkr
and explains more clearly the bitterness expressed in it. However,
even if one retains the first explanation, it certainly cannot be used to
establish a second millennium date since the méhar was still quite
common among the Jews at Elephantine. Even Burrows, who adopts
the first explanation, considers the viewpoint reflected in the story as
a development later than that reflected in Nuzi.® A date in the late
monarchy of Israel is, in fact, entirely possible as a setting for these
remarks.
There are two other minor points of comparison that are made
between Jacob’s marriage and the Nuzi texts. Firstly, Laban gives
both his daughters a maid as a marriage gift (Gen. 29:24,29), and
this custom is also found in Nuzi, HSS v:67. Speiser attaches a great
deal of importance to this detail.64 However, this practice was
common in Ancient Mesopotamia and is particularly well-attested
during the Neo-Babylonian and Persian periods.
Secondly, Laban demanded of Jacob an oath that he would not
take another wife besides the two daughters and that he would not
mistreat his wives (Gen. 31:51-54). Either or both of these conditions
are found in a number of texts from Nuzi and the Old Assyrian
contracts.66 But again, such regulations are common in marriage
contracts of the mid-first millennium as well.6?
We may summarize the analysis of the marriage customs in the
Jacob-Laban story thus: firstly, some parallels have been proposed
between the Biblical story and the Nuzi texts; these were based on a

63. Burrows, JAOS 57: 270ff.

64. Speiser, Genesis, pp. 226-27.
65. See San Nicolé and Petschow, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden, nos. 2 & 3, pp. 3ff., and
San Nicolé and Ungnad, Neubabylonische Rechtsurkunden, nos. 5&1.
66. For Nuzi see Gadd 12, 51; also HSS v:67,80; ix:24. For Old Assyrian see Lewy,
HUCA 27:6-10; ANET®, p. 543.
67. For late references see Yaron, The Law of the Aramaic Papyri, p. 60. To these add:
San Nicolé and Petschow, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden, no. 1; and San Nicolé
and Ungnad,
Neubabylonische Rechtsurkunden, no. 2.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 85

serious misunderstanding of the cuneiform sources. This is the case

with the so-called errebu marriage. Secondly, some parallel customs
are common to both the second and the first millennia B.c. and so are
completely indecisive for the dating of the traditions. Thirdly, there
may be some elements of the story, such as the remarks of Laban’s
daughters, that actually seem to reflect more closely the situation
expressed in the texts of the mid-first millennium B.c. At least there
is nothing here that would contradict the composition of the Jacob-
Laban story at this late date.

The “‘Adoption’’ of Abraham’s Servant

The text of Gen. 15:2-3 is another example of rather undis-
ciplined speculation about parallels with second millennium adoption
practices mostly drawn from the Nuzi archives. Part of the problem is
the obscurity of the Hebrew text, which has allowed for various
interpretations. For the sake of the present discussion we will give the
translation of the RSV, which states:

But Abram said, ““O Lord God, what wilt thou give me, for I
continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of
Damascus ?”? And Abram said, “‘ Behold, thou hast given me no
offspring; and a slave born in my house will be my heir.”

W. F. Albright found in this text a primary support for his theory that
Abraham was a great donkey caravaneer in the early second millen-
nium.®8 He explained these verses in the following way:
Soon after the discovery of the Nuzi tablets from the fifteenth
century B.C. 1t was recognized that Abraham had adopted
Eliezer in much the same way that the capitalists of Nuzi
had themselves adopted by persons who borrowed from them.
Since—at least in theory—a man could not alienate his pro-
perty, which belonged to his family, he simply adopted the
money-lender in order to provide collateral for a loan in time of
need. ... It stands to reason that an organizer and head of
caravans [Abraham] would need ample credit in order to
purchase donkeys and buy supplies of all kinds before starting
out on a trading expedition.®?

68. W. F. Albright, ‘“Abram the Hebrew,” BASOR 163: 36-54.

69. Ibid, p. 47.
86 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

This is an amazing statement because, even though it is repeated over

the course of thirty-five years,” it is never documented with any
reference to cuneiform sources and is, in fact, a complete misunder-
standing of the Nuzi adoption texts. It should be obvious that if
property could not be legally alienated then it could not function as
collateral for a loan. And what land did Abraham own so that he
could enter into such an arrangement with a financier of Damascus?
It has long been recognized that there are two types of adoption
documents mentioned in the Nuzi texts.”1 The first type is the true
adoption in which a childless couple adopt a son in order to have him
care for them in their old age. In return for his faithful service he
would receive the inheritance. This type of adoption was not res-
tricted to Nuzi but was common to other periods and places.
Besides this type, however, there was the rather distinctive sale
adoption document. Since immovable property, land and buildings,
could not be alienated from a family because they involved feudal
service, the Nuzians carried on a legal fiction by which a person was
“adopted.” His “inheritance” was a specific piece of property
carefully delineated and handed over immediately in return for a
“orant”’ (qistum); that is, the price of the land. It was a sale, and
there was no further obligation to either party. These transactions
had nothing to do with whether a man had children or not. Agree-
ments of loans by merchants for commercial ventures were of an
entirely different character.
Furthermore the Hebrew text in v. 2b is very obscure: dben
meseq béti hi dammeseq °¢li‘ezer, and the RSV is admittedly only a
guess based on the parallel in v. 3. But ben meseq bété certainly does
not mean “heir” and the search for parallels from Ugaritic and else-
where are too ambiguous to be of any help. The final phrase Ad?
dammeseq °¢lt‘ezer is syntactically impossible and has led to the con-
jectures that it contains a gloss of either one or the other names.
It is perhaps safest to regard the entire half verse as corrupt and to
build no arguments upon it.
The parallel in v. 3 uses the term ben bayt. H. L. Ginsberg has
recently suggested the meaning of “steward” for this phrase, based
on this meaning in Roman Hebrew.”? But this meaning may be a

70. W. F. Albright, The Archaeology of Palestine and the Bible (1932), pp. 137-38; idem,
Yahweh and the Gods of Canaan (1968), pp. 65-66, n. 3.
71. See Speiser, AASOR 10: 7-18.
72. H. L. Ginsberg, “‘Abram’s ‘ Damascene’ Steward,’ BASOR 200 (Dec. 1970): 31-32.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 87

development from the older Akkadian term mar biti, meaning a

““member of the household” although not directly a member of the
family. Such a person would be a servant of non-slave status among
the higher rank of servants. This usage is only known from the
Persian period. There is, of course, no warrant for seeing in such a
term a wealthy financier. The problem is whether or not such a
person could inherit his master’s property. The answer to this
question has usually been given in terms of real adoption.?? Many
adoption texts from OB to NB indicate that the adopted son will
inherit the property of his adoptive father unless there is a natural
son, in which case the principal heir will be the natural son and the
adopted son will have to take second place. However, he is not
excluded from inheritance. Yet if Abraham had adopted a household
servant there is no indication of any such shared inheritance in the
rest of the story. On the contrary it is clearly excluded.
Since the Hebrew text actually says nothing about adoption it is
perhaps best to take it at face value as meaning that servants of this
status could actually inherit property.’?4 While support for such a
suggestion is rare there is a reference in Prov. 17:2 that indicates that
a servant could “‘share in the inheritance as one of the brothers.”
It may also be suggested by the story of Ziba, Saul’s servant, who
received part of the paternal estate (2 Sam. 16:1-4; 19:29). There is
little in Gen. 15:2-3 that points to customs of an archaic period,
much less to an elaborate theory about the patriarch’s economic way
of life.
The Right of the First-Born

The patriarchal stories reflect a social custom which may be

designated “right of the first-born.”’5 This right implies that a
special privilege was attached to being the eldest son; this was
usually demonstrated in the size of the inheritance he could expect
in comparison with that of his brothers. While the patriarchal
stories make reference to this right by the use of the term b¢kérah,

73. Gordon, BA 3:2; cf. Albright, Archaeology of Palestine (1932), Pp. 138 where he origin-
ally expressed a preference for this explanation.
74. Z. W. Falk, Hebrew Law in Biblical Times (Jerusalem: Wahrmann Books, 1964),
p. 166,
75. See the discussions by deVaux, Histoire, pp. 225, 238-393 J. Henninger, ‘‘Zum
Erstgeborenenrecht bei den Semiten,” Festschrift W. Caskel, ed. E. Graf (Leiden: Brill,
1968), pp. 162-83; idem, “‘ Premiers nés,”” DBS 8, cols. 467-82; H. Cazelles, “‘ Premiers-
nés,”’ DBS 8, cols. 482-91.
88 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

they do not give any clear indication of exactly what advantage it

had. In fact there is some ambiguity in the matter. In the Abraham
story two sons are involved, but one is the son of a slave woman, so in
spite of the fact that he is regarded as Abraham’s full son his position
is ambiguous. And since he is not fully accepted by Sarah as her son
he can be deprived of any inheritance alongside of the natural
child of the wife (Gen. 21:10). Much like Hagar, Keturah is also
regarded as a concubine. Her sons received gifts before Abraham’s
death, but no inheritance is left them (Gen. 25:6).
In the Isaac-Jacob story the right of the first-born comes to the
fore because both Jacob and Esau are sons of the same mother, and
although they are twins, Esau is regarded as the elder. However, in
the story of Esau’s sale of his birthright to Jacob (Gen. 25:29-34),
there is no indication as to what advantage this had for Jacob.
Presumably it is to be taken with the earlier prediction about the
fate of the two nations, Edom and Israel, in which it is hinted that
Esau’s rash action led ultimately to Israel’s superiority. Yet the
matter is complicated by the story of chapter 27, in which Jacob
steals the death-bed blessing- which apparently still belonged to
Esau in spite of his loss of birthright. The blessing also predicts
superiority over the other brother. But the story does not clarify
anywhere how birthright is related to the two sons’ inheritance.
Genesis 48 contains the account of Jacob’s adoption of Joseph’s
two children as his own with the explicit intention of giving them
each a share equivalent to that received by Reuben and Simeon
(v. 5f.). This implies that all the brothers were thought to inherit
equally, and that preference could only be given to the favorite son
by the adoption of his two children.?® However, in vv. 14 and 17-20
occurs the blessing of the two sons in which the younger instead of
the first-born receives the patriarch’s blessing. But it is difficult to see
how this blessing can have anything to do with a change in the first-
born status as some have suggested, since only as Joseph’s children
would one have an advantage over the other, but not as Jacob’s
children. Finally Joseph himself is given a special gift of Shechem
(v. 22), but this may again be interpreted only as a gift to the favorite
before death and not as the primary inheritance portion.
76. It is hard to see how this verse can mean that Ephraim and Manasseh were sub-
stituted for Reuben and Simeon, the first and second born, or given their preferential
shares, although 1 Chron. 5:1-2 seems to interpret it this way.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 89

On the other hand, it was perhaps possible to lose the rights of the
first-born through some crime or serious misdemeanor. This is
indicated in Gen. 49:3-4, in which Reuben loses the first position,
and vv. 5-7 suggest that Simeon and Levi lose their places in the
succession and even their inheritance for similar reasons. Conse-
quently Judah, as the next in line, falls heir to the right of the
first-born (v. 8). Yet in all these passages it is not clearly specified
what advantages the birthright is thought to have apart from a
certain destiny which it bestows on the eponymous ancestors. But
this is presumably mediated more effectively through the power of
the “blessing”? which does not directly coincide with the birthright.
It can scarcely be said that the stories of the patriarchs take the
matter of primogeniture very seriously.
The right of the first-born in cuneiform sources of the second
millennium, as reflected in laws and legal dispositions of inheritance,
is far from uniform. It would seem that generalizations about its
practice even within a fairly limited period of time and region are
quite unwarranted. For instance, the Code of Lipit-Ishtar and the
Code of Hammurapi state that the sons in a family should inherit
equally, but the documents from Southern Mesopotamia from this
same period of time often indicate a preference for the first-born.??
This tendency to favor the eldest son above the rest is most explicit in
the texts of Nuzi and Arrapha and in the Assyrian Laws of the late
second millennium B.c. These suggest that the first-born’s inheritance
portion was double that given to any of the other sons.’8 Neverthe-
less, there is considerable diversity of practice represented in the
Nuzi texts, for while the “double portion” S¢nnisu ina zitti may have
been customary it was not obligatory, and it was within the power of
the testator to stipulate that the shares should be equal, even
between sons and daughters.’? In some cases an offending son could
be denied his share, or a son who had acquired property by other
means could be passed over.®®
The favored inheritance share could also be affected at Nuzi by
considerations of a polygamous marriage or by terms of adoption. In
77. DMBL 1:331.
78. M-AL B 1:8-12; for the Nuzi texts see Gadd 5 & 6;HSS v: 21,72 (same as in
AASOR 10:8,21): E. M. Cassin, L’adoption a Nuzi, pp. 286, 292.
79. HSS v: 65,74 (same as in AASOR 10, no. 7, 23); HSS xix:17, discussed by E. A. Spei-
ser, ‘A Significant New Will from Nuzi,” 7CS 17 (1963): 65-71.
80. See HSS v: 7,72 (same as in AASOR 10, nos. 4, 21).
gO ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

the case of the former, the son of the favorite wife might inherit a
larger portion than the son of a second wife.8! In adoption agree-
ments, on the other hand, the adopted son might have to give place
to any future natural-born son, but his document of adoption
usually guaranteed him against sharing inheritance with any
subsequent adoptee, so he generally stood a good chance of gaining
all of the property.8?
The situation at Mari may have been a little different, although it
is dangerous to generalize on the basis of a single text. In one adop-
tion document the adopted son is guaranteed two-thirds (Sittin)
of the inheritance.83 It is unlikely that natural sons are contemplated
since both man and wife together adopt the son and if they acquire
any future sons their total share will only be one-third. Such adoption
was usually for the purpose of caring for the adoptive parents in
their old age and for conducting the funerary rites. Thus adoption by
childless couples usually meant that the one adopted would stand to
gain the entire inheritance. So the rather high two-thirds guaranteed
inheritance may be a special condition of adoption in place of a
restrictive clause against any future adoption, and may not reflect
the right of the first-born, as Noth has recently suggested.84 The
terminology designating the eldest son is not used in this text, and
there is no other information on this from Mari as yet.
Furthermore, a number of scholars have emphasized the father’s —
right, as shown in certain documents from Nuzi and Alalah, to
designate which of their sons would be the “ first-born”’ regardless of
age.85 This situation, however, only arose in the case of marriage
contracts which envisaged a polygamous marriage. In such a situa-
tion a marriage contract might indicate that the first male offspring of
a particular wife would always have priority over the children of the
second wife. Likewise in adoption, of course, the adopted son might
have to give way to the natural-born sons. But it was unlikely,

81. See HSS v: 71 (same as in AASOR 10, no. 19).

82. See HSS v: 48 (same as in AASOR 10, nos. 1, 2, 33), 60, 67.
83. G. Boyer, Archives Royales de Mari 8, Textes Furidiques (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale,
1958), 1:24. Boyer translates Sittin as ‘double part.” See also his commentary, pp. 178—
182. J. J. Finkelstein in ANET8, p. 545, also renders it as ‘“‘double share.” But Noth,
Urspriinge des alten Israel, pp. 19ff., argues on the basis of regular Akk. usage (see Ch #464)
that Sittin means “‘ two-thirds.’’ However, I see no justification for Noth’s remark that the
adoptee was ‘‘ vielleicht eines Slaven.’’ It is most unlikely.
84. Noth, Urspriinge, pp. 19-20.
85. See Speiser, Genesis, p. 212.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS gi

except for cases of serious wrongs, for a father to make an arbitrary

choice from among the sons of one wife as to which would be the
“first-born,” and to my knowledge no such instance has ever been
cited.
This second-millennium 8.c. material is the background against
which the Old Testament customs regarding first-born rights have
been compared. At the same time the legal material related to the
order of succession in inheritance and preferential treatment of
heirs from the first millennium has been ignored or categorically
dismissed.86 Nevertheless some interesting observations may be
made on these late texts.
There is a marriage contract from the Neo-Babylonian period that
tells of a man taking a second wife because his first is childless. One
of the conditions of the marriage, however, is that “‘on the day that
PN, his first wife, shall bear a son, two-thirds (2-ta até) of the property
shall belong to him.” The child of the second wife will get only one-
third (SalSu). But if the first wife dies childless all the property will go
to the second wife and her children.8”’ The mention of two-thirds in
this document is not just a special condition of this situation as
might be argued in the case of the Mari text discussed above. This
proportion is repeatedly mentioned as an inheritance share in
several texts of the period and must be regarded as a customary
preferential share.88 There is, in fact, a sixth-century will in which
the property is distributed by a mother to her two daughters. The
elder one gets two-thirds, while the younger one gets one-third.89
A similar will from this period divides property between two sons,
distinguishing between the eldest and the second son, although the
proportions of the inheritance cannot be determined.%° An adoption
document of the mid-seventh century states that even if the adoptive
parents should subsequently bring seven heirs into the world, the
adopted son would remain the oldest heir.*! Yet in spite of this
86. The study by Henninger, ‘‘Erstgeborenenrecht”’ (cited in n. 66 above), makes no
mention whatever of any later Babylonian and Assyrian material, and is therefore quite
incomplete.
87. San Nicold and Ungnad, Neubabylonische Rechtsurkunden no. 1, pp. 1-4. See also N-BL
#415 in ANET®, p. 198; DMBL 1: 341-42.
88. San Nicolé and Ungnad, Neubabylonische Rechtsurkunden, nos. 12, 15, 19.
8g. Ibid., no. 19.
go. San Nicolé and Petschow, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden, no. 74 cf. also no. 4 (= ANET®3,
P- 547):
gt. Kohler and Ungnad, Assyrische Rechtsurkunden, no. 41; cf. also no. 46 where one son
gets the largest share, and eight other brothers divide the rest.
Q2 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

frequently expressed preference for the eldest son there are also
documents that divide the property equally among the children.®?
The only text in the Old Testament that deals with the inheritance
share of the first-born is Deut. 21:15-17. The law in this passage
forbids a man from showing any preference for a favorite wife by
designating her son as first-born. Instead, “if the first-born is hers
that is disliked, then on the day when he assigns his possessions as an
inheritance to his sons ... he shall acknowledge the first-born, the
son of the disliked, by giving him two-thirds (pi f¢nayzm) of all that
he has. ...”” Many have taken pi ‘¢nayim to mean “double share,”
but Noth is probably correct in arguing on the basis of Zech. 13:8
that it means “‘two-thirds.”93 The best extrabiblical parallel to this
text is not the Mari document of adoption, as Noth suggests, but the
Neo-Babylonian text and the N-BL #15 mentioned above,94 which
refers to the two-thirds/one-third disposition of the inheritance
between the two wives. Deuteronomy is, in fact, forbidding the
preference shown by demanding a strict chronological priority.
There is no reason to see an archaic remnant of an ancient practice
from Mari here. :
As to the patriarchal stories, there is no indication of what the
preferential inheritance share of the first-born was thought to be,
apart from the suggestion in Jacob’s adoption of Ephraim and
Manasseh in which all the brothers seem to share equally (Gen.
48:5-6). On the other hand, Jacob does seem bound originally to
recognize Reuben as his first-born, and only because of wrongs
done to his father does Reuben lose this status (cf. 1 Chron. 5:1).
There is no instance where the patriarchs ever knowingly gave a
son other than the first-born that status. Furthermore, Deut. 21: 15-
17 and its close association with Neo-Babylonian texts are sufficient
evidence that the custom of special privilege for the first-born was
still prominent in Israel at a late date. Consequently, there is little
basis for arguing that the patriarchal stories especially reflect the
customs of the second millennium regarding the rights of the first-
born.
Nevertheless, some episodes in the patriarchal stories have been
g2. San Nicolé and Ungnad, Neubabylonische Rechtsurkunden, nos. 2, 10; San Nicolé and
Petschow, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden, no. 6.
93. Noth, Urspriinge, pp. 19-20.
94. See above, n. go.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 93

interpreted as reflecting special situations related to the rights of the

first-born in the Nuzi texts. One such story is the sale by Esau of his
birthright to Jacob. This has been compared with a Nuzi text
(JEN:204), in which a man transferred a piece of property to his
brother for three sheep.9® However, this action was done through
the process of sale-adoption, a very common means of sale trans-
action in Nuzi, and there is no way of telling whether it was a good
or bad deal. Furthermore, the ability to transfer one’s inheritance
rights before they were even received is not at all uncommon in the
Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid documents.9* Sometimes they were
given as gifts and sometimes sold. One broken text even seems to
suggest that a man gave his brother his two-thirds portion—his
birthright.9?
Another episode pertains to Rachel’s theft of her father’s teraphim, a
term which should probably be rendered as “‘household gods.”
These domestic deities are mentioned in the Nuzi texts under the
term z/dni and are sometimes listed among the properties disposed of
in a will. Since such deities were usually left to the eldest son, some
scholars interpreted them as a way of designating priority in the
inheritance. Thus possession of the family gods established the right
of the first-born and priority in the family as a whole. Consequently,
Rachel’s theft of teraphim was carried out in order to insure Jacob’s
priority in her father’s household.%8
M. Greenberg, however, has recently shown that this parallel is
quite spurious. In the first place, there is no evidence that the domes-
tic deities, as such, had any legal status as to the designation of who
was the principal heir. This was established, in the event of any doubt
(as in adoptions or polygamous marriages), by a written document
that did not even need to mention the gods. And the deities stolen
by Rachel could have no legal claim without a document or witnesses
giving her the right of possession. As objects of a theft they could

95. See Gordon, BA 3:5; cf. deVaux, Histoire, p. 238.

96. San Nicolé and Ungnad, Neubabylonische Rechtsurkunden, no. 3; Moore, Neo-Babylonian
Business Documents, no. 160; Kohler and Ungnad, Assyrische Rechtsurkunden, no. 48.
97. San Nicolé and Ungnad, Neubabylonische Rechtsurkunden, no. 15.
98. See Gadd 51 (same as in ANET®, pp. 219-20, erroneously called a “‘sale-adoption”
instead of a ‘‘ real adoption’’). See the discussion by Gordon, BA 3: 5-6; A. E. Draffkorn,
*‘TJ4ni/Elohim,”’ JBL 76 (1957): 216-24; Speiser, Genesis, pp. 249-51. Note in HSS
xvii:7 the iléni did not go directly to the eldest son; see E. Cassin, ‘‘ Nouvelles données sur
les relations familiales 4 Nuzi,” RA 57 (1963): 115.
 Q4 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

only be a grave liability. Also, since Jacob was leaving Laban’s

homeland when Rachel stole them they could certainly have no
significance for any subsequent inheritance, quite apart from the
fact that Jacob was not an adopted son. Greenberg suggests that
they were taken for purely religious reasons. His parallel with the
first century A.D. custom of a Parthian woman taking the domestic
deities with her when taken from her homeland is much more
convincing.99
A final instance of a Nuzi parallel to birthright concerning the
deathbed blessing of Isaac has been drawn by Speiser. In reference
to this episode he states in his Genesis commentary:
Birthright in Hurrian society was often a matter of a father’s
discretion rather than chronological priority. Moreover, of all
the paternal dispositions, the one that took the form of a death
bed declaration carried the greatest weight.100
Speiser then goes on to refer to a Nuzi text,1°! which deals with a
legal dispute over the deathbed disposition of a slave girl by a
father to his youngest son because he did not yet have a wife. The
older brothers, who were married, contested the right of the youngest
to his possession but the latter brought witnesses to the event and
eventually won the case.
It should be noted that this was not a matter of passing over the
right of the older brothers to their appropriate share of the estate.
On the contrary, CH #166 made special allowances for expenses out
of the estate for the marriage of a younger unmarried son, so this was
the legitimate right of the youngest brother.1°2 The deathbed act
was also a legal process with witnesses, whether or not it was recorded
on a tablet, and as such it was binding in a court of law. There is
nothing extraordinary about the whole event.
On the other hand, nothing in the biblical story of Isaac’s blessing
suggests a legal process. There were no witnesses in the formal
sense and no actual property being disposed of. The story clearly
distinguishes between the birthright and the blessing (Genesis
g9. M. Greenberg, ‘‘Another Look at Rachel’s Theft of the Teraphim,” FBL 81 (1962):
239-48.
100. Speiser, Genesis, p. 212; see also idem, ‘I Know Not the Day of My Death,” JBL 74
(1955)? 252-56.
101. Speiser, AASOR 16, no. 56.
102. See DMBL 1: 326.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 95

27:36). The blessing is not property and has no parallel in the Nuzi
documents. Furthermore, Isaac’s intention was to bless his eldest
son, Esau, and if it had been a matter of legality Jacob would
certainly have lost his claim in a court of law. The only parallel
between the Nuzi text and the Genesis story is the expression of the
last wishes of an old or dying father, which is such a universal
phenomenon as to be of no significance in understanding the cultural
background of the story.1°3 Consequently, there is no justification
for seeing in the patriarchal references to birthright, teraphim, or
blessings allusions to special customs of the second millennium B.c.

Jacob the Shepherd

Jacob’s life as a shepherd and particularly his terms of employment

by Laban (Gen. 30:27-34; 31:38-40) have been the subject of
comparison with parallels from the second millennium sB.c.104
CH #261-267 gives a number of laws which have to do with the
conditions of employment of shepherds and their assistants provided
by owners of large flocks and herds. There is also a number of
contracts from this period, both state and private, which records the
hiring of shepherds and the terms of their employment and wages.105
One such contract is the subject of a study by J. J. Finkelstein,
who compares the terms of the contract with those of Jacob and
Laban.106
The Old Babylonian document in question consists of a list of the
sheep and goats that are put under the care of a shepherd who
assumes liability for them. It further stipulates that if the shepherd’s
assistant suffers any loss through neglect (Adtum) he will be held
responsible for it, but the shepherd himself will also have to forfeit
some of his wages, which apparently consisted of a certain fixed
amount of grain per year.
The actual points of comparison between this document and the

103. See Psalm 72, interpreted in the tradition as the last words of David to Solomon with
some similarity in the blessing.
104. Speiser, Genesis, p. 247.
105. See F. R. Kraus, Staatliche Viehhaltung tm altbabylonische Lande Larsa, Mededeelingen
Kon. Ned. Academie van Wetenschappen, Afd. Letterkunde 29/5 (Amsterdam, 1966);
DMBL 1:453-61.
106. J. J. Finkelstein, “An Old Babylonian Herding Contract and Genesis 31: 38f.,
JAOS 88 (1968): 30-36.
96 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Jacob story are surprisingly few for the claims that are made for it,
especially when one realizes that such work contracts with shepherds
are not found exclusively in any particular period. In the Jacob
story there are only two parties involved, not three, and Jacob’s
wages are in sheep and not in grain. The only link that remains,
which is most significant to Finkelstein, is the liability for loss due to
neglect of duty (fztum), a usage for this word peculiar to the Old
Babylonian period.1°” This statement of liability is compared with
Jacob’s protest to Laban about his faithfulness as a shepherd, in
Gen. 31:39, which Finkelstein translates as follows, “The ones
fallen prey to wild beasts I did not charge to you [lit.: bring to you]
—TI myself made good the loss, whether it was snatched by day or by
night.”108 The italicized words are Finkelstein’s rendering of
>4hattennah which is construed as a piel of Af with the basic meaning of
“to err, miss, sin” and in the piel “to purify, cleanse.” Thus the
meaning proposed here would be unique in the Old Testament,
and Finkelstein therefore feels that it reflects the OB fztum, or “‘loss.”’
This leads him to affirm that the Jacob-Laban story reflects “the
precise terminology current in Old Babylonian herding con-
tracts.”-49"
But some serious questions may be raised about this proposed
connection. Firstly, a substantive, fitum, is being compared with a
verb, Af’. But the Akkadian verb hati, comparable to the Hebrew
ht, is found with both cultic and profane usage from Old Baby-
lonian to Neo-Babylonian, and in the D stem (= 7‘el) it is almost
always found in the later period.14° Secondly, the translation
proposed by Finkelstein is still difficult because at best the verb
would have to mean “to damage, lose’ and not its opposite. To
argue on the analogy of the cultic meaning for such a shift is rather
risky when only one example exists. Thirdly, loss as a result of wild

107. Ibid., p. 32; see also deVaux, Histoire, p. 242.

108. Finkelstein, JAOS 88:30. Note that Finkelstein seems to have omitted the phrase
miyyadt t°bagsennah, *‘ from my hand you demanded it.”’ Cf. R. Fraukena, ‘‘ Some Remarks
on the Semitic Background of the Chapters xxiv-xxxi of the Book of Genesis,” OTS 17
(1972): 58, who suggests (on the basis of T. Onkelos) that the phrase dnoki °“hattennah
should be rendered, ‘‘ what was lacking,’’ but it is difficult to see how this clause can be
made the object of the following verb.
109. Finkelstein, JAOS 88: 32.
110. CAD 6:156—58. For possible exceptions see W. G. Lambert, ‘‘A Vizier of Hattu’a? A
Further Comment,” JCS 13 (1959): 1332.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 97

animals can hardly be construed as “loss through negligence,” as

Finkelstein himself makes quite clear. So the problem in translation
remains.
It is possible that the verb **hattenndh is not related to the verb
ht? at all, especially since the orthography is defective and lacks the
aleph. There is another verb used in Babylonian contracts in both
the old and late periods, the Akkadian Adtu, which has the meaning
“to weigh out (money), to pay compensation.”!11 The general
meaning, “to pay,” in a sense equivalent to naddnu is particularly
common in Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid period documents. It
would be quite simple to construe the Hebrew as a gal (=G stem)
°4hitennah and thus a verb which would correspond to Akkadian
hdtu. The passage would then mean: “the victim of wild animals I
did not bring to you, but I myself paid for it....”” Whether or not
this solution is acceptable, the connection with the Old Babylonian
herding contracts has little to commend it, and if there is Babylonian
influence in terminology it may well be late.
There are, however, some herding contracts from the Neo-
Babylonian and Achaemenid periods that may throw more light on
the Jacob story than the Old Babylonian ones can. These belong
generally to a type of contract known as the “dialogue document,”
in which is recorded the conversation that preceded the agreement.!2
The prospective shepherd approaches the owner of the sheep or his
representative and states his willingness to graze a certain number
of sheep and goats, guaranteeing a certain return to the owner in
new lambs and by-products, and arranging an agreement on
unpreventable deaths. Above all this he has his own profit. The
owner of the sheep agrees, and a contract is drawn up repeating
these terms and setting the date on which the contract starts.
Allowing for the narrative style of the biblical story, this is the form
which is found in Gen. 30:27-34. Laban urges Jacob to name his
own wages, and Jacob proceeds to specify very clearly those sheep
and goats which will be his wage as distinct from Laban’s guaranteed
111. CAD 6:161-62. For its use in contracts of NB see H. Petschow, ‘‘ Die neubabylonische
Zwiegesprachsurkunde und Genesis 23,”’ JCS 19 (1965): 122.
112. For a general treatment of form see the work of Petschow (in n. 111 above), pp. 103-
120. For examples of such herding contracts see J. Augapfel, Babylonische Rechtsurkunden
aus der Regierungszeit Artaxerxes I und Darius II, pp. 83-86; G. Cardascia, Les archives des
Murasu, pp. 155-57; J. Kohler and A. Ungnad, Hundert ausgewdahlte Rechtsurkunden, nos. 48—
50, 62.
98 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

increase.113 The folkloric element has entered the story to make the
terms unusual, but the form of the agreement is not essentially
different. Furthermore, the terms that Jacob mentions—taking
only the spotted and striped animals—is of particular interest in the
light of these late contracts, since they refer to the sheep and goats
as ‘the white ones and black ones,” pisdti u salmati44 If one is
looking for contractual forms and agreements behind the Jacob-
Laban story, a better case can be made for associating the story
with the herding contracts known from the Neo-Babylonian and
Achaemenid periods than with those suggested from Old Babylonian
times.

Abraham’s Purchase

The Genesis 23 story about Abraham’s purchase of Machpelah as a

grave site for Sarah, his wife, has produced considerable discussion
about second millennium parallels. The mention of Hittites at Hebron
has encouraged M. R. Lehmann to interpret the purchase procedures
in the light of Hittite law.1!5 This chapter presents Abraham, a land-
less resident alien (gér wtésab), endeavoring to buy a burial place
from the native population. There are lengthy negotiations in which
Abraham finally buys not only a cave but also the field in front of it
for a high price. Lehmann interprets Ephron’s offer to give the field to
Abraham as his eagerness to sell the whole of his holdings in con-
formity with laws #46 and 47 of the Hittite Code which specify that
the feudal service (z/ku) attached to a property is only transferred to a
new owner when the entire holdings of the previous owner are sold.116
It is suggested that Abraham wanted to avoid this obligation and so
only asked for the cave. However, he was forced to buy the field
as well and thus assumed Ephron’s ilku service.
While this interpretation of the story won considerable support,117

113. A very brief reference to this parallel occurs in DMBL 1: 457, n. 5.

114. Cf. Finkelstein, AOS 88: 33.
115. ‘‘Abraham’s Purchase of Machpelah and Hittite Law,’ BASOR 129 (Feb. 1953):
15-18,
116, For the Hittite Laws see ANET 8, p. 191. For further discussion on these see H. van
den Brink, “‘Genesis 23: Abrahams Koop,” Tijdschrift voor Rechtsgeschiedenis—Revue
@’histoire du droit 37 (1969): 469-88.
117. Albright in BASOR 129:18, n. 14; Bright, History of Israel, p. 72; C. H. Gordon,
“Abraham and the Merchants of Ura,” JNES 17 (1958): 29.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 99

it contains many difficulties.18 The most obvious way of interpreting

the proceedings is to view them as exaggerated politeness and
protracted negotiations characteristic of oriental business dealings.
The offer of the field in addition to the cave has been compared with
Arauna’s offer to David of both his threshing floor and in addition the
oxen, harness and threshing sledges (2 Sam. 24:22—23a; 1 Chron.
21:23).119 There is certainly no question of any feudal duties involved
here. Both cases show polite ways of trying to get the most out of the
deal. There is no hint in the Genesis story of any feudal service or of
the sale of Ephron’s entire property. This would certainly have
given him an inferior status in the city. The basic difficulty with
Lehmann’s comparison is that it must supply the story with the
missing point of comparison and then reconstruct the rest to agree
with it. Lehmann also ignores the question of how the Hittites
obtained sovereignty over Hebron in the late second millennium
B,C.120
More recently another legal background has been proposed
for this chapter, namely, sale contracts from the Neo-Babylonian
and Achaemenid periods known as “dialogue documents” (Zwiege-
sprachsurkunde).121 In this form one party approaches another party
with an offer either to buy or to sell, which is recorded in direct
speech in the document. The second party agrees (lit.: hears, ismé)
and the purchaser then pays out the amount (zhitma iddassu) named
in silver. The transfer and description of the property is recorded
along with the usual quitclaim, penalty clauses, witnesses, and date.
The story in Genesis 23 follows this model completely. Abraham
makes a proposal to purchase the cave in Ephron’s field. Ephron
makes a counterproposal that includes the field as well. Abraham
then agrees to pay for both cave and field, and the price is set at four
hundred shekels. Abraham agrees to (lit.: “hears,” sm‘) the price

118. See the criticisms by G. M. Tucker, ‘‘ The Legal Background of Genesis 23,” JBL 85
(1966): 77-84.
119. Tucker, JBL 85: 78.
120. Van den Brink, ‘“‘Abrahams Koop,” pp. 479-82, tries to meet this problem by sug-
gesting that the original tradition related to the region of Aram-Naharaim from which
Abraham came. Such a solution must ignore much in the current story and remain com-
pletely speculative.
121. So Tucker, JBL 85: 80-84; also Petschow, ‘‘ Zwiegesprachsurkunde und Genesis 23,”
FCS 19:103-120, for a full treatment of this form. See also the earlier suggestion by J. J.
Rabinowitz, ‘‘ Neo-Babylonian Legal Documents and Jewish Law,” F7P 13:131-35.
100 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

and weighs out the named amount of silver. The story then records
the transfer of the property along with its precise description and
with the suggestion that it was all duly witnessed.
Now it is possible to take certain individual features of the story
such as the mention of the “full price” (v. 9) or the weighing out of
the silver (v. 16) and find Old Babylonian parallels for these as
well.122 This only points to the continuity of legal procedures and
terminology over a very long period. Nevertheless, the “dialogue
document”’ schema is a legal form restricted to the late Assyrian,
Neo-Babylonian, and Persian periods, and the Genesis 23 story
fits this particular pattern in structure and vocabulary to a very
remarkable degree.128 One can also add to this the fact that the
reference to Hittites does not correspond to the second millennium
but to its use in this same period. Consequently, if there are any
older elements to this tradition they must be of a very limited nature,
and the general statement that the tradition has been reworked is
scarcely adequate to account for so many late features in this chapter.
The Covenant of Abraham
The account of the covenant with Abraham in Gen. 15:7-22 has
played a major role in discussions about the history of the Abrahamic
traditions. In this passage many have looked for the nucleus of an
ancient tradition of land promise. It is therefore necessary to deal
with any arguments that have to do with the dating of this pericope or
a part of it. Such arguments are primarily concerned with the nature
of covenant-making preparations that reflect the practice of ancient
Near-Eastern oath-taking.
Already in the work of Frazer extensive parallels to the covenant
with Abraham were drawn from Near Eastern, Classical, modern
Arab and primitive tribal sources.!24 Frazer outlined the two basic
types of explanation for the act of cutting the animals in half and
passing between the pieces. The first is the retributive theory. ““Accord-
ing to it, the killing and cutting up of the victim is symbolic of the
retribution that will overtake the man who breaks the covenant or
violates the oath; he, like the animal, will perish by a violent
122. See Tucker, JBL 85: 80.
123. See the conclusions of Tucker, JBL 85:84; Petschow, JCS 19:119-120. See also the
Neo-Babylonian period example in Jer. 32: 8-12.
124. James G. Frazer, Folk-Lore in the Old Testament (London: Macmillan, 1918), pp. 391-
428.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS IOI

death.”’!25 But Frazer did not think that this fully accounted for the
act of passing between the picces, so for this part of it at least he
adopted W. Robertson Smith’s sacramental or purificatory explana-
tion in which the parties by their action partook of the lifegiving
power released by the victim’s death. His final conclusion was that
the rite in the covenant of Abraham was a combination of both the
retributive and sacramental elements.126
The problem with Frazer’s solution is that it attempts one general
explanation for all rites of cutting animals, but this is hardly neces-
sary. It is directly denied by the Near Eastern example, which he
quotes,!2” of the treaty between Ashurnirari V and Mati‘ilu which
specifies that the animal used for the oath is not for sacrifice.128 The
biblical example of Jer. 34:18—20 can also hardly be interpreted in a
sacramental or purificatory way. The individuals who passed between
the pieces in this way took the oath upon themselves, and it need
have no other meaning.
There have been subsequent efforts to find an element of sacrifice
in Genesis 15, but these attempts are scarcely convincing.129 Most
recently the question has been formulated somewhat differently by
Loewenstamm.!3° He remarks that while the rite of self-curse is
originally and functionally quite distinct from sacrifice there is a
certain treatment of the story in Genesis 15 that is reminiscent of
sacrificial procedures. This is seen in the careful prescription of the
types of animals and the non-division of the birds. He points out
that the animal terminology is not that used by the priestly writers
and tries to find another cultic locus for it, which he proposes as
Shiloh in the premonarchy period. This last suggestion is very
speculative and need not be considered further. However, it should
be pointed out that Loewenstamm seems to confirm the basic
identity of this rite as a self-curse with the biblical and Near Eastern
sources of the first millennium B.c.

125. Ibid., p. 399.

126. Ibid., p. 425.
127. Ibid., p. 401.
128. See D. J. McCarthy, Treaty and Covenant, Analecta Biblica 21 (Rome: Pontifical
Biblical Institute, 1963), pp. 195-97; ANET8, pp. 532-33.
129. J. Henninger, ‘‘Was bedeutet die rituelle Teilung eines Tieres in zwei Halfen?”
Biblica 34 (1953): 344-53-
130. S. E. Loewenstamm, “‘ Zur Traditionsgeschichte des Bundes zwischen den Stiicken,’
VT 18 (1968) :500-06.
 102 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

In a recent discussion of this Abrahamic covenant, M. Weinfeld

has pointed to what he regards as a similar oath made by Abba-El
of Yamhad which dates to the seventeenth century B.c.13! Abba-El
takes an oath by cutting the neck of a lamb and saying to Yarimlim,
‘(May the gods do so to me) if I take back what I gave you.” This is
a reference to the gift of the city of Alalah to the vassal ruler in
exchange for the destroyed Irridi. To this text Weinfeld links another,
which he interprets as a reference to Yarimlim supplying the animal
for the same event as a sacrijice.182 He points out that in Genesis 15
the inferior party also supplies the sacrificial animals while the
superior party takes the oath. He then argues that in the first
millennium oaths of this kind, the sacrificial element is no longer
present so that Genesis 15 must reflect the more primitive usage.
This presentation, however, has a number of basic weaknesses.
The argument about Yarimlim’s sacrifice rests on a broken passage
in which there is no mention of animals whatever. ‘The subject of the
verb wséli ““he caused to go up, brought up”’ is also not clear so that
D. J. Wiseman may have been right when he suggested in his
publication of the text that it is Abba-El who brought Yarimlim to
the temple of Ishtar [ana bit] “IStar for the purpose of installation into
office.183 It is also possible to read the text as [Sum] @Istar uSéli in the
sense of “‘he raised the name of [Star [in an oath],” which would fit
the context.184 With such a broken text, however, nothing can be
very definite, and it is best to base no arguments upon it.
The second weakness with Weinfeld’s position is his misuse of
Loewenstamm’s arguments for the sacrificial character of the
rite.135° For Loewenstamm this is only part of the revision (Bear-
bettung) of the tradition and cannot be functionally original to the
rite itself. There is no altar mentioned, though it occurs elsewhere in
131. M. Weinfeld, ‘‘The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and in the Ancient
Near East,” FAOS go (1970): 196; also D. J. Wiseman, “‘Abban and Alalah,” 7CS 12
(1958): 126; A. Draffkorn, ‘“Was King Abba-AN of Yamhad a Vizier for the King of
Hattu8a?” FCS 13 (1959): 94-97. See the translations in McCarthy, Treaty and Covenant,
pp. 185-86.
132. FJAOS 90:196.
133. FCS 12:126.
134. Weinfeld follows the restoration of CAD 4:130 but cf. p. 135 where the use of uséli in
the sense of ‘‘ taking an oath”? is cited. Both the meanings of “‘ offer’? and “‘ take an oath”
are uncommon for OB but attested for NB.
135. JAOS 90:197 n. 118; cf. S. E. Loewenstamm, “‘ The Divine Grants of Land to the
Patriarchs,”’ JAOS 91 (1971): 509-10.
 SOCIAL CUSTOMS OF THE PATRIARCHS 103

the Abraham stories. There are no terms for sacrifice used, no

burning of the animals or other sacrificial procedures. The sacrificial
elements of the story are, at best, superficial. It is likewise question-
able whether any of the covenant cutting rites of the second millen-
nium had a sacrificial character to them.
On the other hand Weinfeld has not taken seriously enough the
actual form of the Genesis 15 rite, which is the halving of the animals
and the passing between the parts. None of the descriptions from the
second millennium fits this very well. They describe the rite as
cutting the throat or just as killing. The later texts are much more
instructive. The inscription of Sefire I speaks of cutting the calf in two
(gzr); this verb corresponds to the term for ‘‘pieces” gzrm in the
Hebrew text of Gen. 15:11.186 But the closest parallel is still that of
Jer. 34:18-20, and there is no need to look beyond this. Whether the
oath is made by the inferior or superior party and who provides the
animals do not matter. The same oath form is often used for a
variety of different judicial and political or diplomatic procedures.
The text of Gen. 15: off. is really saying that God is making a solemn
oath that in other passages is stated as swearing by himself (Gen.
22:16; 26:3; cf. Deut. 32:40, Jer. 22:5).
In conclusion, there is nothing in the form of covenant-making in
this chapter that to my mind points to an early date. The best
parallel is still the biblical one that comes from the end of the
monarchy. There may be reasons on the literary level why the rite has
taken on some characteristics of sacrificial preparation. This is
undoubtedly due to the fact that the subject of the oath-taking is
deity and not man so that the animals used must be very carefully
specified as to number and treatment. Yet for this very reason the
description of the rite would never have to correspond to any
actual instance or practice of such a ceremony. As I hope to show
below, Genesis 15 is a mixture of many forms in a literary conglomer-
ate that is strongly suggestive of a late date.

136. J. A. Fitzmyer, The Aramaic Inscriptions of Sefire, Biblica et Orientalia 19 (Rome:

Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1967) Cf. I A: 7 where gar is used in the sense of ‘‘ conclude” a
covenant, but in I A: 40 it has the literal meaning of ‘‘cut in two;” see also the com-
mentary, pp. 32-33, 56-57- Fitzmyer observes (p. 57) that the ‘calf,’ ‘gl? is the same
animal as used in Jer. 34:18 and Gen. 15:9. See also McCarthy, Treaty and Covenant,
pp. 189-92.
 CHAPTER 5

Archaeology and the Patriarchs

Frequently the phrase “archaeological evidence” is used in con-

nection with the patriarchs to include the whole range of materials
that have been discussed thus far. But our concern in this chapter is
with evidence related directly to excavations in Palestine and the
correlation of the patriarchal narratives with archaeological phases
and data.
The Middle Bronze Age
There are two archaeological periods for Palestine in the early
second millennium B.c. with which the patriarchs have been associ-
ated: the periods known as Middle Bronze I (= Intermediate
- Bronze Age) and Middle Bronze II A-C (= Middle Bronze I-II).1
In much of the discussion about the archaelogy of the early second
millennium B.c. the distinction between these two phases is often
obscured. This is partly because of the choice of nomenclature
(MB I, MB II A-C) which suggests some continuity between them.
It is generally recognized, however, that the two periods are quite
distinct, and thus efforts have been made to introduce new, more
appropriate terminology. What this means for this discussion is that
if the cultural milieu in which the patriarchs lived is viewed as
fairly homogeneous throughout the “patriarchal age,” then a
choice has to be made as to which of these two periods provides the
more suitable historical context.?
1. There is still confusion at the present time over archaeological nomenclature. Two
systems are in current use:
Middle Bronze I (Albright) = Intermediate Early Bronze-Middle Bronze (Kenyon)
or Intermediate Bronze Age (Lapp)
Middle Bronze II A = Middle Bronze I (Kenyon)
(Albright)
Middle Bronze II B-C = Middle Bronze II (Kenyon)
(Albright)
2. This issue is sometimes obscured, as in G. E. Wright, Biblical Archaeology, pp. 45-52;
J. Bright, History of Israel, pp. 76-78; ibid., 2nd ed., pp. 83-85, where the dates for the
patriarchs are given as between the twentieth and seventeenth centuries B.c.
104.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS T05

W. F. Albright and Nelson Glueck have maintained rather

firmly in recent years that Abraham can only be associated with
Middle Bronze I.? Glueck states:
Either the Age of Abraham coincides with the Middle Bronze I
period between the twenty-first and nineteenth centuries B.c.
or the entire saga dealing with the Patriarch must be dismissed,
so far as its historical value is concerned, from scientific con-
sideration. The flesh and blood personage of Abraham ... could
not have existed later than the nineteenth century, B.c., at the
end of Middle Bronze I, for otherwise there would have been no
historical framework into which his life could have been set.4
This view is based upon the judgment that the region of Trans-
jordan and the Negeb must have been settled in order to account for
the stories of Sodom and Gomorrah, the invasion of the foreign
kings in Genesis 14, and Abraham’s unhindered wanderings in the
Negeb—particularly his trips between Palestine and Egypt. Glueck
and others have firmly established by their archaeological surveys of
Transjordan and the Negeb that this whole region was quite densely
covered with numerous MB I sites.> However, a long occupational
gap exists for the subsequent periods lasting until the end of Late
Bronze in Transjordan and into the Iron Age in the Negeb. Conse-
quently, if the Abraham stories suggest a settlement in these regions
then the only appropriate period prior to Israel’s own settlement
would be MB I.
This position, however, is basically weak at a number of points.
First of all, the Genesis stories do not suggest that there were any
settlements in the region.® If Abraham’s way of life had been purely
nomadic this would constitute no problem. Nomads did enter Egypt
from Palestine and Transjordan in the second millennium. However,
if one takes the nature of Abraham’s retinue at face value, as Glueck
does, then it would have been difficult without support stations to
travel from Palestine to Egypt. But this is really a denial of the
patriarch’s nomadic way of life.
3. See Chap. 1, n. 5 above.
4. Glueck, Rivers in the Desert, p. 68.
5. N. Glueck, Explorations in Eastern Palestine I-III, AASOR 14, 15, 18-19 (1934-39);
idem, Rivers in the Desert, Chap. 3; B. Rothenberg, et. al., God’s Wilderness: Discoveries in the
Sinai (London: Thames and Hudson, 1961).
6. See the criticisms of Y. Aharoni in AOTS, p. 387; M. Noth, “‘ Der Beitrag der Archao-
logie,”’ SVT 7 (1959): 265ff.
 106 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

The real problem with the view taken by Glueck and Albright is
in their evaluation of the MB I culture. K. M. Kenyon has quite
appropriately characterized this period as one in which there was
widespread semi-nomadic occupation between two periods of more
advanced town life, EB III and MB II A-C.’ Kenyon insists that
there is no significant cultural continuity with either the preceding
or following periods. She lists these considerations: 1) there is a clear
stratigraphic break both before and after this phase at every exca-
vated site where it occurs, 2) there are no walled towns in this
period, no monumental architecture such as temples, palaces, fine
houses, that would characterize the preceding and following town
life, 3) the burial customs, with large shaft tombs and predominantly
individual burials, are quite distinct from the preceding or following
phases and are a distinctive feature of this period, and 4) the arti-
facts such as pottery and metal objects have little continuity with
the other archaeological phases.
Within the broad homogeneity of the MB I culture there seem to
be indications of tribal distinctions characterized by “families” of
pottery styles and differences in burial customs although still within
the shaft-grave type.8 Nevertheless, the uniformity of the culture
generally is quite remarkable within the whole region of Palestine,
Transjordan and the Negeb with some extension northward into
inland Syria. On the other hand, the relationship of the MB I
culture to coastal Syria, especially Byblos and Ugarit, is quite
limited.? One question still under debate is the direction from which
this nomadic culture came. P. Lapp has argued for an Analotian
origin, but this suggestion has not been very convincing.1° Most
recently, W. Dever has associated it with the ‘‘Amorite” migration
of nomads from the Syrian steppe, although admittedly the evidence

7. K. M. Kenyon, Archaeology in the Holy Land (New York: Praeger, 1960) pp. 135-161;
idem, CAH®, 2/1, pp. 77-88; see also W. G. Dever, ‘‘ The ‘ Middle Bronze I’ Period in
Syria and Palestine,” Near Eastern Archaeology in the Twentieth Century: Essays in honor of
Nelson Glueck, ed. J. A. Sanders, (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1970), pp. 132-163;
idem, ‘‘ The Peoples of Palestine in the Middle Bronze I Period,” HTR 64 (1971): 197-
226, esp. pp. 206-9; idem, ‘‘ Middle Bronze Age I Cemetries at Mirzbaneh and Ain-
Samiya,” [EF 22 (1972): 95-112, esp. p. 109.
8. See Kenyon’s emphasis on grave types and Dever’s on pottery “families” in works
cited in n. 7 above.
g. See Dever in Near Eastern Archaeology, pp. 146-50 and his criticism of Kenyon on this point.
10. P. W. Lapp, The Dhahr Mirzbaneh Tombs: Three Intermediate Bronze Age Cemetries in
Jordan (New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research, 1966). Cf. Dever, HTR
64:197-226. This later article was written as a direct response to Lapp’s theories.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS 107

is not very plentiful.1! So Albright’s suggestion that MB I represents

a cultual lag of several centuries from the civilization of Mesopo-
tamia may be firmly rejected.12 Apart from some slight resemblances
in pottery forms, the MB I culture of Palestine and the late-third-
millennium-civilization of Mesopotamia are different in every way.
One unsolved problem is where these people went, if anywhere, at
the end of the period, since there is so little in common with the
subsequent MB ITA.
When MB I is compared with the stories of Abraham, it becomes
clear that the Old Testament descriptions of cities, a sedentary way
of life, and political forms are quite inappropriate to this period. The
Old Testament stresses the difference between the pastoral popula-
tion represented by Abraham and the urban population of Shechem,
Gerar, Hebron, and the cities of the Jordan Valley. But none of the
settlements of MB I, whether in Palestine, Transjordan or the
Negeb, can be interpreted as urban centers of this kind. The whole
economy of MB I appears to be only pastoral. It should also be
noted that both Shechem and Beersheba have no MB I settlements.
And in spite of the many settlements of Transjordan, there is still no
adequate context here for the Sodom and Gomorrah story or the
invasion of foreign kings as in Genesis 14. The Old Testament also
suggests a continuity in the indigenous urban population, the
“‘Canaanites,”’ with the people living in the land at the time of the
settlement. But MB I represents a discontinuity with the periods
that follow. In the matter of chronology, Albright has tried to accom-
modate the MB I period to the Old Testament by dating it as late as
the eighteenth century.!3 This makes it possible for him to get the
patriarchs into Egypt at the time of the Hyksos. But such a low
chronology for MB I is clearly unacceptable, and there is a fairly
broad agreement now toward a higher date.
A much more attractive archaeological correlation is the associa-
tion of the patriarchs with MB II as advocated by G. Ernest Wright.14

11. Dever, HTR 64: 217ff.; see also deVaux, Histoire, pp. 61-69.
12. BASOR 163: 39; cf. his later discussion in “‘Remarks on Chronology,” BASOR 184
(Dec. 1966): 30-35.
13. Cf. my criticism of Albright’s chronology in The Hyksos, pp. off. Kenyon’s dating for
the whole period, in Amorites and Canaanites (London: Oxford University Press, 1966),
Pp. 35, is 2300-1900 B.c. See most recently Dever, ‘‘ The ‘MB I’ Period,” pp. 135-144.
14. Wright, Biblical Archaeology, p. 47; idem, Shechem: The Biography of a Biblical City
(New York: McGraw-Hill, 1965), pp. 128-38. This follows Albright’s view in Stone Age
to Christianity, pp. 179-84.
108 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

MB II replaced the semi-nomadic occupation of MB I with a slowly

developing urban civilization which eventually rose to quite remark-
able heights.15 The excavations of various sites reveal that many
places achieved an advanced form of town life with large temples
and palaces and strong fortifications. These features point to the
proliferation of city-states and petty kingdoms throughout Palestine.
And this civilization had strong cultural and ethnic connections
with similar kingdoms stretching from Palestine throughout the
fertile crescent as far as Lower Mesopotamia. The development of
these petty states is reflected in the Execration Texts from Egypt and
a little later in the Mari archives, which also make mention of cities
in North Palestine.1® There is a strong cultural continuity that ex-
tends from the beginning of MB II down to the end of Late Bronze—
the time of the Israelite settlement.
The advantages of this period over MB I as a choice for the
patriarchal age are obvious. A distinction between the urban and
the pastoral population is now possible. This time also allows for
the association of the Sojourn in Egypt with the Hyksos rule in the
Delta, a connection favored by many scholars. However, it still does
not solve the problem of a lack of settlement in Transjordan, a
settlement necessary for the story of the invasion of foreign kings,
Genesis 14.1?
Even though MB II may fit the patriarchal stories better than
MB I, this is by no means decisive since a similar case could be made
for Late Bronze. Furthermore, since Palestinian kings are mentioned
only for Jerusalem and Gerar in “the land of the Philistines,” but
no kings are associated with Hebron and Shechem (which were
regarded as having urban life), it is possible to argue that the period
most fully parallelled by this description is the time of the Judean
monarchy. Nor can one make a connection with the Hyksos on the
15. For a general treatment of this period see The Hyksos, pp. 19-84; Kenyon, Archaeology
in the Holy Land, pp. 162-94; G. E. Wright, The Bible and the Ancient Near East, pp. 88ff.;
deVaux, Histoire, pp. 71-75.
16. See most recently A. Malamat, ‘‘Northern Canaan and the Mari Texts,” in Near
Eastern Archaeology in the Twentieth Century, pp. 164-77; idem, ‘‘ Syro-Palestinian Designa-
tions in a Mari Tin Inventory,” [EF 21 (1971): 31-38.
17. The cavalier dismissal of this problem is well illustrated by S. Yeivin in ‘“‘The Pa-
triarchs in the Land of Canaan,” World History of the Fewish People, ed. E. A. Speiser and
B. Mazar (London: W. H. Allen, 1964-70), vol. 2 (1970), The Patriarchs, p. 217. Yeivin
seems to suggest that the periods can be easily run together. Cf. Wright, Biblical Archaeology,
p. 50.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS 109

basis of the reference in Num. 13:22, which states: “Hebron was

built seven years before Zoan (=Tanis) in Egypt.” Tanis was not
founded until the Twenty-First Dynasty, about 1100 B.c., as is now
commonly acknowledged.18
Wright, however, attempts to find archaeological confirmation
from MB II for quite specific traditions associated with Shechem in
the stories of the patriarchs.19 In fact he links Abraham and Jacob
with certain architectural features which belong to the MB II A
phase of the city.2° His argument is as follows. In the western sector
of MB II city there was an important sacred area (temenos) that,
according to Wright, had a long history and passed through several
stages of development. In the earliest stage, MB II A, there seems
to have been “a kind of platform, ca. 1 m. high, the outer sides of
which are faced with stone, while the interior is made of packed
earth and stones topped by a layer of fine yellow (marly) earth.’’21
Wright speculates that it may have had a use similar to a large
earthen altar at Megiddo dating from the same period, but lack of
any other evidence for the Shechem structure makes its use unknown.
Wright also suggests that the structure was outside the city because
this platform was built “‘before the earliest known city fortification
at Shechem, wall D, was built.’’22
The next four developmental stages of this area of the mound,
MB II B, are represented by a large building that Wright describes
as a “courtyard temple.” This building had four phases of altera-
tions over a period of about 100 years. From the beginning of this
period onward the area was situated within the city fortifications
and was apparently also separated from the rest of the city by a
temenos enclosure wall. Following the “‘courtyard temple”’ phase a
new structure was built in MB II CG, the so-called “‘fortress-temple,”’
which survived through various subsequent stages down to the time
of the Judges.
Wright endeavors to relate this archaelogical data to the Biblical
narratives by identifying the altars that Abraham and Jacob are
18. For a discussion of this problem see The Hyksos, Chap. 9; cf. also the review of The
Hyksos by J. von Beckerath in JAOS go (1970): 312 in which he suggests that ‘nearly
all Egyptologists”’ reject the identification of San el Hagar (Tanis) with Avaris.
19. Wright, Shechem, pp. 128-38.
20. Ibid., pp. 110-122.
pile Mosely oR sent
22. Ibid., p. 112.
 IIO ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

said to have built outside of Shechem (Gen. 12:6-7; 33:18-20)

with the earliest. structure of the temenos area: the raised platform
of MB II A. Wright further suggests that the continuity of the area’s
sanctity would account for the preservation of the tradition about
its origin.?3
There are many problems with this reconstruction, such as the
fact that it is difficult to discover the purpose of the raised area, and
on Wright’s own admission’ this must remain a serious weakness.*4
He also suggests that it was outside the city but then admits that no
city walls were found for this phase. So we cannot assume that it
was outside. There were other structures in the area—a few wall
fragments, a tannur (oven) and a drain—that suggest some perma-
nent occupation and not a completely isolated “altar.” The history
of the area is badly obscured by the apparent clearing of existing
structures for later installations, but it is reasonable to assume that
whatever the platform was, it was within the city and not outside of it.
Whether the area had a specifically sacred character in the follow-
ing MB II B period is also open to question. The building that
Wright describes as a “‘courtyard temple” does not seem to me to be
a temple at all, and his comparison with Hittite temples is not per-
suasive.25 The contents, in particular, speak against the suggestion.
In two phases of the building there were infant burials. While such
burials were not uncommon in private dwellings I do not know of
any in temples. Apart from this there were, as possible religious
objects, two free-standing pillars in two different courts of the
fourth phase. These Wright interprets as sacred pillars (masseboth).
But this evidence seems to me insufficient to identify the building as
a temple, especially when it would make this type very unique for
the whole of Syria-Palestine. In fact the building resembles much
more a multi-roomed palace similar to others of the period in

23. It is important to note that Wright is following the lead of Gunkel, Alt and Noth,
who suggested that traditions were tied to sacred places and transmitted by the sanctuaries
(Wright, Shechem, p. 129). Here he apparently does not follow the criticism of the notion
of Ortsgebundenheit by J. Bright in Early Israel in Recent History Writing (London: SCM,
1956), although in other respects the positions of Wright and Bright are very similar.
24. In a subsequent exploration and report on the platform, J. F. Ross, in ‘“‘ The Fifth
Campaign at Balatah (Shechem),”’ BASOR 180 (1965): 27, states: ‘‘ The purpose of the
platform remains obscure. It is now difficult to designate it as an altar. Perhaps it was
merely a terrace.”
25. Cf. the discussion of such courtyard temples in O. R. Gurney, The Hittites, pp. 145ff.
 ARCHAEOLOGY
AND THE PATRIARCHS sO

Alalah and Mari.26 Consequently, there seems to be no convincing

reason for ascribing a sacred character to this area before the build-
ing of the so-called “fortress-temple”—a type very well attested
from other sites. If this is so then the argument based on archaeo-
logical continuity of a sacred place going back to MB II A is without
foundation..
Quite apart from the archaeological arguments, serious problems
still remain. It seems to me most unlikely that the non-Israelite
population of Shechem would associate the origin of their worship
of El or Baal?’ with a passing nomad such as Abraham or with
Jacob and his sons, whom the same tradition makes responsible for
a bloody slaughter of the population. One cannot imagine more
unlikely bearers of the patriarchal traditions than the “‘Hivites”’ at
Shechem or more unlikely worshippers of the patriarchal deity. It
is much easier to suppose that the association of El (or Baal) of
Shechem with the Ged of Israel is the result of a much later syncre-
tistic development in the history of Israel and is now only minimally
reflected in biblical tradition. But this is a different approach to the
history of the traditions and cannot be dealt with here.
There is one site that raises a large query over this whole archaeo-
logical approach, and that is Beersheba. It has often been stated
that the partiarchal traditions were preserved at local sanctuaries
and that the emphasis on altars in the stories points to their use as
means of legitimating the sanctity of these places. This, as we saw, is
the line of argument used by Wright in connection with Shechem
and he even draws a direct parallel with Beersheba.?8 In this respect
Beersheba certainly does play an important role in many stories.
All three patriarchs built altars there, and Isaac and Jacob both had
theophanies there as well. However, recent archaeological excava-
tion at Beersheba reveals that there was no settlement there before
the Iron Age.29 In the period of the Judges it was only a village and
first became an important fortified town under Solomon. It is
likely, though not as yet confirmed, that there was a temple at
Beersheba during the time of the Judean monarchy. It remained an
26. Cf. my discussion in The Hyksos, pp. 38-39.
27. Note the discovery of a bronze ‘‘Baal”’ figurine at Shechem dating to LB, cited in
BASOR 180 (1965): 24f.
28. Wright, Shechem, p. 129; idem, AOTS, p. 359.
29. See most recently Y. Aharoni, ‘‘Excavations at Tel Beersheba,” BA 35 (1972):
111-127.
 Jig (4 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

important city to the end of the monarchy, when it suffered serious

destruction.
What is one to make, then, of these altars, theophanies, and
sacred trees at Beersheba? Perhaps all these patriarchal allusions
reflect only the sacredness of the place in Israelite times with no
great antiquity to the stories. There is nothing unusual about such
a theory. The only problem is one of dating the traditions, but if
they are late as we have repeatedly suggested then this problem
vanishes. Moreover, if such a hypothesis is possible for Beersheba
it is also possible for Shechem, Hebron and Bethel. The implications
of this archaeological site for the problem of tradition-history will be
taken up below.
In conclusion, I can find no archaeological evidence based upon
excavations conducted in Palestine that points to the early second
millennium B.c. Either the archaeological period is entirely different
from that reflected in the patriarchal stories, as in MB I, or it is not
sufficiently distinct from other periods to make a decision possible,
as in MB II. In my opinion, our extensive archaeological knowledge
of Palestine in the early second millennium B.c. has not clarified a
single feature of the patriarchal stories. In contrast to this, Beer-
sheba artifacts from the Judean monarchy period have forced a
very serious reconsideration of the character and function of the
Genesis narratives about sacred places.

Abraham’s Victory over the Eastern Kings

Genesis 14 is regarded by most exponents of the early-second-

millennium argument as one of the strongest supports for their
position.2° Yet there are others who view this chapter as a late
legend with no historical value whatever.®! Both of these opinions
arise from conflicting evaluations of the royal names, kingdoms and

30. For a recent survey on the historical views of this chapter see M. C. Astour, ‘‘ Political
and Cosmic Symbolism in Genesis 14 and in its Babylonian Sources,” Biblical Motifs:
Origins and Transformations, ed. A. Altmann (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1966), pp. 65-112; also Bright, History of Israel, 2nd ed. pp. 82-83; Speiser, Genesis, pp.
105ff.; Albright, Yahweh and the Gods of Canaan, pp. 68-69; Yeivin in World History of the
Jewish People 2:215-17; W. Schatz, Genesis 14: Eine Untersuchung (Bern & Frankfort:
H. Lang & P. Lang, 1972). (This last work came to my notice too late for extensive use
here.)
31. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 288-90; Skinner, Genesis, pp. 271-76; deVaux, Histoire, pp. 108—
12.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS 113

international political events that are mentioned. If there is any

hope of finding an actual historical context for the patriarch Abra-
ham then it should be in this episode.
The chapter consists of two basic components. The first, vv. 1-12,
describes an invasion by foreign kings seeking to subjugate the
region of Transjordan and to put down a rebellion of five cities in
the valley region of the Dead Sea. Included among the Captives is
Lot, a resident of Sodom (v. 12). This provides a link with the
second part, vv. 13-24, which presents the rescue by Abraham. He
defeats the foreign kings, restoring Lot along with the booty and the
rest of the captives. I am not concerned, at this point, with discussion
of the literary character of this chapter or with arguments having to
do with its composite nature. Primary attention here must focus on
the first component, vv. 1-12, the part of the story most significant
to arguments relating to the matter of dating.
With respect to the identity of the four foreign kingdoms in the
coalition, the following observations may be made. Elam, which is
considered the primary power, is clearly the state on the north-east
of the Persian Gulf. Its king, Chedorlaomer, apparently bears an
Elamite name although only the initial element, Chedor = Kudur,
is intelligible as Elamite.32 This particular name cannot be found
among the rather complete list of Elamite kings in the early second
millennium B.c.33 Shinar almost certainly stands for the region of
Babylonia, as it does elsewhere in the Old Testament.?4 But the old
identification of Amraphel with Hammurapi is now generally dis-
carded, and there is scarcely any other likely candidate from the
early second millennium. Tidal, on the other hand, can be identi-
fied as the Hittite royal name Tudhalia’, which belongs to a number
of Hittite kings between the seventeenth and thirteenth centuries B.c.
The name of Tidal’s kingdom, ‘‘Nations” (géyim) has puzzled
scholars. Some have suggested a derivation from Umman Manda.35

32. Albright, BASOR 163: 49; Astour, ‘‘ Genesis 14,” pp. 91-94.
33. W. Hinz, CAH? fascs. 19 & 21; idem, Das Reich Elam (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer,
1964), pp. 57-83, 149-50. ;
34. Shinar is often identified with Sumer (see Speiser, Genesis, p. 106). But the correct
identification apparently is with Sumer and Akkad, derived from Singi-Uri. See S. N.
Kramer, The Sumerians (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963), p. 297; Astour,
‘Genesis 14,”’ p. 76. This archaism, “‘Sumer and Akkad,” was frequently used by the
Neo-Babylonian kings to refer to Babylonia.
35. Speiser, Genesis, p. 107.
 114 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

But the Manda peoples were enemies of the Hittites so they are
hardly appropriate. The term is also used as the traditional desig-
nation for “hordes,” which does not correspond with the term
goyim, meaning “‘political states.” This must be a case in which a
writer is substituting one term, ‘‘ Nations,” for another, “Hatt.”
But the only period in which “Nations” could represent “Hatti”
is the mid-first millennium, when Hatti meant the whole collection
of western petty kingdoms and states. If the source from which the
name was derived mentioned Tudhalia’ as the great king of Hatti
then a later writer could interpret this to mean a king who ruled
over several petty kingdoms (géyim) of Syria-Palestine.
Arioch, king of Ellasar, represents a problem in the names of
both the king and the place.’Attempts have been made to associate
him with a minor vassal prince, Arriwuk, mentioned in the Mari
archives. But this is very improbable since he could hardly be in
league with three other major powers.36 The same problem arises in
the name of the kingdom, Ellasar. It must surely stand for a kingdom
commensurate with the other powers, Elam, Babylon, and Hatti,
and the only one that would fitisAssyria. The name has been plausi-
bly explained as a phonetic reading of the ideograms A.LA;.SAR
(=A8ur).37 Elsewhere in the Old Testament the name Assyria is
clearly written as Asshur. But just as cuneiform scribes enjoyed
writing the names of Asshur and Babylon in archaic forms it is quite
possible that this writer also liked to demonstrate his erudition by
transcribing what he thought was an archaic form. If this identifica-
tion is correct it would mean that the four kings represent the rulers
of the four quadrants: East-Elam, West-Hatti, North-Asshur, and
South-Babylon.
The tendency of the approach to find an early date for the story in
Genesis 14 has been to seek parailels from the early second millen-
nium B.C. at any price, whether it yields any ultimate sense to the
account or not.38 No serious attempt has been made to use these

36. For criticism of this identification see M. Noth, “‘Arioch-Arriwuk,” VT 1 (1951):

136-40.
37. Astour, ‘Genesis 14,” pp. 78 and 86.
38. One proposal (Yeivin in World History of the Jewish People 2:217) makes the raid of
Chedorlaomer an attempt to keep a monopoly of the Transjordanian highway from his
rival Hammurapi of Babylon. Another suggestion (Albright, BASOR 163:50 n. 68)
makes the real object of the campaign the overthrow of the Twelfth Dynasty of Egypt.
Such reconstructions are without merit. They do violence both to our present knowledge
of the period’s history and to the Biblical account of the story.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS I15

clues to reconstruct the actual historical event. The reason for this
is quite plain. The notion of a coalition between the Hittites, Baby-
lonians, Assyrians and Elamites is fantastic, and no historian of the
early second millennium B.c. can seriously entertain such a sugges-
tion. The Hittites never acted in consort with any of these powers.
They sacked the city of Babylon and so brought an end to the First
Dynasty of Babylon. The other three powers were almost always at
perpetual enmity throughout their history. At no time did they ever
engage in any joint military activity in the west, and at no time did
even one of these powers campaign as far south as Palestine. There
was certainly no Elamite empire in the west as the twelve years of
servitude imply. Nor is it possible to dismiss these statements by
suggesting that our ignornace of such a campaign may be due to
lacunae in our records. Our knowledge of the period is, in fact,
sufficiently complete for us to know that there is no period or setting
which could any longer accommodate such an event.
Equally problematic is the objective of the military expedition.
There were no national states in Transjordan during the second
millennium prior to the Ammonites, Moabites and Edomites. Nor
was there any pentapolis of the Jordan Valley. The effort of Glueck
to interpret the MB I ruins in this way is hardly convincing. They
were not much more than nomadic shelters. A great military
campaign to subjugate such impoverished settlements seems ludi-
crous. And after MB I there is virtually nothing. Some scholars,
such as Speiser and Albright, have attempted to read into the story
quite different objectives of the campaign. But such efforts are quite
gratuitous since no supporting evidence is ever cited to support
these suggestions.
Furthermore, this joint military venture would have involved
several thousand troops since the resources of one power were
deemed insufficient. Yet we are expected to believe that one chief-
tain with a band of three hundred and eighteen men could, by a
surprise attack at night, completely rout such a mighty force. There
was no follow-up of this victory, no retaliation by the defeated, and
no evidence of political effects on the states involved. And this same
victorious Abraham, a short time later, was presented, in the petty
state of the city of Gerar, as fearful to the point of misrepresenting
his wife as his sister. The whole account is so problematic that it
cannot possibly have historical significance and must be viewed in
an entirely different manner.
116 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Some effort at salvaging the antiquity of vv. 1-12 has been made
by suggesting that behind it lies a cuneiform source of the second
millennium from which some of the elements may have been
derived.39 It is considered by some that this source may have been
legendary and not historical at all.4° But even this suggestion is
questionable. What could such a document contain? It is extremely
unlikely that there would have been a Babylonian legend about a
coalition with Babylon’s traditional enemies, and one that would
have given preeminence to Elam! It certainly could have said nothing
about Transjordan, an area totally outside of their concern. It is
unlikely that it would have glorified the victory of a small group of
nomads over their king. There is nothing whatever in Gen. 14:1-12
that suggests a Mesopotamian viewpoint or interest. There is only
one detail, that of the name of Tidal, that must go back to the
second millennium. But many first-millennium sources contain this
much information about the second millennium, so I see little need
for positing a second-millennium document as a source for any of it.
The nonhistorical character of this chapter is further indicated by
the nature of the names given to the five kings who ruled the cities
of the Dead Sea basin. They are not personal names at all but are
abbreviated pejorative epithets.4! This is clear in the case of Bera,
‘‘in evil” and Birsha, ‘‘in injustice,” the kings of Sodom and
Gomorrah respectively. The name of the city, Bela, means
‘destroyed’ but it is likely that originally this was the name of the
king of Zoar. Astour has recently suggested that Shemeber is to be
read Shemabad, on the evidence of the Samaritan version and the
Genesis Apocryphon with the meaning “the name is lost.’? These
last two names would then represent the fate of these two kings.
The name Shinab is the most difficult. But if it is read as Sn°b and
regarded as consisting of sn’, ‘“‘to hate’ + °ab, “‘father,” it would
mean “the one who hates the father [of the gods].’’ Astour has
argued that such epithets as these occur in Assyrian and Babylonian
inscriptions as characteristic of rebel kings so they are most appro-
priate here. They also occur in royal psalms as descriptive of the
39. For a review of the various theories about a cuneiform original see J. A. Emerton,
“*Some False Clues in the Study of Gen. XIV,” VT 21 (1971): 29-46.
e This seems to be Emerton’s preference in ‘‘ The Riddle of Gen. XIV,” VT 21 (1971):
430.
41. See Astour, “‘Genesis 14,” pp. 74-75; see also Speiser, Genesis, p. 101; Skinner,
Genesis, p. 259.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS 7

king’s enemies; that is, those who hate God, who devise evil and plot
mischief, who will be “consumed” by divine wrath, and whose
offspring (=name) will be destroyed.42 The author clearly knows
the tradition of these cities as supreme examples of wickedness, but
he has no tradition of any royal names. So he merely creates names
that are most appropriate to the reputation of these cities.
Concerning their names Astour points out that there seem to have
been two independent traditions about the destruction of these
cities.43 A northern tradition reflected in Hosea 11:8 knows only
of the annihilation of Admah (var. Adamah or Adam) and Zeboiim,
and both of these are located a fair distance north of the Dead Sea
in the region of the Jabbok River in the Jordan valley. On the other
hand a southern tradition, reflected in Amos, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and
Ezekiel, mentions only Sodom and Gomorrah as examples of com-
plete destruction. And their location is given as south or southeast
of Judah. The location of the fifth city, Zoar, which escaped destruc-
tion, is ambiguous.
These two streams of tradition are combined in Deut. 29:23, an
addition made by an exilic editor. Of course the combining of
names from such widely separated regions created a certain con-
fusion that is still reflected in Genesis. In the story of Lot’s separation
from Abraham the valley of the Jordan, in which the cities are
located, is the region directly east of Bethel and Ai and therefore
north of the Dead Sea. But the story of the destruction of the cities
in Gen. 18:16 through 19:29 suggests a southern location more
appropriate to being viewed from the vicinity of Hebron. Conse-
quently the cities of Genesis 14 represent a late combination of
traditions about two different groups of cities, and any attempt at
archaeological confirmation of an ancient pentapolis in the south-
eastern region of the Dead Sea is futile.*4
Another similarity with the exilic revision of Deuteronomy is
the antiquarian interest in the ancient inhabitants of Transjordan
and the Negeb. The list in Deut. 2:10-12, 20-23 and 3:9~13 is very
similar to Gen. 14:5-7, with the Rephaim in Bashan, Emim in
42. See for example Psalm 21.
43. Astour, ‘‘Genesis 14,” pp. 72-73-
44. About the location of these cities see Simons, Geog. & Topog. Texts 74404-414, in
which he argues for a northern location. J. P. Harland, “‘Sodom and Gomorrah: The
Location of the Cities of the Plain,” BA 5 (1942): 17-32, supports a southern location. If
one adopts the two-traditions theory then the conflicting evidence can be easily explained.
118 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Moab, Horites in Edom and Zamzumim (=Zuzim) in the region

of the Ammonites. It is possible to dismiss the similarity by stating
that the list of names simply derives from an older tradition.*° But
in fact the texts give every indication to the contrary. In the various
discussions about the primeval peoples two types of sources appear
to be used. One is mythological, and in it the primeval inhabitants
are the Anakim or Rephaim, which were generally thought to be
Nephilim, or ‘“‘giants.”46 The other type of source is the use of
archaic names such as Amorites and Hittites. These, as I have shown
above, cannot date before the eighth century B.c. Deuteronomy
shows a tendency to identify the Amorites, a name of one category,
with the mythological Anakim or Rephaim.4’ But the process is
carried one step further in Deuteronomy 2. Here the author displays
his erudition by indicating that the mythical Rephaim, who origi-
nally inhabited the whole of Transjordan as well, are the same people
as those called Emim by the Moabites and Zamzumim by the
Ammonites. These designations, however, were foreign and not
part of Israel’s own traditions as the text makes very clear. The
author of Genesis 14, however, has taken the tradition a step further
by restricting these terms to very specific regions as if they were
distinct peoples corresponding to the distinct political states of a
later day. The dependence, therefore, must be of Genesis upon
Deuteronomy, but it could scarcely have gone in the reverse direc-
tion.
Astour also points to the similarity of the route taken by the
invading kings and the route, in reverse, that Israel took from
Kadesh to Transjordan. Considered by itself this similarity might
indicate no more than that both sources were familiar with impor-
tant commercial “highways” that became important during the
monarchies of the Transjordanian and Israelite states. But a curious
feature of the Genesis story is the very indirect route taken to arrive
at the destination of the cities in the valley. Taken with the other
indications of dependence upon the names of the primeval peoples,
the possibility of the author of Genesis 14 using the route in Deuter-
onomy I-3 is greatly increased.
Such a dependence by Genesis 14 upon Deuteronomy 1-3

45. So Emerton VT 21: 405 against Astour.

46. Note the frequent rendering of all three terms in the Septuagint by gigantes.
47. See Van Seters, VT 22: 74-75.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS 119

implies a rather late date for the Genesis story. J. A. Emerton has
recently challenged this late dating by suggesting a date in the time
of the Davidic monarchy. Emerton makes the statement: ‘‘The
possibility that such records [i.e., historical records that told of the
relations of vassal states to a foreign overlord] existed as early as
the reign of David cannot be denied.’’48 This statement, however,
can certainly be challenged. The only possible records that he could
have in mind are some which came down from the Amarna period
in which Jerusalem, but not the cities of the Jordan Valley, were
subject to Egypt. Apart from the improbability that such records
were ever preserved, there is nothing in Genesis 14 that even re-
motely suggests such a background.
The basic question to be answered is this: When could a story
about such an invasion from the direction of Mesopotamia be written ?
The answer to this question is that such a story is scarcely possible
before the domination of Palestine and Transjordan by an Eastern
power from the mid-eighth century onward. An author of the
Davidic period simply could not have thought in these terms. Such
a threat was non-existent in his day, and such conditions of servitude
to a Mesopotamian or Elamite power had never existed prior to that
time. Astour has characterized very well the account of Genesis 14 in
terms of the political situation in the late monarchy. He states:
What it [Gen. 14] describes is a typical situation of the period
between the eighth and sixth centuries, many times experienced
by Israel and Judah and occurring with distressing monotony
in the Assyrian royal inscriptions: a king is forced to recognize
Assyrian overlordship, and promises to pay the heavy tribute
imposed upon him. A few years later he stops paying tribute,
and seeks help from other rebel vassals or outside powers.
Then, usually the very next year, an Assyrian punitive expedi-
tion, often led by the king, invades the country, devastates it,
subdues it again, and carries off to Assyria all movable goods
and a large number of people... Phrases like “turning”? of
the conquering army in the course of its campaign (Genesis
14:7) and ‘“‘the rest fled to the mountains” after defeat (Genesis
14:10) are quite common in Assyrian war descriptions.*9
48. Emerton, VT 21: 437.
4g. Astour, ‘‘Genesis 14,” pp. 70-71. He also cites Luckenbill’s Ancient Records nos. 237
and 244 as good examples.
120 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

Astour is probably also correct in associating the manner of

presentation here with the annalistic style of the Deuteronomist
who in turn clearly imitates the form of the Assyrian and Babylonian
records. However, one can go a step further. While the Assyrian
royal inscriptions are predominantly in the first person singular as
the personal account of the king, another style developed indepen-
dent of it using the third person as an objective account. This new
chronicle style does not come into vogue until the end of the Assyrian
period but is very characteristic of the Neo-Babylonian period.5?
And it is this particular objective style that is the model for the Deu-
teronomist and for writers of other late accounts such as Genesis 14.
It seems reasonable to conclude from these observations that
Genesis 14 is not based on any historical sources from the second
millennium. It has all the marks of being composed by a Judean
author, perhaps in Babylon, no earlier than the exilic period. His
terminology and pseudo-historiographic style also point strongly
to this time. He used Israelite traditions in the form contained in
the latest recension of Deuteronomy. His use of Mesopotamian
documents was probably as no more than a source for the names of
the rulers of the four foreign kingdoms. Yet it remains a puzzle as
to how he could have done so badly in the transcription of these
names into Hebrew, in which only one name and half of another
are intelligible. In arguing for a late date I have not made use of
any interpretation of the author’s intention or message because only
after one has fixed the general historical background can that issue
be discussed at all.5! In any case there is little support for any
antiquity of the patriarchal age in this chapter of Genesis.

SUMMARY TO Part I

The conclusion that may be drawn from our investigation thus

far is largely a negative one. That is, attempts to portray a “ Patri-
archal Age” as a historical context for the stories of Genesis in the
50. See my discussion of this in ‘‘The Conquest of Sihon’s Kingdom,” JBL 9 (1972):
187-89. However, one correction of my earlier remarks is necessary. A. K. Grayson, in
a private communication, suggested to me that the chronicle style was not directly
dependent upon the royal inscriptions but was an independent development.
51. This is the method employed by Emerton in VT 21: 403-39, but to my mind it
becomes completely circular.
 ARCHAEOLOGY AND THE PATRIARCHS I2I

second millennium B.c. must be viewed as failures. The “Abraham

of history” can no longer be recovered from the traditions as we
now have them, even to the limited extent of reconstructing his
“life and times.” Instead, the following features in the stories tend
to support the fact that they were written from the historical and
cultural perspective of a later day.
1) There is no real portrayal of a nomadic pre-settlement phase
of Israelite society, nor any hint of the migratory movements or
political realities of the second millennium B.c. Instead, the stories
recognize the spread of Aramean settlement in upper Mesopotamia,
Syria and even lower Mesopotamia. The tradition recognizes the
threat of hostile Arab nomads (Ishmaelites), with all their various
sub-groups, on the borders of the settled regions of the Levant.
2) The few nomadic details that occur in the stories, such as the
references to camels and tents, the patriarchs’ presence and move-
ment primarily in the Negeb, and their contact and _ political
agreement with the established “Philistines” in the border region,
all point strongly to the social and political circumstances of the
mid-first millennium B.c.
3) The archaic designations for the indigenous population are
not used according to the historical realities of the second millen-
nium, but represent the idealized and ideological use of a much
later period.
4) The reference to Ur of the Chaldeans and its association with
Harran and a route to the West reflect the political circumstances
of the Neo-Babylonian period. The place names of Palestine are
those which have a special place in the history of the monarchy.
5) While the social customs and institutions reflected in the
patriarchal stories are, generally, a very poor means of dating the
traditions, the few indications of date they do contain all point to
the mid-first millennium rather than to the earlier period.
6) The attempts by archaeologists to find patriarchal connections
with MB I or MB II have been quite unconvincing. On the other
hand, the strong association of the patriarchs with Beersheba, which
did not become a significant site until the Judean monarchy, points
again to a late date. oe
7) The efforts to find an archaeological and historical back-
ground for the Genesis 14 story about the invasion of the eastern
kings has not met with any success. There is no time in the second
122 ABRAHAM IN HISTORY

millennium B.c. when such an eastern coalition could or would have

invaded the West. The placing of such invasions before the mid-
first millennium B.c. is an anachronism.
Thus far the conclusion reached is that the tradition as it stands
reflects only a rather late date of composition and gives no hint by
its content of any great antiquity, in terms of biblical history. This
conclusion has important implications for the study of the literary
history of the tradition, which will follow in Part II. Our investi-
gation calls into question the presumption of antiquity that has for
a long time been the basis of so many studies on the literary form
and history of tradition of the partiarchal stories. If the tradition
only reflects its latest stage one must review with great caution any
attempt at reconstructing an older form of the tradition by any purely
literary methodology. Let us now proceed to a review of literary and
traditio-historical method.
 PART: II

Abraham in Tradition
 Het Bin Oia Rs) om taa 72 Bi ease vi ea Br y ‘

SAE Fila. 08 atoe TEU a Vai, eke acpi Pisin: Oe

shat 9 2 Soe e Sa
v

# ee :

a , yess %, he

Kot, ba eee ae: ‘ihieed

is juetmebe
ag 1EAG H ye SePe et cds Aas:
P

: bes ah, aeaanihend

ed ae Bn 8 hee
rice ike ene: tina 5
i Rk pal) apie ; pike ah Si cro
Wie Sir etndta ts mre a tee kee aust ‘die + Aber
a , | 7 Sa ~ Secs: rk Cae ee ce qs ety) By Rua yey
cee ae Hele Gs-+ rt tasgh ae 2
j - ad.
eePees Toe Te iwihed 8m e
Ecce OS ne Yee
aby fy
5,’ ag :

ae,

<

'

te
nhs
i
‘ t

Sg 4
ie an a ‘
we >,

i 1
by U
on
 CHAPTER 6

Method I: A Critique

Source Criticism

It is true to say that the problem of the literary sources of the Penta-
teuch, and that of Genesis in particular, has never been satisfactorily
solved, and that a consensus seems even further away today than it
was fifty years ago.! The point of departure for most literary criti-
cism is still the Graf-Wellhausen documentary theory, which
proposes four principal literary sources for the Pentateuch under
the symbols J, E, D, and P, or for the study of Genesis, J, E, and P.
This does not exclude the possibility of Deuteronomistic glosses in
the Tetrateuch (Gen.-Num.), but little attention has been paid to
a comprehensive literary study of these.
With respect to literary analysis of the Pentateuch perhaps the
greatest agreement has been reached in the case of P, the “Priestly”
writer’s contribution to the final corpus, although debate continues
about its dating, its relation to the other sources, and its extent
outside of the Tetrateuch.? The question of dating and of P’s presence
in the book of Joshua need not greatly concern us in this study. But
the question of the relationship of P to the pre-priestly sources is an
1. For recent reviews of the history of pentateuchal studies see Otto Eissfeldt, The Old
Testament, An Introduction, trans. Peter R. Ackroyd (New York: Harper and Row, 1965);
G. Fohrer, Introduction to the Old Testament, trans. David E. Green (New York and Nash-
ville: Abingdon, 1968) ;H. Cazelles, “‘ Pentateuque,’’ DBS 7: 687-858.
2. Y. Kaufmann, The Religion of Israel from the Beginnings to the Babylonian Exile, trans.
M. Greenberg (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960), pp. 175-200. Kaufmann
considers P to have been the earliest source, and he is followed, at least in part, by a
number of Israeli scholars. I. Engnell, A Rigid Scrutiny: Critical Essays on the Old Testament,
trans. John T. Willis (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1969), pp. 50ff., regards P as
the compiler of the Tetrateuch. For him there was no prior literary work in these four
books corresponding to the classical ‘“‘documents.” This view stems from Engnell’s
theory of tradition-history. Most scholars who follow the generally accepted literary
analysis restrict P to the Tetrateuch. However, on the presence of P in the later books see
S. Mowinckel, Tetrateuch-Pentateuch-Hexateuch BZAW go (1964); also J. G. Vink, The
Origin and Date of the Priestly Code (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1969).
125
126 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

important issue in the Abraham tradition and one which I do not

regard as clearly settled. P. Volz raised the question forty years ago
as to whether P was to be considered as an independent narrative
source, or simply a priestly editor who supplemented the earlier
corpus with legal discussions, cultic institutions and theological
discourses. On the other hand he denied that such a narrative as
Genesis 23 belonged to P. In contrast to Volz, most literary critics
still regard P as a separate source utilized by the last redactor Rp
as the basis for the final form into which the earlier material was
placed.4 Yet I do not consider the question settled, and it must
again receive some attention, especially as regards Genesis 17 and
23, as well as the nature of P’s framework in the Abraham tradition.
Much more difficult, however, are the problems that surround
the so-called J and E sources. The initial point of departure for
distinguishing sources generally has been the presence of doublets—
parallel accounts of essentially the same episode. It was primarily on
the basis of conclusions drawn from studies of these parallels that
the other criteria were developed and the general theory of penta-
teuchal criticism was established. The conclusions drawn from a
study of doublets were that they pointed to two independent sources,
and that one source had a preference for the divine name Yahweh
(J) while the other source used the generic term Elohim (E) to
designate the Deity. In single accounts where both divine names
are used the two sources were separated from one another on the
theory that in these instances an editor had combined elements
from two similar accounts to produce one extant version. Other
criteria used to distinguish such a redactional process have been
the evidence of repetition, contradiction, variation in vocabulary,
and breaks in narrative continuity. But all these criteria are quite
secondary to the notion of two independent parallel traditions and
the alternation in the use of the divine name.
Yet these criteria have created as many problems as they have
solved and have rarely been applied absolutely. The divine names,
for instance, seem to distinguish certain clear blocks of material for

3. Paul Volz and Wilhelm Rudolph, Der Elohist als Erzéhler: ein Irrweg der Pentateuch-
krittk? BEAW 63 (1933): 13, 135-142.
4. Martin Noth, Uberlieferungsgeschichte des Pentateuchs (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1948).
English translation, A History ofPentateuchal Traditions, trans. B. W. Anderson (Englewood
Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1972), pp. 8-19.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE Pa

the two sources. But in other cases the alternation in the use of the
divine name has resulted in the complete fragmentation of otherwise
unified stories and episodes. The issue was raised long ago how it
was that the sources could be so dissimilar in the doublets on the
one hand but so completely similar in the unified accounts such as
Genesis 24.5 While most literary critics still hold to the notion of
two independent sources, J and E, a strong dissenting view has con-
tinued to exist from the time of Volz’s criticisms to the present.®
Now it is precisely in the Abraham tradition that the doublets
between J and E predominate. This has led M. Noth to state:
The situation in the Abraham tradition seems so obvious to
me that here, above all, the problem of literary analysis of the
old Pentateuch tradition must become clear, leaving only the
question as to whether the results gained here are valid also for
the whole of the Pentateuch.’
This means that the doublets must constitute an important starting
place for any new attempt at a literary analysis of the Abraham
tradition.
Furthermore, many scholars have felt that the J source was also
not a unity of sources but two independent ones, both of them prior
to E.8 There has been little agreement, however, on the division of
the Yahwistic corpus, largely because of a lack of convincing criteria.
Thus one reads of a Lay source (L), a Southern source (S), a Kenite
source (K), or a Nomadic source (N), all suggesting by their names
that the division is made on the basis of specific content instead of
the usual literary criteria. This is largely true also of earlier attempts
at a division of J into J; and Je or the like. However, generally
speaking the distinguishing feature used to make the source separa-
tion arises out of a rather limited amount of material, and then this
is forced through the rest to construct a “document.” But the
question is scarcely raised as to whether the element or theme used
5. W. Staerk, “Zur alttestamentlichen Literaturkritik: Grundsatzliches und Methodi-
sches,”” ZAW 42 (1924): 61; also P. Volz, Der Elohist als Erzdahler, pp. 13-25.
6. See F. V. Winnett, The Mosaic Tradition (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,
1949), pp. 20-24; idem, ‘‘Reexamining the Foundations,” JBL 84 (1965): 1-19;
S. Mowinckel, Erwagungen zur Pentateuch Quellenfrage, Norsk Theologisk Tidsskrift, 1
(1964): 59-118.
7. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 22.
8. For a survey of such attempts see Fohrer, Introduction, pp. 106ff.; N. E. Wagner,
“*Pentateuchal Criticism: No Clear Future,” CFT 13 (1967): 225-32.
128 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

as a source criterion is really part of the traditional material (oral

or written) that the narrator inherits or a genuine expression of his
own perspective. Literary sources should be separated, first of all, on
the basis of literary criteria. Other features, such as ideological
perspective, geographic setting, or ‘“‘nomadic”’ characteristics, can
only be evaluated when more controlled literary principles are
first applied to the material. Now it happens that there is a literary
doublet within the so-called J corpus, Gen. 12:10-20 and 26:1-12,
so this will afford a good opportunity to examine the whole question
on a more controlled basis.
Besides the need for dividing the sources there is the problem of
explaining the similarity of the variants when the same or similar
stories are attributed to each source. Since it has become a basic
presupposition of literary critics of the Pentateuch that the sources
were originally independent of each other, at least for Jand E, Noth
proposes, as a solution, a Grundlage (G), which was the basic source
from which J and E drew their versions.1° Whether this Grundlage
was already in a written form or was a body of oral tradition he
regards as uncertain but also unimportant; his concern is only that
it existed in a rather fixed form. As far as its content is concerned he
states: ‘‘Everything in which J and E concur can be attributed with
some certainty to G.... It is quite clear that the major themes of
the Pentateuch tradition, arranged in the sequence with which we
are familiar, were contained already in G.”1 But this general
statement really begs the question of G’s content because it does not
face the problem of the doublets. Which version was the one in G,
and why did either J or E depart from it? And if such a departure
from the Grundlage was possible, for whatever reason, then it was
also possible between an earlier and a later source, betweenJ and E,
and Noth’s criticism of Volz against the creation of a ‘parallel
recension’ is without any weight. Of course, the problem is only
compounded when there are three independent sources, since this
would necessitate at least two “‘groundworks,’” Gi and Ge, as
Fohrer has recently suggested.12 Yet this whole notion of a basic

g. The uncertainty of the geographical criterion has been pointed out by Wagner, C7T
13: 229-30.
10. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 38-41.
11. bids; p: 30:
12. Fohrer, Introduction, pp. 127ff.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 129

stratum of fixed tradition (G) is conceived almost entirely in terms

of its theoretical necessity for the old literary theory. If one does
not divide the sources in a manner similar to Noth or believe that
the sources are independent, then this need for a basic stratum
vanishes.
Just as there is a need for groundworks to explain an original
unity, there is also a corresponding need for a series of redactors to
bring the various sources together again. Staerk suggested many
years ago that the use of the device “R” in literary criticism was
perhaps the most serious problem of the Pentateuch, especially the
redactor R;,.1% And the problem is only compounded if one adds
another “document” such as Fohrer’s N. There is also considerable
confusion about the character and extent of the redactor’s own
work, Noth suggested, on the basis of the preponderance of Yahweh
over Elohim, that the redactor used the Yahwist as the basis of the
Pentateuchal tradition and supplemented it with material from E,
but this does not work so easily if there are two sources behind J. In
theory the redactor’s work is described in such a way as to make
him almost indistinguishable from an actual writer such as J or E,
since these writers are also regarded as collectors and editors of the
tradition in G. In the actual practice of literary criticism the redactor
functions mainly as a deus ex machina to solve literary difficulties.14
In fact the whole elaborate system of redactors and groundworks is
unnecessary if it can be shown that the various writers who succeeded
one another (and who were admittedly also compilers and editors)
were directly dependent upon the works of their predecessors and
incorporated these works into their own. This would of course also
have to be true of P in its relationship to the JE corpus.
One way of stating this alternative is the suggestion by Volz that
the major narrative work is the Yahwistic corpus, and that this was
augmented by two successive redactions, a so-called Elohistic and a
Deuteronomistic redaction, before the time of the priestly writer.1°
These redactions, however, made rather minor additions to the
basic Yahwistic work. Volz’s study actually concerned itself only

13. Staerk, ZAW 42:66.

14. See, for example, the descriptions of the redactor’s activity in K. Koch, The Growth
of the Biblical Traditions: The Form-Critical Method, trans. S. M. Cupitt (New York: Charles
Scribner’s Sons, 1969), pp. 57-59; cf. Fohrer, Introduction, pp. 190-192.
15. Volz, Elohist, p. 13.
130 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

with a discussion of the relationship and limits of the E ‘“‘additions”’

to J in Genesis and did not carry through an investigation of the
so-called Deuteronomistic redactor. He simply accepted the sug-
gested references to the latter in the critical literature. He also
maintained the basic ordering of the material given by the critics
asi J. E.D andP:
There is still another possibility. This lies in a new appraisal of
the Deuteronomistic redactor in the Pentateuch, particularly in
Genesis.16 His contributions to the larger corpus cannot easily be
isolated on literary grounds, so that he is simply invoked whenever
the language and perspective of a text seem to reflect Deuteronomy.
But it is particularly significant that at many points the Deuter-
onomistic material is integral to the Yahwistic corpus. This suggests
that there may have been only a very limited amount of the patriar-
chal, or specifically Abrahamic, tradition prior to E, and that the
major Yahwistic narrative work of which Volz speaks is actually
subsequent to E. Such a scheme would yield the pattern Ji (for the
oldest material) supplemented by E (the second stage of develop-
ment) edited with considerable additions and arranged basically in
its present order by Jz and finally reedited by P.1” The problem of
the divine name would also be solved if it could be shown that Je
made use of both forms of the designation for deity, as also happens
in some other books of the Old Testament where no division on this
basis is suggested.
Nevertheless, this scheme too is purely hypothetical, in spite of

16. This problem has been discussed primarily on the basis of Exodus and Numbers.
The most usual approach is that of M. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 30, n. 106, and his
commentaries on Exodus and Numbers. A different approach is given by Winnett,
Mosaic Tradition, pp. 155-71. Some scholars have begun to speak of a pre-Deuteronomic
source or redactor in the Tetrateuch: N. Lohfink, Das Hauptgebot; eine Untersuchung
literarischer Einleitungsfragen zu Din 5-11 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1963),
pp. 172ff.; J. Scharbert, “‘ Formgeschichte und Exegese von Ex. 34, 6,” Biblica 38 (1957):
130-50; C. Brekelmans, “‘ Die sogenannten deuteronomischen Elemente in Gen. — Num.,
Ein Beitrag zur Vorgeschichte des Deuteronomiums,”’ SVT 15 (1965): go—-96; A. Besters,
““*Tsrael’ et ‘Fils d’Israel’ dans les livres historiques (Genése-II Rois),”’ RB 74 (1967):
5-23; idem, “‘ L’expression ‘Fils d’Israel’ en Ex i-xiv. Un nouveau critére pour la dis-
tinction des sources,”’ RB 74 (1967): 321-55; M. Caloz, ‘‘ Exode xiii, 3-14 et son rapport
en Deuteronome,” RB 76 (1969): 321-50, 481-507; cf. R. C. Dentan, ‘‘The Literary
Affinities of Exodus 34: 6f.,” VT 13 (1963): 34-51; W. Fuss, Die deuteronomistische Penta-
teuchredaktion in Exodus 3-17, BRAW 126 (1972).
17. See Winnett, JBL 84:1-19; N. E. Wagner, “‘A Literary Analysis of Genesis 12-36,”
(Ph.D. diss., University of Toronto, 1965).
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE I3I

all its apparent literary advantages, until it is actually demon-

strated by specific examination of the textual evidence. It may be
noted, however, that the Abraham corpus does contain important
examples of what have been characterized as Deuteronomistic
redaction, so all the ingredients for testing this and the other literary
reconstructions lie within this tradition complex. In my literary
examination I am not beginning with any assumptions about de-
pendence or independence of sources or about the accepted order
of those sources. All of the possibilities must remain open.

Form-criticism: What is ‘‘ Saga?”

Such problems of literary criticism as we have been considering
above have been largely pushed into the background in the past
few decades by the new concerns of form-criticism and tradition-
history arising out of the pioneering work of Hermann Gunkel. In
his work on Genesis,!8§ Gunkel attempted to go behind the literary
authors of the texts to a stage in which the stories, as he believed,
were primarily in the medium of oral tradition. The basic form for
this medium was Sage, or legend.19 He did not give any precise
definition of the term Sage but used it, as he says, according to the
current usage. He speaks of it as “‘folkloristic tradition in poetic
narrative dealing with persons and events of the past.”29 As a kind

18. Gunkel, Genesis, tibersetzt und erklart, 8th ed. (a reprint of 3rd ed. 1910) (Géttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969). The introduction from the first edition was translated
as The Legends of Genesis (1901) and reprinted by Schocken Books, New York, 1964,
(with a new foreword by W. F. Albright). However, there are some important changes
between the first and third editions.
19. The prevailing practice of translating Sage as “ ‘saga’ in recent works on Old Testa-
ment subjects is a serious mistake. Strictly speaking, saga is derived from the Norwegian
term saga, which refers to a genre of Icelandic and Norse literature of the Middle Ages.
Sage, on the other hand, is a broad category of folklore which includes many genres of oral
tradition. The Norwegian term for German Sage is sagn, which is kept quite distinct from
saga: see C. W. von Sydow, “‘ Kategorien der Prosa—Volksdichtung,”’ (1934) in Selected
Papers on Folklore (Copenhagen: Rosenkilde and Bagger, 1948), pp. 61ff. English-speaking
folklorists regularly use the term “‘legend”’ for the German Sage: see W. D. Hand, “‘ Status
of European and American Legend Study,” Current Anthropology 6 (1965): 439-46. Con-
fusion on the term saga is already evident in the work by H. M. and N. K. Chadwick,
The Growth of Literature, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1932-38),
p- 2, where saga is defined as “‘ prose narrative preserved by oral tradition.” In their work
no distinction is made between Norse and Icelandic sagas and the folklore category of
Sage. Cf. also W. F. Albright in Gunkel, Legends, pp. xi—xil, who is quite wrong on this
point. I will continue to use the term legend for German Sage throughout this study.
20. Gunkel, Genesis, p. viii. This definition is missing from Legends.
132 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

of scholarly and liberal apologetic he was primarily concerned with

emphasizing that Genesis was not history in the modern sense of
the term. Instead, its view of reality corresponded much more to
the traditions of ordinary people, to a popular presentation of the
past, unconcerned with matters of state and politics. So for Gunkel
Sage meant, first of all, a certain way of thinking about the past by
the unlettered Volk.?1
Gunkel’s form-critical observations on Sage, on the other hand,
have to do largely with two areas: a classification of Sage types, and
a treatment of the artistic form of Sage. Gunkel recognized in
Genesis what is a prominent feature of European Sagen, namely
etiology, and most of his Sage types in Genesis have to do with the
various kinds of etiology. Yet Gunkel did not give any structural
analysis of these stories in a form-critical sense, or any classification
of the episodic units as a whole, but only a rough categorization of
the various etiological statements.??
In the area of artistic form Gunkel followed the rather debatable
notion that poetic forms of folklore are more original than prose
forms, and he tried to argue that while Genesis was prose, it still
retained much of the earlier poetic character of the original legends.28
Such a position could scarcely be defended in current folklore
studies. More important, however, was the fact that Gunkel enum-
erated many folkloristic features common to the Genesis stories and
supplemented the later editions of his commentary by frequent
references to A. Olrik’s ‘‘ Epic Laws of Folk-literature.’’24
Gunkel’s approach to Genesis had a tremendous impact on the
study of Genesis and the Pentateuch as a whole, especially in
Germany. In the works of Alt, Noth and von Rad, for instance, it
was largely considered established that the narrative basis of Genesis
was an oral tradition of ancient Sagen, and their scholarly interest
shifted from a literary criticism of the written sources to a history of
the pre-literary stage of the legend-traditions.

21. Gunkel, Legends, pp. 1-12.

22. Ibid., pp. 13-36.
23. Ibid., pp. 37-38; cf. the longer discussion in Genesis, pp. xxvii-xxix, where Gunkel
takes issue with Sievers that a poetic version lies behind Genesis. Consequently Albright’s
remarks in Legends, p. viii, about the poetic nature of the original ““sagas”’ is a serious
misrepresentation of Gunkel’s position, and his discussion of ‘‘saga”’ is of no value in the
current investigation.
24. A. Olrik, ‘‘Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung,” Zeitschrift fiir deutsches Altertum 51
1909): I-12.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 133

Such a wholesale acceptance was certainly premature, however,

since some very serious questions may be raised about Gunkel’s
treatment of legends in Genesis. As to the matter of form, recent
studies on etiology in narratives, particularly the form-critical
studies of Brevard Childs and Burke Long have rather convincingly
shown that the etiological statements in the various stories are almost
alway secondary and not the reason for relating the narrative as a
whole.?> These etiological elements are viewed instead as having
“been added as a redactional commentary on existing traditions.’’26
This greatly undermines Gunkel’s classification system and _his
principal form-critical argument for calling the Genesis narratives
Sagen.
Likewise his appeal to folkloristic characteristics in Genesis, such
as those set forth by Olrik, suffers from the same weakness as the
etiological argument. A few scattered examples of formulae common
to folklore is not enough to establish a sweeping generalization about
oral tradition or Sage in particular.2” Some of these artistic features
may be present in literary works as well, while most narratives in
Genesis fit Olrik’s epic laws rather poorly. Gunkel himself seems suf-
ficiently sensitive to this last point to suggest that a number of stories
give evidence of a more discursive style characteristic of written com-
position, but he does not elaborate on the relationship between the
oral tradition and the literary sources.28 It is also curious how later
scholars, such as Noth, can speak of this discursive style as a “‘dis-
cursive saga style” and simply make it a later phase of oral tradition !29
25. B. S. Childs, “‘A Study of the Formula ‘Until this Day,’”’ JBL 82 (1963): 179-92;
Burke O. Long, The Problem of Etiological Narrative in the Old Testament, BZ AW 108 (1967).
See alsoJ. Fichtner, “‘ Die etymologische atiologie in den Namengebungen der geschicht-
lichen Biicher des AT,” VT 4 (1956): 372-96; I. L. Seeligmann, “‘Aetiological Elements
in Biblical Historiography,” Zion 26 (1961): 141-69 (Hebrew); idem, ‘‘ Hebraische
Erzahlung und biblische Geschichtsschreibung,” 7 18 (1962): 305-25. A different line
of criticism against etiology was taken by J. Bright, Early Israel in Recent History Writing:
A Study in Method SBT 19 (London: SCM, 1956), pp. g1ff. But cf. Mowinckel, Tetrateuch,
pp. 78ff.
26. Childs, JBL 82:290; quoted with approval by Long, Etiological Narrative, p. 85.
This judgment, however, is still predicated on the assumption that the traditions are
oral and prior to the final literary work. I am skeptical about Long’s opinion that the
etiological statements belong to a body of older variant traditions, and I do not see any
justification for regarding them as redactional additions to the literary works. I hope to
show below that they are part of the style of these literary works themselves.
27. Koch’s attempt, in Biblical Tradition, pp. 148-51, to apply Olrik’s laws is much too
vague and imprecise.
28. Legends, pp. 82-85.
29. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 57, 65, 75, et passim.
134 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Gunkel also raised the question of how faithfully oral tradition

was preserved and transmitted. He answered this question by an
appeal to certain tenets of literary criticism as he understood it.
Since there are variants of the same story which are almost identical
in two different-sources (his example is the wooing of Rebekah in
Genesis 24), and since the sources are independent, then the oral
tradition behind the variants must have been transmitted with the
greatest fidelity. However, if one cannot accept such a literary theory,
then the fidelity of oral tradition rests on shaky ground.?° It should
be obvious that the nature of oral tradition ought not to be explained
on the basis of what is necessary for a hypothesis of literary criticism
but on an objective description of the phenomenon in its own right.
Gunkel’s initial contribution moved into two basic directions of
development: that of form-criticism having to do with the nature
of Sage, and that of tradition-criticism, the development of the pre-
literary stage of the tradition. Both lines of development must be
briefly traced.
Very important historically for the discussion of Sage in Genesis
is the book by Andre Jolles, Einfache Formen*!—a work that has been
used by several German scholars including M. Noth, G. von Rad,
C. Westermann, K. Koch, and others. Jolles suggested that Sage is
not what is usually meant by this term in German (and therefore,
by implication, what Gunkel meant by it), but has its true form in
the Icelandic saga (which is also the real equivalent of the English
term ‘‘saga’’). Depending heavily upon Andreas Heusler’s treat-
ment of Icelandic saga (1914), Jolles held that the Icelandic sagas
go back in all essentials to oral tradition beginning with the time
of the island’s settlement in the tenth to eleventh centuries and
developing into “fixed oral narratives’ from which the extant
written texts are derived. Of the three main categories of sagas
(family sagas, king sagas, and sagas about olden times), the family
sagas are the most original and most indigenous and considerably
influenced the shaping of the others. The family sagas themselves
are the artistic end product, even on the oral level, of the develop-
ment of more basic units of Sagen. The latter have, as their mental
preoccupation, family tradition and domestic matters rather than

30. Even if his literary theory was correct, the similarity of the supposed sources could be
explained on the basis of mutual dependence upon a common Jiterary source, as was admit-
ted by Noth, ibid., p. 41.
31. A. Jolles, Einfache Formen, 2nd-ed. (Tiibingen: Niemeyer, 1958), pp. 62-go.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 135

affairs of state and the activities of political leaders. And hero sagas
(Heldensagen) are only properly so-called when the hero is the
progenitor of a tribe or the symbolic embodiment of his family.
Such a popular frame of mind is only possible at an early stage in a
people’s history—at the time of their settlement when the basic
unit of society is still the family, before the rise of the political state.
For the state is concerned with political history and national affairs
which are antithetical to the development of the saga (legend).
Jolles went on to suggest that the patriarchal stories of Genesis
also belong to the category of Sage as he had defined it, and this
suggestion was taken up by German Old Testament scholars. It is
Westermann, above all, who has recently applied Jolles’ principles
to the narratives of Genesis, largely in an effort to overcome Gunkel’s
weakness of calling the legends etiological.32 So, by analogy, the
patriarchal stories would be more original than the primeval
history, equivalent to sagas of olden times, and earlier than the sto-
ries of the “judges” and kings, which would correspond to the
king sagas. Westermann also follows Jolles in the theory that the
family saga is the more original form from which the other two
types are derived and uses this to explain the similarity and priority
of the patriarchal stories to the primeval history and the stories in
Judges. Like the family sagas also, the patriarchal stories are derived
from oral tradition in the early settlement period before the rise of
the state under the monarchy.%? Both family sagas and the patriar-
chal stories are governed by the context of family life, involving
bloodties, marriages, genealogies, and inheritance and are unaware
of a broader political, social, or religious context. Westermann,
likewise, remarks that hero legends never devloped in ancient
Israel, and that the patriarchal stories certainly do not belong to
this genre.
What is rather disconcerting about this appeal to Jolles is the
degree to which Westermann and others have accepted this highly
unconventional understanding of Sage and have been completely
oblivious to the severe criticism that folklorists working in this field
have leveled at it.24 It was rejected from the start, and the study of

32. Claus Westermann, “‘Arten der Erzahlung in der Genesis,”’ Forschung am Alten Testa-
ment, TB 24 (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1964), pp. 36-47.
33. Previously Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 44.
34. Cf. von Sydow, Folklore, pp. 61ff.; L. Petzoldt, ed., Vergleichene Sagenforschung (Darm-
stadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1969), p. vil.
136 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Sage has not included Icelandic sagas. The latter belong to a special
literary genre quite different from almost every subcategory of Sage.
There is one category of family legend of the type “What my
grandfather told me,” but this rarely becomes the property of the
Volk as a whole, so its place within folklore and Sage is therefore
disputed.35
But quite apart from this criticism by folklorists of Jolles’ view of
Sage, there is also his complete distortion of the character and
development of Icelandic sagas. Heusler’s views of 1914, which
Jolles follows, have all been questioned and largely dismissed since
that time.36 Many authorities on Icelandic sagas regard them as
primarily literary works with only a limited amount of oral tradition
behind them. The present debate in Icelandic saga studies between
“free prose” and “book prose” has to do largely with the degree
to which gifted writers used traditional materials as well as other
native and foreign literary works for their own compositions. The
family sagas are not necessarily older than the other types; in fact
the king sagas and family sagas come largely from the same period,
and a few may have a common author.®? Most of them date generally
to the thirteenth century, the period which saw the fall of the republic
and the rise of Norway’s state control of Iceland.38 There is certainly
no basis in this Icelandic literature for the discussion of primary forms
of oral tradition that could then be applied to Israel’s traditions.
Furthermore, even the name “family saga”? is freely acknowledged
as a complete misnomer because, although they deal with family
units, they are hardly domestic in content. Virtually all have the
same basic structure, which has to do with the development of a
conflict between two individuals or families leading to a violent
confrontation and tragic death. This leads in turn to revenge by the
injured person’s family. In the end there is usually a reconciliation
35. See the type Memorat in von Sydow, Folklore, pp. 73-74; cf. Hand, “‘Status,’? CA
6: 4 3.
36.For a history of saga criticism see T. A. Andersson, The Problem of Icelandic Saga
Origins (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1964).
37. See E. O. Sveinsson, Njals Saga: A Literary Masterpiece, ed. and trans. Paul Schach
(Lincoln: Nebraska University Press, 1971), pp. 28ff.
38. For the historical background of this period see E. O. Sveinsson, The Age of the
Sturlungs (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1953). What Sveinsson emphasizes is
that Norway’s control of Iceland was not simply a change in constitution, but the imposi-
tion of foreign rule with which the Icelanders did not wish to identify. So it hardly
represents an appropriate analogy for the early history of Israel.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 137

of the families involved, often by means of action by the larger

political unit, the assembly. It has also been recently argued that
this basic framework is an adaptation of heroic epic models for the
presentation of the “traditional” Icelandic saga material.39 Nor
are the family sagas any less national in their political, social, or
religious character than the king sagas. The families are all part of
the broader political life with membership in the local assemblies,
representation in the national assemblies, and awareness of political
and religious authorities beyond. These sagas are not small episodic
units, but very complex literary works that often run several hundred
pages in translation! Consequently, there is scarcely a single point
in Westermann’s comparison that is not completely different from
what he has stated.
The recent discussion of “saga”? in Koch’s handbook on form-
criticism also suffers from a number of weaknesses.4° While Koch
draws on a wider range of scholarly discussion, including recent
anthropological studies on Sage, he often uses statements and
opinions of various scholars in combination that are mutually
exclusive. For instance, he follows Gunkel in applying Olrik’s epic
laws to the patriarchal narratives, but then adopts Jolles’ concept of
Sage as family tradition. But Jolles and Olrik have two quite
different bodies of material in mind.*! Furthermore, many of the
criticisms of both Gunkel and Westermann apply mutatis mutandis to
Koch as well.
In the end Koch admits that Sage is not a very precise “‘literary”’
genre, but is more of a ‘“‘thought process” (Gedstesbeschdftigung).
There is some discussion in current studies on this aspect of Sage,
but it does not function as a form-critical criterion.4? Such discussion
deals with material that is already known on other grounds to belong

39. See T. A. Andersson, The Icelandic Family Saga: An Analytic Reading (Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 1967).
40. Koch, Biblical Tradition, pp. 148-58.
41. Koch’s references to the works of L. Réhrich, ‘‘ Die deutsche Volkssage: Ein methodi-
sche Abriss,’”’ Studium Generale 11 (1958): 664-91, and W. E. Peuchert, Sagen, Geburt und
Antwort der mythischen Welt (Berlin: E. Schmid, 1965), are also problematic since they are in
clear contradiction to Jolles’ approach.
42. See Rohrich, “‘ Volkssage,”’ SG 11:667, Hand, ‘‘Status,” CA 6:441. But, against
Koch, Legende is a subcategory of Sage that is not structurally different and does not have a
different ‘‘mental process.’ The two forms may also be quite contemporary with each
other. The more important difference in Geistesbeschaftigung is between Sage and Marchen,
but Koch does not take up this matter.
138 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

to one of the subcategories of Sage. But Koch superimposes a

Geistesbeschaftigung, taken from Jolles, upon the material that he
presupposes to be oral tradition and Sagen. This is no different from
the old ‘‘idea-criticism” that form-criticism was intended to replace
as a more controlled and objective exegetical method.
This means that there is no adequate basis at the present time for
speaking about Sage, ‘“‘saga,”’ or legend as a form-critical category
for the stories in Genesis. Present day folklorists seem to agree that
Sage or legend is not an adequate form-critical category, and there-
fore it should not be used as such in Old Testament studies.43 Not
even the subcategories are of much help, since they are merely
means of classifying what is already known to be oral tradition from
carefully collected materials and are not useful for making judg-
ments about the oral basis of written literary works.44 It may be
possible to assess the amount of folklore in Genesis by a careful
application of criteria such as Olrik’s laws to particular units, but
simply discovering a few signs of folklore cannot make the whole of
Genesis Sage. Quite independent of the literary and form-critical
questions there may be considerable value in comparing the tradi-
tionist perspective of the Old Testament with that of legend in general
to see what characteristics they share in terms of a pre-modern
historical way of thinking. There may, in fact, be various levels of
historical consciousness, rationalization, or other such elements
evident in the Old Testament. But to suppose at the same time that
the ability to write or compose written literature automatically
changes one’s way of thinking from legendary to historical is a
serious fallacy.4° What is an even worse error is to suppose that the
small literate circle of the court in the time of the Israelite monarchy
was in any way representative for the people as a whole. Their local
oral traditions might have continued, in fact, long after the state
came into being. At any rate the whole discussion of Sage since the
time of Gunkel has done little to clarify the form of the tradition in
the Abraham stories.
43. Rohrich, “‘ Volkssage,” SG 11:667.
44. For recent attempts at general classification within the area of folklore studies see
Hand, “‘Status,”’ CA 6: 420ff. See also the articles on this subject collected in Petzoldt,
Vergleichende Sagenforschung.
45. Note the large amount of folklore in Herodotus, especially for the early historical
period. See W. Aly, Volksmérchen, Sage und Novelle bei Herodot und seinen Kettgenossen, 2nd ed.
(Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1969).
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 139

The History of Traditions

Let us now turn to the other line of development from Gunkel,

that of the history of the traditions. Gunkel’s suggestion about the
great antiquity of the oral tradition behind the patriarchal stories
and the fidelity of their transmission has led to an extensive search
for the earlier pre-literary levels of the tradition and their use in
reconstructing the earliest period of Israel’s history and religion.
A. Alt, in his essay, ““The God of the Fathers,”’46 accepted Gunkel’s
form-critical judgment of the Genesis stories as legends, but he was
particularly concerned with those parts of the tradition that had a
cultic or religious reference. His object was to deal with the question
of whether it was possible to say anything about the pre-Yahwistic
patriarchal religion.
As indications of this possibility in the first instance, Alt pointed
to the fact that Yahweh was a deity only known in the tradition as
related in covenant to all of the tribes together, and whose identity
therefore presupposes the settlement of Israel. On the other hand, the
tradition itself gives some evidence of tension between Yahweh and
the various Elim—viewed as local numina of old sanctuaries through-
out Palestine. But these Alt did not regard as appropriate to a
nomadic group entering the land because of their close association
with the sedentary centers within the land. Yet the tradition also
suggested to Alt a certain distinction between Yahweh and the God
of the Fathers. He saw this especially in the so-called E version of
the call of Moses in Exod. 3, where in v. 14 the God of the Fathers is
identified with Yahweh. For Alt this was a clear recognition that
the form of the partiarchal religion was different from that of the
Mosaic-Sinai tradition.
On the other hand, the stories of Genesis presented a problem in
trying to deal with this religious history of the patriarchal deities
because virtually every reference to them was in a context that
showed extensive literary activity by the later writers. Only in a
few instances, such as in the story of the treaty between Laban and
Jacob in Genesis 31:53 and in Gen. 46:1-3, was it possible to see
more original archaic references to this type of deity. From these,

46. A. Alt, Der Gott der Vater [The God of the Fathers] 1929, in Essays on Old Testament
History and Religion, R. A. Wilson, trans. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1966), pp. 1-77. Note that
in this work Sage is translated by “‘saga’”’ instead of “‘ legend.”
140 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

however, one could hardly develop a very clear notion of this kind
of religion. By contrast, the references to the Elim and the legends
associated with them seemed to be much closer to their primitive
form.
To solve this problem Alt attempted to reconstruct a possible
form of nomadic religion of a personal deity based on Nabataean
inscriptions of the first and second centuries a.D. This model was
admittedly not from a nomadic context, but from the settled regions
a few centuries after these nomads had given up the desert life.
Nevertheless Alt found in these sources references to cults whose
deities were identified by their association to a specific historical
person, presumably the founder, and supported by a group of
followers. In most instances the deity was simply known as “the
God of pn.” Since the patriarchal tradition contained a considerable
variety of legends and deities associated with them Alt felt justified
in applying this historical analogy—the idea of a personal ‘‘God of
the Fathers’’—to the stories and in reconstructing its history on the
basis of it.
According to Alt, the history of the patriarchal cultic traditions
consisted of two distinct phases. In the first phase (the period in the
wilderness before the entry into the land), the patriarchal cults of
the personal deities came into being and were associated with
certain tribal groups, although they preserved the names of the
cult founders. After the settlement in the second phase they took
over the sanctuaries throughout the land, but they had to relate
their traditions to these new places of worship and to the new
conditions of settlement. So virtually all their old etiological legends
connected with the cults of the fathers, with the possible exception
of Genesis 15, died out and were replaced by the cult legends of the
local sanctuaries of the land of Palestine. But in most cases the
patriarchal deity replaced that of the local El as the principal numen
of that place. In this way the house of Joseph supplanted a number
of local El numina at Shechem, Bethel, and Penuel by the “‘God of
Jacob”. The “God of Isaac’? became the chief deity of Beersheba
and the “God of Abraham”? was established at Mamre-Hebron. In
time, through the interaction of the tribes and particularly by means
of pilgrimages from all three groups to Beersheba, a gradual unity
was created out of the three deities and a genealogical association
between the cultic founders was established. The final stage in the
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE I4I

development was for the national deity, associated with non-

patriarchal sanctuaries, to eventually win out over all the other
local cults as well and to be identified with the God of the three
patriarchs.
In this brief review of Alt’s famous essay I am not concerned with
the question of whether it is possible to reconstruct a pre-Yahwistic
religion.4” The primary focus here is on the question of Alt’s method
of tradition-history, since it plays such a major role in subsequent
historical and literary studies.
My first point of criticism is that since Alt accepted Gunkel’s
conclusions about etiological legends in the patriarchal stories all
the weaknesses of Gunkel apply equally to Alt. Form-critically it
becomes very doubtful if any of the references to the El numina
constitute etiological legends that legitimate sanctuaries. In most
instances they are more like appendages attached to stories of a
quite different character. Only the theophany at Bethel (Genesis
28) looks like a reference to the founding of a sanctuary, but this is
viewed by Alt as thoroughly reworked by the writers so that to him
it does not reflect a very primitive level of the tradition.48 On the
other hand, he places great importance on Genesis 15 as an etiolog-
ical legend: “‘A distinct and independent saga almost undoubtedly
lies behind this passage.’’49 But this is not a form-critical judgment
because there are no etiological elements in the chapter, and Alt
even admits that he doesn’t know what the form would look like,
since there are no such legends associated with his model in the
Nabataean sources. Form-critical evaluations of Genesis 15, in fact,
yield quite different results. In the end Alt cannot point to a single
cult legend in Genesis with which he can associate the two phases of
his historical reconstruction.
It is also important for Alt’s thesis that Beersheba should have
been an important pre-Israelite site with a prominent sanctuary,
and that it should have continued to be such in Iron I—the period
of the settlement and the Judges. But in fact, as noted above, Beer-
sheba did not exist before the Israelite period, and in Iron I it was

47. Cf. Frank M. Cross, Jr., ““Yahweh and the God of the Patriarchs,” HTR 55 (1962):
225-59; H. Weidmann, Die Patriarchen und ihre Religion im Light der Forschung seit Fulius
Wellhausen, FRLANT 94 (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1968).
48. Alt, Essays, pp. 17-19.
49. Ibid., p. 65.
142 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

no more than a village. It was only made a prominent town under

the united monarchy, and it probably first developed an important
cult place under the Judean monarchy. I fail to see how it could
have been the nucleus of early pilgrimages in the pre-monarchy
period or the repository of patriarchal legends.
The most serious weakness of all is that Alt has really abandoned
an examination of the traditions themselves because he is uneasy
about their form, which he admits is in most cases freely composed
literature and therefore scarcely close to the form of oral legends at
all. In its place he substitutes as his overriding criterion a kind of
““idea-criticism”’ that can take him behind the received traditions
to traditions that no longer exist. From the point of view of method
it does not matter whether his concept of a “God of the Fathers”
religion accurately corresponds with a form of Nabataean religion
or not. He has lost any objective control over his method so he can
always make it fit. One can begin with virtually any idea as a histor-
ical analogy, reconstruct the original “lost” traditions and then
account for how they were reworked by later writers. One may be
impressed with the way the pieces (admittedly selective) fit together,
but given the freedom that Alt allows himself that is a demonstra-
tion of ingenuity and nothing more.
The work of G. von Rad represents quite a new departure in the
tradition-history of the Pentateuch.5° Von Rad attempted to show
that not only the individual units of tradition in Gunkel’s sense,
but also the confessional or thematic framework into which these
units were put belong to the oldest traditional material. He suggested
that the Hexateuch’s thematic structure derived from an early con-
fessional formula or creed such as is found in Deut. 26:5-9; 6: 20-24;
or Joshua 24:2b-13. Its original setting (Sitz im Leben) was in the
earliest cultic life of pre-monarchic Israel, and its use was the
common confession of this “cult legend” by the tribes of the settle-
ment period. This credo, consisting of a series of saving events,
ultimately provided a structure into which all the various traditions
were fitted.
A number of criticisms of interest to our methodological concerns
have been raised against von Rad’s thesis. First of all he is hard put
50. G. von Rad, Dasformgeschichtliche Problem des Hexateuch, BNANT 4/26 (1938). English
translation, The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, E. W. T. Dicken, trans. (New
York: McGraw-Hill, 1966), pp. 1-78.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 143
to establish the antiquity of the credo in any of its forms since they
are all now so thoroughly Deuteronomic in phraseology.5! His
efforts to find a special festival in which the credo was used (the
Feast of Weeks) and a special sanctuary (Gilgal) may also be
seriously disputed. These Deuteronomic summaries also omit a
great deal that is important to the Hexateuch, such as the promises
to the patriarchs and the Sinai tradition. These traditions must
then be accounted for in some other way, perhaps as cult traditions
of other sanctuaries and cultic celebrations. The separation of such
themes from one another has not been accepted by a number of
scholars who are inclined to substitute another model, for example
the covenant/treaty model, and who make their own reconstructions
of the earliest traditions on that basis.52
The most decisive criticism of von Rad’s thesis, however, comes
from a form-critical study by Childs.53 He points out that in the
treatment of the exodus by the credos of Deuteronomy 26 and 6 the
Reed Sea episode is omitted, and in this they are consistent with
Deuteronomic usage. But in the Tetrateuch the Reed Sea episode
is quite central to the treatment of the exodus, so that the credo
formulations could hardly have formed a basis for the Tetrateuchal
treatment of them. The alternative origin for the credos that would
thus commend itself would be ‘‘Deuteronomic abbreviations of
fuller traditions which, in the later Dtr. redaction, continued to
develop the form of summaries of salvation history through secondary
expansion.”>4 However, this raises the very serious question of
whether any of the thematic structures in the Pentateuch can be
traced back to an oral tradition basis, or whether they are not all
the result of literary composition by a redactor/collector. The full
impact of this question can only be appreciated by considering
M. Noth’s work on the Pentateuch.
As a presupposition to his study of the history of pentateuchal
51. See Fohrer, Introduction, p. 118 for a review of the criticisms with bibliography.
52. See W. Beyerlin, Origins and History of the Oldest Sinaitic Tradition, S. Rudman, trans.
(Oxford: Blackwell, 1965).
53. Brevard S. Childs, ‘‘Deuteronomic Formulae of the Exodus Traditions,’’ Hebrdische
Wortforschung, Festschrift Walter Baumgartner, SVT 16 (1967): 30-39.
54. Ibid., p. 39. Could it also point to the fact that the Tetrateuchal tradition is Post-
Deuteronomic? Why do the latest forms of the historical summaries contain the Reed Sea
episode, Ps. 136; Neh. 9: 6ff.; but also Josh. 24: 2b-13? See also George W. Coats, ‘‘ The
Traditio-historical Character of the Reed Sea Motif,”? VT 17 (1967) : 253-65; B.S. Childs,
**A Traditio-historical study of the Reed Sea Tradition,” VT 20 (1970): 406-18.
144 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

traditions, Noth adopts the view that the Pentateuch represents a

long history of development from the pre-literary stage of oral
tradition through a complex literary stage to its final form. However,
he makes the primary focus for his study the pre-literary history of
the tradition and states: ‘‘The decisive steps on the way to the
formation of the Pentateuch were taken during the preliterary
stage, and the literary fixations only gave final form to material
which in its essentials was already given.’’>®
Noth regards the process by which the Pentateuch developed as
quite different from that of the literary histories of Samuel-Kings
and Chronicles. Whereas the histories were deliberate literary
compositions by “‘authors” who carefully assembled their sources
(oral and written) and gave the work its perspective and structure,
the structure and basic themes of the Pentateuch were supplied by
the process of oral tradition itself as well as the filling out of these
themes in all their essentials at the pre-literary level. Noth regards
this difference as demonstrated in the work of von Rad and uses the
latter’s study in an attempt to go beyond Gunkel’s concern for in-
dividual units of tradition. Thus Noth includes in this stage also the
development of the larger structure and basic themes of what he calls
the ‘“‘Pentateuchal tradition.’’ Yet Childs’ criticism of von Rad,
mentioned above, would deny that the Pentateuch was different from
the literary histories in its development, so that the same method of
redactional criticism ought to be employed for both literatures. In
fact, unless other very strong reasons are suggested for doing other-
wise I can see no alternative but to trace the tradition-history of the
Pentateuch on the basis of redaction criticism.
Noth’s views on tradition-history are also very closely related to
his reconstruction of Israel’s history.56 Here Noth advocates two
basic considerations. First, the focus of the pentateuchal tradition
is “all Israel,” so that its formation can only derive from a period
after the occupation of the land by the various tribes and after they
had developed a clear sense of common identity. The second factor
in determining the date of the tradition is, according to Noth, its
character as legend. Noth does not define “‘saga-tradition” in
strict form-critical terms, but on the basis of Gunkel’s description
about how this tradition has grown from an oral base. Noth further
states that the only appropriate soil in which such a “‘saga-tradi-
55. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 1.
56. Ibid., pp. 42-45.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 145
tion” can grow is in a community of tribes where there is a degree
of democratic rule, and not during a period of strong centralized
authority under a state goverment. The evidence cited for this is the
Icelandic sagas, which are said to “constitute the most important
example open to historical investigation of a saga-formation in this
sense.’’°? Consequently, the period for the formation of the penta-
teuchal tradition must be the pre-monarchic period of the tribal
league, which was also the period of the Judges.
There are some serious questions that can be raised about Noth’s
historical context for the pentateuchal tradition. Noth acknowledges
that the “hero stories” of the Book of Judges belonged primarily to
the individual tribes and were only secondarily given an “all-
Israel” orientation. Yet Noth goes to this same source to glean
evidence for his theory of an all-Israel amphictyony, which in turn
becomes the context for the pentateuchal tradition. He does not
explain how such different “historical” traditions can arise in the
same period from essentially the same group of tradents but with
such different tribal/national perspectives. His characterization of
the tribal orientation in the Book of Judges seems to me correct and
therefore the strongest argument against any amphictyonic unity or
all-Israel orientation in the pre-monarchic period.*8
Concerning Noth’s appeal to the Icelandic sagas as evidence for
a pre-state saga age, I have already indicated that there is little
support for such a suggestion in current Icelandic studies. There are
no grounds for any comparison between either the two literatures
or the two historical situations. On the other hand, in a recent work
on oral tradition, J. Vansina indicates that traditions that have a
general all-tribe orientation are only found in centralized societies—
in states—and “‘never among tribes with a political structure which
depends entirely upon kinship links.”’5® It is difficult to see how any
all-Israel orientation could develop in the tradition before the time
of the monarchy.
The most important test of Noth’s tradition-history is the way in

57. Ibid., p. 44, n. 152.

58. For recent criticisms of the notion of a tribal amphictyony see G. Fohrer, “‘“Amphic-
tyony’ und ‘Bund,’” TLZ g1 (1961), cols. 801-16, 893-903. See also de Vaux, Histoire,
pp: 487-510, in which he gives strong arguments for a disunity between the southern
tribes in Judah and the northern tribes of Israel before the time of David. This is a serious
difficulty for Noth’s tradition-history.
59. J. Vansina, Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology, H. M. Wright, trans.
(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1965), p. 155.
146 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

which he views the incorporation and development of the Penta-

teuch’s basic themes into the main body of tradition already at the
pre-literary level. We do not need to deal here with his discussion of
all the themes, but only the one that primarily concerns this study,
the ‘“‘promise to the patriarchs.’’®° Noth builds directly on Alt’s
presentation of the God of the Fathers, but Noth’s special concern
is how these patriarchal traditions became a part of the pentateuchal
tradition as a whole. Originally the patriarchal traditions arose and
developed separate from the rest of the pentateuchal tradition. The
two main localities and groups of patriarchal traditions were the
Jacob traditions of the central highland region (along with the east-
ern Jacob traditions) and the Abraham-Isaac traditions of the
southern Judah and Negeb regions. These patriarchal traditions each
developed, independent of the other, the theme of promise of land and
progeny, made to the nomadic fathers along with the fulfillment of
that promise in their settlement of the land. Since the land promise
theme competed with the similar theme of Yahweh’s guidance into
the arable land in the pentateuchal tradition, the two traditions
became related by identifying the ‘“‘God of the Fathers,” who was
the author of the promises, with the God of Israel of the exodus and
conquest traditions. The promise to the fathers was then placed
prior to the Egyptian sojourn and the specific fulfillment of land
possession was replaced by the conquest theme. This process of
amalgamation of tradition, Noth suggests, took place first with the
Jacob traditions within the central highland tribes, and only later
were the southern Abraham-Isaac traditions, which had the same
basic theme, added. This was done by the construction of a genea-
logical framework in which Abraham and Isaac were added to
Jacob by a backward extension.
The first problem with this reconstruction is that Noth makes no
attempt to demonstrate that the promise theme is primary to the
traditions and not just a framework for them. Even Alt and von
Rad argued that it was originally present only in Genesis 15, in the
Abraham tradition. They saw its use elsewhere as part of the keryg-
matic framework constructed by the literary activity of the Yahwist,
who also combined it with the other pentateuchal themes. Unless
one can, in fact, show that the promise theme is primary in the

60. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 54-58.

 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 147
_ Jacob stories, it is difficult to see how his thesis about the combining
of these themes on the pre-literary level can be maintained.®
Furthermore, Noth does not deal with the question of who the
bearers of these separate pentateuchal and patriarchal traditions in
the central highlands were. He suggests that one group of tribes
developed a strong sense of unity through their identity with a
common ancestor, Jacob, and the promises of his god to him. He
does not make clear, of course, how an individual historical figure
in the religious cult form “‘the God of PN” could become a tribal
eponym. Nor does he explain which group was left in this region to
develop an alternative sense of identity through the exodus and
conquest themes, to regard itself as ‘Israel,’ and to have its own
way of legitimizing its settlement. At what point in time and under
what circumstances did the need arise for forming a common
identity? Noth would have to rule out the beginning of the settle-
ment period, with its encounter between new tribal groups, because
of his theory about the gradual and ununified nature of the settle-
ment. However, to suggest that the amalgamation of the tradition
themes was a gradual process begs the question. Two groups with
different identities through their different traditions, laying claim
to the same territory, could only result in bitter rivalry unless unusual
circumstances, such as one conquering the other, created a common
unity out of both. But nothing in the tradition itself suggests this.
One other aspect of Noth’s study calls for comment. That is the
association of the patriarchal traditions with particular places,
their Ortsgebundenheit. This was already a concern of Alt in his dis-
cussion of the Elim numina and their sanctuaries and of the absorp-
tion by some patriarchal traditions of some original El cult legends.
But Noth, in his treatment of all the traditions, went much further
and seems to associate most of them (outside of the Joseph story)
with particular localities and sanctuaries. Some places, such as
Gerar, don’t work very well, and in other cases more than one patri-
arch is associated with the same place. This usually suggests to Noth
that traditions original to one patriarch were transferred already
on the pre-literary level to the other patriarch. Yet the whole notion
of Ortsgebundenheit is predicated on the notion that the stories are
61. H. Seebass, Der Erzvater Israel, BZAW 98 (1966), has attempted this. But his point of
departure is Deut. 26:5ff., which he regards as having a very old liturgical tradition
behind it. However, Childs’ study, noted above, certainly makes this problematic.
148 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

etiological legends. But they are not. And it is well known from
Greece that heroes and eponyms may be freely associated with a
large number of sanctuaries and other places with which they have
no ancient connection.62 Such connections with accompanying
stories were being produced for various motives in the full light of
the Greek historical period. So place names by themselves constitute
a very uncertain criterion for deciding on a tradition’s origin.
On cannot dismiss these criticisms of Gunkel, Alt,.von Rad, Noth,
Westermann, and others as of little consequence. So serious are the
basic weaknesses of their treatments that it seems to me they have
not made a case for regarding the traditions of Genesis as either
ancient or deriving from an oral base. They have not established
the form of the stories, their function, the identity of the bearers of
these traditions, or the process by which they might have arrived at
their extant shape. Furthermore, I do not see any great merit in a
further critique of later traditio-historical studies that follow the
basic principles and methods of the above mentioned scholars.®
Dating the Literary Tradition
After the above review of the basic literary, form-critical and
traditio-historical questions it is now possible to give some attention
to the dating of the earliest extensive literary treatment of the Abra-
ham tradition, the Yahwist. Fortunately, this subject has recently
received an extensive treatment by Norman E. Wagner, which
will serve as a helpful point of departure for the discussion here.®4
The first important aspect of the problem, as Wagner points out,
is the scope of the J work. There is still considerable debate over
whether it should be limited to the Tetrateuch or extend as far as
Joshua. This is the basic difference between Noth and von Rad.®
Yet their arguments are not basically literary at this point; differing
views on the history of the tradition and the difficulties with both
views of tradition-history have been noted above. There are some
62. See especially M. P. Nilsson, Cults, Myths, Oracles, and Politics in Ancient Greece (Lund,
Sweden: C. W. K. Gleerup, 1951), esp. pp. 65—80.
63. Such studies as R. Kilian, Die vorpriesterlichen Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, BBB 24 (Bonn:
P. Hanstein, 1966) add nothing new to the history of method. Yet the discussion of this
and other similar traditio-historical studies will be treated in detail below.
64. Norman E. Wagner, “‘Abraham and David?” Studies on the Ancient Palestinian World,
Festschrift F. V. Winnett, ed. J. W. Wevers and D. B. Redford (Toronto: University of
Toronto Press, 1972), pp. 117-40.
65. Other scholars who see Jin Joshua as well are Mowinckel, Tetrateuch-Pentateuch-
Hexateuch; and Fohrer, Introduction, pp. 196-205.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 149

scholars who extend the work of J to the historical books as well,

but then the Abraham traditions become only an extensive source
within the whole.®* The question of the broad extent of the J work
beyond Genesis cannot be a primary concern within the limits of
this study.
On the other hand, the establishing of the scope of J within the
Abraham tradition itself is still something of an open question, as
indicated above. This, in itself, can serve as a most important
criterion for the assessing of J’s limits elsewhere as well. Very much
a part of this task is the evaluation of the relationship of J to the
other so-called sources of the Pentateuch. As long as it is assumed
that J is the earliest source in the Pentateuch this question does not
have much value. But as soon as any other possibility is considered
the question becomes inevitable.®’
With respect to the various proposals for the dating of J, Wagner
points out that there has been a considerable shift from the time of
Wellhausen to the present.®8 Wellhausen dated both J and E rather
close together and placed them both in the early period of classical
prophecy, the eighth century B.c.®9 Since then J has been redated to
the tenth century, while E has remained about where it was. The
arguments for E’s dating have not changed to any extent since the
time of Wellhausen, but for Jthey have gone in quite a new direction.
It was largely as a result of the new traditio-historical approach of
von Rad and Noth to the pentateuchal traditions that J was now
regarded as the culmination of this whole process in the early mon-
archy. It is perhaps true to say that the present views on the tradition-
history of the Pentateuch, especially those which follow the lead of
von Rad and Noth, provide the strongest motivation for maintaining
an early date for J.7°
Besides the general argument from tradition-history, a number of
specific clues have often been put forward for the dating of J.71 One
such suggestion is that there is no evidence in J for a division of

66. See Wagner, “‘Abraham and David?”’, p. 125.

67. This point is not sufficiently stressed by Wagner, even though he favors a late date
for J.
68. Wagner, ‘Abraham and David?”’, p. 118.
69. Julius Wellhausen, Prolegomena to the History of Ancient Israel, pp. 360-61.
70. See Hans W. Wolff, ‘The Kerygma of the Yahwist,” Interpretation 20 (1966) : 131-58;
R. E. Clements, Abraham and David SBT 2/5 (London: SCM, 1967).
71. See Wolff, Interpretation 20:134-35; Peter F. Ellis, The Bible’s First Theologian (Notre
Dame, Ind.: Fides Publishers, 1968), pp. 40-42.
150 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Israel into two separate states or for any tension between Judah and
the northern tribes. This, it is said, would point to the Solomonic
period, before the schism of the two regions. The most obvious
objection to this argument is that there is no such division reflected
in any of the sources. On the other hand, one could interpret
Genesis 34 as a rather late southern polemic against a paganized
“Samaritan” north and against any intermarriage or other dealings
with the people of that region. Furthermore, the Davidic-Solomonic
period cannot be regarded as a period of ideal unity between north
and south, since there was considerable tension between the two
regions, and each region was quite separately related to the king.”
It is still a moot question as to whether “Israel”? ever included
Judah in the United Monarchy. It may even be argued that only
after the demise of the northern kingdom could an idealized “greater
Israel,”’ an ideal which becomes most important in the late monarchy
and exilic periods, develop. At any rate, the “all Israel’? motif is
not a sure clue for an early date.
A second argument that has been suggested is that the various
peoples mentioned by J: Philistines, Canaanites, Arameans, Amale-
kites, Ammonites, Moabites, and Edomites, were all a part of
David’s empire (2 Sam. 8). Of course, these same peoples were the
neighbors of the two kingdoms throughout their history so their
mere mention does not suggest anything very specific. Nor can their
relationship to the patriarchs be regarded as a prototype for the
relationship of David and Solomon with these states since they were
altogether different. Furthermore, as we have seen, the use of some
of these terms in a particular manner in J cannot be made to fit the
United Monarchy, for example, the reference to a Philistine king
of Gerar.
Some have tried to see a specific historical reference in the “bless-
ing’ to Esau (Edom) in Gen. 27:40: “By your sword you shall
live, and you shall serve your brother; but when you break loose you
shall break his yoke from your neck.” This has been associated with
72. In “*The Monarchy in the Kingdoms of Israel and Judah,” Essays on Old Testament
History and Religion, pp. 241-43, Alt argued that the Davidic monarchy abolished the
‘‘original’’ tribal federation and created two entities, a northern and a southern one, and
that this concept of a duality continued to the end of the northern kingdom. He states
rather emphatically that he cannot find a single trace of any appeal against this duality to
an original unity of the confederation. If one has grave doubts about any such unity before
the monarchy the only conclusion left is that the unity was an idealistic creation after the
fall of the northern kingdom.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 151

the reference to a certain Hadad, an Edomite who gave Solomon

some trouble (1 Kings 11:14ff.). But this really fits the “blessing”
rather poorly. The closest parallel is, in fact, the revolt by Edom
under Joram (2 Kings 8:20-22) around 850 B.c., but it is not clear
that this was the last revolt for there seems to have been some
domination of the Edomites by Amaziah as well (2 Kings 14:7)
until the time of Ahaz (2 Kings 16:6). The historical allusion in
Genesis 27:40, therefore, can hardly be regarded as very precise.
Another line of argument suggests that J belongs to the period
of “Solomonic Enlightenment,” a new literary age which is also
reflected in such works as the Court History of David (2 Sam. 9-20;
1 Kings 1-2).’8 Attempts have been made to see similarities in
literary style and thematic treatment between J and the Court
History but there is scarcely anything in these comparisons that is
very convincing.’4 Nor can we regard the dating of the Court
History to the Solomonic period as established. To regard this
scandalization of the monarchy as originating in the Solomonic
court is to my mind entirely incredible.”® At any rate, arguments
based on the notion that J reflects the spirit of this period, as if we
could really gauge what this was, are too vague to be useful.
Recently there has been an increasing effort to associate Abraham
with David and to see in this part of the Yahwist the most specific
reflection of the Davidic period.’® It is suggested that the close
connection between Abraham and Hebron (Mamre) gave to David
a means of legitimizing his monarchy on the basis of this tradition,
since his own power base was originally from Hebron in Judah.
This legitimation, it is argued, can be seen in the special stress on
the covenant of Abraham (Genesis 15), which provided the model
for the Davidic covenant (2 Sam. 7), and the promises of great
progeny and the gift of the land of Canaan, which were all fulfilled
in David.
This argument develops a curious circularity, especially in the

73. See von Rad, Old Testament Theology vol. 1. The Theology of Israel’s Historical Traditions,
trans. D. M. G. Stalker, (New York: Harper & Row, 1962), pp. 36-56.
74. J. Blenkinsopp, ‘‘ Theme and Motifin the Succession History (2 Sam. xi 2ff.) and the
Yahwist Corpus,” SVT 15 (1966): 44-57; W. Bruggemann, “David and his Theolo-
gian,” CBQ 30 (1968): 156-81.
75. R. N. Whybray, The Succession Narrative: A Study of II Sam. 9-20 and I Kings 1 and 2
SBT 2/9 (London: SCM, 1968).
76. See R. E. Clements, Abraham and David; G. E. Mendenhall, ‘Covenant Forms in
Israelite Tradition,” BA 17 (1954): 71-72; idem, IDB 1: 717-718.
152 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

recent presentation of it by Clements.’? He admits that the form of

the covenant and promises in the Yahwist have already been influ-
enced by royal dynastic ideology. But he believes that these themes
were also pre-Davidic from the original Abrahamic tradition and
were used to shape the royal ideology itself. It is then on the basis of
this conviction that Clements attempts to reconstruct the tradition-
history, with a considerable dependence on the theories of Alt and
Noth as well. But in such a proposed tradition-history there are no
historical or literary controls. If the tradition-history of Alt and
Noth cannot be accepted, neither can that of Clements. If, on the
other hand, the promises in J were influenced by dynastic ideas this
could have happened anytime during the monarchy or later. But
that an Abrahamic covenant ever influenced the Davidic covenant
can never be proven. On the other hand, there are several argu-
ments against any early connection between Abraham and David.
Firstly, in all the passages that make reference to the royal ideology
throughout the history of the monarchy, not once is Abraham men-
tioned. How can these traditions be important for royal legitima-
tion if they were never used as such? The histories often use the
device of promise and fulfillment and make these connections very
specific. Why did they not do so m the case of Abraham and David?
The argument that it is there in a subtle form is not very convincing.
An instance of quite direct prediction, Gen. 15:13-16, is usually
excised from the Yahwist, though for no good literary reasons.
Secondly, the most important means of royal legitimation in the
ancient Near East (and in most dynastic monarchies) is genealogical
connection.’8 But this is not used in the case of David.?9 Isaiah can
go back no further than Jesse when he speaks about a new dynastic
beginning for the Judean monarchy (Isa. 11:1). The form of gene-
alogy used for legitimation of office is the linear genealogy. But the
77. Abraham and David, pp. 58-59. Cf. the criticisms by Wagner, “‘Abraham and David?”
PPRESS S34"
78. The best treatment of the function of genealogies in the ancient Near East and in the
Old Testament is the thesis by R. R. Wilson, “‘ Genealogy and History in the Old Testa-
ment: A Study of the Form and Function of the Old Testament Genealogies in their
Near Eastern Context,” (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 1972). See also A. Malamat,
“King Lists in the Old Babylonian Period and Biblical Genealogies,” FAOS 88 (1968):
163-73. Malamat’s reconstruction of the Davidic genealogy (pp. 170-73) is entirely
artificial and never existed as such in the history of the monarchy.
79. The late genealogical additions in Ruth 4:17b-22 can hardly be regarded as serving
this purpose.
 METHOD I: A CRITIQUE 153

form of those in Genesis involving the patriarchs are all segmented

genealogies whose function is quite different. Such genealogies indi-
cate status and relationship of various subgroups, tribes, clans,
families, etc., within a larger whole. Nothing in Genesis suggests a
concern for royal legitimation of any kind.
Thirdly, it can hardly be doubted that the function of the Yah-
wistic presentation of the patriarchal tradition is to articulate
Israel’s identity and destiny. But how could such a presentation of
the national tradition be made from the Jerusalem court of the
Davidites without any clear suggestion that the monarchy was at
the heart of this identity? It cannot be argued that it is subtly
implied. On the contrary, it is clear that the monarchy is quite
superfluous to this national identity. This may be stated in spite of
the inclusion within the Yahwist work of two poetic allusions to the
monarchy in Gen. 49:10 and Num. 24:17. These are very likely not
original to the Yahwist, as most critics admit, and they are very
vague in what they suggest. They are hardly central to the Yahwist’s
own thematic structure. I frankly find it difficult to conceive how
this ideological presentation could stand side by side with the royal
ideology of the Davidic covenant, and I see no evidence that in
fact it ever did.8°
In general I concur with Wagner that the heart of the problem
of dating, as well as the understanding of the Yahwist’s “message,”
lies in one’s evaluation of the promises to the fathers. The question
of dating can only be taken up after the literary, form-critical and
traditio-historical treatment of these promises, and _ especially
Genesis 15, has been finished. I have attempted to indicate here
why the question must remain open for the present.

80. This is an important methodological issue on the formation and function of tradition,
whether oral or written. See esp. Vansina, Oral Tradition, chap. 4.
 CHAPTER’ 7

Method II—Some Guidelines

In the preceding discussion I outlined the present doubtful state of

literary criticism in pentateuchal studies. It is scarcely possible to
adopt the current approach of the discipline for the following
literary study of the Abraham traditions. It is not just a question of a
slight modification of the old methods, as seems to be the vogue in the
present methodological studies.! Instead I want to outline step by
step a fresh approach to the various types of literary problems that we
face in this part of the tradition—an approach that will be as open
and unbiased as possible. At the same time, in the execution of a
new method in the following chapters a dialogue must be carried on
(within reasonable limits) with other views so that a fair appraisal
may be made of the new analysis offered in this study.

Source-Analysis

To begin a fresh literary approach one must come to the Abraham

traditions with the first basic question: is it a unified work, the
product of a single author? The answer to this question is that it is
not, since there are certain obvious indications of a plurality of
sources among the various stories. For instance there are the doublets
of the same story plot, which could scarcely be thought of as coming
from the same author. These are the story of a patriarch in a foreign
land calling his wife his sister, Gen. 12:10-20; 20; 26:1-11, or the
story of the flight or dismissal of Hagar in Gen. 16 and 21:8-21.
There is also the double presentation of a kerygmatic theme, as in the
two separate covenants with Abraham in Genesis 15 and 17. Besides
1. See the recent book by K. Koch, The Growth of the Biblical Tradition; also W. Richter,
Exegese als Literaturwissenschaft (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970). Although
both works suggest that the principles they enunciate are applicable to the Pentateuch
only a very limited reference is actually made to it, so they fail to come to terms with the
real problems.

154
 METHOD II: SOME GUIDELINES 155

these doublets there are some awkward points of tension or con-

tradiction between stories, such as the story of the birth of Isaac. In
Genesis 18 Abraham and Sarah, an aged couple, are promised a son
and in chap. 21 he is born. Yet in chap. 20 Abraham is able to pass
his wife off as his sister, and does so presumably because she is very
beautiful, so that she is taken into Abimelech’s harem. The context,
_ however, clearly suggests that she is both old and pregnant. Similarly,
in chap. 25, Isaac and Rebekah already have two full-grown sons,
and both parents are now old. Yet in chap. 26 Isaac pretends that
Rebekah is his sister because she is so beautiful, and he fears that his
life is threatened. Likewise the chronological] framework in which the
stories are now set often provides a problem. In the story of Hagar’s
expulsion from Abraham’s household, 21:8-21, Ishmael is still
clearly a child, but the larger context suggests that he must have been
about sixteen years of age (cf. Gen. 17:25). These rather obvious
examples are enough to suggest that the Abraham tradition is a
_ combination of sources. It would also indicate the first steps toward
literary analysis: a recognition that the framework may be an artifi-
cial means of holding together originally independent stories, and
a comparison of the various doublets that may be used to separate the
sources from one another. Since most of the stories are not duplicated
one would have to rely upon their similarity and internal connection
_with the stories of the doublets in order to carry through the source
division of the whole Abraham tradition.
The task of source division, however, is not settled by this process
alone, for the unity of the individual stories themselves has also been
questioned. This is not the same kind of problem and becomes much
more difficult to deal with. A particular narrative unit may give
evidence of disunity for two different reasons. First, the unit may
consist of a complete story or episode from a certain source to which
secondary additions have been made. It would then be a legitimate
task to decide which was primary and which secondary. On the
_ other hand, a unit may consist of a story which is a conflation of two
or more earlier versions that are only partially utilized in the final
version. This second case must be clearly recognized as an act of
composing a narrative and not as an editorial procedure. The end
product, therefore, must be considered as a literary work, a source in
its own right, and unless one actually has the prior versions that were
utilized, a further separation into sources becomes very doubtful
156 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

indeed. It is not the task of source analysis to do so.2 This means that
for the individual unit source-analysis will be concerned only with
the decision of what is a primary and what is a secondary addition.
The next question that arises is: what are the criteria by which
one may distinguish between the primary source and the secondary
additions? Some criteria that have been suggested in the past have
not been very helpful and have even been misleading. One of these is
the principle of repetition of words and phrases. This is often grouped
together with the principle of the story doublet, but it is not the same
at all.3 Repetition within a story or other prose narrative passage can
have a large variety of reasons depending upon an author’s style,
intention, or source material. Only in the case of awkward repetition
that breaks the continuity of thought and action would source
division be indicated.
Another criterion that has. often been used for source division is
that of distinctive terminology, especially as it has to do with divine
names and the like.4 However, this criterion may be helpful in the
task of source identification but rarely in source division; that is, not
for the purpose of separating the sources from one another but of
grouping the various units belonging to a particular source, only
after the separation. I am very skeptical about making a division
between two verses or parts of verses within the same unit only on
the basis of vocabulary, such as the alternation of the divine names
Yahweh and Elohim.
A criterion that is quite helpful and necessary, on the other hand,
is that of logical, dramatic or grammatical discontinuity and con-
tradiction.® Yet this principle is not entirely certain. It often depends
upon the analyst’s preconception of the unit’s genre whether or not

2. Cf. Richter, ibid., pp. 53f.; idem, Die sogenannten vorprophetischen Berufungsberichte
(Géttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970), pp. 58-72. Richter attempts to separate
Exodus 3 into two fragmentary sources that were combined by a redactor. Since the results
of such a separation will always be fragments this kind of source analysis remains very
hypothetical and unconvincing. A different approach to the problem of an account that is
the result of a conflation of two or more sources may be seen in my treatment of Num.
21:21~35, in “The Conquest of Sihon’s Kingdom,” JBL g1 (1972): 182-197.
3. Richter, Exegese, pp. 53-54. But he immediately cites examples in which repetition is a
feature of style. Cf. idem, Berufungsberichte, pp. 59-62, in which he speaks of Exodus 3
as a conflation of doublets. His analysis here, and therefore his sole application in the
Pentateuch, is very much in doubt.
4. Richter, Exegese, p. 56.
5. Richter, ibid., p. 59; Koch, Biblical Tradition, p. 70.
 METHOD II: SOME GUIDELINES 157

there is a logical or dramatic discontinuity within the passage. This

means that prior to the source analysis of a particular unit there must
be some decision about its form and structure. At this point I part
company with many present-day literary critics who suggest that
form criticism only comes after source criticism.® All too often the
division of a unit has been carried through on the basis of defective
source division criteria with the result that the form and structure of
the passage is broken instead of elucidated. On the other hand, the
analysis of the form and structure of a passage can be an effective
control on source division. This is often the case even when narrative
prose does not always yield a clearly defined genre or when there is a
complex combination of genres or formulae. So each unit of tradition
must be scrutinized from the viewpoint of internal consistency and
continuity and with the use of form-critical and structural analysis?
to arrive at an evaluation of its unity or division into primary and
secondary sources.
We now turn to the most serious problem of literary criticism:
how to account for the relationship of the sources to each other.
The answer that has been given to this question for the last century or
more is that the sources are independent of each other and united
only by a subsequent editorial process. This position has virtually
become dogma in that the opposite possibility of dependence of one
source on another is never given any consideration. Thus the way in
which one accounts for all similarity between sources is by appealing
to the notion of a “‘common tradition”? behind the sources. This
solution to the problem of similarity is most insidious, in that it
immediately stops all serious comparison between sources. Yet unless
one can say something about this common tradition, its form and
content, and the way in which the two versions depart from it one
has said nothing at all.
6. Richter, Exegese, pp. 72ff. where he insists that literary criticism must precede form-
criticism. In Berufungsberichte, pp. 72-127, he attempts a form-critical analysis of the two
fragments, but it is certainly not evident how the source division has clarified the form.
Koch, ibid., pp. 77-78, also suggests that literary criticism should precede form-criticism,
largely for the reason that it did historically in the development ofthe discipline. Yet Koch
also makes literary criticism just a branch of form-criticism.
7. Structural analysis as the search for an obvious literary pattern in a piece of literature
may be highly useful. But there is a type of structural analysis by some anthropologists
that attempts to impose a rather dubious interpretive scheme on Biblical narratives, as in
the work of E. R. Leach and C. Levi-Strauss. For a review of this method see R. C. Culley,
“Some Comments on Structural Analysis and Biblical Studies,”’ SVT 22 (1972): 129-142.
158 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Oral Tradition

It is generally assumed, at the present time, that this common

tradition for the Abraham stories was oral in its origin and basic
development. It is this supposed oral character of the tradition that is
regarded as answering the most questions about the diversity of the
tradition and the variant sources into which it finally developed.
There is a large number of misconceptions about oral tradition used
to support this view of a common oral Abraham tradition, and since
we will encounter them in the subsequent literary discussion we
might briefly consider them here.§ One of these fallacies is that
of a fixed oral prose tradition. Folklorists are generally agreed that
the prose narrative forms are the least likely to be preserved in any
fixed manner. On the contrary, they allow the greatest freedom, and
the most widespread use of this freedom, for artistic creativity. This
includes those genres generally classed as folk tales, but also those
which would be considered myths, legends, and historical narratives.
Another misconception has to do with the tradents, or so-called
“circles of traditionists.”’ To the degree that various types of tradition
had to be “fixed”? and preserved in an illiterate society for the
proper functioning of the state, for example the genealogy of the
royal dynasty, this task of preservation was committed to special
persons who maintained the memory of these traditions for public
recital at the appropriate times. Yet each type of tradition that had
to be preserved was the responsibility of a different group of tradents,
and the degree of fixity as well as the mechanisms for such preserva-
tion varied somewhat from group to group.?
Furthermore, one can expect that a literate society in antiquity
placed the same value on the same kind of traditions and for the
same social purposes as the illiterate society. But the fundamental
difference is that the mechanism of preservation is now changed. In
such literate societies scribal traditions develop that commit to
written documents, as a more reliable means of preservation,
8. See especially Vansina, Oral Tradition; Ruth Finnegan, Oral Literature in Africa (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1970); R. CG. Culley, ‘““An Approach to the Problem of Oral Tradition,”
VT 13 (1963): 113-25.
g. See especially Vansina, ibid., for a study of this whole process. There is no analogy in
any of these anthropological studies for a “‘ circle of traditionists’’ who preserved all kinds
of tradition and lore of the past: poetry and prose, songs and stories, lists and laws, and all
in a highly complex combination such as now exists in the Pentateuch. This is the view
of Engnell (A Rigid Scrutiny, pp. 58ff.) and of E. Nielsen, Oral Tradition SBT 11 (Chicago:
Allenson, 1954), but it is largely the product of Engnell’s imagination.
 METHOD II: SOME GUIDELINES 159

materials to be handed on to posterity.10 This does not mean that in

such societies all oral tradition or folklore came to an end. But it
does mean that where a particular “tradition” had to be preserved
for the benefit of the state it was soon committed to writing. Yet it
would be wrong to suppose that all local traditions immediately
became national in character with the rise of the monarchy or with
the creation of a hypothetical amphictyonic league prior to that
time. The “‘all-Israel’’ orientation given to early tribal or local
traditions cannot be dated in any easy way. They could have become
“fixed” in writing at various times during the history of the mon-
archy, and there is certainly more than one explanation of an impulse
to do so.
At this point we are faced with the debatable subject of the
classification of prose narrative genre such as might lie behind the
stories of Genesis. Yet it is sufficient to note that at the present time
folklorists are inclined to see the genres of myth, legend, and historical
narratives as not functionally distinct in that they all seem to serve as
““community-making”’ tradition and are therefore sacred.12 The
only difference among them seems to be the degree of remoteness
from the time of the narrator, which a tradition seems to assume.
Furthermore, in form they may be no different from popular folktales
except that the former categories are taken more seriously. There is
no warrant for the notion that the origin of folktale and legend is
necessarily distinct; that is, that the former is based on imaginative
fantasy while the latter rests on a chain of tradition that always
goes back to a historical kernel. Myths and legends may very well be
the products of creative narrators such that the amount of received
tradition is of little significance in the work as a whole. Even though
oral tradition might deal with historical subjects and might be taken
quite seriously by the society in which it exists, this is no warrant for
believing that such traditions contain very much actual historical
material. The degree of reliability of oral prose traditions diminishes
in a rather brief period of time.1%
The Abraham tradition is generally classified as legend (Sage),
10. See A. Leo Oppenheim, Ancient Mesopotamia (Chicago and London: University of
Chicago Press, 1964), pp. 7-30, for a discussion of the scribal traditions of Mesopotamia.
11. Cf. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 42-45.
12. See most recently Finnegan, Oral Literature, pp. 361-372.
13. Finnegan, ibid., p. 372. See also R. C. Culley, “‘ Oral Tradition and Historicity,” in
Studies on the Ancient Palestinian World, ed. J. W. Wevers and D. B. Redford (Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, 1972), pp. 102-116, for a survey of the problem and literature.
160 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

but this descriptive term says nothing about its period of origin or
the degree to which the present literary form derives from oral
tradition. Gunkel, in his Genesis commentary, listed some criteria
which would point to an oral source of the literature and made
reference to Olrik’s “‘epic laws”’ as a support for his views.14 Recently
these epic laws have come into use again, and since we will also use
them in our own literary analysis it may be helpful to enumerate
them briefly:
1) The stability of the introduction and conclusion. By the use
of typical formulae the setting is clearly given. In prose
there is also a tendency to avoid an abrupt conclusion by
an extension through an etiological connection to a place
name or the like.
2) Repetition. This is used to fill out the action in a story and
to move it forward towards the climax.
3) The number three. This is the highest number of persons
with which storytellers usually work. There is also a love
for threefold repetition of events.
4) Scenic duality. Only two people ever share a scene in any
active role. Others in the story, if they are present, remain
completely neutral. In such scenes there is often a love of
contrast or polarity between the principles.
5) Law of the twin. Two persons of the same rank and status
are often treated as one.
6) Singleness of direction that does not drop back to make up
for missing, prerequisite data. Oral prose uses a very clear
structural schematization.
7) Concrete details of the main scene. Few details are given
that are not essential and clear to the form of the whole
story.
8) Logic. The story may be presented according to natural or
supernatural perspective, but the logic of either form is
consistently maintained.
9) Consistency of treatment. Olrik stresses that where there is a
quite new treatment of a theme, this is the surest sign of
literary reworking.
14. A. Olrik, “‘Epische Gezetze der Volksdichtung,” Zeitschrift fiir deutsches Altertum 51
(1909): 1-12. See also a later discussion of these laws by K. Krohn in Folklore Methodology,
trans. R. L. Welsch (Austin and London: University of Texas Press, 1971), chap. 13.
 METHOD II: SOME GUIDELINES 161

10) Focal concentration on the principal person. Olrik calls

this the highest law of oral tradition.

The significance of these laws or principles will become clearer when

we discuss their application in specific instances in the Abraham
tradition.
It needs to be pointed out that even if an application of Olrik’s
epic laws does reveal some indications of oral folklore behind some
parts of the tradition this does not mean that the tradition as a
whole, or even these parts of it, derive from a pre-literate period.
The narrators of the written tradition, whenever they lived, had
access to large amounts of folklore, which they could have used in
various ways without any of it being of a very primitive character.
The application of Olrik’s laws may be useful in understanding the
sources of a narrator and his mode of composition without saying
very much about the history of the tradition.

Types of Variants

We may now turn from this digression on the subject of oral

tradition back to the problem of how to evaluate the relationship of
the sources to each other, and particularly the problem of variants.
How are we to account for more than one version of the same story
in the present body of the tradition ?The first step in a solution to this
problem, it seems to me, is to make a careful distinction between the
different types of possible variants. The term “variant” is most at
home in the field of textual criticism and has to do with the establish-
ment of the best text out of a number of parallel manuscripts that
contain various scribal errors, deviations, pluses, etc. We may
speak of these variants as transmission variants. The scribe responsible
for the parallel text intended to pass on a faithful copy of a fixed text,
but not to present it as his own. The variants that result from such a
transmission process follow certain patterns that have been frequently
discussed by text critics.15 The degree of variation will depend upon
the ‘“‘canonicity”’ of the text and the care and competence of the
copyists.
Transmission variants may also be present in oral tradition if the
latter consist of fixed traditions that must be carefully handed down

15. E. Wiirthwein, The Text ofthe Old Testament (New York: Macmillan, 1957), pp- 71-75-
162 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

by means of memorization and a carefully controlled chain of

testimonies. The differences between oral and written transmission
variants are not necessarily of degree but of kind, directly related
to the type or genre of tradition and the medium of transmission.
There is also an important difference in the mechanism of preserva-
tion. For the illiterate society the cumbersome manner of transmitting
the tradition means that it will only maintain a tradition as long as it
remains functional to the society, whereas the ‘“‘scribal tradition”
can preserve a greater quantity that may be much less actively used.
Besides transmission variants, whether written or oral, there is
another category of variants, which we may call composition variants.
These have to do with similar material occurring in different works
by different authors. A writer, for instance, may borrow from one or
more sources in order to create his own work. The degree of similarity
will vary but, generally speaking, the difference between composition
variants will be greater than between transmission variants. Com-
position variants may appear in a wide range of literary types and
over a considerable period of time. Some examples in prose narrative
may be found in Assyrian and Babylonian royal inscriptions,!® the
Synoptic Gospels of the New Testament, early Arabic literature,1?
and Icelandic sagas. In all these cases the presence of composition
variants means the dependence of one literary work on another.
Clarification of this dependence is most important for any literary
and historical appreciation of these works.
Time does not permit any detailed treatment of these literatures,
but a few guidelines on the relationship of variants to literary
dependence might be useful to our discussion. 1) The account with the
simplest form and structure will most likely be the earliest one. The
tendency in written composition is toward form-critical complexity
resulting from the incorporation of heterogeneous material into an
earlier account.!8 2) The second version often shortens or sum-
marizes the material that it borrows from the first one, although by

16. W. de Filippi, ‘‘The Royal Inscriptions of Assurnasir-apli II,’’ (Phil.M. thesis,

University of Toronto, 1972); L. D. Levine, ‘‘ The Second Campaign of Sennacherib,”’
FINES 32 (1973): 312-17.
17. G. Widengren, “‘Oral Tradition and Written Literature among the Hebrews in the
Light of Arabic Evidence, with Special Regard to Prose Narratives,” Acta Orientalia 23
(1959) :201-262.
18. See Widengren, ‘Oral Tradition,” pp. 234ff.; Sveinsson, Njals Saga: A Literary
Masterpiece, pp. 12ff. So also the Synoptic Gospels.
 METHOD II: SOME GUIDELINES 163

adding new material of its own it may result in a longer story.19

3) Occasionally, in a later version there occurs a “blind motif;”
that is, some unexplained action or detail that assumes consciously
or unconsciously that the earlier account is known. Where such
cases exist this is a clear indication of literary dependence and the
direction of borrowing.?? 4) The strongest evidence for literary
dependence is verbal similarity. This, of course, does not include
popular sayings or common expressions used generally in narrative.
But verbal similarity related to the distinctive content of the story,
especially in prose composition variants, is evidence of direct
literary borrowing.?!
There are also composition variants in free oral tradition, but
they differ from those in written literature because the modes of
composition are quite different.22 Variation in oral composition
means that basically the same theme or plot is used in more than
one tale or song by either the same, or a different, singer or story-
teller. Unlike written composition the question of sources and
dependence is not very significant for free oral composition. The
following points of comparison may be noted between oral and
written composition variants:

1) Oral variants will usually be in the same genre but

differ in the non-typical detail. A theme may go from one genre
to another; that is, from a song to a tale, but a combination of
genres is a literary phenomenon.
2) Oral variants do not summarize, and any new material
is added in the same genre since the tradent usually masters only
one form.
3) Oral tradition does not assume knowledge of various
aspects of the story, so the “blind motif” does not exist. If an
important aspect has been lost from lapse of memory the story-
teller will have to supply it with something new.

19. See Sveinsson, Njals Saga, p. 23; idem, Dating the Icelandic Sagas (London: University
College, Viking Society, 1958), pp. 80-83. This also holds for Matthew and Luke’s rela-
tionship to Mark.
20. See esp. Sveinsson, Njals Saga, p. 20; idem, Dating the Sagas, pp. 78-79.
21. See Sveinsson, Dating the Sagas, pp. 79-80. This, of course, is basic to Synoptic
criticism.
22. See A. B. Lord, The Singer of Tales (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1964),
esp. pp. 124-138.
164 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Consequently, there are four basic types of variants: written and

oral transmission variants, and written and oral composition variants.
These reflect four quite distinct situations so it should be possible,
theoretically, to identify any variant as one of these four types.
Scholars have often begun their study of the Abraham tradition
with the assumption that there is a long history of oral transmission
behind these narratives, thereby immediately limiting their choice to
one possibility, that of oral transmission variants. But one must
first evaluate the variants to see to which type they belong and only
then face the problem of the history of the tradition.
In a literate society such as Israel the scribal tradition would not
be dependent any longer upon an oral mechanism for the preserva-
tion and transmission of a fixed tradition. It may, of course, augment
an earlier tradition by drawing upon either an open oral tradition
or its own creative literary activity. But it is difficult for me to
accept the idea, suggested by the current view of literary criticism,
that through the whole course of Israel’s history from. the United
Monarchy to the Post-exilic period the various literary sources of the
Pentateuch were all dependent upon a body of fixed oral tradition
but quite independent of each other. On the contrary, it is much more
reasonable to assume that each successive stage of the literary
development had access to the previous scribal tradition. The varia-
tion between the sources is not the result of the process of oral
transmission. Nor could the doublets in the Abraham story be viewed
as the result of errors in scribal transmission.?? This means that in
actual fact the choice is only between oral and written composition
variants. If the doublets in the Abraham tradition are written
composition variants then the sources are dependent upon one
another, but if they are the result of using free oral composition
variants then the written sources are independent of each other.
The Method of Procedure
The procedure suggested by the above discussion will be as follows.
We shall begin with an examination of the doublets in order to make a
fresh evaluation of the tradition’s sources and their relationship to
each other. The first set of doublets to be dealt with are the stories
about the threat to the forefather’s beautiful wife (Gen. 12:10—20;

23. Thus, the whole notion of a fixed Grundlage, whether oral or written, out of which the
variants are said to have arisen must be completely rejected.
 METHOD II: SOME GUIDELINES 165

20; 26:1-11). In close connection with these are the episodes having
to do with the covenant between Abraham/Isaac and Abimelech
of Gerar (Gen. 21:22-34; 26:12-33). The second set of doublets to
be considered are the stories of Hagar’s flight (Genesis 16) and the
expulsion of Hagar and her son (Gen. 21:8-21). This last story
cannot be properly analyzed without also including the story of the
promise and birth of Isaac (Gen. 18:1-15; 21:1-7). These doublets
provide the basic clue to the nature of the tradition’s development,
whether it was by direct dependence of a later source upon an
earlier one in which the tradition grew by direct supplementation, or
whether it was by the common use of amuch freer form and body of
oral tradition by various independent sources.
In the case of each particular narrative unit and as part of the
method of comparison of doublets, some form-critical and structural
analysis will be attempted to determine the unity and limits of a
piece and to evaluate to what extent oral tradition may lie behind
any part of the tradition and what role it played in the formation of
the whole. Here the use of Olrik’s epic laws will serve as a valuable
aid in such an evaluation. Likewise form-criticism and structural
analysis will serve as a control over the division of the tradition into
sources and will give some indication of the use of genres from the
distinctly literary sphere of the writers themselves. Some stories
may have features akin to oral tradition genres while others betray
the features of literary composition variants. From a comparison
of the doublets, then, it will be possible to formulate the basic
characteristics of the tradition’s development and its various sources,
and to assign the remaining parts of the tradition to the appropriate
source stratum.
There are two groups of stories which do not have doublets, but
which have many similarities in form and vital points of contact with
the other stories, and it is therefore best to consider these next. The
first group is the Lot-Sodom story (Gen. 13:1-13; 18:16 to 19:38)
which is tied to the initial itinerary and, at the end, to the story of
Isaac’s promised birth. The second group follows on Isaac’s birth
and childhood and includes the near-sacrifice of Isaac (Genesis 22)
and the finding of a wife for him (Genesis 24), in all of which Isaac
plays a very passive role. These two episodes are connected to each
other by a genealogical bridge (Genesis 22:20-24). Our interest in
these stories will focus on the question of evidence for oral tradition
166 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

and on their relationship to the literary sources. Some observations

will also be mac: on the themes that these passages suggest.
Quite different u. form and character from all the preceding
stories of Abraham mentioned thus far is the chapter on the promises
to Abraham of progeny and land (Genesis 15). This chapter repre-
sents the center and focus of the whole thematic framework that
encloses and permeates the literary corpus of stories discussed to this
point. The problems of form, unity, and source identification of
Genesis 15 will first be dealt with. But at this point in the study the
very nature of this unit demands that primary attention be given to
the question of the historical context of the development and use of
the Abraham tradition by this literary source. Included in this must
be a consideration of the whole thematic framework of the patriarchal
promises and of how they relate to the use of the Abraham tradition
in the rest of the Old Testament.
The covenant of circumcision in Genesis 17 should be considered
next because it actually represents a doublet or variant to chap. 15,
as well as to some other references in the other stories. It has long
been recognized as an important theological statement by the
priestly writer, and it affords an excellent opportunity to examine the
literary and ideological relationship of P to the other literary
corpus. Quite a different form is that of the story of Sarah’s burial,
Genesis 23, but it is still generally regarded as the work of the
priestly writer, and so it will also be considered here. The story of
Abraham’s war against the eastern kings, Genesis 14, is certainly the
most problematic and very likely the last addition to the Abraham
tradition.
These, then, are the principles and the plan to be carried out in the
following chapters for clarifying the development of the tradition in
its present literary form in Genesis.
 CHAPTER 8

The Problem of the Beautiful Wife

I want to begin the discussion of variants in the Abraham tradition

by quoting a remark about doublets from Gunkel:
Let the investigator make his first observations on these twice-
told tales; when he has thus acquired the keen eye and found
certain lines of development, then let him compare also the
legends which are told but once.
What is both surprising and disheartening to me is the almost
total neglect of this principle by scholars who claim to follow in the
footsteps of Gunkel. It invariably happens now that presuppositions
from literary criticism and tradition-history are imposed on these
stories so that the eye is seriously dimmed from the outset. In order
to acquire the keen eye again all the literary possibilities must be
kept open at the beginning.
The Form:

The first question that confronts us in the three stories of Gen.

12:10-20; 20; 26:1-11, is the problem of form.? These stories are
generally recognized as three variants of a folktale, but there is no
clear agreement about which of the three represents the oldest form
of the story. Gunkel argued, against some of the older critics, that the
account in 12:10-20 was the oldest.? This judgment was based on the
enumeration of general folkloristic characteristics that seemed to him
most prominent in this account but much weaker in the others. He
even suggested that it was not original with the patriarch at all but a
type of popular story that was secondarily applied to him.

1. Gunkel, Legends of Genesis, p. 100.

2. See the studies of C. A. Keller, ‘‘ Die Gefahrdung der Ahnfrau,” <AW 66 (1954):
181-91; Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 210-19; Koch, Growth of the Biblical Tradition,
pp. 111-132; cf. now G. Schmitt, “‘Zu Gen 26:1-14,” KAW 85 (1973): 143-56.
3. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 225-26; see also Skinner, Genesis, p. 365.
167
168 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Noth, on the other hand, came at the problem from an entirely

different perspective and concluded that the account in 26:1-11
was primary. This judgment was not based on form-critical con-
siderations and contains no critique of Gunkel’s arguments. It
rests entirely on his broader theory of tradition-history in which he
regarded all the traditions connected with Beersheba and the south
as originally belonging to Isaac and only secondarily transferred to
Abraham. The only ‘‘form-critical” statement about 26:1-11 is
that it appears in a “‘profane” form. This statement is made in
spite of the theophany to Isaac, part of which at least is regarded as
original. The fact that the divine intervention does not occur within
the story itself does not make it closer to folklore since quite the
opposite is generally true. There is in Noth’s treatment no form-
critical analysis at all, and yet this is now the position most often
repeated on this matter.
On the matter of form Gunkel admitted that the story in Gen.
12:10—20 was not of the etiological type, but instead it had a certain
““novellistischen”’ origin.® Its function was to celebrate the cleverness
of the patriarch, the beauty and submission of his wife, and the
faithful help of Yahweh. These general remarks are enough to give
us a Clue to a large body of folk literature which has as one of its
themes the cleverness or foolishness of a man who has a beautiful wife
who is either faithful and submissive or unfaithful. A story is then
told of a situation that is meant to illustrate these characteristics. The
primary motivation for such stories was clearly entertainment.”
Their structure is relatively simple and straightforward and would
consist of the following elements:

a) a situation of need, problem, or crisis

b) a plan to deal with the problem (wise or foolish)
c) the execution of the plan with some complication
d) an unexpected outside intervention
e) fortunate or unfortunate consequences

4. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 102-09.

5. See von Rad, Genesis, p. 266; Koch, Biblical Traditions, pp. 125-26; Kilian, Abrahams-
iiberlieferungen, pp. 213-15.
6. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 173.
7. Examples of such stories may be found in Hans Schmidt and Paul Kahle, Volkserzah-
lungen aus Palestina, 2 vols. (GOttingen: Vandenhoeck, 1918 and 1930). See esp. ‘‘ Die
verkleidete Frau,” 1: 45-53, no. 24.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 169

Such a story is a self-contained unit and fulfills the basic structural

requirements of Olrik’s laws. It runs a single course of action with a
balance between the various parts. This structure, of course, is
much broader than the motif of the “beautiful wife” and forms the
basis of a great variety of story themes although it is not necessarily
the only pattern for folktales. Yet it is a genre of folk literature that
can be tested against examples both within the body of folk literature
generally and in the Genesis stories in particular.
In Genesis 12:10—20 this same structure appears. There is a crisis
(a) in that the famine in Canaan (v. 10) has forced-Abraham and
Sarah to travel temporarily to a foreign and potentially hostile
region, Egypt. Because Sarah is very beautiful such a situation could
endanger the life of her husband, Abraham. So the patriarch devises a
plan (b) that they act as brother and sister. This means that Abra-
ham, as her guardian, will be well-treated for her sake. It may also
suggest that Abraham could forestall any suitors for the duration of
the famine. The plan is put into effect (c) and is successful as far as
Abraham’s life is concerned, but with a complication. Sarah is taken
into the royal harem. There is, however, an unexpected intervention
by God (d) who plagues Pharaoh, and thereby the inadvertent act
of adultery is disclosed. Yet since Pharaoh is as threatened by the
circumstances as is Abraham, the danger to the patriarch is neutra-
lized and Pharaoh merely expels the man and his wife from the land
(e). In the end Abraham is greatly enriched by the whole turn of
events.
This structure of the story is likewise interesting from the stand-
point of its balance of the various elements. The setting, which
reveals the problem, is given in v. 10. The plan is set forth in wv. 11-13
and its execution and complication in vv. 14-16. The divine interven-
tion and consequences are given in wv. 17-20. This fine balance of
the various parts is certainly not an ad hoc invention but part
of the whole art of storytelling, in which each element receives its
due for the enjoyment of the whole. This is the first principle of
Olrik’s epic laws.
Likewise, all the other laws that were enumerated in the previous
chapter fit this presentation very well. Repetition is seen in the
correspondence between the plan and its execution. There is single-
ness of direction without the need to return to any previous point in
the story. There is a clear situation as a point of departure and an
170 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

appropriate summing up at the end. The actions and reactions of all

the story participants are lucid and logical. The principle of scenic
duality first with Abraham and Sarah and then with Abraham and
Pharaoh is consistently maintained. Yet the story also has three
main persons, with Sarah remaining in a completely passive role,
though vital to the whole. The concentration of the story remains on
Abraham throughout, focusing on his actions and his fate. A finer
example could scarcely be found to illustrate Olrik’s epic laws.
Furthermore, the story is a self-contained unit. There is nothing in
it that ties it to anything previous, and there is nothing that follows as
a sequel. It is in every way complete.® In fact, it has often been noted
that Lot, who appears previously (v. 4-5) and in the episode that
follows (13:1ff.), has no place in this story at all. It is also generally
agreed that 12:9 and 13:1-2 are secondary bridge-passages to bind
the story into its present context.? But this literary tension between
the story and its context can mean different things to different people.
Gunkel, for instance, took it to be an indication of a different literary
source and thus characterized it as J°.1° Its inclusion into the present
context is the work of a redactor, R'. This literary tension, however,
does not indicate a separate “source”’ for Noth but simply a story
from “the circle of the older Abraham narratives set in the Negeb,”’
which J as a redactor fitted into his present collection.1! Yet Noth
never faced the question on the literary level of how both 12:10-20
and 26:1-11, two variants as he admits, could exist in the same
source, especially on the basis of his own avowed principle of
doublets indicating separate sources. If J as redactor could combine
these two variants there is scarcely any need for a separate source for
E in chap. 20. One need only speak of another “tradition.” The
matter can only be clarified by a comparison of the variants.
We may summarize our observations on 12:10-20 (story A) by
stating that it corresponds rather closely to a folktale model. It
contains an obvious narrative structure and other compositional
characteristics well suited to popular storytelling. There is very
little adaptation of the story to the Abraham tradition as a whole,

8. See Koch, Biblical Traditions, pp. 115-17.

g. Skinner, Genesis, p. 251; von Rad, Genesis, pp. 162-63.
10. Genesis, pp. 168ff.; see also Skinner, Genesis, p. 251.
11. Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 233; similarly Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp.
215-19.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE I7I

either in terms of its internal content or in terms of its connections

with its present literary context.12
Let us now compare the folktale model outlined above with
Genesis 20 (story B). When we do so certain incongruities become
apparent immediately. First of all there is no famine in the land, so
there is no problem situation that can serve as an effective point of
departure for the story. Why does Abraham need to go near Gerar?
One could, of course, conjecture that the final redactor omitted the
reason, as various commentators are inclined to do, but this approach
is highly prejudicial to objective literary analysis.13 As the text stands
there is nothing in the situation to suggest any threat whatever to the
patriarch. The next two elements in our model, the plan (b) and its
execution (c), which made up at least half of story A are here
diminished to half a verse, v. 2a. Furthermore, the remark by
Abraham ‘She is my sister,” is completely inexplicable in its
present context and is not explained until much later, wv. 11ff. Such a
resumptive or proleptic style is a feature of literary style, as Gunkel
recognized,!4 but according to Olrik’s laws it is not a feature of oral
storytelling. It is also not clear why the king should suddenly have
taken Sarah as his wife. There is scarcely any preparation for such
an abrupt action. Considering the length of this account, which is
almost double that of the previous one, the economy of detail
expressed in v. 2 is far too great if this is an independent account of
the same story.15 The only way in which the cryptic character of
v. 2 can be explained is that the other story is known and can be
assumed, and therefore Abraham’s plan and its execution need not be
recounted again in full. The two essential features of the earlier story
—that Sarah is called Abraham’s sister, and that she becomes the
wife of the king—are enough to recall the general situation described
more fully earlier.
The remarks of Abraham later in the story also make it quite clear
12. Cf. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 6-8. The attempt to find redactional additions
in vv. 13 and 16 is without any clear warrant.
13. Ibid., p. 190. Koch, Biblical Traditions, p. 117.
14. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 221, compares the use of this literary style to the Book of Jonah,
in which Jonah’s actions at the beginning of the story are not explained until the latter
part of it.
15. Kilian’s statement (Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, p. 190) “doch fehlt nichts Wesentliches
oder gar Notwendiges”’ indicates literary insensitivity at this point.
P72 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

that the narrator has the earlier episode in mind. He states, v. 13:
When God caused me to wander from my father’s house, I said
to her, ‘‘This is the favor which you must do for me: at every
place to which we come, say of me, ‘He is my Drother. 6
The statement “at every place to which we come” is meant to
suggest that this is not an isolated incident but rather a general
practice, which then could include the earlier situation of their trip
to Egypt. It is clearly a modification of Abraham’s plan in story A,
which was meant for that specific crisis. The narrator of this episode,
however, had to account for the fact that it happened again at
Gerar.1? Furthermore, the statement ‘‘When God caused me to
wander from my father’s house” also takes us back to Chap. 12,
in this case to the literary context in which the first episode is set.
It suggests that the narrator knew the previous story, not just as an iso-
lated tale but in a particular framework that included at least 12:1.
The introduction to story B, likewise, points to the fact that this is
not simply an isolated variant of story A. The story is very much
tied into an itinerary of Abraham suggested in v. 13 as well. It
cannot here be regarded as a redactional addition, for v. 1 provides
the only setting and introduction for the story. It is true that in the
present state of the text it is not entirely clear to what the phrase
“from there” (misfam) refers. But this is additional reason for not
regarding it as simply redactional. The continuation of the story at
the conclusion of the episode has also been obscured by the passage
21:1-21, which is out of place in the present text. Consequently the
events in 21:22-34 followed directly on 20:17(18), and these have
to do with subsequent relationships between Abraham and Abime-
lech. As I hope to show below, a whole new episode has been
appended to the original story.18
When these features are judged by the law of fixed beginning and
ending it becomes clear that we do not have an oral story variant.
Similarly, all the other “laws” that work so well for story A break
16. The text in MT has an initial plural verb that would suggest a plural subject, “‘ gods.”
But the Samaritan text and the versions give support for a singular verb, and the transla-
tions generally have followed this meaning.
17. How could the original form of chap. 20 have included a reference to famine in the
light of this verse? Cf. Koch, Biblical Traditions, p. 124.
18. See Mowinckel, Pentateuch Quellenfrage, p. 101. Cf. Koch, Biblical Traditions, pp. 117-
18. He does not see any connections with the subsequent episode.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 173

down in almost every case in story B. What is involved in this

instance is a deliberate literary recasting of the story for quite
different purposes. The pleasure of telling a good tale is nowhere
evident in this account.
These clues strongly suggest that story B, generally ascribed to E,
is not an independent version of the previous account in story A.
On the contrary, it is another version of the same theme, which has
the older account very much in mind and which seeks to answer
certain important theological and moral issues that the narrator
felt were inadequately treated in the earlier account.!9 These issues
that were raised by the latter part of the earlier story occupy virtually
the whole account here. They have to do with God’s relationship to
the innocent king, vv. 3—7, Abraham’s reply to the king’s accusation,
vv. 8-13, and the subsequent relationship of the king to Abraham,
vv. 14-17(18).2° In contrast to the use of monologue in the earlier
account, here there is the effective use of dialogue to clarify the
issues with which the narrator wishes to deal. This is a much more
sophisticated literary technique and quite a departure from the
original concern of the folktale.21
The first set of questions raised by 12:17 (story A) is why God
should have punished Pharaoh, who did not know that Sarah was
Abraham’s wife, and how it was that the king knew that Sarah was
the cause of divine displeasure.?? Ch. 20:3—7 answers these questions
by suggesting that God appeared to the king in a dream and accused
him of his fault, and when the king protested his innocence God
provided a way by which the consequences of his action could be
averted. It is important to note that in this dialogue there is a form
taken from the cult—the complaint of the falsely accused.22 The

19. P. Volz, Der Elohist als Erzahler, pp. 34-36; cf. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 22;
Mowinckel, Pentateuch Quellenfrage, p. 100.
20. Whether v. 18 belongs to the rest of the story in its original form is questionable.
Besides the change in the divine name to Yahweh there is the lack of consistency with v. 17,
which has in mind a disease affecting Abimelech as well.
21. Gunkel, Legends, p. 84.
22. Koch’s remark (Biblical Traditions, p. 123) that this element of the story has been lost
from story A is unacceptable. Such an inclusion would have destroyed the focal concentra-
tion on Abraham and was quite unnecessary for the comic perspective of the story. The
frequent suggestion by Koch and others that parts of the original versions have been lost is
a questionable methodological approach to tradition-history.
23. See S. Mowinckel, The Psalms in Israel’s Worship, trans. D. R. Ap-Thomas, 2 vols.
(Oxford: Blackwell, 1962), 2:1-25; cf. Koch, Biblical Traditions, p. 123.
174 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

king is accused of adultery with the possible penalty of death. He

makes a confession that he is innocent (saddég) and invokes the litur-
gically important phrase: “With a clear conscience and clean hands
(betam lebabi tibenigydn kappay) I have done this.” He is told that
Abraham is a prophet and as such is able to pray on his behalf so
that he will live. This whole episode is no longer dealt with by
popular storytelling motifs but on the basis of Israel’s cultic experi-
ences. It is a serious theological lesson with which the author is
concerned.4
The author is also troubled by two other features in the earlier
story, that of the plague that God brought upon Pharaoh’s house-
hold, which would suggest unjustified punishment, and that of
Sarah’s moral position. The author of the second story specifically
states that God prevented the king from touching (ng‘) her (v. 6), and
the means by which he did so was the disease. This is vaguely
suggested in v. 7 in the reference to Abraham praying for Abimelech,
but it is not specifically stated until v. 17, which states that as a
result of Abraham’s prayer God healed Abimelech and his household.
This is another clear instance in which the author has to assume the
knowledge of story A.
One also notes that in story B the focal concentration on Abraham
has changed to that of Abimelech, so he is certainly the main figure
in the story even though he is not appropriately introduced as such.
In fact, the focus has become confused because the author’s intention
is not on the storytelling level. This is certainly a long way from any
oral base.
The second set of issues has to do with Abraham’s apparent lie and
his reply to the king’s accusations. In story A Abraham makes no
reply to Pharaoh’s charges, which would certainly be interpreted as
an admission of guilt. But here he justifies himself by stating that she
was in fact his half sister, whom he married. Many have pointed out
that this custom is strictly forbidden in a number of laws, but
D. Daube’s study of these suggests that injunctions against marrying
a half sister are rather late additions to the codes and, in fact,
Ezek. 22:11 may be the earliest statement against this practice.25

24. On this see Keller, ZAW 66:188-89; cf. Koch, Biblical Traditions, p. 122. I cannot
agree with Koch’s criticism of Keller on this point.
25. D. Daube, Studies in Biblical Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1947),
pp. 78-82.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 175

Abraham also defends himself by suggesting a religious motif that

is lacking in story A: “I did it because I thought, there is no fear of
God here. ...”” The story up to this point has, of course, given no
reason for such a view. To the contrary, the king and his servants do
fear God greatly, as seen in v. 8. On the other hand, if 21 :25ff. goes
with this passage there was some justification for Abraham’s appre-
hension. But from the storytelling viewpoint this is certainly out of
place.
Finally, there are some questions that deal with Abraham’s
relationship to the king subsequent to the disclosure. In story A
Abraham received all his wealth before the disclosure and as a direct
result of Sarah’s being a member of Pharaoh’s harem. Such acquisi-
tions, the result of his lying about his wife, may be viewed as morally
questionable. But in chap. 20:14 Abraham receives all these
goods as gifts after the disclosure of Sarah as his wife. Abraham is not
expelled, as in story A, but is allowed to live wherever he pleases—an
acknowledgment of his just position. In fact, it is the king who seeks
vindication from Abraham at a very high price (a thousand shekels
of silver), as if the king were the guilty one and not Abraham. And
only after such restitution does Abraham pray for the king and his
family, who are then healed as a sign of divine forgiveness. Conse-
quently, the whole relationship between Abraham and the king is
reversed from that of story A in order to give great moral stature to
the patriarch.
It seems to me that one can only conclude from these observations
that story B is not simply a variant tradition that has slowly evolved
somewhat differently from that of story A. It bears no marks of such
an oral tradition, either in its basic structure or in its manner of
telling. At every point where there is a difference between story A
and story B, the latter has given up the folktale point of interest for
moral and theological concerns. Finally, story B exhibits a number of
‘blind motifs,” foreshortening, and backward allusions that can only
be accounted for by viewing it as directly dependent upon story A.
When the parallel episode in 26:1-11 (story C) is brought into the
discussion, it raises the rather complex problem of its relationship to
both of the other accounts. This problem suggests a considerable
variety of theoretical possibilities, but all of these need not be
debated since this would make the present investigation rather
tedious. Therefore, I shall endeavor to defend the thesis that the
176 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

account in chap. 26:1~-11 is the latest version and is directly depend-

ent upon the other two.
As I indicated above, there is an initial problem as to whether
story A and story C were from the same source, J. On purely literary
grounds Gunkel is certainly correct in holding that story A stands so
clearly apart from its Yahwistic context and is so entirely different in
style and presentation from the variant in story C that it is hard to
see them as belonging to the same source.?® For those like Noth and
Koch,2? however, who hold to the unity of the Yahwistic source, J
simply becomes a redactor of variant oral traditions, in this case an
already existent collection of old stories about Isaac, which had to be
incorporated into his work as a block. The question is not whether or
not there are two separate sources but at what level they were
separate. Did they belong to two separate literary sources as Gunkel
suggested, or were they only of separate origin at the level of oral
tradition, as Noth suggests? Noth’s position against Gunkel would
only be tenable if one could show that story C was at least as close to
oral tradition as that of story A. .
If we apply the form-critical criteria of the folktale model and the
“epic laws” to story C it becomes clear that we are not dealing with
an independent folktale in the latter instance. If v. 1, or a part of it,
states the situation, there is a long interruption, vv. 2-5, which
presents a theophany completely negating any sense of crisis created
by v. 1. And only in v. 7 do we have a rather weakened allusion to
the “plan” and its execution. But the subsequent events hardly
make the plan necessary, and Isaac is made to look completely
foolish. The story does not have a fixed conclusion, since v. 11 does
not resolve the question of what happened to Isaac and Rebekah
but continues on in vv. 12ff. Nor are the epic laws very well observed,
for there is considerable lack of clarity and focal concentration, and
one’s feeling about the hero is certainly ambivalent. In comparison
with story A, story C does not appear to be close to an oral source at
all; consequently Noth’s position must be abandoned.28 Gunkel
seems entirely justified in seeing a separate Yahwistic source in
story C.

26. Gunkel, p. 299.

27. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 114ff.; Koch, Biblical Traditions, p. 131.
28. Cf. Koch, Biblical Traditions, pp. 122-27. Koch’s general discussion seems to me to
contradict his final conclusion.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 77

Even though I agree with those who would make story C part of a
different source from story A, they have not shown that it is inde-
pendent in its origin. This has simply been taken for granted on the
basis of the old documentary hypothesis. But just as story B was a
literary revision of story A, story C is a further revision of both
stories A and B. Let us test this theory by a more detailed examina-
tion of the text.
Story C begins:
There was a famine in the land (in addition to the previous
famine which occurred in the time of Abraham) so Isaac went
to Abimelech, king of the Philistines at Gerar.
This verse alone clearly indicates that the writer knows both accounts
in stories A and B and has tried to combine elements from both of
them, but he does so in a rather awkward fashion.?9 For instance, he
refers to a famine in the land and specifically mentions the previous
episode in story A. Most commentators overcome this problem by
invoking a redactor for the phrase “in addition to the previous
famine which occurred in the time of Abraham.” But this solves
nothing, for Abraham’s response to a famine was to go to Egypt,
which would be unaffected by lack of rainfall in Palestine. But Isaac
goes instead to Gerar which is “in the land”? and would be no help
at all.8° The detail of the sojourn in Gerar, however, is taken from
story B, in which there vas no mention of famine or of any need for
such a motive. Isaac is prevented from going down to Egypt by
divine command, v. 2, but no reason is given for this.
Isaac is also described as going “to Abimelech, king of the
Philistines.’’ Are we to imagine that this is a state visit by a group of
nomads at a time when the food supply is scarce? Such a notion
hardly fits the rest of the story. The only reason Abimelech is
immediately introduced in this awkward way is to remind the
reader of story B, which is already known. The reference to Abime-
lech is a literary device and no more, so the incongruity of referring
to the same king for the two patriarchs is not considered. This one
verse is enough to establish the perspective of the writer for the
whole story. He has no interest whatever in the folktale but only in
29. Cf. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 202-09.
30. Cf. Koch, Biblical Traditions, p. 116. He is aware of the appropriateness of going to
Egypt in the first story but fails to see that a visit to Gerar would be no help in story C.
178 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

the use of previous narrative elements to construct a history of

Isaac.
There is one further detail that must be noted in this story’s
prologue, and that is the identification of Abimelech as “king of the
Philistines.’’ This should not be interpreted as a casual historical
comment, but as an important ideological statement.?! An altogether
different view of this foreign realm is introduced into the story.
The difference is not, as frequently suggested, that the Yahwist
regards Abimelech as Philistine while the Elohist thinks of him as
Canaanite or Amorite, since rhetorically speaking all these designa-
tions mean the same thing in the Old Testament, and they are
clearly all negative.3? They all mean an irreligious person or people,
and this is not stated in story B where the king and his people are
clearly God-fearing. The addition of the designation Philistine in
story CG means that an altogether different view of the patriarch’s
relationship to the king and his people is thereby suggested.33
Since vv. 2-5 are usually considered as largely redactional addi-
tions we shall return to this section at the end. Verse 6 simply takes
up where v. 1 left off and adds nothing new. The action of the story
resumes in v. 7, which states:
When the men of the place asked him about his wife, he said,
“She is my sister;” for he was afraid to say, ‘“‘ [She is] my wife,”
[thinking to himself], ‘“‘lest the men of the place should kill me
because of Rebekah;”’ because she was beautiful.
Here again is a case of conflation of the two previous stories. The
first statement, v. 7a, is modeled on the statement in 20:2 ““Abraham
said about Sarah, his wife, “She is my sister.”’ The verbal affinities are
very close and quite obvious. The next statement, v. 7b, has its
closest parallel in 20:10-11: “What were you afraid of (yaréta)34
that you did this ....” “Because I thought ... ‘they will kill me
because of my wife.’’? An addition in both clauses, however, is the

31. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, p. 203, misses the point of this reference by making it a
redactional addition.
32. See my discussion of the ideological use of such designations in ‘‘ The Terms ‘Amorite’
and ‘Hittite’ in the Old Testament,” VT 22 (1972): 64-81.
33- Whether ‘‘ king of the Philistines” is redactional or not must be answered by whether
the view of Abimelech is consistently negative in chap. 26 as compared with chap.
20, and
not by whether it would be anachronistic.
34. Instead of MT rartta.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 179

curious expression “‘the men of the place” (anséy hammaqém),

instead of the expected “‘men of Gerar”’ or the like. Yet in 20:11 and
13, the same word, mdaqém, is used twice, “in this place” and “in
every place,” so the carry-over of this designation with the rest is
understandable. This close verbal correspondence cannot simply be
dismissed as possible on the basis of oral tradition alone, especially
since both stories B and C show characteristics of written composition
and are not close at all to story A. This must be a case of literary
dependence.
Yet there is one remark, the very last one about Rebekah’s
beauty, that is derived from story A (12:11).35 But even here the
difference with story A is significant for the order in it is clear and
logical, beginning with the remark about Sarah’s beauty, then the
threat that this poses, and finally the plan to get around this. In
story C this order, in abbreviated form, is completely reversed,
creating a very confusing statement. This literary reworking has
completely destroyed the clear oral pattern of the earlier story and
abolished the repetition of plan and execution by an awkward
telescoping.
In v. 8, story C presents a complete departure from the earlier
two stories. The text states:
When he (Isaac) had been there for a long time, Abimelech,
king of the Philistines, looked out of the window and discovered
Isaac fondling Rebekah his wife.
This shift in the story comes precisely at that point in which story A
created serious problems that story B sought to answer; namely,
how did the king discover that the woman was really the wife of the
patriarch? And was the chastity of the woman ever in jeopardy?
Since in story C Rebekah does not become the wife of the king this
alleviates the problem of illicit sexual contact for the patriarch’s
wife. And it also makes it easier to suggest a rather “‘natural”
means of discovery, especially important since we are now dealing
with a godless Philistine.
This solution by the author of story C, however, ultimately
raises more problems than it solves. The story has not made it clear
why the king should be involved at all. The narrator may have
assumed that the king was informed about Rebekah, as in the case of
35. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, p. 207, attributes this connection to a redactor.
 180 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Sarah in 12:15, but for what purpose if he did not marry her? This
is another example of blind motive in a literary variant. Further-
more, the original model of the folktale has been completely dis-
solved at this point. How is it possible that the men of the place
should ask about her and then, discovering that she is both beautiful
and ‘“‘unattached,”’ not seek her hand ? Such a lack of interest in the
folktale theme can only be explained by suggesting that the author’s
interest is elsewhere. I therefore find it quite remarkable that some
scholars see in this verse an important clue to the oldest level of the
legend.36 There is no basis whatever for such a judgment.
The confrontation scene between the monarch and the patriarch,
vv. 9-10, is given in two parts, which are divided by the speech of
Isaac. In comparing this scene with the other two accounts it is
clear that the first speech has been drawn from story A while the
second part comes from story B, though with some rearrangement of
details. This may be illustrated by setting the passages down in
parallel columns.

Story A—Chap. 12 Story B—Chap. 20 Story C—Chap. 26

18. Pharaoh called g. Abimelech called g. Abimelech called
Abram and Abraham and Isaac and said, ...
said, ... said, ...
19. “‘Why did you “Surely she is your
say, ‘She is my wife. How could
sister?’ ... Now you say, ‘She is
there is your my sister ?’”’
WE aoc
11. Abraham answered, Isaac answered
“Because I him, ‘‘ Because
thought ... I might I thought I might
be killed on her be killed on her
account.” account.”
18a. “What is this ga. ‘‘ What have you 10. And Abimelech
you have done to done to us? ... said, “‘ What is
neu For you have this you have done
brought a great to us?... You
sin (hta@a, might have
g@dola upon me brought guilt
and my kingdom.” (?aSam) upon us.”

36. See Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions; p. 105; von Rad, Genesis, p. 266; Kilian, Abrahams-
tiberlieferungen, p. 214; cf. Koch, Biblical Traditions, p. 125.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 181

As can be observed from the chart, the first statement by Abimelech

in story C has its parallel only in story A, but is completely absent
in story B. This is because it was already dealt with in 20:5 and is
implied again in Abraham’s defense in 20:12. However, the rest of
the scene in C is taken from B. Isaac’s defense is a shortened version
of Abraham’s remarks in 20:11. Obviously, Isaac could not claim that
Rebekah was his half sister since the tradition was quite clear about
her parentage. Abimelech’s second accusation, in C, corresponds with
his opening remarks in B.
This conflation of two sources has created considerable awkward-
ness and lack of logical sequence in story C. As we have already seen
in v. 7, this author has a certain tendency to invert the order of the
material he borrows, as for instance in the two phrases taken from
12:18-1g. But in the second half he inverts the accusation and reply
with rather serious consequences; after Isaac has stated his defense
Abimelech begins his accusation over again with the question
“why.” The logical order in story B is thereby completely destroyed.
This is evidence of literary borrowing and a clear indication of the
direction of that borrowing.3?
The command of the king in 26:11 is the author’s way of summing
up the episode. In form it is similar to apodictic law (cf. Exod.
21:12, 15-17), but it has been changed from general law to a quite
specific case, ‘this man or this woman.” The form has affinities with
the divine injunction placed upon Abimelech in 20:7, which ends
in a very similar threat, ‘‘you shall surely die.”’ But more important,
there is an interesting use of the verb ng“ since for a man it means
“to inflict bodily injury,” but for a woman it means “to approach
sexually.” In story B, 20:6, it has the latter meaning while in A,
12:17, it has to do with bodily harm in the sense of the divine
plague. This rather ingenious double entendre provides the con-
clusion of the episode for this author.?8
Let us now turn to the theophany in wv. 2-5. The first basic
question that must be answered is: does the theophany belong to the
story? The fact that one can go directly from v. 1 to v. 6 without any
37. Another instance in which an author has combined two sources by means of dividing
a speech into two parts may be seen in Num. 20:14-21. For a discussion of this passage
see Van Seters, ‘‘The Conquest of Sihon’s Kingdom: A Literary Examination,” JBL g1
(1972): 190-01.
38. Another instance of word play within the story isyishag m®sahég (v. 8), with no serious
etiological intention behind it.
182 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

difficulty does not immediately answer the question. We have

already seen that narrative structure plays a very weak role in the
story as a whole. Although there is a theophany in story B, it has an
entirely different dramatic and theological function, so this too can
scarcely answer the question. There is in Gen. 12:1ff. a theophany to
Abraham prior to his descent into Egypt, which, while not original
to story A, was known at least in part by the author of story B,
as seen in 20:13. Since story C has already been shown to be depen-
dent on both stories A and B, there is no reason to suppose that the
author did not also know this framework for story A and, following
the lead of story B, make some direct use of it. Consequently, story C
very likely included the theophany to Isaac.
The second question is whether the theophany must be reduced to
a certain bare minimum with the rest being considered as redac-
tional additions, or whether the whole is a unity. The only argument
which has any literary integrity, it seems to me, is to show that part
of the theophany has a certain dramatic function that is vitiated by
the supposed additions. But it has already been shown at the outset
that a theophany in any form is a serious interruption of the story
structure. It comes between the situation and the plan and has no
dramatic function. Isaac is already in Gerar and does not need to be
told to go there. God gives him great promises of prosperity and
protection but he immediately resorts to the self-protection of lying.
Yet nothing is made of this lack of faith. The theophany plays no
role whatever in the rest of the story. Consequently there is no
reason to see only part of it as original and the rest as the work of a
redactor.39 It is all part of the work of this author-redactor who
created story C.
If the theophany has no function within the story, it can only have
a thematic function in terms of a much larger whole. The content of
this theophany is easily recognized as the themes of promise, both of
land and prosperity, which run through the Abraham stories and are
here extended to Isaac. I will not take up a separate treatment of
these themes until a later point in this study. But it is enough to
observe here that the author of story C is also the author of this
thematic framework for the basic pre-priestly narrative source, the
so-called Yahwist.
39. The only criterion used for ascribing vv. 2-5 and similar passages to a late redactor is
its Deuteronomistic or late prophetic affinities (see Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen,
pp. 204-06).
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 183

To summarize the study thus far, I have tried to show that the
account in 12:10-20 (A), is the oldest story, appearing very much in
its primitive folktale form. It was originally quite independent and
unrelated to the immediate context in which it is now found. How-
ever it is very likely that the first narrator to record the story in
written form also set it in some framework that at least included
the reference to Abraham’s call in 12:1 along with some itinerary.
The second account in chap. 20 (B) gives a fairly consistent
revision of the first story, by means of a changed setting, for the
purpose of dealing with certain moral and theological issues. This is a
literary compositional variant directly dependent on the earlier
story, as indicated by the many “blind motives” but especially by
the way in which it takes for granted the whole setting and early
development of the plot with the greatest economy of words. It also
assumes a broader context of the call and wanderings of Abraham.
The third account in 26:1-11 (C) is yet another composition
variant—this time a literary conflation of both the other stories. It
appears to have no interest in the storytelling aspect, nor is it a
theological revision. The intention of the author is suggested instead
in the opening remarks in which he directly parallels Isaac’s life
with that of Abraham. It seems to be an artificial literary tradition
about Isaac based directly on the traditions of Abraham.
The implications thus far for literary criticism, form-criticism, and
tradition-history are considerable, and these will have to be tested in
the study of subsequent pericopes. For literary criticism there appears
to be an early ‘‘Yahwistic” source, a subsequent “Elohistic”’
source, and finally a late ““Yahwistic” source. Each later writer is
directly dependent upon the earlier level of the tradition. For form-
criticism it appears that while there are some folkloristic pericopes,
the variants may be only literary compositional variants. In the area
of tradition-history we have discovered serious problems with Noth’s
view of the priority of the Isaac tradition, which demands consider-
able revision.
The Covenants Between Abimelech and the Patriarchs

The stories about the patriarch’s beautiful wife in a foreign land

should not be treated in isolation from other episodes connected
with the same dramatis personae. The reason for many doing so in
the past is the presupposition that the stories in Genesis are virtually
all based directly on specific folktales and were put into their present
184 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

form by narrators working quite independently of each other. Since

such a presupposition has been rejected in this study there is every
reason why they should be treated together.
Many scholars from Gunkel on have suggested that 21: 22-34 is
not a unity,4° although this opinion is far from unanimous.*+ Nor
have the particular proposals for the division into sources been
entirely satisfactory. There are three points of obvious tension in the
passage. Firstly, in v. 24 Abraham agrees to enter into a covenant
with Abimelech, but in v. 25 he brings a serious complaint against
him. Secondly, in v. 27 the two men enter into a covenant, but in
v. 28 Abraham is still proceeding to a resolution of his complaint. In
v. 31 there are two explanations for the naming of Beersheba. These
points of tension make it fairly easy to separate the two sources. ‘The
one source, vv. 25-26, 28-31a, has to do only with the problem of
Abraham’s complaint and its resolution.4? It may be rendered as
follows:
Then Abraham made a complaint against Abimelech con-
cerning a well of water which the servants of Abimelech had
seized. Abimelech answered, ‘“‘I don’t know who has done this
deed. You yourself had not informed me, nor had I heard
anything at all until today.”” So Abraham set apart seven ewe
lambs by themselves. Then Abimelech asked Abraham, “Why
is it these seven ewe lambs have been set apart by themselves ?”’
He replied, ‘‘The seven lambs you are to take from me, that
you may become my witness that I dug this well.” Therefore
they called that place ‘‘ Well of Seven”? (Beersheba).
This episode, according to the last line, represents an etiology of
the place name, Beersheba.4? But this does not necessarily lead to
40. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 233-34; Skinner, Genesis, p. 325; and recently D. J. McCarthy,
‘“Three Covenants in Genesis,’’ CBQ 26 (1964): 179-189.
41. Cf. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 35, n. 131; von Rad, Genesis, pp. 230-31; Kilian,
Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 257-62; Mowinckel, Pentateuch Quellenfrage, pp. 100-01. It is
difficult for me to accept the view of these scholars that the obvious discontinuities in the
text are the result of combining oral traditions prior to the literary work of the Elohist.
The criteria for making source-critical judgments have been totally discarded at this point.
42. Cf. works in n. 40, in which a different division is suggested.
43. This reconstruction fits completely with *‘ form II”’ of Fichtner’s and Long’s etiological
categories; see Long, Etiological Narrative, pp. 6ff. Consequently, I cannot agree with
Long’s division of the two sources, pp. 18-20, in which he violates his own form-critical
principles. :
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 185

the conclusion that an old tradition is preserved here. The brief

episode hardly constitutes a real story or conforms to any basic
genre of legend. One can speak here of nothing more than a folklore
motif; but of course such aztia were very common as literary devices
in the ancient world and were especially well-known in classical
literature.44 So the presence of etiology says very little about the
unit’s form.
The unit certainly has a logical, straightforward movement and
comes to a satisfactory conclusion. But its beginning is defective
because it assumes the complete knowledge of Abraham/’s relation-
ship to Abimelech, the identity of Abimelech, and the general locale
in which the events take place. The clearest solution to this problem is
to place the episode directly after 20:17(18). As soon as this is done
the new context gives to the unit an entirely different significance.
In this position Abraham’s charge of a stolen well is made to counter-
balance the previous charge that Abimelech made against Abraham.
And the clear implication in Abimelech’s reply to the charge of not
having been informed about it previously is that this act of violence
had occurred before the confrontation scene of 20:off., so that
Abraham had further right to act in the cautious way that he did.
Since the well is Beersheba the implication is that it happened
before Abraham’s sojourn in Gerar and some distance from it.
Furthermore, just as the previous dispute was settled by a legal act
of vindication in which Abimelech paid Sarah, so in this instance
there is another legal transaction that is meant to bind Abimelech as
a witness to the legitimate ownership of this well. And here it is
Abraham who gives to Abimelech the payment of sheep.
This means that story B is a longer literary unit than previously
suggested, and that there is even less reason to view it as an oral
variant of story A. The story also incorporates an etiological motif
which, while it is useful as a device for developing the final episode,
is hardly basic for the story as a whole. If, for convenience, we may
refer to the author of chap. 20 as the “‘Elohist,” then we must also
regard 21:25-26 and 28-314 as part of the “ Elohistic”’ source.
If the unit discussed above is removed from 21:22-34 we are left
with vv. 22-24, 27, 31b-34. Many scholars have preferred to ascribe
these verses (or most of them) to the “Elohist;”’ that is, to the same
44. See the article on etymology in The Oxford Classical Dictionary (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1949), PP- 341-42.
186 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

source as in chap. 20. The only reason for this is the use of Elohim as
the term for deity. But such a criterion for source analysis is not
adequate by itself. If instead, this unit is compared with the source in
chap. 26, the result is an impressive similarity in terminology.
Firstly, Abimelech is viewed as king of the Philistines and is accom-
panied by one or more officers, vv. 22,32, cf. 26:1, 14-15, 26. In
story B Abimelech is known only as the king of Gerar, 20:2, and
those about him are called his (74
“‘servants,” 20:8; 21:25. Secondly,
Abimelech’s request for a covenant is almost identical in 21:22-24
and 26:28~-29. The notion of a covenant is not at all suggested in the
earlier account. Thirdly, the name Beersheba is explained by
“oath” in both 21:31b and 26:31-33, but with “‘seven”’ in story B,
21:30-31a. Fourthly, the phrase “‘to call on the name of Yahweh”
at a holy place occurs in both 21:33 and 26:25. Consequently, I
would allocate vv. 22-24, 27, and 31b-34 to the same source as
chap. 26, i.e., the Yahwist.4°
The second important problem is the relationship between the
two units in 21:22~34. The general tendency has been to suggest that
two independent accounts have been spliced together by a redactor.
This is possible only if one assigns vv. 31b—32a to the redactor as a
connective passage. The reference to Beersheba in v. 33, however,
presumes that the locale has been named previously in the story, and
that the reason for planting a tamarisk tree at this particular spot is
self-evident. Thus vv. 31b-32a can hardly belong to a subsequent
redactor, but must be from the Yahwist’s hand.
It is also not possible to speak of the Yahwist’s account as a self-
contained unit. The opening phrase “at that time” demands a
connection with something previous, and it is assumed that the
dramatis personae are known, so a knowledge of chap. 20 is taken
for granted. However, there is no motivation for Abimelech’s action
in that chapter. The response of Abraham is quite colourless and
passive, and the unit gains nothing by any connection with chap. 20.
One must conclude from this that vv. 22-24, 27, and 31b-34 are a
secondary supplement to the earlier account. It was never an inde-
pendent story at any time, but was meant to reshape the existing
episode in a particular way. The point of departure from the older
account was the legal agreement with its witness element. The later

45. Cf. McCarthy, CBQ 26:179.

 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 187

writer endeavoured to broaden the limited legal act into something

like an international treaty. So he gave the occasion an appropriate
preamble in vv. 22-24 and made the witness procedure part of the
convenant ceremony by putting v. 28 after v. 27. He also shifted the
story’s etiology from “‘seven”’ to “‘oath,’? which meant covenant.
What could have been the purpose of supplementing the earlier
account in this way? The answer to this question is much more
obvious in the parallel, 26: 26-31. Here Abimelech’s desire to enter
into a treaty is clearly connected with a prior series of events that go
back to vv. 12-23. Isaac has become a powerful household because
Yahweh has blessed him. But his power and prosperity become a
threat to the Philistines, who ask him to leave. Yet a period of terri-
torial disputes continues until it is resolved by the treaty in vv. 30-31.
In proposing the treaty Abimelech specifically acknowledges that
Yahweh is with Isaac and has blessed him, and this is the same moti-
vation that occurs in 21:22.
For this author the patriarchs are not just small nomadic families
but represent the later nation of Israel, and it is only as other nations
acknowledge Israel’s destiny and the fact that Yahweh is with Israel,
that the nations can hope, through a covenant of peace, to obtain a
blessing from Israel. This is part of the whole thematic structure of
the Yahwist’s work, and he wished by his supplementing of the
earlier story in chap. 21 to make this perspective primary in this
story as well.
The series of events in 26:12—33 is more complex than that of
21:22-34 and must now be considered in greater detail. It has been
suggested by Noth and frequently repeated since that the unit 26:12-
3346 is made up of originally unconnected elements of tradition
about Isaac, which were artificially strung together by the Yahwist.
The only concrete basis for this judgment must lie in the frequent
use of etiology in these verses. But there is certainly no etiological
legend here, and it is difficult to see how any of the etiological state-
ments could have formed the basis for one.4? Once it is recognized
that etiology need not reflect any oral tradition at all, but can be a
useful literary technique as well the whole discussion of this chapter
takes on quite a different perspective. Let us now proceed to test
these alternatives.
46. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 106-07; von Rad, Genesis, pp. 266-67.
47. Cf. Long, Etiological Narrative, pp. 22-23.
188 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

The unit 26:12-33 is a continuation of 26:1-11 just as the unit

21:22-34 was intended to continue the story of chap. 20. The first
episode in the series, vv. 12-16, seeks to deal with a particular theme
from the stories about the “‘jeopardy of the ancestress”’ in 12:10-20
and chap. 20. It tells of how Isaac became very wealthy and powerful,
but does so in a way quite different from the other two stories. In
story A Abraham becomes wealthy through direct gifts from Pharaoh
when Sarah is taken into the royal household. In story B the king
gives Abraham his wealth after the confrontation as a gesture of
goodwill. This modifies considerably the morally questionable fact
that Abraham received his wealth by trickery. However, in 26:12-16
the king is not at all responsible for Isaac’s wealth, and this is con-
sistent with the Yahwist’s negative attitude toward this Philistine. It
is God alone who prospers the patriarch and to such a remarkable
degree that the king and his people are envious of his bounty and
threatened by his might, for he is more powerful than the Philistines
(v. 16). The notion that God blesses (brk) and makes great (gd) the
patriarchs and their offspring is, of course, the basic theme of the
Yahwist. It is found in 12:2-3 in the promises of blessing prior to
the episode relating the trip to Egypt. It is repeated in much the
same form to Isaac in 26:3—5, and these promises are now made good
in vv. 12-16. The promises to Abraham were regarded as having
their first basic fulfillment in the Isaac story.
There is still one problem in this pericope that is not yet explained,
and that is how Isaac, a sojourner, was permitted to practice agri-
culture in the region of Gerar (v. 12). This difficulty is not answered
by speaking of the possibility of semi-nomads doing some limited
agricultural activity.48 This was, after all, the land belonging to
Gerar and, as we saw above, Isaac is hardly being described as a
nomad. Given the feeling of hostility that was aroused between
Isaac and the Philistines, it is strange that he could carry on agricul-
ture and become wealthy and powerful at the Philistines’ expense on
land that he does not own.
The solution to this problem must lie in the fact that the narrator
is assuming for Isaac the privilege granted by Abimelech to Abraham
in the earlier story (B), in which the king says (20:15) “See, my land
is before you; dwell wherever you please.” Either it is a case of a
“blind motive” or the author wants us to assume Isaac had this
48. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 104.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE 189

privilege but does not want to say so explicitly because he does not
want to make Isaac dependent on the k‘ng in any way for his pros-
perity. It is entirely the result of God’s blessing.
The conclusion of this episode, v. 16, presents the expulsion of
Isaac from Gerar, and here again there is a motif which corresponds
to Abraham’s expulsion from Egypt (12:20). Yet the motive for the
expulsion is entirely different in both cases. In the first case Abraham
leaves under rebuke by the king and as a punishment for his deceit.
In 26:16, however, Isaac is requested to leave because he has
become too powerful—a very significant shift in orientation. Every
aspect of this tradition in vv. 12-16 (except v. 15) is tied into the
previous stories and their present contexts, and the tradition’s
development is strictly along the thematic lines of J. There is no
need to conjecture any primitive tradition behind it whatever.
The next section, the dispute over the wells, vv. 17-22, follows
directly from v. 16, “So Isaac went from there and camped in the
valley of Gerar ...,”” and the subsequent verses indicate that his
withdrawal from Gerar is only by stages. Now this pericope is tied to
the preceding one in the closest fashion by v. 15, about Abraham’s
digging wells, and the repetition of this in v. 8. These verses, however,
have generally been viewed as redactional, and it is true that wv. 17
and 19-22 provide a unified narrative without them. But the impor-
tant question is: are we thereby left with an old self-contained unit of
tradition?
If we go back to story A we find that immediately following it is a
story about conflict between two groups of herdsmen, ré‘im, those of
Abraham and Lot. This story has no direct connection with the
preceding at all. But in chap. 26 Isaac, following his expulsion from
Gerar, is involved in a controversy between his herdsmen and
those of Gerar in the Valley of Gerar. Furthermore, in story B the
final scene pertains to a dispute over a well, although here there is no
mention of “‘herdsmen,”’ but only of “servants,” v. 25. In chap. 26
the dispute between the herdsmen is over a group of wells, although
it is the “‘servants”’ of Isaac who dig the wells. Now it cannot be
fortuitous that in this account various motifs and elements are present
from both the previous episodes in the life of Abraham zn the same
sequence of events and with a closer literary unity than exists between
story A and chap. 13. It is difficult to imagine, despite the prevailing
opinion, how the Isaac tradition could have developed into the
190 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

diversity of the Abraham tradition. Consequently, 26:17 and 19-22

represent a literary conflation of themes from the two Abraham
stories Into a new episode in the life of Isaac.
But this means that there can be no objection to vv. 15 and 18
belonging to this same literary process. They simply make the borrow-
ing from the Abraham tradition more obvious. More important,
they provide a reason for the repetition of events from the time of
Abraham in the life of Isaac. There are, however, references to
events in Abraham’s life that are not, in fact, recorded there. In
chap. 21 there is nothing about a series of wells, only Beersheba,
which is not included here, and there is no suggestion about a con-
tinuous difficulty after this one well dispute is settled. Yet in J’s
additions to story B a careful allowance has been made for such events
by stating that “Abraham sojourned in the land of the Philistines a
long time.” This period he now fills in retrospect (26:15 and 18).
It was stated above that the naming of the series of wells does not
really constitute a number of etiologies, but a literary technique.
The etiologies have the function here of claiming legitimate possession
by Israel of territory in Philistia but also show that such claims,
because of the ancestor’s generosity, were not being pressed. Isaac
simply withdrew to Rehoboth, some distance away (v. 22). All of
this is meant to suggest that Israel was “‘historically’? magnanimous
toward its neighbors even in the face of hostility—which is good
political propaganda.?9
Mention is made in 26:24 of a theophany to Isaac. Its contents
are simply a shortened version of the earlier one in vv. 2-5. Here it
becomes one of a number of events connected with the last well
story, that of Beersheba. In the parallel Beersheba story in chap. 21
no such theophany occurs. But in chap. 13, following the settlement
of the dispute between Abraham and Lot (Moab and Ammon)
through the magnanimity of the patriarch, there is a theophany
containing the theme of promise. The same thematic pattern is
carefully being maintained for Isaac, even though motifs and ele-
ments are incorporated from other stories as well.
In chap. 21 the well story is made up of two separate sources with
the well episode and etiology actually originating in the earlier
source. But here the story about the well of Beersheba cannot be
49. The propaganda function of such stories in Greek literature is very well described in
the work by Nilsson, Cults, Myths, Oracles and Politics, pp. 12ff.
 THE PROBLEM OF THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE IQI

isolated as a separate entity. It is used as a framework for both the

theophany and the covenant-making episode. The building of the
altar (v. 25; cf. 21:33) is more logically tied to the theophany, while
the naming of the well is linked with the swearing of an oath between
the Philistines and Isaac. The author concludes by pointing to the
“city” of that name as evidence in his day that such important
events once took place.5° The fact that almost identical events
happened in the days of Abraham even to the point of naming the
same well is accounted for by the author in v. 18, in which he says
that Isaac merely redug the wells and renamed them with the same
names. This also allows him to freély identify Beersheba (vv. 23 and
25) before Isaac has named it.
The conclusion to be drawn thus far is that the process that was
evident in the case of the first three parallel stories has beenconfirmed.
In the case of 21 : 22-34 two sources were combined, not by a separate
redactor, but by the work of J himself. In the case of chap. 26, the
whole Isaac tradition is a complex literary composition worked out
entirely by J and using as his sources not old oral traditions, but
elements and motifs from the Abraham tradition. There is no
evidence whatever of an oral base, nor is it possible to suggest a
process by which the Isaac tradition could have been the origin for
the Abraham stories. There is also no need for any Grundlage to
account for similarity—it is a matter of direct literary dependence
of one source on another. There is no need for redactors because the
process was supplementary and the later authors were the redactors
of the earlier material as well. This is the literary theory that I shall
attempt to apply and confirm in the examination that follows.
A note must be added at this point on the designation of literary
sources. Instead of using the sigla Ji, E, and Jz to represent the
three literary levels of Gen. 12:10-20; chap. 20; and 26:1-11 res-
pectively, I will refer only to the third source as the “ Yahwist,”’
and to the other two as “‘pre-Yahwistic”’ authors. The term “ Elo-
hist” for the second source (Gen. 20:1-17; 21:25-26 and 28-314)
would be quite misleading. It usually stands for a comprehensive
pentateuchal source, parallel to that of the Yahwist and subsequent
to it in date. Since this is called into question here the term Elohist
(E), except as it is used by other scholars, will be avoided.
50. For a discussion of this witness element in historical narratives see B. S. Childs, “A
Study of the Formula ‘ Until this Day,’”’ JBL 82 (1963): 290-92.
 CHAPTER 9

The Birth of Ishmael and Isaac

Another doublet that is used as the basis for literary criticism in the
Abraham tradition is the story about the birth of Ishmael to Hagar
(chap. 16) and the expulsion of Hagar and her son (chap. 21:8-21).
Once again, however, we are confronted with the problem of
whether or not this constitutes the true limits of the discussion.
Reasons will be presented below to show that the birth story of
Isaac, in 18:1-15; and 21:1~7, must also be taken into considera-
tion. The same basic principles that were used in the previous
investigation of doublets will be employed in this case as well.

The Birth of Ishmael, Genesis 16

Chapter 16 presents a considerable form-critical problem because

there are indications within it of “‘redactional”’ additions, so that
the limits of the earliest story are not clear. This constitutes an
immediate difficulty in the recognition of the form of the story. Yet
it is precisely form that gives the best control over literary criticism;
that is, what is redactional or additional and what is not. Fortu-
nately, there are enough resemblances in the story’s structure with
that of 12:10-20 to suggest that its form is that of an anecdotal
folktale of the same kind. If this is correct, then it would suggest the
following structure and content according to the model previously
given for such stories. First, the situation of need is that Sarah has
no children. Second, the plan to deal with this need is to follow the
custom of the times by Sarah providing a maid for her husband so
that she may regard the maid’s children as her own. Abraham
agrees to this, and the plan is executed but certain complications
arise. When Hagar, the maid-slave becomes pregnant she adopts a
haughty manner toward her mistress and makes life intolerable for
Sarah. The latter therefore receives permission from Abraham to
discipline her. Yet this corrective measure leads in turn to the flight
192
 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAC 193

of the slavegirl. At this point it would seem that Sarah’s plan has
completely failed. But now there is an unexpected intervention by
a divine messenger, who encourages Hagar to return to her mistress
and to submit to her. Yet the story ends with an ironic twist because
the slavegirl is given the knowledge that the son to be born to her
will have a destiny that will be anything but submissive and his
defiance will be her ultimate vindication. In this way all the tensions
are resolved, and the story has a firm conclusion in v. 12.
This judgment about the final part of the story excludes some
previous alternative suggestions concerning its form. One of these is
to say that the purpose of the story is etiological; to explain the name
and holiness of the well, Lahai-roi.! But the well is scarcely nothing
more than a piece of scenery in the story, a place where strangers
meet in the desert. The indication of its location (v. 7b) represents
an awkward repetition which is almost certainly secondary in order
to establish a link in the story with the statement in v. 14. This
means that vv. 13-14 cannot be a fitting conclusion to the story and
must be additional.
The form is also not a theophany story intended to give special
sanctity to the meeting place. It is quite possible to have a story
that includes the encounter between a human and a divine being
without any special significance being attached to the place of the
encounter. There are no indications in the story itself that the
encounter was considered extraordinary or created a holiness at
that place. The encounter functions only to communicate to the
slavegirl the destiny of her offspring. So again vv. 13-14 are addi-
tional and unnecessary for the story itself.
Once the form of the story is recognized as a folktale, this has
important implications for literary criticism. For instance, v. 1a
is regularly ascribed to P but this half-verse is vital to the basic
form of the story; it sets the situation of need.? Similarly, the whole
of v. 3 is also given to P. But in v. 2 Sarah states her plan and in v. 3
she carries it through, the same pattern that occurs in 12:10-20.
There is no good reason to exclude the whole of v. 3 from the story.
It is likely, however, that the chronological statement that interrupts

1. See Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 190-92; Skinner, Genesis, pp. 284-85; cf. Long, The Problem
of Etiological Narrative, p. 9.
2. If v. 1a is removed there is no antecedent for /ah in v. 1b, and this would create an
impossible literary introduction. One must then resort to supplying what isn’t there.
194 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

the middle of the verse belongs to P.3 This conclusion would suggest
that there is no basis to suppose there was a separate P version of
the story that was combined by a redactor. On the contrary, it
points instead to the fact that P was himself responsible for the
‘“‘redactional” chronological addition.
There are also some literary problems with the latter part of the
story, vv. 8ff. The fact that there is a repetition three times of the
phrase: ‘‘the angel of Yahweh said to her...” (vv. g-11) without
a change of speaker is a good indication of this. One solution is to
regard v. 9 as an insertion to create a link with the story in 21: 8ff.4
But this is most unlikely since v. g fits very well in the context, and
without it the question posed in v. 8 would be rather meaningless.
In v. gb there is also a reference back to the situation in the earlier
part of the story, v. 6, but there is no such “oppression” in 21: 8ff.
Since Hagar is not in any particular danger there can be only one
other reason for this divine appearance, and that is to have the
slavegirl return to her mistress.
The real problem lies with v. 10. It is quite incompatible with
v. 11 for it talks about Hagar’s offspring before mentioning the
birth of the child and the whole perspective is quite different from
what follows in vv. 11-12. In fact it is a reiteration of the theme of
numerous progeny to an eponymous ancestor, which is part of the
J framework of the patriarchal stories.
But what are we to make of vv. 11-12? Here the text suddenly
shifts to a prophetic oracle. The form of this oracle, according to
the recent study of Robert Neff,> is the ““Announcement of Birth,
Nature, and Destiny (ABND),” by a divine messenger or prophet,
of a child who is to become a king or hero. Other examples of this
genre in the Old Testament are: Gen. 17:19, Judg. 13:5,7; 1 Kings
13:2; 1 Chron. 22:9-10; Isa. 7:14-17. The basic elements of this
form are: a) the announcement of birth with a hznnéh clause, usually
to the father or the mother; b) the designation of the child’s name;

3. This is not entirely certain and may belong to the earliest collector (J) of these stories.
In this case P would be dependent upon this source for constructing his chronological
framework.
4. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 184; Skinner, Genesis, p. 285; Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 76—-
78.
5. This is discussed at length in R. Neff’s thesis, ‘‘ The Announcement in Old Testament
Birth Stories,” (Ph.D diss., Yale University, 1969). See also idem, “‘ The Birth and Election
of Isaac in the Priestly Tradition,”’ Biblical Research 15 (1970): 5-18.
 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAG 195

and c) the nature and destiny of the child. The first and second
items may resemble rather closely an etiological formula for the
naming of a child, but there is a basic difference in temporal orien-
tation. The etiology is in narrative past and the explanation of the
name generally relates to an accompanying past event. The ABND
is future, and if there is an explanation of the name it is generally
tied to the future nature or destiny of the child (cf. 1 Chron. 22: 9-10).
In this regard, therefore, the explanation of the name in v. 11c
seems to correspond to the etiological model and may rightly be
suspect as an addition. This is further strengthened by the fact that
Hagar has not complained to God about her “‘oppression,”’ and in
v. 9 the messenger has already told her to submit to it. Yet even if
v. I1c is regarded as “‘redactional” there must still be a strict
accounting for it.
Neff, however, argues that the whole of the ABND, wv. 11-12,
is a secondary literary addition to the story.6 He does so largely on
the basis of certain literary and traditio-historical presuppositions
that are here very much under question. He also suggests the argu-
ment that since Hagar is pregnant a birth announcement is redun-
dant. But this is not entirely the case. If the emphasis is on the destiny
of the child, one way to express this is by the use of a set formula
that may include one item that was not necessary.’ Furthermore,
while the ABND form can occur as a self-contained oracle, this
need not be the case. It can also be linked to a previous divine
command as the reason or explanation for it (see Judg. 13:4-5, 73
1 Chron. 22:9-10; and Isa. 7:3-14). In 16:9 the command to
return to servitude would fit very well with the assurance in the
ABND that Hagar’s offspring would have a notable destiny.
If these observations on form are correct then additional folk-
loristic characteristics become evident on the basis of Olrik’s laws.
The principle of scenic dualism is consistently carried through the
story. But there is also the triad involving the two women and
Abraham, with Abraham playing a purely passive role. The focal
6. Neff, “‘“Announcement,”’ p. 108. Neff considers that v. 10 is original!
7. Cf. Judg. 13:2ff., in which the angel also tells the woman something she already
knows.
8. The last line of the ABND, v. 12c, may look anticlimactic, and it could be interpreted as
having the larger perspective of the Abraham traditions in view (25:18). But the plural
-ehayw does not allude to Isaac specifically and may simply refer to the destiny of the
nomadic Ishmaelites not in servitude to anyone.
196 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

concentration is on the struggle between the two women and the

ironic interplay between their status and their natural or hidden
advantages. The primary figures are introduced in v. 1, and the
contest between them is not resolved until the final speech of the
divine messenger. There is a clear structure to the story with a
singleness of direction. The miraculous is not used, in spite of the
appearance of the divine messenger, and the action proceeds largely
according to the logic of the natural.
In many respects 16:1-12 resemble 12:10-20, and there is no
reason why it could not stem from the same basic source.? Even the
characterization of Hagar as an Egyptian makes this plausible.
Yet this question must await the literary analysis of the other
pericopes in this group.

The Expulsion of Hagar

Before a proper evaluation of chap. 21:8—21 as a variant of chap.

16:1-12 can be made, some rather basic questions about it have to
be answered. The first question is whether or not this pericope is a
self-contained unit. It is apparent in v. 8 with its opening reference
to ‘“‘the child” (hayyeled) instead of naming Isaac immediately, and
with its reference to his growing up and being weaned, that there is
a strong connection with the preceding episode about Isaac’s birth
in vv. 1-7. But v. 8 also sets the scene for the episode that follows,
so that while it forms a bridge between the two stories it remains an
integral part of the second one. In any storytelling genre, particularly
in the oral form, the introduction is so important to the whole that
it cannot be treated as insignificant. Yet an appropriate beginning
to the story that would make it an independent unit cannot be con-
structed out of what is extant in vv. 8-9.
Another question has to do with the significance of the phrase
“the son of Hagar, the Egyptian, which she bore to Abraham.”
Contrary to most commentaries, this is not a statement about the
boy’s status. This only becomes obvious when “‘slavegirl’’ (°amah)
is used as a parallel for Hagar in the next verse (v. 10). The statement
of the child’s identity in v. 9 can only be construed as an allusion
to a prior episode that is taken for granted as known. Likewise,
Hagar’s status is only revealed through a parallelism of use that

g. See also Gunkel, Genesis, p. 184; Skinner, Genesis, p. 285.

 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAC 197

assumes this knowledge instead of providing it very explicitly, as

in the case of 16:1. According to Olrik, the practice of assuming
prior knowledge of this kind is quite contrary to oral storytelling. It
does not occur in the other variant, chap. 16.
Furthermore, the story situation demands even more knowledge
than this. The son of an ordinary slavegirl could never challenge
the inheritance rights of the son of the principal wife.1° It is only
in the special circumstances such as portrayed in chap. 16 that
Hagar’s son can acquire the full status of a son and heir. One can
hardly escape the conclusion that a full knowledge of precisely the
episode in chap. 16 is taken for granted in the portrayal of chap.
21:8ff. This is a case of a literary composition variant of the earlier
story with direct knowledge and dependence on it. It may be argued
against this that Hagar is not regarded as Sarah’s maid in this story.
However, Sarah’s use of “‘this slavegirl” is simply contemptuous,
and the fact that Hagar was given to Abraham does make her in
some sense his. Sarah no longer has complete control over her. And,
as stated previously, an ordinary concubine could not give to her
son the rights of inheritance suggested here.
If the story lacks certain basic prerequisites for considering it an
independent tradition unit it is likely that other features of Olrik’s
epic laws are also missing. There is, for instance, the matter of focal
concentration. The opening passage, v. 8, highlights Isaac, and this
remains true down to the end of v. Ito since he is the only child
named. Yet by v. 11 the interest has clearly shifted to Ishmael, and
Isaac completely disappears from view. Yet while Ishmael is the
central character in much of the story he is not once named in the
whole account.!! It could also be argued that Hagar is equally
prominent, but she does not come on stage, so to speak, until the
second act. The focal concentration has become confused, indicating
that the dramatic concern is not the primary one.
This is also brought out by the story’s motivating situation of
conflict or need. In the first half one can hardly speak of conflict
between Isaac and Ishmael or even between Sarah and Hagar.
The only tension seems to be between Sarah and Abraham over the

10. See DMBL 1: 332-33; Gen. 25:1ff.

11. It is true that some Greek manuscripts include the name Ishmael at the end of v. 11,
but even if it is original, in comparison with the frequency of the other names this hardly
changes the picture much.
198 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

demanded expulsion of Ishmael, but this is fully resolved by Abra-

ham’s compliance in v. 14. Yet this act of Abraham leads to a new
situation of need quite separate from the principals involved in the
conflict of the first half. In many ways it is structurally an indepen-
dent episode, though it is closely tied to the preceding by v. 14. Thus
the expected skeletal outline, which would move from a situation of
tension to one of resolution, is confused. The resolution comes in
two separate theophanies (vv. 11-13, 17-18), in which the first is
clearly anticlimactic for the second and the second does no more
than reinforce one part of the first.
Olrik has also emphasized the importance, in oral tradition, of
scenic duality and the presence of triads of persons, events, and other
features. The trend of the two wives and the husband in chap. 16
is broken in chap. 21 by the presence of the two sons, however
passive their role. The scenic duality is also obscured. Isaac and the
unnamed Ishmael hardly constitute a contrasting pair. Sarah and
Abraham may be regarded as such but the contrast is not a very
clear one and not central to the whole story. The two wives, on the
other hand, never share a scene. Even in the desert scene the divine
messenger tells Hagar that he has heard the child’s cry and responded
to it, thus breaking the scenic dualism. The fact is that one cannot
find in this pericope a single example of Olrik’s epic laws of folk-
lore.
In the past a number of arguments have been used to support the
view that chap. 21:8-21 is an independent variant of chap. 16, so
it is necessary at this point to give some consideration to these
arguments.!? First, it is emphasized that the persons involved are
basically the same. While Isaac does not come into the former
account, both stories recognize the priority of Ishmael. Yet. this
argument is very weak since true variants often tell the same story
with considerable change of names and locality. On the other hand,
there can always be a series of different stories about the same persons
from the same or different authors. The fact that chap. 21:8-21 is
specifically placed at a point of time much later than the episode
in chap. 16, thus allowing for successive events, speaks against its
being a variant.
In the second place, it is suggested that both stories answer the
same etiological questions about the origin of the name Ishmael,
12. See Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 231-32; Skinner, Genesis, p- 324.
 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAC 199

the way of life of the Ishmaelites, and the sacredness of the well in
the region in which they live. The problem with this argument is that
it presupposes the form-critical generalization that all of these
stories in Genesis are etiological legends. However, the stories do
not seem to be concerned about these etiological questions at all,
and it is doubtful that they should be completely reconstructed to
make them answer such questions. For instance, the explanation
of Ishmael’s name in 16:11c is probably not original and is irrelevant
to the story. In chap. 21 Ishmael’s name does not even occur. The
characteristics of Ishmael are present to some extent in both stories,
but they are not strictly etiological. In chap. 16 the story closes
before the child is born and with the clear indication that he will
be born in Abraham’s household. The prediction about his nature
and destiny is intended to contrast the son’s future greatness and
defiance with the mother’s present humiliation. In chap. 21 one can
hardly say that the account is pointing clearly to vv. 20-21. These
verses are more in the nature of “‘supplementary anecdotes.’’}%
The real point of the story is to suggest that Ishmael, as a son of
Abraham, will also become a “nation” (géy) just as has already
been promised to Isaac. Finally, the well in the first story functions
only as a meeting place in the desert. The naming of the well, its
location, and the deity associated with it (vv. 7b, 13-14) are all
secondary. On the other hand in 21:19, in which the well is a signi-
ficant and somewhat miraculous element, it is not named or located,
so the story could hardly be used as an etiological cult legend.
A third argument used is that both accounts proceed in much the
same fashion. Both are said to begin with a discourse between a
jealous Sarah and Abraham in which Abraham complies with her
request and in which Hagar leaves Abraham’s household in the
end and goes into the desert. Both describe Hagar in a state of need
to which the deity responds. What is overlooked in this argument
is the fact that while scenes and players are the same, the basic
plot and outcome are different. In chap. 16 the story arises out of
the rivalry between the barren mistress and her pregnant maid-
servant, who belittles the former. That is quite a different motive
from the second story, which issues from conflict over inheritance.
In the first story Hagar’s “need” is for justice stemming from her
treatment in scene one and not from her surroundings. In the second
13. Skinner, Genesis, p. 324.
200 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

story Hagar’s need and that of her son are entirely physical and
directly related to being in the desert. Consequently, in the two
stories the situations are resolved in different ways: in the first by a
return to Abraham’s household, and in the second by remaining in
the desert under divine providence.
In Olrik’s discussion of epic laws, and especially with regard to
the problem of variants, he emphasizes the great importance of
the stability of introduction; that is, the setting forth of the situa-
tion, which gives basic direction to the whole plot, and the conclu-
sion, the way in which the situation is ultimately resolved. The
details of the movement between these two are the elements that
tend to vary in the transmission of stories. But in our case the oppo-
site is true. There has been a fundamental change of introduction,
plot motivation, and conclusion while preserving a similarity of
scenic details. And some of these details, such as the designation of
Hagar as an Egyptian, would ordinarily be the ones most readily
subject to variation. Since there are no elements of folklore in
21:8-21 or any indications of a real tradition variant, these facts
can only point in one direction: 21:8-21 must be a literary composi-
tion drawing its material from chap. 16, but written for its own
distinctive purpose and concern.
These conclusions mean that 21:8-21 does not correspond to
any genre of narrative so that form-criticism cannot function in
this case as a guide or control of literary criticism to clarify what
the basic motivation is for the story and whether it has undergone
any editorial changes. With regard to the latter there are no reasons
on other grounds for seeing any significant redactional additions in
the story, so that the pericope is a unity. But the question of literary
motivation is not so easy to deal with.14 If the motive is not to tell a
story, since it takes for granted chap. 16, it must be elsewhere. The
clue is in the two theophanies, which reinforce and complement
each other.
There are two interrelated themes present in the pericope: Israel
inheriting the land, and Abraham’s offspring becoming great
nations. These themes are easily recognized as the central concern
of the Yahwist. In this story they receive rather special treatment.

14. One motive suggested for this story is to see it as a revision by E in order to excuse
Abraham’s behavior, as in chap. 20. But this does not work so well here. Cf. F. V. Win-
nett, JBL 84 (1965): 5-6; Mowinckel, Pentateuch Quellenfrage, p. 100.
 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAC 201

First of all, Israel’s inheritance (yrs) of the land is tied to the expul-
sion (grs) of non-Israelites. The theme of expulsion dominates the
first scene, and the divine approval given to this action indicates its
importance. This connection between inheritance and expulsion
is not fortuitous. In J’s treatment of the conquest theme he consist-
ently speaks of God expelling (grs) the nations, and this is in con-
trast to Deuteronomy, which always speaks of annihilation, herem.15
Furthermore, Deuteronomy always refers to dispossessing the seven
primeval nations, but here the expulsion includes a descendent of
Abraham: Ishmael, father of the Arabs. Closely tied to this theme
of inheritance is another, that of special divine election of the Isaac
line, “through Isaac shall your offspring be designated,” v. 12.
This election of the forefather fully secures the claim to the land—
the inheritance of Israel. It is so obviously theological in its concern,
similar to Deutero-Isaiah (41:8f), that commentators have been
puzzled by its presence here and have tried to secularize it or ration-
alize it away.1® However, it can mean nothing else than the theo-
logical concept of election.
The second theme that is mentioned is that of Abraham’s offspring
becoming a great nation.!’ But here it applies not to Israel’s line but
to that of Ishmael as a modification of Israel’s election. God’s bless-
ing and providence extends beyond Israel to also include those who
are expelled. This is reiterated in both of the theophanies. This
same theme occurs in 16:10, in the statement of the angel, but it
was noted that this was an editorial addition. In the light of this
theme in 21:8-21 it is very probable that the later author added
this remark to the earlier story to make the two divine responses
harmonize with each other.
If this last suggestion is correct it may be possible to see the author
of the second story as responsible for other redactions in the first
story. The remark in 16:11c that God heard the slavegirl’s “afflic-
tion”’ does not fit well with the first story, but fits very well with the
second. Furthermore, as stated above, the secondary conclusion
focusing on the naming of the well and its location added to the
first story does not fit with its place in that story. But the second
15. For a discussion of this thematic difference see Van Seters, VT 22:70.
16. Cf. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 229, in which he takes the passage to mean that only in Israel
would the name of Abraham be preserved.
17. The MT of v. 13 simply has ‘‘a nation”’ but the Samaritan text with the versions all
support a reading /égéy gadél, ‘“‘a great nation,”’ and this agrees with v. 18.
202 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

story provides a much more impressive motive for the honor paid
to the well.
There is one further question of literary criticism that must be
dealt with. The passage 21:8-21 has almost always been assigned
by source analysis to E on the basis of the use of the designation
-elohim for deity.18 It is also pointed out that in chap. 16 the term
used for maid-servant is Siphah, whereas in chap. 21 it is °dmah. The
criterion of the divine name has already been rejected, and the fact
that the two terms for maid occur together in 30:1ff, where a source
division is doubtful, does not make it a useful criterion either. What
seems clear is that 21:8-21 is a different source from that of chap.
16, and that it actually made use of the latter story to construct its
own narrative. The thematic concerns of 21:8-21 would strongly
suggest that the author is, in fact, J.

The Birth of Isaac

The task before us is to establish the limits of the birth story
within the texts 18:1-15 and 21:1-7. The unity of 18:1-15 has
been questioned, first of all, on the basis of an alternation between
the singular and plural in the references to Abraham’s visitors. Yet
this alternation does not function as a very effective criterion for
a division of the text into two self-contained stories. This has resulted
in various responses to it. One approach is to say that the original
story had to do with the appearance of three deities, traveling
incognito, to an elderly couple who offer them hospitality and are
rewarded for it. This story was then presumably reworked by the
Yahwist under the influence of monotheism to make it appear that
the three really represent the one deity.19 Yet there have been some
attempts to divide the text into two early sources along the lines of
the singular and plural, but this approach has been forced to take
some liberties with respect to emending the text into its more
“original” form, even changing the singular to plurals and vice
versa in some instances.29 Even resorting to such a questionable
procedure clearly structured, self-contained units do not emerge. One
must resort to the notion of considerable redactional “reworking,”
and it is by no means certain who is responsible for such editorial
18. See commentaries.
1g. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 193-201 ; Skinner, Genesis, pp. 299-303; von Rad, Genesis, pp. 199-
204.
20. See Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 96-189.
 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAC 203

work or what his or their purposes were. Such a method of approach

is completely rejected here.
There are a number of factors that must be considered in any
solution of the literary problem of 18:1-15. The alternation of singu-
lar and plural is only one of these. There is also, for instance, the
occurrence of two distinctive themes or folk motifs. One theme has
to do with the divine promise of a son to an elderly couple, and this
theme does not continue on in the present context past v. 15. So
one would expect one of the sources to be limited to this pericope
as well. A second motif is that of gods (or divine beings) visiting men
incognito to scrutinize their behavior in order to bring appropriate
punishment on the wicked and reward to the righteous. This motif
invariably also involves the offering of hospitality to the gods
(strangers) by the old or the poor, who are then spared from judg-
ment.21 It is quite clear that this theme begins in wv. 1-15 but
carries on throughout the rest of chaps. 18 and 19. Any attempt at
division of the text must help to clarify these two motifs.
Another factor involved in any decision about the unity or sources
of 18:1-15 has to do with the reconstruction of the defective intro-
duction and conclusion of this unit. Attempts to do this must be
controlled by literary and form-critical considerations. Tradition-
criticism cannot function as such a control because it is the object of
the whole endeavor. Conjectured additions intended to yield the
“original” tradition are no more than wishful thinking. If they
cannot be controlled they simply create a complete circle in the
reconstruction of the tradition-history.??
The problem with the introduction is that in 18:1 Abraham’s
name is not mentioned, and there is no clear antecedent for the
pronominal suffix in *éldyw, “to him.” Gunkel proposed that 18:1ff.
was a continuation of 13:18 but there has been considerable reluc-
tance by him and others toward seeing this connection as part of
the original story.23 This reluctance is based largely on the question
of how and why this verse should have become separated from the
rest and how it happens that so much material now intervenes
between the two, a question that certainly needs to be answered.
But if one accepts the connection between 13:18 and 18:1, it means

21. See Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 193-94, for the many references to parallels in other litera-
ture.
22. This is my basic criticism of Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. o6 ff.
23. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 193.
 204 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

that the story begins by establishing Mamre as a sacred place. It

was in response to Abraham’s building an altar that God appeared
to him.
The conclusion in 18:15 is very abrupt and, from the viewpoint
of narrative structure, not very satisfactory. The story does have a
natural continuation in 21:1-2, 6—7, but scholars have been reluc-
tant to make a connection because most of these verses have been
assigned to E. The basis for this source analysis is that 21:8-21 is
considered E’s parallel to the J account in chap. 16, and 21:8-21 is
closely tied to the preceding story of the birth of Isaac. Also, the
divine designation Elohim is used in vv. 2-6. However, since I have
argued earlier against the assigning of 21:8-21 to E, as well as the
use of the divine name as a source criterion, the relationship of
21:1ff. to 18:1-15 must remain open.?4
Perhaps some control over the question of the relationship between
18:1-15 and 21:1ff. can be established by a consideration of form.
In his study of birth stories Neff has been able to identify the form
in 18:10ff. as a healing narrative, involving the healing of infertil-
ity.2° There is another instance -of such a form in the Old Testa-
ment, and this is found in 2 Kings 4:8-17. In this story a woman
who has no children is rewarded for her hospitality to the prophet
by the gift of a son. The latter part of the story (vv. 14-17), which
contains the form in question, is most significant for Gen. 18:10ff.
and may be set down in parallel columns, as follows:

Gen. 18:10-14; 21:2 2 Kings 4:14-17

14. He said, “‘ What is to be done
for her ?”? Gehazi answered,
“Only that she has no son and
her husband is old.”
10. He said, “I am going to 15. He said, ‘‘ Call her.’’ So he
return to you in a year’s time called her and she stood in
and then Sarah your wife will the doorway.
have a son. (Now Sarah was
listening at the door of the tent
and she was behind him).?6

24. It may be noted that the Greek uses kyrios in both 21:2 and 6.
25. Neff, Biblical Research, 15:6-14.
26. This half-verse is awkward and somewhat redundant in view of the fact that Sarah
laughs “‘to herself,” begirbah (v. 12). It may simply be an addition intended to link this
scene more closely to the preceding one with the three strangers.
 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAC 205

11. Both Abraham and Sarah were 16. He said, ‘‘ In due season, in a
old, in their advanced years, year’s time, you will embrace a
and Sarah was beyond the age son.”’ But she said, “‘ No my
of child-bearing. lord, O man ef God, do not
lie to your servant.”
12. Sarah mused to herself, “‘After
I am worn out and my husband
is old, will I have sexual
pleasure ?”’
13. Then Yahweh said to
Abraham, ‘‘ Why is Sarah
amused, saying, ‘Shall I
indeed bear children now that
I am old?’
14. Is anything impossible for
Yahweh? In due season in a
year’s time I will return to you
and Sarah will have a son.”
21:2. So Sarah became pregnant 17. But the woman became
and gave birth to a son for pregnant and gave birth toa
Abraham in his old age in due son in due season in a year’s
season just as God had said to time just as Elisha had said to
him. her.

The form basic to both of these stories is: a) the situation of

infertility, b) the prediction of the childbirth in a set period, using
the terms lammé‘éd and ka‘ét hayyah,?” c) some expression of doubt,
and d) the fulfillment of the promise exactly as predicted. This same
pattern with slight modification may be found in other prophetic
healing stories as well.28 Furthermore, in the cult of Asklepios at
Epidauros there were records kept of healings, some of which
included infertility, which describe how those wishing to be healed
spent the night at the shrine.29 The god appeared to them, an-
nounced their healing, and within a stated period, one year for
childbirth, they were healed. One interesting feature of these accounts
is the frequent expression of doubt before healing, just as we find it
in the stories above.
What is most significant in this form-critical analysis, however, is

27. On the meaning of this phrase see O. Loreta, “‘ K‘t hyh-wie jetz ums Jahr. Gen. 18,
10,” Biblica 43 (1962): 75-78. See also Neff, BR, 15:10.
28. See Neff, BR, 15:11.
29. Neff, BR 15:12-13; idem, “‘Announcement in Birth Stories,” pp. 44ff.
206 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

that the fulfillment follows the prediction and is an integral part of

the genre. This would seem to indicate that 21:2 follows directly
on 18:14. This means that the story is not a “promise narrative,”°
but a birth story with its conclusion outside of the chapter and
separated from it as in the case of the introduction. This recon-
struction of the story would also suggest that 18:15 and 21:1 are
additional as well. It is difficult to see what function 18:15 could
have, with its denial and rebuttal, in the birth story. The speech
of Sarah to the deity does not fit very well because only Abraham
was addressed and 21:2 continues to refer to the promise as one made
to Abraham. Likewise 21:1 is rather redundant; it cannot serve as
the conclusion, and its only purpose must be to provide a transition
for the statement about Sarah’s childbirth in its present context.
On the other hand, we need not immediately assume from this
form that 21:2 is the end of the story. It is, I think, correct that
vv. 3-5 are part of a P addition already anticipated in 17:21. But
this still leaves vv. 6-7 with their extended word play on shq, “‘to
laugh”’ as an allusion to the name of the famous child Isaac. There
is an interesting balance in this -word play, which has been over-
looked by commentators because they make it part of a different
source from 18:10-14. In 21:6a Sarah says that God has given her
joy (shq) which is intended as a counterpart to her earlier question
(18:12) “Can I have pleasure (‘ednadh)?” In 21:6b-7 Sarah states
that everyone is going to laugh at her and ask questions expressing
wonder, and this is the direct counterpart to Sarah’s laughing at
God and asking questions of doubt. This is an elaborate etymological
word play interwoven into the other birth story form that is intended
to make the identity of the child quite clear.
Another question that must be answered is whether or not any of
18:1b-g belongs to the original birth story. One reason for associat-
ing v. 3 with vv. 1off. is the use of the singular in place of the ex-
pected plural. But it is scarcely possible to remove this verse from
its context, so attempts are made to assign it to both sources.3! Such
a procedure is unacceptable. In chap. 19:18-19 there is a similar
shift from plural to singular exactly where the same formula occurs,

30. C. Westermann, “‘Arten der Erzahlung in der Genesis,” Forschung am Alten Testament,
pp. 18-19. Westermann constructs a completely false category here.
31. See Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 98, 167-68. Note that the Samaritan text has
the plural forms throughout.
 THE BIRTH OF ISHMAEL AND ISAAC 207

“Your servant has found favor in your eyes...” (cf. 18:3). This
passage also does not give any other indication of a different source.
It may be argued, however, on the basis of 2 Kings 4:8ff., that
hospitality is part of the basic motif of the story, and this can also
be supported by examples from classical authors.22 The problem
with this argument is that the introduction to this story—the
building of the altar and the clear statement of a theophany, that
“Yahweh appeared”’ to Abraham—does not fit a story about gods
traveling incognito. In the healing stories of the Asklepios cult it
was through a theophany at the cult place that the promise was
made. The theme of gods traveling incognito to examine the deeds
of men in order to reward the righteous and hospitable and punish
the wicked is much more common in this form. The theme of a
gift of children may come into these stories as a reward for hospit-
ality, which is clearly stated as such.33 But in 18:10-14 there is no
suggestion of any reward or of disclosure. The addition of v. 15
may have been made for the purpose of suggesting such a disclosure,
but it is a rather weak attempt compared with other Old Testament
examples.
The structure of the birth story (in 13:18; 18:1a, 10-14; 21:2,
6-7) is therefore fairly clear. Abraham builds an altar at Mamre,
and Yahweh appears to him there. He announces the miraculous
birth of a son to the aged couple. Sarah laughs in disbelief, but the
promise is repeated. It turns out exactly as promised. While the son
remains unnamed, it is obvious from the elaborate word play on
the name that it is Isaac, and this etiological element is primary
even though it does not fit very well one of the set types of etiology
in the Old Testament.34 The etiology is, therefore, not an independ-
ent genre or tradition but only a technique used in telling the story.
The question still remains whether or not the story as we have
defined it above constitutes a self-contained unit of tradition. There
are some indications that suggest that it does not. The introduction,
for instance, makes the episode part of an itinerary, and thus points
32. See the often-quoted example in Ovid, Fasti, 5: 495ff, in which three gods visit an old
peasant, who shows them hospitality. After their meal they grant the widowed and child-
less man his wish of a son, who through a miracle is born to him after ten months.
33. So, for example, in the story of Hyrieus (ibid.). The child, however, is purely of
divine origin. But in the story of the aged Philemon and Baucis (Ovid, Metamorphoses,
8:625ff.) there is no mention of children as a reward.
34. On these types see Fichtner, VT 6: 372-396; also Long, Problem of Etiological Narrative.
208 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

to a larger context. Furthermore, the story mentions that Abraham

and Sarah are old, but it does not tell us that they were childless.
This knowledge is assumed from a previous episode, chap. 16. It
would appear that there is a sequence of early stories: a) Abraham
and Sarah in Egypt in their youth when Sarah is most beautiful,
b) Abraham and Sarah after a few years of marriage dealing with
the problem of childlessness through Hagar, the maid-servant, and
c) Abraham and Sarah in their old age, when they receive their
own child from Yahweh. The question of the framework for these
stories must still be considered.
A number of questions from the above analysis of the birth story
of Isaac still remain unanswered. There is the question of the second
source in chap. 18, its extent and relationship to the first source,
the birth story. There is also the question of how the first source
became so divided and of what the relationship of its introduction
to its conclusion is in their new contexts. These questions can only
be clarified by consideration of the Lot-Sodom stories, to which we
will now turn
 CHAPTER 10

The Lot-Sodom Tradition

The logical order for a discussion of the traditions concerning Lot

and Sodom would be to begin with the earliest references to them
in chaps. 12 and 13 and then to proceed to chaps. 18 and 19, where
the climax of the story is reached. But against our following this
procedure here are the difficulties that are immediately encountered
in trying to assess the various literary sources and levels of chaps. 12
and 13: a variety of plausible reconstructions of the literary growth
and the tradition’s development have been put forward, all lacking
any convincing criteria. It is, therefore, necessary to work from the
literary units that have already been clarified back to the more
difficult problems. Consequently, we must begin with chap. 18 and
that part of the tradition that has been combined with the story of
the birth of Isaac.
The Destruction of Sodom
Once the story of the birth of Isaac has been restricted in this
chapter to vv. 1a and 10-14, there remains alongside of it the theme
of the “heavenly visitors.”’ There are certain fairly constant elements
to this theme that may be outlined as follows.1 The divine visitors
travel incognito and usually receive hospitality from the poor or
elderly but only after many others have acted in the opposite
fashion. The most usual number of such visitors is two, though
there are instances of single deities or of three together. There is, in
the course of the visit, a disclosure of the deities’ true nature and
then a reward is given for the hospitality. But upon the inhospitable
and wicked a dire judgment falls, which may still be seen in certain
landmarks of the region.
It needs to be emphasized that such a theme is not a literary
genre that has a fixed form, Sitz im Leben, and tradition-history.
. See Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 193-94 for references. Also the discussion in J. Rendel Harris,
The Cult of the Heavenly Twins (Gambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1906).
209
210 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

The freedom with which this theme is used and adapted and its
widespread appeal over many regions for a long period of time means
that it cannot give much control over literary and traditio-historical
questions. The idea that one can actually reconstruct the pre-
Israelite history of this theme is wishful thinking.” It may well have
circulated as a non-Israelite story in various forms without being
pre-Israelite. There is no evidence to suggest that the theme was
especially popular in the Late Bronze Age; all our examples are
from a later period. The idea that the story must have been pre-
Israelite and associated with a particular region stems from a
general presupposition about the history of all the patriarchal
traditions that has been rejected in this study. The alternative to
this can be stated quite bluntly. An author in a highly literate
period could have taken over such a non-Israelite motif, which
spoke of the gods’ visitation and subsequent destruction of a certain
place, and used it to fill out a purely Israelite tradition about divine
destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. The fact is that the “divine
visitors’’ theme is not reflected in any of the prophetic statements
about the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, so there is no old
or fixed association of the theme with any specific place.* The only
form of the tradition about divine visitation to Sodom is the artistic
literary creation in the text of Genesis. Discussion of the tradition’s
history must take this literary form of the tradition seriously first
of all.
There are several reasons for believing that the author who made
use of the “‘heavenly visitors” theme did so with considerable
freedom. This can be seen first in the way in which he combined the
theme with the story of Isaac’s birth. The account of the heavenly
visitation begins with v. rb. Yet it is not an independent introduc-
tion, but is built on to the earlier introduction, v. 1a, in the closest
possible way.4 Similarly, v. 9 ends the plural reference to the visitors,

2. As attempted by Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 151-154. See also recently, R. Kilian,
‘Zur Uberlieferungsgeschichte Lots,” BZ NF 14 (1970): 23-37.
3. It is very unlikely that any of the other references to Sodom and Gomorrah outside of
Genesis are in any way dependent on the pentateuchal form of the tradition.
4. Kilian tries to solve this problem (Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 97 and 187) by offering a
reconstruction of the text. He suggests the reading a> omqa8) for sw) sim, which is not
much of an improvement. It is doubtful whether any such episode would begin with a
circumstantial clause (cf. 19:1). One can, of course, prove anything by such radical recon-
structions.
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION 201

but this is in no way a conclusion to the scene. It merely acts as a

transition from the visitation scene to simple divine pronouncement
(vv. roff.), which was contained in the older story.5 It should be
fairly clear that vv. 1b—g do not have any independent story purpose.
They simply supplement the older story to make it into one about
heavenly visitors. Yet a further addition was also needed. The older
story, which simply stated that ‘““Yahweh appeared to Abraham
and said ...,’’ did not have any disclosure scene, and this was very
much a part of the heavenly visitors theme. For this reason the
second author suggested a moment of recognition by the addition
in v. 15 of Sarah’s denial, followed by the remark “‘for she was
afraid.”’ This addition is, from the literary viewpoint, still very
weak.® It forces Abraham into a completely secondary and passive
role and does not explain at all how he recognized the deity. Yet in
what follows Abraham is fully aware that it is Yahweh with whom
he is speaking, a recognition that is not adequately accounted for.
Another difficulty that the second author faced in using the older
story was its ending. The birth story of Isaac originally moved
immediately from the prediction in 18:10-14 to fulfillment in 21:2
a year later. This, of course, would not do for the second author’s
purpose, so he placed the fulfillment some time later and inserted
other events between. Such a method of handling older material
should not be regarded as surprising, and it is a frequent literary
device of this later author.
Another indication of the author’s liberty toward the older fork-
lore theme is the way he adapts any part of it to suit his own purpose.
Rather basic to the ‘“‘heavenly visitors” theme is the contrast
between the lack of hospitality generally shown to the strangers and
the warm welcome given by the elderly couple. Yet there is no hint
in chap. 18 of any such contrast. This only occurs in chap. 19 and
in a somewhat bizarre form. Furthermore, it is quite remarkable
that the author presents two different versions of the theme; yet
they are not variants, but only two scenes of the same story. The
fact that he can vary the scenes so much only emphasizes the degree
of liberty he felt in relating the material. Moreover, this freedom
5. Cf. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 101-02, who divides v. 9a from the rest and
ascribes the two parts of the verse to his two main sources: a “plural version”’ and a
‘‘ singular stratum.’ That such a process results in two completely fragmented sources does
not bother him.
6. Cf. the disclosure scene in Judg. 13:15-22.
272 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

was often at the expense of the story interest. For instance, Abra-
ham’s show of hospitality greatly weakens the contrast of Lot’s
welcome of the strangers with the behavior of his wicked neighbors.
Furthermore, in whatever form the author first encountered the
theme, he felt entirely free to adapt it to his own Israelite perspec-
tive. This was done so thoroughly that attempts to remove these
changes in order to reconstruct an “original”? form are quite arbi-
trary. By making his additions about the heavenly visitors directly
onto the older statement that Yahweh appeared to Abraham, the
author leaves no doubt about the identity of the strangers despite
their number. And as if to strengthen this identity, he has Abraham
do obeisance to the visitors in a manner befitting only a king or
deity. This is certainly more than a show of politeness. Abraham
also begins by addressing them as if speaking to Yahweh alone
(v. 3) and only subsequently includes the others as well. Later, in
v. 22, the author makes a clear distinction between Yahweh and
the other two, who are then identified as two accompanying “‘angels”’
(19:1). These beings are also appropriately acknowledged by Lot as
more than human, v. 2, and from vv. reff. they become clearly
identified as Yahweh’s spokesmen and with his authority. This
complete freedom in the author’s use of the heavenly visitation theme
points to the fact that there was no strong and fixed tradition about
such a theme, and all the efforts to try to extract an “original”
tradition from the present text are arbitrary and improbable.
The real thrust of the second author is in the dialogue between
God and Abraham, vv. 16-33. This unit is comprised almost
entirely of reflective theological discourse.’ The long dialogue is
tied to the larger narrative by only a few brief connectives. The
transition from the first scene to the second is made in v. 16. The
long dialogue is broken (v. 22) with a brief statement about the men
going on to Sodom but Yahweh remaining, thus making the dis-
tinction between Yahweh and the two “angels”? and anticipating
the second story. Finally Yahweh’s own departure (v. 33) ends
the discourse, and Abraham also returns to his place, from which
he set out with the strangers (v. 16).
The scene presented in vy. 17ff. is really akin to that of the
heavenly council. There is admittedly a certain difficulty in the
logic of this section. The scene of the divine council could precede
7. See especially the treatment by von Rad, Genesis, pp. 204-210.
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION 213

the declaration of the need for a divine inspection tour and thus
precede as well the heavenly visitation that has already begun by the
previous scene. The heavenly council could also meet to deliberate
on the judgment after the inspection tour had been made, and this
would have to follow at least the early part of the scene in Sodom,
19:1-11, but before the judgment was pronounced. The present
divine council scene is a combination of both, the declaration of an
inspection as well as the anticipation of judgment, at the only point
where it is possible to include Abraham in the deliberation. So in
spite of the problem of logical movement it is a fairly skillful com-
promise.
If vv. 20-21 belong to the story of chap. 18 and reflect the divine
council they virtually demand that vv. 17-19 precede them. For
the whole point of the first visitation is to specifically include Abra-
ham, the forefather of Israel, in the divine deliberations. And v. 19
in particular emphasizes the reason for Abraham’s inclusion in the
divine council. Sodom is to be a kind of object lesson of God’s grace
and judgment, which Abraham is to pass on to his offspring. There
is, therefore, no literary justification for regarding vv. 17-I9 or
any part of them as redactional.8 The appropriateness of the the-
matic statements within this unit to the larger thematic structure of
the author will be dealt with later.
Abraham’s response to God is preceded by a discreet silent
interlude in which the two men proceed to Sodom. Then follows,
in vv. 23-32, the dialogue between Abraham and Yahweh on how
the fate of the “‘righteous”’ is related to that of the “wicked” in the
corporate community. A number of scholars have felt that this
theological discussion could not belong to the “ancient” level of
the tradition, so they regard vv. 22b—32a as a redactional addition.®
But how likely is this? If it is accepted that the divine speech of
vv. 20-21 is made to Abraham, it is scarcely conceivable that no
response to it would have been made. Why tell Abraham about
8. See Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 202-03; Skinner, Genesis, p. 303; von Rad, Genesis, pp. 204-05;
Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, p. 106. These authors, and others, cite as the strongest
argument the Deuteronomistic character of v. 19 as the reason for considering it addi-
tional. But since this study allows for the strong possibility of such a late dating of the
Yahwist this argument loses all of its force.
g. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 203-05; Skinner, Genesis, pp. 304-05; cf. Noth, Pentateuchal Tradi-
tions, pp. 238-39; von Rad, Genesis, pp. 206-10 who regard it as the work of J, but as J’s
own theological reflection, which he added on to a received folk-narrative.
214 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Sodom, since he didn’t live there? If it is because the story assumes

that Lot, Abraham’s kinsman, lives there how could Abraham
possibly keep silent? Just because Abraham’s response is not a direct
appeal for Lot’s life, but takes the form of a theological conundrum,
this cannot be an argument against its genuineness in the ‘story,
since it still fulfills a very necessary dramatic function. It cannot be
separated from the preceding verses, unless one invents a substitute
response—which is an unacceptable alternative.
The emphasis in vv. 23-32 is on individual responsibility, which
is certainly a dominant theme of the prophets, such as Ezekiel,!° at
the beginning of the exilic period. One must, of course, presuppose
that vv. 23-32 have in mind the specific salvation of the righteous
one, Lot, from Sodom. Even though this is not specifically stated,
the larger context of chap. 19 leaves no room for doubt about this.
Abraham begins his plea with the statement in v. 23 “‘ Will you
really sweep away (tispeh) the righteous with the guilty?” This is
certainly unusual metaphorical language, but it is repeated again
in v. 24. In 19:15 the angels urge Lot to leave the city quickly,
“‘Lest you be swept away (tissdpeh) in the guilt of the city.” The
same verb (sph) is used as in 18: 23-24, and it is repeated for empha-
sis in 19:17. The similarity is not fortuitous but is a very deliberate
linking of the two scenes. Abraham’s question is answered in the
events that follow.
Nevertheless, von Rad is correct in pointing out that there is also
in 18:23-32 the concern for the community beyond the salvation of
the individual righteous.!! He emphasizes that it is Sodom as a whole
that is being considered. Yet this is not just the old collectivism, but
a rather revolutionary formulation of it. For it is not now a question
of whether the wicked in a community will bring about the destruc-
tion of the whole, good and evil alike, but of whether it is possible
for a righteous minority—a holy remnant—to have a “vicarious
preserving function” for the larger group. This, of course, can be
recognized as an important theme of the exilic period. Von Rad
states: “Actually, the section 18:2off. jumps over many generations
and links up with the prophetic utterances about the Servant of
God who works salvation ‘for the many’ (Is. liii.5, 10).”12 While
10. See Ezek. 14:1-20; 18: 5ff.; also 2 Sam. 24:17—a late addition. For a discussion of
these see von Rad, Old Testament Theology, 1: 394-95.
11. Von Rad, Old Testament Theology, 1:394-5; also idem., Genesis, pp. 206-10.
12. Von Rad, Old Testament Theology, 1: 395.
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION 215

this is true, von Rad treats this theological discussion in 18:23-32

too much in isolation from its context as a special reflective passage.
In 19:19ff. Lot makes a plea to be permitted to go to Zoar instead
of to the mountains, the divine messenger gives assent (ns?) to this,
and the city escapes final destruction on Lot’s account, although the
story emphasizes that the city was just a little one. Again the termin-
ology used is reminiscent of the dialogue in 18:23-32, in which
God says he will pardon (ns°) Sodom if fifty righteous are found in
itv..26,
The strongly reflective character of the whole section (18:16-33)
and its particular content as it relates directly. to the theological
concerns of the exile make it extremely likely that we are dealing
with an author of this late period. But it is not a case of late redac-
tional additions, as some scholars have assumed. This section is
quite integral to the whole presentation of the second author in
chaps. 18 and 19. His primary concern is not the preservation of
some old traditions. Rather, he uses themes and motifs with consid-
erable freedom to construct a tradition about the past as a means
for articulating his own theological perspective.
A most important question for the whole theory of tradition-
history has to do with the nature of the relationship between chaps.
18 and 1g. For it has been suggested that the two chapters represent
originally independent traditions that arose in separate regions and
were only subsequently related to each other.13 The only way that
one can deal with this suggestion is to evaluate the degree of simil-
arity between the two passages. The following chart will illustrate
the vocabulary similarities.14

Gen. 18 Gen. 19

Sara nnp awoxim (1 oto aywa awe (1

orn an> (1 $593 °C
onxap? yaa xa 2 onsap? apy wie xm (1
ASN nnw (2 ABI PPR anmnw (1
ITN WN (3 JIN NI TIT INN (2
Try. JW onNyA NI ON GB PVA IN JIA Xo NI TIN (19
Jray Syn nayn NOX G ootay ma OX NII (2
o> >on «(4 a>sosnmn (2
yw (4 wor (2

13. See note 2 above.

14. Cf. the discussion of these similarities in Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 150-152.
216 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

yyayn one G n22979 ans>m anaswm (2

ootay by annay jo by 7D GS “nop bya w2 yD yD (8
IW Ipan ya 22m Non np (8 MDX Msn Anya an? wy (3
Yoox amp jn Awy WON
725° MIN) OF Npyr (20 Mir ID NX anpys m'771°D (13
°ON ANAT ANPYSIA ANN (21
yw7 oy py A_ON ANA (23 yn pya Apon yp (15
mpon yx (24 mpon yp (17
Lor x? (28 mnowy... UMN onMw °D (13
anne? mn
The verbal similarity between the two chapters is so striking that
the two episodes cannot be regarded as separate stories. Further-
more, even the differences point in the same direction. The first
episode takes place at mid-day, the second in the evening, and this
accounts for all the changes in detail from reclining in the shade of
a tree to spending the night in the “shade”’ of Lot’s house, as well
as for the change in location from Abraham’s tent encampment to
Lot’s home in the city of Sodom. There is also the change from the
three strangers to the two messengers, since the two were sent on by
Yahweh while he remained with Abraham. And there is the theme
of potential destruction in the discourse between Abraham and
Yahweh, which is actualized in the Lot story. The notion that these
stories could gradually come together and develop such similar
vocabulary and thematic dovetailing through a complex process
of oral tradition is complete fantasy. All of these features are indica-
tions of deliberate literary composition.
The same point can be made from a consideration of the interre-
lation of the various motifs employed in chap. 19. The basic theme
of this chapter is certainly the theme of the heavenly visitors, who
bring about the destruction of the cities. This theme is carried
through here much more fully than in chap. 18, especially in the
contrast between Lot’s hospitality and the behavior of his neighbors,
and in the treatment of the ultimate catastrophe. Yet still absent,
as in the case of chap. 18, is a clear recognition scene in which the
strangers are revealed as divine beings. It is simply assumed that
Lot understood who his visitors were (vv. 1, 18f.) and acted on their
commands in much the same way that Abraham recognized in the
three strangers a visitation from Yahweh (18: 2-3).

15. Also in vv. 31 and 32 and perhaps to be restored for nwyx > in vv. 29 and 30; cf. BH.
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION F409

But there is also a number of secondary motifs that have been

incorporated into the primary theme. These are the etiologies on
the city of Zoar, the pillar of salt, and the ancestry of the Ammonites
and Moabites—the last of these the so-called “‘cave story.” It is a
generally-accepted view that all of these motifs were at one time
independent of the dominant theme and some effort has even been
made to demonstrate this fact by literary analysis.16 But is this
really so? If they were independent motifs one would have expected
rather loose connections, which would permit an easy separation
of the secondary motifs from the main story. But this cannot be
done without considerable emendations or reconstruction of the
text.
Consider, for example, the Zoar etiology contained in wv. 17-
22(23). Some have regarded this unit as a separate etymological
etiology explaining the place name Zoar and only secondarily
linked with the story.1” The reason for this opinion is the concluding
etiological statement in v. 22b, “Therefore one calls the name of
the city Zoar.’’ But there is something artificial about the use of this
form. This is not the concluding remark about Zoar, for the narra-
tive continues to mention it in vv. 23 and go. In order to defend the
integrity of the etiological form these later references are regularly
eliminated as redactional connectives.18 Yet the mention of Lot’s
arrival at Zoar certainly seems necessary in the light of the statement
by the messenger in v. 22a, “I am not able to do the deed until you
arrive there.”’ Furthermore, the wordplay in v. 20 that explains the
name of Zoar, “‘a little one”’ (mis‘ar), is separated from the conclud-
ing remark in v. 22b by the messenger’s speech in vv. 21-22a. Yet,
in my opinion, it does not make any sense to solve the problem by
ascribing vv. 21-22a to another source.1® In fact it is the etiological
statement in v. 22b that causes the problem by interrupting the
narrative flow, which would continue quite smoothly without it.
Still, its connection with the word-play mis“ar in v. 20 is unmistak-
able, so it cannot be secondary. Therefore, the real question that
must be answered is why the author would sacrifice the logical
16. See especially Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 112-147. The present study is a
criticism and rejection of Kilian’s whole traditio-historical approach. ;
17. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 206; Skinner, Genesis, p. 309; Long, Problem of Etiological Narrative,
pp. 20-21.
18, Gunkel, Genesis, p. 212; Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 123, 128,
1g. Kilian, pp. 121-23.
218 . ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

narrative flow to include this etiological allusion to Zoar, and to

this problem we will return.?°
The beginning of the Zoar motif, likewise, does not have any
independence from the larger context. It is clearly not possible’ to
go from v. 16 to v. 24 without gratuitously supplying what would
otherwise be lacking without vv. 17-22, namely Lot’s safe escape.?4
Similarly, vv. 17-22 cannot stand by themselves, but take for granted
the story that has gone before. There is a smooth transition between
v. 16 and v. 17 and many connecting links between earlier and
later statements. The remark in v. 17 “Lest you be swept away”’ is
a repetition of the longer one in v. 15 “Lest you be swept away in
the guilt of the city.”” The comment in v. 16 “because of the mercy
of Yahweh on him”’ is again reflected in the words of Lot (v. 19)
‘Since you have shown mercy to your servant and have been very
concerned to save my life....’ In v. 21 the messenger states “I
will not overthrow (Adapki) the city which you mentioned,” and this
anticipates the report in v. 25 “He overthrew (wayyah%pék) these
cities.” The time sequence is also carried further; v. 15 states “‘as
soon as it was dawn,” and v. 23 remarks “The sun arose over the
earth.” The conclusion from these observations is clear. There are
no reasons for regarding the Zoar motif as a tradition or source
independent from the rest of the main Lot story.
In the case of the pillar of salt motif it is likewise impossible to
delimit a separate tradition. It is easy enough to say that v. 26
reflects an old story, but as it stands it is certainly not an independ-
ent statement.22 The previous references to Lot’s wife as one of
those rescued from Sodom are found in vv. 15 and 16. But the
warning for Lot not to look behind him, using precisely the wording
of v. 26, is found in v. 17. This constitutes a very serious problem
for those who want to make a source division between v. 16 and v.
17. All the essential elements, taken for granted in v. 26, are em-
bedded in the previous narrative. Consequently, in spite of the etio-
logical character that the incident suggests, there is no justification
20. Long’s treatment (see note 18 above) is seriously weakened by the fact that he does
not deal with the problem of the unit’s context.
21. I fail to see how so many scholars (Gunkel, Genesis, p. 211; Skinner, Genesis, p. 308;
Long, Etiological Narrative, p. 21) can see a continuity between v. 16 and vy. 23a and 24.
Since the whole valley was destroyed, v.*17ff. is absolutely necessary.
22. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 213; Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 145-6.
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION 219

in the present text for any conclusion that it represents a separate

tradition.23
Concerning the story of Lot’s daughters in vv. 30-38, however,
it appears at first glance that one could argue here for an originally
separate tradition. It is true that v. 30a contains a connection with
what has gone before, but this link is regarded as secondary and
v. 30b is then reconstructed to include Lot’s name. This, so it is
held, would yield an original etiological tradition.24 But the matter
is not so simple, for an introduction such as v. gob is hardly adequate
for the following episode. For one would certainly be left to wonder
why Lot went to live in a cave, where the cave was, why he did not
have a wife, and why the daughters had not previously married.
All of these questions are answered by the preceding narrative.
The two virgin daughters are mentioned in v. 8. They were both
betrothed, though not yet married, according to vv. 12 and 14.25
But the future sons-in-law did not want to leave the city, so Lot
took his daughters without their bridegrooms (vv. 15,16). Lot’s wife
also left Sodom with them, but she looked behind her and was
turned into a pillar of salt. Lot could have stayed in Zoar but he
was afraid to remain there, so he went into the nearby hills where
the cave was situated. All of this in the preceding narrative is
preparation for the episode of vv. 30-38, and many of these details
have no function in the earlier story except as anticipation of the
final episode. There is even a certain irony between the earlier part
of the story and the last episode. Lot freely offers to sacrifice the
chastity of his two virgin daughters to the crowd of Sodom men
(v. 8), but later when there is no one else with whom to have sexual
relations the daughters make use of their own father without his
consent.
On the question of form, it has been noted that the episode is a
23. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 145-46, circumvents the problem by suggesting
that these interconnections were made at some point in the preliterary stage. As we have
stated earlier, however, the whole notion of a complex redactional interweaving of folk-
tales is complete nonsense and has no scientific support whatever.
24. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 217-20; Skinner, Genesis, pp. 312-14; Kilian, Abrahamsiiber-
lieferungen, pp. 136-43.
25. I am inclined to agree with Kilian (Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 115-16) that nn is
original and that the following phrase, >*y3 > (wk 9D) 9N321 7131, is additional. Such a
scribal gloss is quite understandable, but from the story viewpoint the focus is on possible
bridegrooms of the two daughters, who may be rescued.
220 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

mixture of etiological types and formulae.?® By itself it can hardly

be called an etiological story just because it moves from a problem
to a solution.2? The unit of vv. 30-38 has few other marks basic to
oral storytelling. It only functions as the concluding scene of a
much longer literary unit and has dramatic interest because of this
connection. Furthermore, the episode does not find its conclusion
in the etymological explanation of the names, but in a wider interest
in the origins of the Ammonites and Moabite peoples.?8
The conclusion to be drawn from these observations is that the
unit of vv. 30b—38 does not represent a separate source or tradition.
Like the other two secondary motifs, it was interwoven by the
author into the narrative as a whole and from whatever source he
may have derived it, he did not hesitate to make it completely his
own. It is, in my opinion, quite futile to try to isolate the secondary
motifs as actual traditions as they might have existed prior to this
present literary unity in chap. 19.29
A much more important question is why the author would have
included etiologies, even when they created some problems for the
logical movement of the narrative, as in vv. 22b and 26. The answer
to this must be in his desire to present a number of “historical”
evidences for the tradition that he is putting forward. The etiologies
of the barren Dead Sea region, the survival of Zoar, and the salt
rock formations are not included simply for antiquarian purposes,
but as a kind of historiographic support for the author’s more serious
religious and political concerns. Such a witnessing element cannot
be viewed here as a redactional addition by which a collector was
giving his own confirmation to an ancient tradition, but is instead
quite integral to the narrative as a whole. The one who has given
shape to the whole story is also the one who seeks to give evidences
that his tradition is true and reliable and must be taken seriously.?°
26. Long, Etiological Narrative, pp. 51-53.
27. See Westermann, ‘“‘Arten der Erzahlung,”’ p. 65.
28. Long, Etiological Narrative, pp. 52-53.
2g. It is noteworthy that in von Rad’s treatment (Genesis, pp. 211-20), while he concedes
to Gunkel and Noth the idea of originally separate units of tradition, he nevertheless
treats the whole Lot story as a carefully constituted unity.
30. See Childs, JBL 82:279-92. Childs regards the etiological formula as “‘ secondarily
added as a redactional commentary on existing traditions” (p. 290). However, in parallel
extra-biblical material he notes that the etiological motifs have often been reworked in a
literary form, where it has been considerably altered and adapted for literary purposes.
Furthermore, the “personal witness”? element may appear in stories that are otherwise
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION 221

The last etiology, the cave motif, does not seem to function in this
way, for the cave itself has a very vague locale and plays no part in
the etiology itself. Likewise, the existence of the Ammonites and
Moabites at a later date could hardly be proof for the “history” of
the Lot-Sodom tradition. The primary focus of the etiology seems
to be the linking of the Transjordanian peoples’ origins with Lot.
In the wider context of this author’s work there is a very prominent
concern for the nature of the relationship between Israel and its
neighbors. In chap. 19 the accent is upon the status of the Ammon-
ites and the Moabites vis a vis Israel. In chap. 13, another episode
which includes Lot, the emphasis is on land possession. Gen. 13
belongs to the wider context of the author of chap. 19, and it is to
this framework in chaps. 12 and 13 that we must now turn.
The Separation of Lot and Abraham
There is only one episode that involves Lot in chaps. 12 and 13,
and that is the rivalry between the two groups of herdsmen, leading
to the separation of the two forefathers in 13: 7—12(13). It is scarcely
possible that references to Lot would occur in any earlier source in
these chapters, for certainly Lot’s travelling with Abraham leads up
to the moment of separation and is all a part of the same tradition
(or a supplement to it). The account consists of the following basic
elements. Abraham and Lot have been traveling together with their
flocks and herds in Palestine when a dispute breaks out between
the two groups of herdsmen. So they agree to separate, and Abraham
allows Lot to take first choice of any region he wants to live in. Lot
views from a height the very fertile valley of the Jordan and chooses
this. He then leaves Abraham for this region, while the latter re-
mains in the land of Canaan.
The first question to be answered is whether or not this is a self-
contained story and therefore reflects an originally independent

regarded as basically etiological in character. See, for example, the Baucis and Philemon
story in Ovid, Metamorphoses 8:612ff., which begins with a statement of personal witness
by the storyteller of having seen the two trees and the swamp region that was once
densely populated. In many instances the witness of the author has become completely
incorporated into the story and becomes the chief point for telling it, so that it is pointless
to call it redactional. See also the conclusions of Long, Etiological Narrative, pp. 87-94.
While Long’s study calls into question the folkloristic function of the “etiologies” in
Genesis, he does not discuss how the etiological formulae function in their present literary
mode.
 222 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

tradition.3! The fact that the episode has a problem and a solution
is trivial, and there would certainly be no storytelling interest in
recounting a separation of two groups and no more. Clearly, the
interest arises in a disclosure of the ultimate outcome of these choices,
particularly Lot’s first choice, as it unfolds in the events of chaps.
18-19. One certainly cannot argue here on the basis of form that a
separate unit reflecting an old oral tradition is present here.2
The usual arguments used to support the notion of a separate
tradition for the above account are literary. It is commonly held
that the obvious connections with the Sodom story found in wv. 10b,
12b, and 13 are all redactional and can easily be removed from the
story.33 Yet this judgment is not based on any form-critical or
literary criteria, but on a general presupposition that all of the
episodic units represent originally separate traditions. So this
suggestion becomes completely circular for evaluating the unit’s
tradition-history. Furthermore, the argument is fundamentally
weak for another reason. Verse 10a implies that Lot chose the
“Plain of the Jordan”? becauseit was well-watered and fertile. But
the plain of the Jordan is not well-watered and fertile, and especially
not at the southern end in the region closest to Moabite territory.
With a few exceptions, like the oasis of Jericho, it is very arid and
is poor agricultural land. Only with extensive irrigation can it be
made otherwise. The statement in v. 10a, which any inhabitant of
the land could contradict, is immediately qualified by stating that
this is the way it was before the destruction of Sodom.34 Any radical
reconstruction or emendation that would have Lot originally choos-
_ing the Moabite plateau would make nonsense of the first choice,
for it cannot be viewed as being an obvious preference over Palestine.
Once it is admitted that v. 10a is necessary, there is no longer any
reason to regard either v. 12b or v. 13 as additions, and the whole
scene becomes a prelude to chaps. 18-19.
31. Cf. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 16-35. This analysis is based on completely
different methodological presuppositions.
32. Cf. Westermann, ‘“‘Arten der Erzahlung,” pp. 66-67. He talks about a report of the
resolution of a conflict between two groups preserved in tradition as the basis of 13: 5-13.
But this is hardly a serious form-critical evaluation and is of little value.
33. See Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 20-23.
34. Kilian’s attempt (pp. 20-21) to distinguish between y17"" 15> in 13:10 and “>5n in
19:17 and 25 is quite unconvincing. In fact, Deut. 34:3 (from the same source) clearly
indicates that the “plain” extended from Jericho to Zoar, precisely the region here in
“question.
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION 223

If the episode in vv. 7-13 belongs to the Sodom story, the rest of
the references to Lot can be no older than this source, J, although
some may be younger and belong to P. Put in this way the literary
problem becomes a negative one. Is there any part of chaps. 12-13
that does not belong to the Lot-Abraham strand, which may be
older? We have already concluded from our previous analysis that
12:10~-20 is from an earlier source, and there are reasons for thinking
that it had a larger context that included a divine call and an itin-
erary. This would mean that 12:1 at least belongs to this source.
But vv. 2-3 may rightly be regarded as an expansign along the
thematic lines of the later source, J, and break the continuity between
vv. 1 and 4a, 6—7, all having to do with the theme of the land. In
v. 4a Abraham obeys the divine command, but the remark that Lot
went with him is an addition from the later source, J. All else in
vv. 4b-—5 is also additional and we will return to it below. The direct
fulfillment of the divine promise in v. 1 is vv. 6-7. However, the
remark in v. 6b about “‘the Canaanite being then in the land”’ is
similar to one in the Lot story of 13:7 and therefore added by this
later source.
There is a problem with vv. 8-9, because there is no immediate
explanation of why Abraham would move from Shechem, where
he has received the promise of land and built an altar, to the region
of Bethel in order to do the same and then go on to the Negeb.
Verse 8 undoubtedly has some connection with 13:3-4. These last
verses, however, have often been considered a redactional addition
to the Abraham-Lot story.25 But vv. 3-4 are quite necessary, as they
indicate from what place the Jordan valley was viewed. It would
certainly make no sense to speak of viewing the Jordan valley from
the Negeb.36 It also provides a central location from which Abraham
views the land in v. 14. It is best then to regard 12:8 as an antici-
pation of 13:3-4 and 12:9 as a further transition to 12:10—-20.
This still leaves 13:1-2 to be considered. The only way to deal
with the source question here would be to compare their suitability
for both sources. Verse 1 does contain a reference to Lot, but it

35. Gunkel, Genesis, p. 174; Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 18-19.

36. Kilian (pp. 18-19), gets around this problem by making 12:8 come directly before
the Lot-Abraham separation story. This means that 12:10-20 is a secondary addition
that was later interpolated by a redactor. Our reasons for seeing this story as part of the
first layer of the tradition make this impossible.
224 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

could have been added as it was in 12:4a. The description of

Abraham’s wealth in v. 2, however, is not as appropriate as that of
Lot’s possessions in v. 5 for what follows. On the other hand, if
16:1-12 once followed 12:10-20 rather closely, then 13:1 does make
a good transition between an episode in Egypt and one that clearly
took place in the south of Palestine. The fact that no geographic
location is given in 16:1ff. until the flight of Hagar makes such an
introduction all the more necessary. Furthermore, the remark in
13:2 fits very well with the opening statement in 16:1. Together
they would read: “Abram was very rich in cattle, silver and
gold. But Sarai, Abram’s wife had borne him no children. . . .”5”
Consequently, I would assign 13:1-2, without the phrase “and Lot
was with him,” to the earliest source. Finally 13:18, which also
belongs to this same early source, is a transition passage from the
Hagar-Ishmael story of 16:1ff. to the story of the birth of Isaac,
which begins in 18:1a.
If the framework of the earliest source has been correctly identi-
fied, a number of observations follow. First of all, the introduction
in 12:1 is very abrupt and certainly not like any usual narrative
model. It seems to approximate most closely a prophetic prose
tradition form in which a divine command comes to a prophet,
followed by the appropriate action, often followed again by a
subsequent word from Yahweh.38 The author apparently chose
this model for his rather short introduction to the Abraham tradi-
tion. Second, the origin of Abraham is not specified, nor is the land
that he has been given clearly named. But since he passes “‘ through
the land to its full extent’’39 and it is “‘this land” that is given to
him, it cannot simply be the limited region of Shechem itself. Third,
Abraham comes to “the sanctuary of Shechem”’ m¢qém Sekem, further
identified by the terebinth of Moreh. This provides a rather striking
parallel with the other important site in this source, “‘the terebinths
of Mamre which are in Hebron.” At both places Abraham builds an
altar, and at both places he experiences a theophany, the one
37. The syntactical structure of these two sentences is of some interest. The first (13:2) is
either a verbal sentence with a stative verb and inversion of subject and verb, or a nominal
sentence. The second (16:1) is a verbal sentence with inversion of subject and verb. This
suggests a contrast between the two statements, between Abraham’s wealth and his wife’s
barrenness. This theme with similar comparison is taken up again in 15:1-3.
38. See Jonah 1:1-3; 3:3; Jer. 18:1-6; 19:1-11.
39. Reading n>oKx> after yas. in v. 6 with the Greek.
 THE LOT-SODOM TRADITION 225

granting him the land to his offspring and the other promising him
a child. It seems highly likely that this author has deliberately
chosen the sites of the two earliest capitals of the two kingdoms as
the basis for his presentation of the Abraham tradition.
There is still one other task of literary analysis to complete in
chaps. 12-13, and that is to decide what is later than the basic
Abraham-Lot story, namely P. The first reference to Lot in the
present text occurs in the Abraham genealogy of 11: 26-32. This, in
turn, is part of a long linear genealogy from the time of the flood
to Abraham, ascribed to P, 11:10-26. Verses 28-30 are almost
universally ascribed to “J,” but this is done on very dubious
grounds.*° The reason is simply to create two independent parallel
genealogies for Abraham. Such an attempt, however, is entirely
forced. The opening remark in v. 28 “And Haran died prior to
Terah his father” is hardly an adequate way to begin a genealogy
for Abraham. It clearly presupposes the remarks in v. 27, which
has all the marks of P. Consequently scholars speak of the earlier J
material as being lost or suggest that v. 27 represents the reworking
of J by a later priestly “redactor’’—the favorite trick for solving
any problem.*! But v. 31 presupposes v. 28, because it speaks of
Terah taking Lot the son of Haran with him, but it does not mention
Haran himself because we know from v. 28 that he was already
dead. All of these verses fit together in a unity. There is no sound
reason for making any division in vv. 26-32; it all belongs to P.
This makes it obvious from repetitions of the same material that
12:4b-5 also belongs to P. There is the same point of departure
from Harran, the same designation of Lot as Abraham’s nephew,
and the use of much similar terminology. In 13:6 we again encoun-
ter P’s terminology and repetitious style. Consequently, P supple-
mented the earlier tradition with an introductory genealogy,
11:26-32, additional remarks about Abraham’s departure from
Harran, 12:4b-5, and a statement about overcrowding as the
reason for the separation, 13:6.
This conclusion has an important implication for the Lot story.
Nowhere prior to P is Lot regarded as Abraham’s nephew. At most
Abraham and Lot are merely “‘kinsmen,” *¢ndstm °ahim (13:8), and
40. See Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 162-63; Skinner, Genesis, pp. 235-393; von Rad, Genesis,
p- 154; Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 279-80.
41. So Kilian, ibid.
226 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

it is likely that they were regarded as more nearly equals. This calls
into question Noth’s whole elaborate tradition-history of the Lot
tradition, in which he sees Haran as a primary figure behind much
of the Lot tradition.42 In fact, the whole elaborate relationship is
simply contrived by the priestly erudition and has no relevance
whatever to the problem of tradition-history.
One addition that the Yahwist wished to make by using the Lot
story was to expand the land promise theme to include the fore-
father’s relationship with the ancestor of the Transjordanian peoples.
It was Abraham, the peacemaker, who magnanimously allowed
Lot to make his choice of the best even though it did not entirely
turn out that way. This is clearly political propaganda read back
into the primitive age. However, it does seem, in the present account,
that all the land east of the Jordan is conceded to Lot, the father of
the Transjordanian peoples.

42. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 151-54; cf. Kilian, BZ 14: 356.
 CHAPTER 11

Abraham and Isaac

Besides the birth story of Isaac, which we have considered in another

place, there are two stories that have to do with Abraham and Isaac
as father and son. There is some advantage to considering them side
by side, because they are usually assigned different authorships and
regarded as having quite a different history of development. Since
Noth’s pentateuchal studies,! the opinion has become commonplace
that the connection between Abraham and Isaac is quite secondary
and a late stage in the tradition’s development. Thus Genesis 22 is
regarded as a tradition with a long history and whose association
with Abraham is far older than with Isaac. Genesis 24, on the other
hand, is viewed as a much more recent work composed largely as a
bridge tradition to connect the two patriarchs. Kilian’s recent study
of the pre-priestly Abraham traditions? excludes Genesis 24 from
consideration without comment or explanation. Yet in spite of this
traditio-historical opinion, Genesis 22 is assigned a more recent
authorship (E) than that usually given now to Genesis 24 (J). Our
present study will approach these two chapters without either of
these literary and traditio-historical prejudices.
The Sacrifice of Isaac—Genesis 22
The story of the “‘binding of Isaac’? in Gen. 22:1-19 points up
the contrast between the two basic methods of approach used in the
study of the patriarchal narratives that have been under review here,
the “‘archaeological-historical’’ and the “‘traditio-historical”’ meth-
ods. Scholars of both groups have long felt that behind the present
story lies an older tradition from a very early period in Israel’s
history or pre-history, but the two approaches differ widely as to the
1. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 102-09.
2. Kilian, Abrahamsiiberlieferungen.
3. The akedah or “‘binding”’ of Isaac has become a traditional way of referring to this
story, based on the use of the verb ‘gd, ‘‘to bind,” in v. g.
227
228 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

nature of this tradition. One view holds that the oldest tradition
contains a memory of a change in cult practice during the early
nomadic period of Israel’s history; that is, in the so-called Patriarchal
Age. This view is expressed by G. Ernest Wright:4
Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac (Ch. 22) ... is concerned in its
present form to portray Abraham’s faithful obedience as the
true response which God desires. Yet at one stage it must once
have been concerned with the abolition of child sacrifice.
This view fits in well with the “historical” orientation that sees in
various customs in the patriarchal stories reflections of an earlier era,
and in this particular story a memory of an actual event from an
earlier period of history.
The other view regards the point of the story not as event but as
explanation and hence ascribes to it an etiological character.5 The
explanation may have to do with a change in cult practice, but it is
especially seen in the etiological formula in v. 14 for the naming of
the sacred place. The story is then viewed as a cult-legend tied to
a specific sanctuary and not to a specific people. In fact, it is generally
regarded as having been originally Canaanite and only secondarily
taken over by Israel after their settling in the land. This approach
fits very well with a theory of tradition-history that views the growth
and development of the patriarchal traditions as suggested by
Gunkel and expanded by Alt and Noth.
These two opposing positions are now represented in two recent
monographs by H. G. Reventlow and R. Kilian.6 Reventlow is
quite impressed by the supposed evidence for a patriarchal age, so it
is not surprising that he follows a view similar to that expressed by
4. Wright, “ Modern Issues in Biblical Studies: History and the Patriarchs,” Ex. Times,
71 (1959-60): 293.
5. See von Rad, “‘ History and the Patriarchs,” Ex. Times, 72 (1960-61) : 213-16. Wright’s
article (note above, pp. 292-96) was a protest against this line of approach, to which
von Rad then made a reply. Von Rad argues quite correctly that both methods are con-
cerned with the tradition behind the text; they just have different ways of evaluating it.
Yet it should be noted that von Rad is very cautious about what can be said about the
Vorlage of Genesis 22, and his own commentary concentrates most heavily on the form in
the present text (see Genesis, pp. 233-40). Such a caution is not shared by the works cited
in n. 6 below.
6. H. G. Reventlow, Opfere deinen Sohn, Ein Auslegung von Genesis 22, Biblische Studien 53
(Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlage des Erziehungsvereins, 1968); Kilian,
Isaaks Opferung, Zur Uberlieferungsgeschichte von Gen. 22 SBS 44 (Stuttgart: Verlag Katho-
lisches Bibelwerk, 1970).
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 229

Wright that the story behind the written source is an old non-
etiological folk tradition that goes back to the people in their earlier
prehistorical period.’ Like Wright, he is critical of literary and
form critics who do not appreciate the depth behind the text8—the
“historical kernel’? that reflects life in a semi-nomadic tribe in the
early second millennium B.c. Kilian, on the other hand, is com-
mitted fully to Gunkel’s traditio-historical approach and argues
strongly for a cult-legend that in origin is non-Israelite and belonged
to a local sanctuary.9 Only at a rather late stage in the process of
oral tradition was the patriarch given a connection with the story.
The story says nothing about an event as such but is completely
etiological in its preliterary form. Since Reventlow and Kilian
present the two sides of this debate in a rather detailed discussion of
Genesis 22 it will be best to give special attention to these recent
studies. Yet it would be wrong to assume that these are the only
alternatives. As I hope to show, there are certain weaknesses with
both positions and a quite different course must ultimately be
pursued.
The Source

There is widespread agreement on the source analysis of Gen. 22 :1-

19.10 Apart from vv. 15-18, which are usually regarded as a later
addition, most of the remainder (vv. 1-14, 19) is ascribed to E. The
arguments used to identify this source are: 1) the use of Elohim,
WV. 1,3,8,9,12; 2) the Angel calling from heaven, v. 11; 3) the
reference to Beersheba as the primary abode of Abraham, v. 19.
The problem with the first criterion is that the name Yahweh
appears in v. 11 and twice in v. 14. One solution is to suggest that the
divine name Yahweh belongs to a previous level of the tradition.
Another is to say that the designation Elohim has been changed
to Yahweh by a post-Elohistic redactor.!! In both cases the solutions
7. See Reventlow, chap. 1 and his statement on p. 61.
8. Ibid., p. 32.
g. Kilian, Isaaks Opferung, pp. 62ff. See also Kilian’s earlier treatment in Abrahamsiiber-
lieferungen, pp. 263-78, esp. 272ff. Reventlow’s work is in strong disagreement with this
earlier study of Kilian, while Kilian’s later monograph is an answer to Reventlow’s book.
10. See the commentaries. Cf. Speiser, Genesis, p. 166. Speiser attributes the chapter,
largely on the basis of style, to J. Cf. Reventlow, Opfere deinen Sohn, pp. 21-31; Kilian,
Tsaaks Opferung, pp. 27-47.
11. On the basis of the use of Yahweh in v. 14 Speiser regards the references to Elohim as
redactional !
230 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

seem arbitrary and only weaken the divine name criterion. The other
two criteria only have significance if the previous episodes in 21: 8ff.
also belong to E. However, we have given reasons above for consider-
ing 21:8-21 as part of J’s work, so the “‘angel from heaven” would
be a distinctive characteristic of this source. Furthermore, a reference
to Beersheba occurs in both sources in the unit 21: 30-32, but it is J
in particular who emphasizes Abraham’s stay at Beersheba for an
extended period of time, v. 34.
Other marks of vocabulary and phraseology are not so easy to
assess because the source analysis of the comparative passages is also
under question. There is, for instance, the introductory formula
“‘after these things ...,”’ way®ht >ahar hadd¢barim h@élleh, which occurs
also in 15:1 and 22:20, two passages that also belong to the Yahwist.
But more specific is the remark in v. 2 “upon one of the mountains
which I will designate to you,” ‘al °ahad heharim “Ser °dmar °éleyka,
and this is repeated in v. 3, ““he went to the place which God designa-
ted to him,” wayyélek el hammagém -¢Ser °admar 16 haelohim. This
corresponds very closely to the divine injunction in 26:2, “‘dwell in
the land which I designate to you,” S¢kén ba ares °*Ser °Omar °éleyka.
These factors taken all together would suggest that the author of
22:1-14, 19 is not E but J.
The real difficulty, however, has been in the relationship of
vv. 15-18 to the rest of the story. The device of having the angel
appear from heaven a second time looks like a convenient way of
making an addition to the story and it has been rather widely
interpreted in this way. Yet all the problems of source analysis are
not immediately solved by this proposal. The content of this addition
is very similar to that of many so-called J passages emphasizing the
blessing of the patriarch. But since J is dated considerably before E
it is suggested that the addition is, instead, the work of a redactor
adding to E in the style and outlook of J, perhaps as much as three
hundred years afterJ!12 This whole notion seems to me a rather lame
rationalization of the old source analysis.
Yet as we have seen, the themes present in vv. 15-18 are those
that are characteristic of J as well. The only question this raises is
whether or not these verses must be regarded as an addition to an
otherwise self-contained unit. The fact that such a notion of an
addition is very plausible is not enough to conclude that this is
12. See, for example, Wolff, Interpretation, 20 (1966): 148-49.
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 231

actually the case. The question cannot be answered immediately,

but must await a consideration of the form and structure of the story
itself.
The Form:
Part of the problem of literary analysis of this story has to do with
whether or not there was a preliterary Vorlage to it and what form
such a story would have taken. Much of the decision about form is
based upon an evaluation of v. 14 and its relationship to the rest of
the story. So a preliminary consideration of this verse will be helpful
before reviewing any theories about the history of the text. The text
states as follows: “So Abraham called the name of that place,
‘Yahweh Provides’ as it is said today, ‘On (this) mountain Yahweh
appears/provides.’!3 In spite of the difficulties and ambiguities in the
meaning of this verse, the form is fairly clear; it contains elements
that reflect an etymological etiology. There are two basic types of
such etiologies.14 The first type, form I, usually has to do with the
naming of a child and consists of the following elements:
1) a narrated event or report
2) the act of naming by a principal figure in the story using the
regular narrative past tense, wayyiqra °et S¢mé PN
3) the etymological explanation introduced by a 4? clause with
the verb also in the narrative past tense, the same as the
preceding naming clause and usually with the same subject.
The second type, form II, is often associated with the explanation of a
place name. It consists of recounting an event that takes place in a
specific location and then of drawing an inference from the event
to the meaning of the name of the place. The basic mark of this
form is the concluding statement, “‘Therefore its name is called ...,”
‘al kén qara@ &¢mah, often modified by a reference to the time of the
narrator, “‘To this day,” ‘ad hayyém hazzeh.
13. MT as it stands is rather difficult with no subject or clear antecedent for the implied
subject of the final verb. Consequently, the translation here follows the Greek text in
regarding har in the absolute state and probably also qualified by the demonstrative
adjective hazzeh as in the Greek. This would make yhwh the subject of the final verb. One
would also expect both instances of yr?h to be vocalized in the same voice and not mixed as
in MT. :
14. The classification system is that of J. Fichtner, ‘‘ Die etymologische Atiologie in den
Namengebungen der geschichtlichen Biicher des Alten Testaments,” VT 6 (1956):
372-96. See further Long, The Problem of Etiological Narrative, pp. 1-8.
232 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

If we apply the above form-critical analysis to the story of Isaac’s

sacrifice, it is apparent that there is some mixture or confusion of
form.15 The narrative itself resembles form II, since it begins by
placing considerable emphasis on the location of the place and the
particular event that happened there. It would have been most
appropriate to have a form II conclusion with a reference to a well-
known place name in it. But instead v. 14a is clearly of the form I
type. The name of the place is not a real name at all but a purely
fictitious one, and this must be the reason for the shift to the narra-
tive past.16 By so doing there is no need for the place to be identifiable.
On the other hand, in v. 14b, instead of an explanation introduced
by ké and referring back to the historic past as in form I, there is
another shift to the passive imperfect, “‘as it is said,” and a temporal
modifier (“‘today,” hayyém), which now moves to the time of the
narrator, so that v. 14b is similar to form II. Yet the focus is not on
the name of the place but on the nature of the event, which has now
become recurrent and timeless. Furthermore, it has nothing to do
with the institution of a cultic act but speaks only of the divine
response. The result is a very subtle, artificial, and highly unusual
etiology. There is no easy emendation that can make out of this a
standard form such as one might expect of an old tradition. Con-
sequently, all proposals about the Vorlage of chap. 22 must take
serious account of the character of v. 14.17 It is to such proposals
in Reventlow and Kilian that we now turn.
Kilian has tried to defend the notion that behind the written
source (E) lies a .cult etiology that was intended to explain the
origin of a certain cult practice of substitutionary animal sacrifice.18
He formulates the etiological question that the story is intended to
answer thus: How is it that one offers an animal sacrifice and not a
child sacrifice at the holy place, °el_yir’eh, as it was usually done there
earlier? This question is no longer suggested by the introduction
because according to Kilian the original introduction was lost when

15. Cf. Long, ibid., pp. 28-29, who classifies it under form I but then states that “‘ the
form has been broken.”’
16. Gunkel’s attempt (in Genesis, p. 241) to reconstruct an original name yru*l/yry°l is far
from convincing.
17. This was certainly the primary point of departure for discussion of the preliterary
Gattung in Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 240ff. See also von Rad, Genesis, p. 238; idem, Ex. Times
Tose ts
18. Isaaks Opferung, pp. 99ff.
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 233

it was replaced by the later writer’s introduction, vv. 1-2. There

is no longer any hint of it in v. 14a (which is all that Kilian retains
of this verse) even though he has emended yhwh yir’eh to el yir?eh in
order to find a possible place name. As we saw above it is still the
wrong form because it is still historical past without any suggestion of
a continuity into the narrator’s time of either name or cult practice.
So there is only the nature of the episode itself that seems to Kilian
to demand such an etiological question. But is this really necessary?
There is, in Euripides’ works, a version of the sacrifice of Iphigenia,
in which the goddess Artemis miraculously substitutes a hind for the
girl, who is thus rescued from death.!9 It seems perfectly clear from
the many versions of the story in which the girl is actually sacrificed
that Euripides’ alteration does not reflect any etiology about a
change in the cult of Artemis or at the site of Aulis. The ability
to formulate an etiological question that a story might answer does
not mean that such a story actually came into being as an answer to
one’s question. In fact, the great popularity of this motif of the hero
who is forced to sacrifice his own son or daughter, usually full-
grown, may account for the origin of this theme more readily than
etiology.?°
Kilian is also confronted with the fact that there is more than one
cultic element in the preliterary material, as he defines it. He notes
the theme of pilgrimage in the three-day journey to the holy place.
He also notes as distinctive the naming of the sacred place. Conse-
quently, he suggests that the preliterary Vorlage was actually com-
posed of at least two or three motifs that were worked together into
the one etiological story.2! But this division into yet earlier stages of
tradition leads to such utterly formless trivial fragments that it is
hard to see what advantage such a suggestion might have. Further-
more, the process of conflation of tradition sources suggests rather
serious confusion about the whole process of oral tradition. It has
become the fashion to attribute any kind of transformation of the
tradition to the oral level without having to account for how it could
happen. But experts in the field of oral tradition as a living phenom-
19. See Euripides, Iphigenia in Aulis: 1578ff.; idem, Iphigenia in Taurica: 26ff., but cf. idem,
Electra: 1000ff., where the more usual form of the story is given, in which the girl is
actually slain.
20. For further examples of parallels see Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 241 ff.
a1. Cf. Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, pp. 272ff., where he suggests that it was the Elohist who
combined these two major motifs.
234 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

enon are very wary about making any such judgments without
rather strict controls over the whole process. In fact, such conflation
of fragmentary elements, motifs, and the like is much more normal
for written composition, which suggests instead the activity of the
last writer and nothing earlier. There seems to me to be very little in
Kilian’s treatment that clarifies the question of the preliterary form.
Reventlow, on the other hand, takes quite a different approach to
the question of the form of the preliterary Vorlage. He disagrees with
Kilian that even on this level there is any real etiological form to the
story.22 Consequently, he regards v. 14 as merely an “etiological
motif’? used as a play on words for the sake of enjoyment. The
story in general has quite a different Gattung, which he describes as a
“*folkloristic story.”23 In this respect it is quite secular in character
and not a cult legend or religious story. The angel of Yahweh in
v. 12a is only a deus ex machina who effects a crucial rescue. This
judgment is made, of course, on the understanding that vv. 1 and
12b are not a part of the original but were only introduced by the
final author (Entverfasser). Reventlow further proposes that this
story belongs to a type that Westermann has characterized as
“family stories” and regards it as part of a larger group of such
traditional stories in Genesis.
It must be observed at this point that this is hardly acceptable form-
criticism. Firstly, the description ‘‘folkloristic story”’ implies nothing
specific about the actual form or structure of the episode, either on
the oral or written level. It is purposely vague so as to include any-
thing. Secondly, Reventlow is entirely unconvincing about the
“secular” character of the story. All the acts of the primary figure
are religious acts, and the notion of entertainment is completely
lacking (cf. Gen. 12:10-20). Thirdly, Reventlow’s dependence upon
Westermann’s treatment of ‘family stories” needs little comment,
since we have seen above that this is an entirely erroneous basis for
discussion of oral tradition in Genesis. Fourthly, Reventlow cannot
dismiss v. 14 as merely a motif if he includes it in the oral tradition
level of the story. Is it possible that such an important oral story
form could degenerate into a mere secondary motif on the oral level
of the story? Such a unique and artificial use of this etiological for-

22. Opfere deinen Sohn, pp. 34-40.

23. “Volkstiimliche Erzahlung,” ibid., p. 55. See pp. 53-61 for his discussion of this
supposed Gattung.
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 235

mula could hardly reflect the stock forms of oral storytelling. It is

entirely on the literary level that such etiological elements develop
the primary function of subtle word play rather than explanation. In
the end, neither Reventlow nor Kilian can delineate any specific form
or Gattung to which their preliterary stories belong, nor can they
describe the function that such an oral tradition might have had in
preliterate Israelite (or non-Israelite) society.
Regarding the actual content of the Vorlage, both Reventlow and
Kilian begin with the presupposition that there was an oral form of
the story that the later writer took up and modified for his own
purpose.24 So whatever belongs to the final writer’s theme and
perspective must be eliminated, and in this way the Vorlage itself will
be clarified. Thus both scholars agree that vv. 1a and 12b are the
work of the later writer, but beyond this the two reconstructions of
the “original”’ are entirely different.25 The reason for this difference
is obvious. They have quite different ideas about what the end prod-
uct should look like. There is really no other criterion that controls the
retention, elimination, or radical alteration of the text as it stands. But
these completely contradictory results should be the clearest warning
that this traditio-historical method is faulty and unreliable.
Reventlow makes some effort to bolster his version of the Vorlage by
appealing to Olrik’s laws of folk literature.?® Yet it is clear that if
some of them work for his Vorlage they also work equally well for the
final version of the story. At one point he tries to show that the final
author altered the basic folkloristic structure. He states that the
writer has made Abraham the principal figure of the story, whereas
according to the laws of folklore it is the weaker, less obvious one who
is the principal figure, and therefore the son is more important than
24. Kilian, Isaaks Opferung, pp. 9-10; Reventlow, Opfere deinen Sohn, p. 32. Reventlow
speaks about the dangers of literary critics and form critics not appreciating the depth
behind the text. However, to my mind there is much greater danger in the completely
speculative assumption that any such “‘ depth” exists and, if it does, that anything can ever
be known about it.
25. Reventlow’s reconstruction (pp. 52-53) consists primarily of vv. 1b, 2-4, 6-122,
13, and 14. He eliminates ‘‘ Moriah” from v. 2 and removes all reference to Isaac. He
also reconstructs v. 3 as follows: ‘‘ Then Abraham arose early in the morning and saddled
his ass, took Ais son and went to the holy place” (emphasis mine). Kilian’s reconstruction
(pp. 88-89) contains vv. 3*-5, 9-10, 12a, 13, 14a, and 19a. However, he emends v. 3
to read: ‘‘Then Abraham arose early in the morning and saddled his ass, took his two
servants and went to the [holy] place” (emphasis mine). He changes v. 11 to read simply:
“Then El called to him” and alters the place name in v. 14a to °el jirae.
26. Opfere deinen Sohn, pp. 55ff.
236 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

the father.2” But this judgment is quite forced. The focal concentra-
tion is entirely on Abraham, and how would it be possible for the
principal figure, the son, to remain nameless while the secondary foil,
the father, is named throughout?
Two serious difficulties with Reventlow’s Vorlage are the intro-
duction and conclusion. The story begins without any setting and a
quite unmotivated divine command, which is hardly likely in an
independent folklore unit, so he must concede that something has
been lost. But he assumes that the conclusion is complete. The
etiology of v. 14 does not really sum up the action or intent of the
story as Reventlow conceives it but is an appended motif. Yet this
treatment of a conclusion is quite contrary to folklore style.
Completely fatal to Reventlow’s attempted reconstruction is the
fact that with the elimination of vv. 1a and 12b the story itself is
destroyed. Without the element of the divine test there is no way of
structuring the movement in the story to a climax. How can there be
any point to Abraham’s reply to his son in v. 8 without it? How else
can the reader or hearer understand the original command or the
reason why the command was suddenly contradicted without expla-
nation? The structure and clarity so strongly emphasized by Olrik
are completely lost.28
Kilian is more sensitive to the significance and impact of the
opening statement in v. 1a and therefore eliminates the whole of the
divine speech in vv. 1b and 2, as well as the episode in vv. 6-8, in
order to get back to the Vorlage.29 But for this very reason his “story”
completely lacks any clear skeletal structure, plot, or dramatic
movement, and he must assume that even more of the original has
been lost. But what is “lost”? is all the crucial evidence that there ever
was such a Vorlage. For the rest, most of the criticisms of Reventlow’s
approach apply equally to Kilian.8° If one does not accept the pre-
supposition that there must be an oral Vorlage behind the written
27. Ibid., p. 57; so also Kilian, Isaaks Opferung, p. 98.
28. Reventlow often uses Olrik’s laws to reconstruct and interpret the “original” story.
Thus, for instance, he eliminates the two servants (vv. 5 and 19) in order to have scenic
duality (p. 56). But this use of Olrik’s laws is hardly legitimate and creates a complete
circularity of argument. Cf. Kilian, Isaaks Opferung, pp. goff.
29. Kilian, Isaaks Opferung, pp. 8off.
30. Ibid., pp. 96ff., in which Kilian invokes Olrik’s laws to show that they work as well for
his story as they do for Reventlow’s original story, even though he admits that on the
whole they do not fit very well. But the real issue is whether they clarify his Vorlage or fit
equally well the final written version, and the answer here must be quite negative.
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 237

form of Gen. 22:1-19, there is no need to be concerned with such

fragmentary “sources” as Kilian has proposed.
The only story that we have is the written one. Whatever “‘sources”’
were used, such as popular folklore motifs, etiological models, or the
like, there is every indication that the writer exercised considerable
freedom in the use of them so that the present account is in every
meaningful sense his own. Without further specific and concrete
evidence there is no way of moving behind this level in the tradition
to any other “historical’’ or sociological reality. Those who believe
that they can, do so on faith that they call the ‘“‘archaeological-
historical” or “‘traditio-historical’? method. As illustrated by the
works of Reventlow and Kilian, this allows for a very wide scope of
possibilities but very little that is certain or even probable. Since
there is no form of control from inside or outside the text, there is no
way of disputing their claims or any number of other possibilities that
may arise in the future.
The Themes

The only real alternative to the approaches we have reviewed is to

regard the story as a literary work and to analyze it from this basic
perspective. Every element in the story is consciously and carefully
taken up and used for a specific purpose and effect. The remarkable
thing about the story is that for all its simplicity and economy of
detail it weaves together three themes that are now completely
interrelated. These are: 1) the testing of God, which moves from
command (vv. I-2) to obedience (v. 3, 9-12), 2) the testing that calls
forth the faith of Abraham in the providence of God (v. 1, 6-8),
which in turn is answered by the act of God’s providence (vv. 13-14),
and his promise of blessing (vv. 15-18), and 3) the sacred place that
is the place of Abraham’s obedience and of God’s provision (vv. 2-5,
Q, 14).
The first theme provides the broad framework for the whole story,
even though it cannot account for all its parts. The second theme is
not necessary to the earlier one in any formal sense, but it gives to
the testing its great subjective depth. The third theme is also not
necessary to the presentation of the first. Yet by giving the general
location of the main events in the initial command and the naming
in the final statement of the drama (v. 14), the whole somewhat
resembles the model of a place etiology. But there are some unusual
238 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

features about the place theme. First of all, the two names “land of
Moriah” (?eres hammértyah) and ‘“‘Yahweh Sees/Provides”’ (yhwh
ytr’eh) are not actual names but fictitious creations.3! The meaning
of the second name is clear, but the first one must mean something
like “land of the fear of Yah(weh)”’ (méra° + yh).32 Such names give
to the whole account a highly symbolic and paradigmatic character.
The place by the first name is tied to the theme of Abraham’s
obedience, and the second name stresses the theme of divine prov-
idence. But another feature of the place theme is the constant
reiteration of the remark, ‘“‘[the place] which God said to him”
(vv. 2,3,9). This is more than just a unifying repetition. It clearly
points to divine election of a cult place, just as in 26:2 (also J) it
signifies the divine choice of Palestine as the promised land. It must
certainly be the counterpart of the Deuteronomic ‘Place which
Yahweh your God will choose ....”” Are we to suppose, then, that the
writer really had Jerusalem in mind? I hardly think so, for then he
would have used specific rather than symbolic names. Instead, one
may speak here of a “‘demythologizing”’ of the concept of the sacred
place. This is a radical break, by means of the Abraham tradition,
with the election of Zion. The holy place is the place of the fear of
God (vv. 2), the place where one goes to pray (v. 5), the place where
the providence of God is seen (v. 14).
It is also in the broader context that one must consider the other
themes. A concern in a number of the J stories is the theme of the
providence of God. Note, for instance, in the previous story of 21: 8ff.
that God heard the cries of Hagar and the lad and provided the well
for their thirst in a most natural way. In this story God looked out
for Abraham and the boy Isaac and also provided the ram in an
apparently natural way. Included within the Hagar story is the
larger providential promise of Ishmael becoming a nation, made in
the single speech by the angel from heaven. It can hardly be regarded
there as secondary. In chap. 22, however, the providential promises
are more numerous and would make the first speech too large,
delaying the action of v. 13. So it is placed in a second speech from
heaven, even though from the viewpoint of the story structure it is an

31. Note all the attempts in the commentaries to find some geographical significance for
these names.
32. Conflation of a quiescent aleph in internal position in a proper name is not uncom-
mon.
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 239

appendix. The theological concern has become more important at

this point than the story’s structure.33
However, it is the theme of “testing” and of obedient response to
that testing that is most basic to the whole story structure as we now
have it. It seems easy enough to see the connection between the
statement of the test in v. 1 and the obedience that results in the
rescue of the child in vv. 13-14. But if this were the end of the
story, as so many propose, the whole purpose of testing would have
no real consequence. Nothing would be changed. It is only with the
inclusion, in the second speech, of the divine confirmation of the
patriarchal promises, vv. 15-18, that the ultimate aim of the testing
becomes clear. Because of Abraham’s obedience his children will be
blessed.
The significance of this theme must be seen in its larger biblical
context.34 It is worth noting how strongly Deuteronomy stresses the
divine testing of the fathers in the wilderness to see if they would
obey the divine commands, trust in the providence of God, and so
receive the good land and all its divine blessing (Deut. 8). The
Deuteronomic history also makes clear how these fathers and succes-
sive generations failed this test. But here is a transfer of the theme
of testing from the fathers of the exodus to the fathers of the “‘pre-
exodus” period. Abraham, the original father, was obedient to the
command and had faith in the providence of God; thus, he became
both the ultimate paradigm of obedience and the guarantor of the
promises for all Israel (cf. Gen. 26:3-5). The full significance of this
thematic development will be discussed below.
In summary, we have seen that there are no firm reasons for
ascribing Gen. 22:1-19 to E. The literary and thematic affinities are
all with the Yahwist. It is very doubtful that he used any ancient
33. Von Rad, in his Genesis commentary, also views the story in its wider context in
spite of his opinion about the older tradition and the ascription of the story to E. Much of
what he says about the story I can heartily agree with, even though I have not repeated his
remarks here. Cf. also G. W. Coats; ‘‘Abraham’s Sacrifice of Faith: A Form-Critical
Study of Genesis 22,” Interpretation, 27(1973): 389-400. This article appeared too late to
be discussed above. Nevertheless, Coats anticipates and confirms a number of points
made here, especially on the literary unity of the work. His structural analysis is perhaps
too elaborate and detailed to be convincing.
34. See most recently L. Ruppert, “‘ Das Motiv der Versuchung durch Gott in Vordeu-
teronomischen Tradition,” V7 22 (1972): 55-63. The literary presuppositions of this
study are debatable, and Ruppert’s lack of any comparative treatment with Deuteronomy
makes a new study necessary. See also von Rad, Old Testament Theology I, p. 174.
240 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

tradition in etiological form. The etiology here is entirely his own

literary device, as it is elsewhere. If he used any other folkloristic
motif or story theme as a base he did so with complete freedom, so
that it is scarcely possible to reconstruct it or to derive any historical
conclusions on that basis. It is a highly polished story with a number
of theological themes carefully interwoven to yield the strongest
possible impression with the greatest economy of words. Our
exposition has certainly not exhausted the meaning of this text but has
only suggested a somewhat different literary and historical context of
the writer, which must be further explored.

The Matchmaking—Genesis 24
The Source
There is disagreement in the commentaries over the unity of
Genesis 24. Some have argued for the presence of two sources within
the story, while others have been equally adamant that the present
account constitutes a unity in spite of a few minor irregularities.
Those who do argue for a division of sources must presuppose a
rather extreme case of the “scissors and paste”’ method of redactional
splicing with two virtually identical variants. Nevertheless, it may be
worthwhile to consider briefly some of the reasons that have given
rise to proposals for a source division. Firstly, v. 23b refers to
Rebekah’s house as her ‘“‘father’s house,” but in v. 28 as her
“mother’s house.” However, the first phrase is put into the mouth of
the servant as a question, which would be natural enough. On the
other hand, it was customary for a daughter (v. 28) to speak of her
home as her mother’s house (Ruth 1:8; Song of Solomon 3:4; 8:2).
Secondly, vv. 29b and 3ob present two parallel references to Laban’s
trip to the well. But this problem is easily solved by transposing
v. 29b after v. 30a, which produces a much better narrative flow.35
Thirdly, some have seen a difference between v. 51, in which the
family gives permission for Rebekah to go, and vv. 57f., in which
Rebekah herself is asked if she is willing to go. But the first request
has to do with the consent of marriage, which had to be obtained
from mother and brother. The second request has to do with whether
Rebekah will be willing to go immediately without prolonged
35. So BH. Also perhaps read >» for pyn 5x (v. 29), ‘‘to the man who was outside the
CIYS$) Chava Ue
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 241

leavetaking, to which she was entitled. There is no basic conflict

between the two. Fourthly, a difficulty has also been noted in the
mention of “nurse” (v. 59), but “maidens” (v. 61), as those who
accompany Rebekah. But the reference to the “‘nurse” must cer-
tainly be suspect, for Rebekah scarcely has need of a wet nurse
np until she has infants. The Greek versions suggest reading nnipn
as “her property”’ instead of mnpim “her nurse,” and this would
then fit very well with what follows. None of these difficulties, to
my mind, indicates the need for proposing two sources in this
chapter.
On the other hand, vv. 7 and 40 constitute a somewhat different
problem. M. Noth, who otherwise holds to the unity of the chapter,
states: “Vs. 7 and vs. 40b are presumably ‘pious’ additions in view
of the question of doubt in vs. 5 and vs. 39.’86 A judgment of these
two verses is very important to the evaluation of the whole chapter.
First of all, it is quite possible to read the text without v. 7 and to go
from the end of v. 6 directly to v. 8. Still, the repetition of v. 6b in
v. 8b becomes awkward and without explanation. It is precisely in
v. 7a that we are given the reason why Isaac is not to return to
Abraham’s homeland. It is because God took him from there to
give, under oath, this new land to his offspring, and, therefore, for
Isaac to return to his father’s homeland would be a rejection of that
promise. It is for this reason also that the command not to return
Isaac is repeated in v. 8b.
Furthermore, in v. 7b the theme of divine guidance is stated, and
this becomes the underlying theme of the whole chapter. It is not at
all haphazard that it originates with Abraham, since it is the neces-
sary complement to the statement in v. 7a. God, who called Abraham
and promised him the new land, will overcome the problem created
by his own call and promise. This theme of God sending his angel
before the servant, 1»? 19x99 now? Nin, is directly reflected in the
servant’s prayer in v. 12, “Yahweh, God of my master Abraham,
Let good fortune be mine today”? (lit. “let it happen before me
today”), arm ‘59 nop. The servant’s appeal is based directly
on Abraham’s faith. The same theme of guidance is expressed again
in v. 27 in the servant’s thanksgiving, “While on the way Yahweh
led me to the house of my master’s kinsmen”’ (also v. 48).
Similarly with v. 40, it is possible to follow v. 40a with v. 41
36. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 29, n. 90.
242 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

directly. But this does not immediately disqualify v. 40b as original.

V. 40 uses the phrase, ‘“‘He [the angel] will make your journey
successful,” Jo77 mom. In the second version: of the servant’s
prayer in v. 42 the same expression is repeated as “if you will make
my journey successful,” "297 m8” Ni Jw ON (see also vv. 27 and
56). It is noteworthy, as von Rad has pointed out, that the context
both before and after v. 40 does not talk about the command not to
return Isaac to that land.3? But precisely for this reason Abraham’s
remarks in v. 40 begin with a very general statement, “ Yahweh
before whom I live my life ./.,” 1p> *nD>ANn Ww mm, instead of
the very specific call and promise theme in v. 7a. All these evidences
of very deliberate literary composition make it highly unlikely that
vv. 7 and 40b may be dismissed as secondary. On the contrary, they
are quite basic to the theme of the whole chapter.
The unity of this chapter has important implications for questions
of oral tradition and the unit’s tradition-history. First of all, if the
chapter has a basic unity it cannot be used, as Gunkel did,?8 to
illustrate the fidelity in the preservation of variant oral traditions
behind the present text. We have evidence here for only one tradition.
While Noth conceded this last point, he still regarded the story as
belonging to the latest stage of oral tradition, functioning as a bridge
narrative between the Abraham and Isaac tradition cycles, but
before it was incorporated into the general thematic framework of
the Yahwist.39 But if vv..7 and 40 are not secondary, this strongly
argues against Noth’s proposal. This is especially so also because
the Isaac cycle, chap. 26, which he regards as based on primary oral
tradition, has been shown above to be composed in a purely literary
fashion based directly on the Abraham stories.
The Form
This raises the question of the story’s form. For Gunkel there were
no clear marks in the story of etiology or of other types of legend.49
Instead, he spoke of it as containing an advanced discursive style that
was rather distant from a folkloristic base. But the question of form
remains somewhat ambiguous in his work. Noth accepted Gunkel’s
characterization of the story’s style as discursive and regarded this as
simply an indication of the latest stage in the growth of the oral
37. Von Rad, Genesis, p. 253.
38. Gunkel, Legends, p. 68; idem, Genesis, p. Ixv.
39. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 110.
40. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 248-49.
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 243

tradition.*! But the question of form is certainly not answered. In

fact, the features of discursive style of which Gunkel speaks are
marks of written composition, and the notion of a discursive oral!
tradition is self-contradictory.
It seems to me that the only way to evaluate the form of the unit is
to apply the basic criteria of folk literature that we have used
above; that is, if the story is derived from oral tradition, it would
contain a clear narrative structure, movement, and unity, and it
would have the features that correspond to Olrik’s epic laws.
If one merely observes that the story moves from a problem
(Isaac needs a wife) to the solution (Isaac obtains a wife), that
scarcely justifies the judgment that the unit is a folktale.42 A simple
report could have exactly the same structure. Yet the dramatic
structure of the unit, in spite of its length, could be summarized in
the following way: Abraham sends his servant to Mesopotamia for a
wife for Isaac, and the servant obtains a most suitable wife for him
without any difficulty. The last point is, of course, the central point of the
episode. ‘Through God’s hidden assistance the very first girl that the
servant meets is the right one, and she and her family immediately
agree that Rebekah should be Isaac’s wife and leave home without
delay. There are no hardships of any kind on the way. It is this lack
of any difficulty that completely negates the dramatic storytelling
interest of the whole episode. If Laban, for instance, had been
presented as a real antagonist whose resistance had to be overcome by
persuasion or otherwise, that would have created a dramatic en-
counter appropriate to a tale. But he is not, and there are no other
obstacles, so for all its idyllic character the account has little dramatic
quality. The whole structure of the episode centers in a confessional,
theological concern—the hidden guidance of God—which will not
tolerate interference by any dramatic element.
Furthermore, the chapter is not self-contained. Only with diffi-
culty could one reconstruct from the scattered statements in vv. 1-8
the fact that Abraham had left his original homeland long before
(where it was is not evident until later), and had gone to the land of
Canaan alone and not as a larger family or tribal unit.48 Nor could

41. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 104-110.

42. Cf. Westermann, “‘Arten der Erzahlung,” pp. 58ff.
43. This story represents a serious difficulty for anyone who sees in the patriarchs a form
of tribal history, for such an episode denies the existence ofa larger tribal unit. The story
reflects the concern for ethnic purity such as arose in the exilic period.
244 i ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

one easily determine that this was the period when the indigenous
population, the Canaanites, were in the land with which there was
some antagonism, or that the destiny of Abraham’s future offspring
was closely bound up with this land. This background, indispensable
to the unit asa whole, is not described but only alluded to as some-
thing previously well-known. Later in the servant’s speech, vv. 34-36,
there is a recapitulation of a number of episodes and themes from
other parts of the Abraham story. Finally, at the end of the chapter,
v. 67, there are allusions to events that are not clearly told in the
story itself: the death of Sarah and possibly of Abraham.
Regarding the laws of folklore there are also considerable defi-
ciencies in oral characteristics. Firstly, there is no consistent focal
concentration on any principal character. Abraham begins the
story, and it is Abraham’s wish that dominates it. But he himself
soon fades from view and in the end disappears without any explana-
tion. Isaac takes his place as the new “‘master”’ in the closing scene.44
The servant is certainly prominent throughout, but he remains
nameless*® and easily becomes a secondary figure in the final scene.
Rebekah also is active at some points and passive in others; she does
nothing from v. 28 to v. 57. The focal concentration is weak and
unclear. Secondly, there is some use of scenic duality in the first
two scenes, but it is certainly not carried through in the third and
fourth scenes at all. There is no use whatever of dramatic contrast,
nor are there any triads of characters or situations. Thirdly, a case can
be made for seeing an instance of dramatic repetition between the
prayer of the servant and the actions of the girl, and this is certainly
the most interesting moment of the chapter. In contrast to this the
long repetition in the servant’s speech, from vv. 34-49, is certainly
anticlimactic. The only possible movement in the story is perhaps
psychological, persuading the hearers, although we cannot be sure
that they needed it. This ‘“‘psychological” interest Gunkel attributes
to the discursive style, which is another way of stating that it is nota
characteristic of oral folk literature or of any other oral genre.*¢
A recent “tradition-critical study”? by Wolfgang Roth also calls
44. Many commentators have noted this fact and have wanted to fill out the story with
“lost”? elements on the presupposition that the account is a complete self-contained
story.
45. There is certainly no justification for identifying him with “Eliezer” of 15:2. See
von Rad, Genesis, p. 249.
46. Gunkel, Legends, pp. 85-86; idem, Genesis, p. lv.
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 245
for some comment here.47 While he acknowledges that the unit is
basically the work of the Yahwist in its present form he seeks to go
behind this version to an earlier stage of composition, although not to
the level of folklore. He asks: ‘‘ What were the traditions which the
Yahwist used in shaping Gen. 24? It is unlikely that all of Gen. 24 is
the Yahwist’s creation....”’48 He then goes on to answer.

I would like to argue that the tradition employed and reshaped

by the Yahwist in Gen. 24 was (and remained) an example
story, illustrating the scope and limit of wise action of a trusted,
senior steward as demonstrated in matters of marriage arrange-
ment. To be sure, it is not possible to arrive at the exact wording
of the underlying example story by way of a literary-critical
procedure; the interpreting pen of the Yahwist reshaped con-
siderably the example story precisely because J shared its
basic outlook and was possibly at home in the circles where such
example stories were told. The themes and motifs of the example
story can however be discerned and isolated.49
This quotation is a good illustration of the confusion that sur-
rounds the term “tradition.” Roth admits that all he can say about
the “traditions which the Yahwist used” for Genesis 24 is that they
are “‘themes and motifs” but not the actual form or structure of any
tradition; nor can he see that they had any association with Abraham
prior to the Yahwist’s work. Since each theme or motif could have
been independently familiar to the Yahwist by Roth’s own admission,
why can he not give the Yahwist credit for composing the story as it
stands? It is very misleading to call themes and motifs of such a
general character “traditions,” as Roth does.
Furthermore, it is questionable to suggest that the “tradition”
underlying the present story is a genre (which he calls “the example
story’’) when no formal characteristics can be given to it apart from a
vague didactic intention. If, for instance, one can include Prov.
6:6-11; 24:30-34; 7:1ff. within the category of example story,5?
the grouping has no form-critical value and should not be described

47. W. M. W. Roth, ‘‘The Wooing of Rebekah:.A Tradition-Critical Study of Genesis

24,” CBQ 34 (1972): 177-187.
48. Ibid., p. 179.
49. Ibid., pp. 18of.
50. Ibid., p. 180, n. 13.
246 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

as a genre. We are really left with a few motifs common to the book of
Proverbs that have to do with servants, messengers, giving answers,
the value of a good wife, etc.5! But all of these rather commonplace
themes are completely subservient to that of divine guidance and
providence, which is, by Roth’s admission, basic to the perspective of
the Yahwist. So one can go no further back in the history of the
tradition of this story than the text as it is in its present form.
We may draw from these observations the conclusion that chap. 24
is a deliberate literary composition, and that it is difficult to speak in
terms of a precise genre just as it is for most of the literary units of the
Abraham tradition. Instead, one must identify the chief point of
concern, the kerygmatic theme, around which the author has
created his traditional unit. This theme is the divine providence of
God toward Abraham (“‘ Yahweh blessed him in everything,” v. 1),
but especially as seen through the divine guidance in the acquiring
of a wife for Isaac in order not to negate the promise. It is Abraham’s
faith primarily (v. 7) and the servant acting as the agent of that
faith and in the name of the God of Abraham that allow this provi-
dential act of God to be carried forward. The family of Abraham in
Aram Naharaim responds immediately and without possible resist-
ance to the servant’s witness to God’s guidance (vv. 50f.) and so
further God’s providential activity. There is no action that is allowed
to stand outside of that theme; hence the complete suppression of
any opposition motif for dramatic effect. There is no objection, no
delay, only strict compliance with the disclosure of the divine will.
One cannot even describe this as a didactic story. Rather, it is the
reporting of a spiritual event.
Such reporting of events with a dominant confessional interest we
have come to recognize in this study as the work and perspective of
the late Yahwist. Of course, he had before him the whole of the
pre-priestly Abrahamic tradition, since he built on his predecessors,
so it is not surprising if affinities are found with much of this corpus.
The relationship of chap. 24 with this wider context is usually
discussed in terms of identifying the author as J on the basis of simi-
larity in vocabulary. One notes, for instance, the same treatment in
the offering of hospitality in chap. 24 and chaps. 18-19. But the
matter goes quite a bit deeper than this. The connections have to do
much more with the fundamental theological orientation and the
51. Ibid., pp. 181-186,
 ABRAHAM AND ISAAC 247

author’s basic skeleton of the Abraham “history.’? One such impor-

tant theme is God’s promise of blessing on Abraham, which comes to
him at the time of his “‘call,”” 12:2~-3. At the end of Abraham’s life
God has blessed him in everything (vv. 1,35), which results in his
prosperity just as it also does for Isaac (26:12b—13). Of interest is the
list of Abraham’s goods in v. 35b, which combines those of 12:16 and
13:2. We earlier identified these as belonging to the pre-Yahwistic
source. However, the use of these earlier lists is deliberate. In pre-J
texts these goods seemed to be the result of Abraham’s deceit in
Egypt and the result of Pharaoh’s generosity. But here they are
viewed as given by God and as the direct result of his blessing, as also
in the Isaac story, 26:12—13. It is also significant that even Abraham’s
servant is addressed as “Blessed of Yahweh,” v. 31, just as Isaac is
greeted in this way by Abimelech, 26:29.
One of the most striking features of the whole episode is the
behavior of the servant—he prays by this busy profane city well! He
does not have the use of oracle, holy man, or theophanic vision. He
is not a forefather but only the servant of one, and he is in a foreign
land. There is hardly anything comparable to this in the OT,
except in the latest books. Furthermore, as has often been noted,
the sign is a very natural one that combines with it a certain
““worldly-wise calculation.”” When the prayer is answered by the
immediate appearance of the right girl the servant prostrates himself
and utters a prayer of thanksgiving, v. 26 (v. 48), as he does also
when he receives the final answer from the family that Rebekah
may go with him, v. 52. This act of prostration, mm") wAnwn, should
not be ignored. It cannot be assumed that it is simply the posture of
prayer, because there is no hint of it in v. 12 (42). We noted earlier
that both Abraham and Lot prostrated themselves before the
heavenly guests even though they were outwardly strangers and
their divine presence was hidden. In this account the fulfillment of
the sign, even though it is not miraculous or theophanic,®? is never-
theless for the servant a disclosure of God’s presence, which he
immediately acknowledges in prostration and thanksgiving. This is a
most remarkable, sophisticated, and thoughtful approach to non-
cultic religious experience, especially for those in the exilic period
who were on their own, living in foreign lands and devoid of the cult.
Perhaps this story also throws some light back on 22:13-14. For
52. Cf. Judg. 13:15~-20 and the act of prostration after the theophany.
248 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

besides the angel’s voice from heaven there just happened to be the
divine provision of the ram caught in the thicket, and the enigmatic
statement of v. 14 combines and identifies both God’s provision and
his appearance.
This episode also refers to a number of events in the life of Abra-
ham, especially as it had to do with Isaac. The birth of Isaac is
mentioned in a form that certainly depends upon 21:2. There is also
a reference in the same verse to Isaac’s inheritance, and this corre-
sponds to the statement in 25:5. This would suggest that the unit
25:1-6 perhaps directly preceded chap. 24, perhaps as a part of the
other genealogical unit in 22:20-24. This later genealogy provides
the background for Rebekah’s family, and this too is frequently
repeated in 24:15, 24, and 47. It also seems likely that 25:11 followed
chap. 24 as well, but this would be difficult to prove.
In summary, we have seen that chap. 24 is a unified literary work
of the Yahwist with no indication of any dependence upon a folk-
loristic tradition of Isaac as a forefather of Israel. Like chap. 22, it
deals with the theme of divine providence but emphasizes more
strongly the hidden and natural guidance of God in the promises to
Abraham in response to simple piety and faith. The specific historical
circumstances to which this message was directed will be discussed in
the next chapter.
 CHAPTER 12

The Covenant of Abraham: Genesis 15

There is great diversity of opinion about the unity or disunity of

Genesis 15 and about the antiquity of the traditions contained in
the chapter. It would seem to me to be helpful if some preliminary
assessment were made of some of the problems involved and of the
approaches used toward their solution.? A number of clues within
the chapter have suggested a division into two or more sources.
There is, first of all, a discrepancy in the time of day: v. 5 reflects a
nighttime scene, whereas vv. 12 and 17 point to early evening. The
subject matter of vv. 1-6, the gift of an heir and numerous offspring,
is different from vv. 7-21, the promise of land guaranteed by cove-
nant. There are parallel self-introductions by Yahweh in v. 1 and
v. 7 and parallel responses by Abraham in vv. 2-3 and 8. Further-
more, in v. 6 Abraham expresses faith, but in v. 8 he appears to be
in doubt again. These features would seem to support arguments
for a division horizontally between vv. 1-6 and vv. 7-21. There are,
however, some indications of doublets within these two units. The
most obvious is the double reply of Abraham in wv. 2 and 3. Also
the promise of numerous offspring in v. 5 is distinct from, and addi-
tional to, the promise of a single natural heir in v. 4. In the second
1. See the commentaries and general studies on the literary criticism of the Pentateuch.
Some important recent literature may be listed here: J. Hoftijzer, Die Verheissungen an
die drei Erzodter (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1956); O. Kaiser, “‘ Traditionsgeschichtliche Unter-
suchung von Genesis 15,” <AW 70 (1958): 107-126; L. A. Snijders, “‘ Genesis xv: The
Covenant with Abram,” OTS 12 (1958): 261-79; A. Caquot, “‘ L’alliance avec Abram
(Genése 15),’’ Semitica 12 (1962): 51-66; H. Cazelles, ‘‘ Connexions et structure de Gen.
xv,” RB 69 (1962): 321-49; H. Seebass, “‘Zu Genesis 15,” Wort und Dienst nr 7 (1963):
132-49; R. E. Clements, Abraham and David: Genesis xv and its Meaning for Israelite Tradition,
SBT 2/5 (London: SCM Press, 1967); N. Lohfink, Die Landverheissung als Eid, Eine
Studie zu Gn. 15 SBS 28 (Stuttgart: Verlag Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1967). An important
unpublished work that should also be mentioned here is W. M. Clark, “‘The Origin and
Development of the Land Promise Theme in the Old Testament” (Ph.D. diss., Yale
University, 1964). ; a
2. See the surveys in Kaiser, ZAW 70:108, n. 4; Caquot, Semitica 12:51-56; Lohfink,
Landverheissung, pp. 24-30.
249
250 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

unit the divine speech of vv. 13-16 is a doublet to the one in wv.
18-21 and seems to come too soon, before the theophany of v. 17.
These ‘“‘doublets’’ have led some to argue for a vertical division of
sources through both parts of the chapter.
Discussions of source division in this chapter have been compli-
cated by another factor. There seems to be little agreement as to
whether we are concerned in this chapter with a basic core of
material supplemented by a later redactor, or whether it is a case
of two independent sources that have subsequently been combined.
In the latter instance verses are assigned to the two classical sources,
J and E, but the difficulty with this is that the divine name, Yahweh,
is used throughout. Consequently, the divine name is emended in
some instances to Elohim, which looks like a very arbitrary proce-
dure, especially since any other signs of E are difficult to assess.
There is also little agreement on whether J or E is the basic source
and how the actual source division should be carried through but
it has in mind the combination of two parallel variants. On the other
hand some verses, such as vv. 3, 5, 6, 7, 13-16, and 18-21, are
assigned to a redactor who would be merely supplementing the
previous account. It is noteworthy that the same verses can often
be ascribed by one author to a variant version, for example E, and
by another to a redactor, even though two entirely different literary
processes are involved. Yet a decision for regarding a verse as
belonging to a redactor or a variant is not made on the basis of
literary criteria, but on a vague feeling about dating or Deuteronomic
influence or the like. This leaves one with the strong impression that
the source division has usually been carried forward on a largely
arbitrary basis.
Another complication that has entered into the discussion of
Genesis 15 is that of tradition-history. Since Alt’s study on the
“God of the Fathers,” it has been suggested that in this chapter lies
the oldest pre-settlement level of the forefather’s tradition, so efforts
have been made, quite apart from the source designation, to see in
either vv. 1-6 or vv. 7-21 the oldest tradition. Of course, when this
completely speculative approach is added to the arbitrariness of
source division, anything can happen because any seeming tension
in the text that cannot be solved by source division can always be
accounted for by the prior oral history of the traditions.
It is to Otto Kaiser’s credit, it seems to me, that he introduced a
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 251

very important control over the whole literary and traditio-historical

discussion of Genesis 15 by means of his form-critical analysis. He
could on this basis, for instance, immediately call into question Alt’s
notion about the “Shield of Abraham” being a possible archaic
reference to an ancient patriarchal deity. However, Kaiser seems to
have limited his form-critical scrutiny to the first part of the chapter,
vv. 1-6 as well as v. 7 of the second, all of which he regarded as
quite late. But the nucleus of vv. off. he still regarded as based on
an old tradition that did not have to be shown form-critically. A
rather retrograde step was subsequently taken by H. Cazelles,4
who resisted the implications of Kaiser’s approach toward a late
date for part of the chapter and instead appealed to vague and
sporadic second-millennium parallels without any appreciation of
the form-critical’ method. Unfortunately, many scholars have
simply invoked Cazelles’ study to support their prejudice for an
early date.
Claus Westermann attempted to carry forward the form-critical
approach along somewhat different lines from the approach of
Kaiser, though complementary to it. He raised the question of the
nature of the narratives in both parts of Genesis 15 in order to
decide whether or not their form could provide a basis for old
promise traditions in either part of the chapter. The question that
he raised was a most appropriate one, even though there may be
some misgivings about the criteria he used for answering it. In the
end Westermann also succumbed to the seduction of the traditio-
historical approach instead of trying to establish some control over
it. He suggested that even if 15:7-21 does not correspond to an
appropriate oral narrative form one must assume that it originally
existed anyway and was lost through later “‘reworking.’’6
The recent study of Lohfink also takes seriously the question of
form-critical control, especially as it has to do with the assumption
of a narrative base for the chapter and the issue of disunity that
follows from this. In this respect his form-criticism controls his
3. See work in n. 1 above.
4. See work in n. 1 above.
5. Westermann, ‘“‘Arten der Erzahlung,” pp. 21-24.
6. Ibid., p. 29: ‘‘Mann kann dann annehmen, dass hinter Gen. 15: 7-21 eine alte
Erzahlung von der Verheissung des Landes steht, die aber stark verandert und stark
iiberarbeitet wurde.’’ This is another way of saying that since the evidence he would like
to find doesn’t exist he will presuppose it anyway.
252 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

literary analysis.? He also emphasizes the additional control of

structural analysis of the text that illuminates the nature of the
compositional movement of the text.8 Nevertheless, for Lohfink as
for many others, there are apparently two dogmas over which form-
critical judgments are not permitted to exercise any control. The
first is that the basic literary source belongs to the tenth century.
Forms that are attested only in late sources may be extended back
several centuries or assigned to the work of the redactor. The basic
text is always interpreted strictly in terms of the context of the
Davidic-Solomonic ‘‘empire.”” The second dogma largely unaffected
by form-criticism is that behind this chapter there must be an
ancient tradition that has a historical continuity with the “ Patri-
archal Age” itself and is a key to one or more of the basic themes
and functions of the whole forefathers’ tradition. All other consider-
ations are adjusted to these two tenets, however difficult such
explanations may be.®
It seems to me that the only viable method of approach is to re-
strict one’s analysis and interpretation of the chapter to what can
be reasonably controlled and not to speculate beyond those limits.
The form of control of both literary and traditio-historical questions
is form-critical analysis, which gives the best indication of the
smaller or larger unities in the text and the environment!® out of
which the text comes. The second control is a structural analysis of
the whole literary unit. Structural analysis is useful, it seems to me,
for two reasons. Firstly, it allows for form-critical comparison to be
made with oral narrative forms that are thought to lie behind the
text and thus to judge whether such reconstructions of an earlier
level of the tradition are reasonably possible. Secondly, it may
bring to the surface a compositional design and movement that
might otherwise be lost through various attempts at source division
and thus constitute a strong argument for the text’s unity. The full

7. Landverheissung, pp. 31-34.

8. Ibid., pp. 45-49.
g. This is also the approach of Clements in Abraham and David, which is almost entirely
lacking in any form-critical approach and is completely speculative in its reconstructions
of its tradition history. Kilian also (in Abrahamsiiberlieferungen) is criticized rightly by
Lohfink in Landverheissung, p. 31, n. 1 for his lack of any form-critical evaluation.
10. I use the term ‘‘environment”’ for a writer rather than Sitz-im-Leben, which has a
narrower sociological perspective and does not allow sufficiently for the secondary
appropriation of a form or genre in a purely literary work.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 253
implication of these controls, form-criticism and structural analysis,
must be taken seriously in the final interpretation of the text.

Forms and Structure

The forms (Gattungen) of this chapter constitute an amazing

variety. The opening words of v. 1, “‘After these things...” ?ahar
hadd°’barim haélleh form a literary connective used elsewhere in
Genesis and in some other prose works. This generally functions as
a very indefinite temporal connection with no indication whatever
that any specific prior events are related to what follows.1! To
describe it as “editorial” may be a little misleading if this suggests
that it does not belong to the author of what follows. But it is cer-
tainly the mark of written prose style of an extended prose work.
This opening statement is followed by the remark ‘‘The word of
Yahweh came to Abram.” This phrase, hdyah d¢bar yhwh, or the
variant nominal form in v. 4, is a terminus technicus for the report of
a divine speech to a prophet.!? It first occurs in prophetic works in
Jeremiah and becomes very frequent in Ezekiel. It also occurs
frequently throughout the Deuteronomistic history in narrative
having to do with prophets and was undoubtedly a convention for
reporting prophetic revelation, which came into vogue at the end
of the monarchy period. It does not occur in works of prophets
before the time of Jeremiah except as late superscriptions of these
works.
The word of Yahweh is here spoken of as coming in a “vision,”
mah*zeh. This seems to be a rather strange combination of two
different modes of prophetic reception of revelation that are usually
kept quite distinct. Such, for instance, is the case in Ezekiel, where
both modes are referred to frequently. However there is a fairly
close parallel in the Deuteronomist’s treatment of the dynastic
oracle of Nathan to David in 2 Sam. 7. It is stated, v. 4, that at
night ‘‘the word of Yahweh came to Nathan...,’’ and the report is
concluded by the remark ‘“‘In accordance with all these words and
all this vision [hzzzdyén] Nathan spoke to David,” v. 17. In Gen.
15:1 it is hard to decide whether the reference to a vision is meant

11. In Genesis see 22:1,20; 39:73; 40:1; 48:1. Outside of Genesis see Josh. 24:29;
1 Kings 17:17; 21:1; Ezra 7:1; Esther 2:1; 3:1.
12. Kaiser, <AW 70:110.
254 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

to suggest a nocturnal experience and thus anticipate v. 5 or not. At

any rate, the report form is not very clear, for what immediately
follows in v. 1b indicates that Abraham is both the medium of the
oracle and its ultimate recipient.
The first phrase of the divine speech, v. 1b, “Fear not Abram”
(?al-ttra? °abram), is the familiar mark of the salvation oracle (Heils-
orakel), followed by the divine self-predication “I am your shield”
and a word of encouragement, “your reward will be very great.”
Kaiser has pointed out that this same genre of oracle with the same
components may be found among the oracles of Esarhaddon and
Ashurbanipal.13 There can be no question, from an examination of
these, that they are all a form of oracle given to the king before a
military campaign as an assurance of victory. They appear to be in
response to the king’s prayer of lament about the threats of the
enemy, and they demand trust in the deity’s power to bring victory.
The belief that the deity is a shield or protection to the king is also
stated in these Assyrian inscriptions as well as in the royal psalms of
Israel. The ‘‘reward” (sakar), likewise, comes from this same
military context and has to do with payment derived from the
spoils of war and given for military service.!4 Consequently, this genre
of oracle belongs to the sphere of the royal court and in this specific
form fits the time of the late monarchy and exilic period.
These forms in v. 1b raise a number of questions. Are we to think
of Abraham as a king preparing for battle? Some have tried to
circumvent this problem by associating chap. 15 with chap. 14.15
However, quite apart from the literary difficulties involved this is
most unlikely, for this would place the oracle after the battle and
after the booty has been rejected. Another problem is that the oracle
is unmotivated by any lament for divine assistance, and this diffi-
culty is only heightened by the use of the vague connective “‘after

13. ZAW 7o:111ff. See also ANET2, pp. 449-50. See also H. M. Dion, ‘‘ The Patriarchal
Traditions and the Literary Form of the ‘ Oracle of Salvation,’ ’’ CBQ 29 (1967): 198-206;
idem, “‘ The ‘ Fear Not’ Formula and Holy War,” CBQ 32 (1970): 565-70. The evidence
for a late date for this form seems clear enough, and Lohfink (Landverheissung, p. 49, n. 9)
indulges in some special pleading to try to find an original Aramaic origin for the form,
which he would then like to make much earlier.
14. Kaiser, <AW 70:113ff.; Westermann, “Erzahlung,” pp. 22-23; Lohfink, Land-
verheissung, p. 57. Cf. Cazelles, RB 69: 328; also M. Kessler, ‘“‘The ‘Shield’ of Abraham ?”
VT 14 (1964): 494-97.
15. See Caquot, Semitica 12: 63-66, followed by Lohfink, Landverheissung, pp. 84-88.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 255

these things.” These problems cannot be lightly dismissed by the

excuse that the writer was unconsciously using the court language
of his day. On the contrary, the use of such a form has the appear-
ance of being a deliberate and conscious choice, and any solution to
the interpretation of v. 1 must take seriously these problems raised
by the forms of the text.
There is no difficulty with the genre of vv. 2-3, which are easily
recognized as a lament.16 But its literary unity is another matter.
Many scholars have felt that v. 3 is either a doublet of v. 2 coming
from another source or a later explanation given to clarify a rather
enigmatic statement. The difficulty is v. 2b with its anomalous
grammatical construction and the problematical phrase ben meseq.
As it stands, it is a nominal sentence with explanatory glosses:
“And a ben-mesheq (is) in my house, that is Damascus, Eliezer.’’!?
The many explanations of this half-verse are not very convincing.
It may contain a special allusion that entirely escapes us to circum-
stances in the time of the writer. At any rate, nothing can be built
on it. Nor can it be assumed that v. 3b is a parallel to it, and even
without v. 2b there is a clear progression from the issue of child-
lessness to the problem of inheritance. Furthermore, a certain
repetitious restatement of a complaint is quite typical of the lament
form, even though it is not set down here in very poetic form. As it
stands v. 2a follows directly from v. 1b, and v. 3b leads into v. 4
with the theme of inheritance, yrs. But vv. 4 and 1 have the same
form of introduction, so there seems to be no adequate reason to
doubt the unity of the whole passage, wv. I-4.
The real problem with the lament of vv. 2-3 is how to understand
its form-critical relationship to the salvation oracle of v. 1b. One
would expect the reverse of the order here present, a lament-
salvation oracle, and would not anticipate the shift in theme from
war to lack of offspring. Even if one admits that the lack of an heir
is a most important concern for a king,!8 it is hardly an issue appro-
priate to the war language of v. 1b. This peculiar juxtaposition of
16. Westermann, ‘‘Erzahlung,” p. 22; Lohfink, Landverheissung, p. 45.
17. For this rendering and a general discussion of the various proposals see Caquot,
Semitica 12:57-58. Cf. Cazelles, RB 69:330f.; Speiser, Genesis, pp. 111-12; Clements,
Abraham and David, p. 18; Seebass, ‘‘ Gen. 15, 2b,” ZAW 75 (1963): 317-19; H. L. Gins-
berg, ‘‘Abram’s ‘Damascene’ Steward,” BASOR 200 (1970): 31-32.
18. In this connection note the similarity of language between v. 4 and 2 Sam. 7:12,
especially the phrase °“Ser_yésé? mimmé‘eyka.
2 56 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

various themes means that the apparent report form of oracle and
response is highly artificial, and that the combination must be for
an entirely different purpose.
The first dramatic element of the chapter is contained in v. 5.
Yet it hardly functions as an adequate setting for the first unit. We
are told that God took Abraham outside to view the stars, but we
are hardly prepared for this action unless the scene is suggested by
the vague phrase ‘‘in a vision,” v. 1. This action of God taking
someone to a certain spot to view something is a feature more char-
acteristic of late prophetic visionary reports, such as that developed
in Ezekiel and the later exilic prophets.19 But if the words “he
brought me outside” introduce a visionary experience the time of
day suggested by the appearance of the stars is not a true dramatic
element or any indication of a narrative tradition. But it does link
up with the prophetic report forms of vv. 1 and 4.
The connection between v. 4 and v. 5 is not regarded by some as
“original”? because vv. 2-4 deal with the theme of an heir, while
v. 5 has to do with numerous offspring. This argument loses much
of its weight from the fact that there is no consistent form or theme
in vv. 1-4. Also, v. 4 by itself would be a rather weak ending with
just a simple rejection of the lament in v. 3. It is common to have a
divine promise confirmed by a sign (cf. 2 Kings 20: 8ff.; Isa. 7:10-17),
and v. 5 is intended to be such a sign. Furthermore, there is some
hint of a dynastic promise form in v. 4, and with such a promise
there is always the extension of that promise to include a lengthy
dynasty (2 Sam. 7:12,16; Ps. 89: 20ff.; 132:11-12; cf. Jer. 33: 20ff.).
So the combination of a natural heir and numerous progeny is not
a real difficulty.
The first pericope is then concluded by an expression of confidence
in v. 6a, “So he believed Yahweh .. ..”’2 This is a most appropriate
conclusion, form-critically, to a unit that contains a salvation oracle
and lament and confirms the connection of vv. 5-6 with vv. 1-4.21
But v. 6b immediately introduces us into quite a different sphere,
19. See especially Ezek. chaps. 8-11.
20. Although the Hebrew verb appears to be waw consecutive perfect, the following verb
is in the narrative tense, waw consecutive imperfect, so the first verb w*he?¢min ought to be
rendered accordingly.
21. Cf. Clements, Abraham and David, p. 19. Kilian (Abrahamsiiberlieferungen, p. 61) ascribes
vv. 4a, 5-6 to E and then amends yhwh to °¢léhim in both vv. 4 and 6. Such an approach
could scarcely be more arbitrary.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 257

that of the cult. Von Rad has clarified the usage of the phrase “And
he reckoned it to him as righteousness,” wayyahsebeha llé s¢daqah,
by showing that it was the responsibility of the priest to accept or
reject the worshipper on the presentation of his sacrifice or in various
other acts of cultic examination.22 The same declaration of accept-
ance (righteousness) is found in the temple liturgies of Pss. 15 and 24
and in the moral declarations of Ezek. 18, which are built on these.
That this cultic form has here been placed in a radically new and
quite uncultic context is a matter that will have to be taken quite
seriously in the interpretation of this passage. What is significant for
our form-critical discussion is that a form from yet another Sitz im
Leben—the cultic—has been brought into combination with royal
and prophetic forms. How is one to account for this mélange of
forms? While von Rad has emphasized the significance of the
particular combination in v. 6, the historical horizon to which this
statement along with the whole unit of vv. 1-6 belongs has yet to be
explained.?
A new theme begins in v. 7, and this is emphasized by another
self-introduction formula from the deity. However, the Sitz im Leben
of this formula is not the royal court, as in v. 1, but the cult, as is
clear from its occurrence in the Holiness Code and the Priestly
Code as well as from its adaptation in the exilic prophets. Its refer-
ence to the past activity of God makes it strongly confessional in
nature also.24 But this opening verse to a new theme cannot be
regarded on the literary level as an entirely new beginning, because
both the subject and the indirect object of the opening verb have
their antecedents in the previous unit. Nor is v. 7 simply a late redac-
tional link because the response by Abraham in v. 8 demands some
prior statement, and its connection with the land promise in v. 7 is
obvious. The theme of inheritance in vv. 7-8 returns to that of vv.
3-4, but with a shift in interest from the question of an heir to the

22. ‘‘Faith Reckoned as Righteousness”? (1951) in The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other
Essays, trans. E. W. Trueman Dicken (Edinburgh and London: Oliver & Boyd, 1966),
pp. 125-30; idem, Old Testament Theology 1: 377-79.
23. Cf. von Rad, “‘Faith,’”’ pp. 129-30 for rather vague statements about the historical
horizon of the passage.
24. On the form see W. Zimmerli, “Ich bin Jahwe”’ (1953), in Gottes Offenbarung, Gesam-
melte Aufsatze zum Alten Testament TB 19 (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1963), pp. 11-40;
K. Elliger, ‘‘Ich bin den Herr-euer Gott” (1954), in Kleine Schriften zum Alten Testament
TB 32 (Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1966), pp. 211-31.
258 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

question of the land. In v. 8 Abraham asks for a confirmation of the

promise in v. 7. This is not a lament, as in vv. 2-3, but a prayer for
a sign, which is quite appropriate in the context.?°
The instruction and preparation for the covenant ritual are given
in vv. g-10. There is no need to repeat what was said earlier about
the problem of its form. I am still inclined to see the example in
Jer. 34:18 and similar mid-first millennium parallels as the most
appropriate way of understanding the ritual as a form of oath or
self-imprecation. Nevertheless, since in this special circumstance the
deity himself is involved (and not just as the guarantor of the oath),
there are certain modifications. It has been noted that the specific
designation of the kinds of animals and the treatment of the birds
resembles cultic regulations for sacrifice.26 Yet it is clearly not a
sacrifice, so that the special preparations are the result of a hybrid
of ritualistic forms to symbolize a unique historic act. One cannot
find entirely suitable analogies for it because by its very nature it
was never intended to be repeated. Another modification in form
has to do with the representation of the deity in the smoking oven
and flaming torch. Undoubtedly these have some reference to the
smoke and fire theophany of Sinai. But it is also possible that we
have here an instance of cultic instruments being used as symbols
for the presence of the deity in place of images in an imageless
cult.27
One detail that seems totally unnecessary is the mention of birds
of prey coming down on the carcasses, v. 11. Since there is such
great economy of presentation, it is hardly possible that this is
simply meant as a picturesque detail. It must, in fact, be a clue to
an ill omen.?8 Furthermore, birds of prey were primary symbols
for the Egyptian monarchy,?9 so we may well have a reference here
to the omen contained in vv. 13-16. But this raises the further
25. See also Lohfink, Landverheissung, pp. 48-49.
26. See S. E. Loewenstamm, ‘‘Zur traditionsgeschichte des Bundes zwischen den
Stiicken,” VT 18 (1968): 500-06; but see already Clark, ‘“‘Land Promise Theme,”
p. 62.
27. The importance of cultic objects as non-representational symbols of the deity be-
comes of paramount importance in the Greco-Roman period. See E. R. Goodenough,
Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period, 13 vols. (New York: Pantheon Books, 1953-68),
especially vol. 4. Goodenough also suggests (vol. 4, p. 74) a connection between the burning
bush of Exodus 3 and the menorah.
28. See Gunkel, Genesis, p. 182; Skinner, Genesis, p. 281.
29. Cazelles, RB 69: 338.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 259

question of whether vv. 13-16 belong to the original account. Most

scholars regard it as secondary and late and therefore suggest that
in the original text v. 12 directly preceded v. 17. But is this likely ?
Why would the final episode be introduced by two statements of
time, one a little later than the other? The difficulty is also increased
if the action of v. 17 is to be thought of as taking place during the
trance of v. 12, which is governed by the first time period. The two
temporal introductions only make sense if they set off two different
events. Within the larger covenant ceremony there is the omen-
prophecy event. It is introduced by the appearance of the birds of
prey, after which Abraham falls into a deep and terrifying trance
(v. 12), in which he receives the prophecy (vv. 13-16). Only subse-
quent to this event does the final covenant ratification take place.
This setting of a scene-within-a-scene set off by temporal indicators
is also found in the Lot-Sodom story (chaps. 18-19). I can see no
literary or form-critical reasons for excluding vv. 13-16 from the
larger account.
Since vv. 13-16 are usually considered additional, very little
attention is paid to the question of their form. It is not a case here
of a prediction of a single event sometime in the future. Rather, it
is the outlining of a historical period containing a series of events and
presented vaticinium ex eventu. Such forms of prediction are typical of
late apocalyptic literature, but this form of prophecy is also known
from a somewhat earlier period in Mesopotamia.?9 The function of
the prediction here is as a confirming sign of the promise in v. 7.
Abraham asks (v. 8) ‘‘How shall I know...?” The answer in v. 13
is ‘‘Know for certain... .” In Deuteronomy and the late prophetic
books fulfillment of prophecy becomes an important proof of the
true word of God.
The terms of the covenant are given in vv. 18-21 in the form of a
divine grant of land with its boundaries specified.#1 These limits and

30. See A. K. Grayson and W. G. Lambert, “‘Akkadian Prophecies,” FCS 18 (1964):

7-30; W. W. Hallo ‘Akkadian Apocalypses,”’ JEF 16 (1966): 231-242; ANET®, pp. 451-
Ze
an M. Weinfeld, ‘‘The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament and in the Ancient
Near East,’’ JAOS go (1970): 184-203 (especially pp. 196-99); S. E. Loewenstamm,
“The Divine Grants of Land to the Patriarchs,’”’ JAOS 91 (1971): 509-10. However,
Clark, in ‘‘Land Promise Theme,” pp. 22-29, emphasizes a distinction between land
grant and land promise and does not regard the legal concept ofland transfer as adequate
to explain the form of a promise of land.
260 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

the names of the indigenous inhabitants are known from the Deuter-
onomic sources, except that three names, the Kenites, the Keniz-
zites, and the Kadmonites, are additional.8? Yet there is no form-
critical reason for making any source division in vv. 18-21. Such
decisions have been made on the basis of a theory of tradition-
history and not on any controlled criterion. The text itself gives no
warrant for any such reconstruction.
We may summarize our survey of the forms in chap. 15 by noting
the great number and complexity of genres that have been combined
in this chapter. They are drawn from the royal court, the cult,
prophetic narrative conventions, and legal spheres. Yet in spite of
this variety there is no reason form-critically why any particular
verse should be separated from the basic account and considered as
secondary or why there should be a general source division into
more than one source. It still remains to present briefly a structural
analysis of the whole chapter. This will give us an additional criter-
ion by which to judge its unity and will clarify the question of whether
or not there is a still older story-tradition form that is the chapter’s
ultimate origin and unity.
In his recent study Lohfink has given a discussion of the structure
of this chapter.33 It becomes immediately clear that the whole unit
has been carefully composed of two balanced parts, vv. 1-5 and
vv. 7-21, with v. 6 as a connecting link between the two halves.
Both sections begin with divine self-introduction and make use of
conventional formulae (vv. 1 and 7). In both cases Abraham replies
with the invocation of the divine name and epithet, ““O Lord,
Yahweh,” °¢ddndy yhwh. In one case he uses a lament; in the other,
a prayer for a sign, vv. 2-3 and 8. To both of these prayers Yahweh
replies in a twofold manner. In the first instance Abraham is given
a promise, v. 4, followed by a sign, which extends the content of the
promise, v. 5. In the second part, since the promise is part of the
opening word of Yahweh, the reply has to do only with the guar-
antee. But this itself is in two forms, the covenant (vv. g-10, 17-21)
and the omen-prophecy (vv. 11-16), which at the same time qualifies
the immediate effectiveness of the covenantal promise. Both sections

32. On the development of the lists see Van Seters, ‘‘ The Terms ‘Amorite’ and ‘ Hittite’
in the Old Testament,”’ VT 22 (1972): 67-72. There is no justification for Clements’
(Abraham and David, p. 21) viewing these three names as the most original. To do so he
must radically emend vy. 18.
33. Landverheissung, pp. 45-49; cf.-also Westermann, ‘“‘Arten der Erzahlung,”’ p. 22.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 261

also have some dramatic and temporal notations at about the same
point in the structure, vv. 5, and 9-12, 17. Each section deals with
a basic promise theme: the promise of offspring in vv. 1-5 and the
promise of land in vv. 7-21. But they are closely tied together by the
use of important catch words such as yrs, ‘“‘to inherit”, vv. 3,4,7,
and 8; and zera‘, “‘seed”’, vv. 3,5,13, and 18, which are basic to the
theme of both parts. The balanced structuring of the whole as well
as of the two parts and the interconnections between the two are
such that they could not have resulted from a series of fortuitous
additions and reworkings. The plan of the whole chapter is far too
deliberate for that.
One other question must be considered here. It has frequently
been suggested that behind Genesis 15, or part of it, lies an ancient
story about theophany and promise to Abraham. If this is the case
one might at least expect that the basic structure of such an account
is still evident within the present text. There is a number of such
theophany stories that still retain at least some of the essential
dramatic structure of such accounts, and these can be used for
purposes of comparison. They are: the call of Moses (Exodus 3),
the call of Gideon (Judg. 6),34 and the birth announcement to
Manoah and his wife (Judg. 13). The structure of these episodes is
as follows:

1) There is a general situation of distress for Israel, Exod.

2:23-25; Judg. 6:1-6; 13:1.
2) There is the appearance of the messenger of Yahweh at a
specific time and place and in a dramatic form, Exod.
3:1-5; Judg. 6:11ff.; 13: 2ff,, 9.
3) The appearance of the messenger is in response to the
situation of need, and its purpose is to commission a deliverer,
Exod. 3:7-10; Judg. 6:12-14, or to announce his birth,
Judg. 13:5.
4) This commissioning may be followed by a protest of weak-
ness, calling forth a promise of the divine presence, Exod.
3:11-12; Judg. 6:15-16.

34. For these two episodes see W. Richter, Die sogenannten vorprophetischen Berufungsberichte.
Ein literaturwissenschaftliche Studie zur I Sam. 9, 1-10, 16, Ex. 3f. und Ri. 6, r1b-17 FRLANT
101 (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1970). However, Richter does a structural
analysis of Exod. 3 only after he has divided it into two sources on the basis of rather
dubious criteria. I can therefore accept little of his analysis.
262 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

5) Confirmation of the promised deliverance is by means of a

sign or self-disclosure of the deity with an expression by the
petitioner of fear, Exod. 3:12 (3:6, 13-15); Judg. 6:17-23
and 13:15-21.
6) This deliverance is carried out in the rest of the story,
Exod. 5ff.; Judg. 7-8 and 14-16.

it appears that Exodus 3 contains the greatest modification of

this pattern, in which the unusual form of the theophany has itself
become the divine disclosure (v. 6) rather early in the pattern. But
even here the self-identification is repeated in fuller form after the
sign and in response to the question about the name (vv. 13-15,
cf. Judg. 13:17ff.). This change, it seems to me, was for theological
purposes and was not a reflection of the basic form. The sign also,
in the form of a prediction about future worship at Sinai, is dramat-
ically weak, since its fulfillment would come after the deliverance.
Moses’ protest takes on the character of resistance to a prophetic
commissioning similar to Jeremiah’s confessions, since there is a
concern about Israel’s lack of faith and his own inability to speak.
For the purpose of our present discussion, what is most important
to note, firstly, is that the theophanic episode cannot exist independ-
ent of the situation of crisis that precedes or of the resolution of the
crisis that follows. Its sole function is to indicate that the turning
point in the events is by direct intervention from God. But this is
not the case with Genesis 15, which has nothing corresponding to
either the first or the last element of the above outline. It is a self-
contained unit of reflection with the barest minimum of dramatic
movement of any kind. How could it possibly reflect a theophanic
legend without such essential elements present?
Secondly, it is possible to observe on the basis of Exodus 3 that
even where the pattern of such a story is present its various compo-
nents may be modified by influences from quite different aspects of
Israel’s cultic and religious life because the components had their
counterparts in other genres. Note, for instance, how the divine
disclosure motif, typical of legend, becomes in Exod. 3:6 and 19ff.
various forms of liturgical and confessional self-predication for-
mulae. There is no justification for thinking that such formulae
actually originated in legendary traditions. In Gen. 15:1 and 7
this is all we have, unaccompanied by any dramatic elements
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 263

whatever. So too with every other element in Genesis 15. We have

seen that form-critically they all belong to various spheres of Israel’s
religious and national life, its cult and liturgy with scarcely a trace
of any legendary motif present anywhere.35
It seems to me, therefore, quite illegitimate for Lohfink and West-
ermann to suggest, in the absence of any legendary form or motif,
that an ancient legend has been reworked or modified by a later
author.36 As far as the traditions behind the chapter are concerned,
we have previously suggested that in the earliest written source
both the story of Isaac’s birth and the promise of land were present
in their simplest forms. It is perfectly reasonable to suppose that the
treatment of the two themes in this source was built directly on this
earlier written tradition, since literary dependence has already been
demonstrated. No other hypothetical schemes or fanciful recon-
structions are necessary.

The Meaning of Genesis 15

This brings us to the difficult task of discerning the author’s mean-

ing in the use of just these particular forms and themes. Admittedly,
this is only possible if we have some clear indication of the period in
which he lived and if the character and concerns of that period are
known. The idea held by some scholars that one can reconstruct a
multilayered history of the tradition into early preliterary levels,
then guess correctly what the meaning and function of those various
levels were, and go on to reconstruct certain historical aspects of
those periods is surely a great delusion.?? We will deal with this
passage as a unit and as something immediately meaningful to the
audience of its day, about whom we can have fairly direct knowledge.
It is best to start with the second part, and v. 7 in particular,
because it contains a fairly precise date for the whole unit.38 There

35. Lohfink’s approach (Landverheissung, pp. 5i—78), which seeks to find some element of
antiquity behind the various formal elements misses the whole point of form-critical
control of tradition-history.
36. Lohfink, ibid., p. 54; Westermann, “‘Arten der Erzahlung,”’ pp. 24, 29.
37. See especially the study of Clements, Abraham and David; and Kilian, Abrahamsiiber-
lieferungen, pp. 54-73-
38. See Van Seters, ‘‘ Confessional Reformulation in the Exilic Period,” VT 22 (1972):
455. Many of the observations made in this article were already anticipated by Clark in
his study of the land promise theme (see n. 1 above). However, my article was written
quite independent of this study, which I did not consult until the spring of 1973.
2 64 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

we have a reference to “‘Ur of the Chaldeans” and this can only

have meaning in the Neo-Babylonian period, during the period of
Chaldean dominance and the reign of Nabonidus in particular.%9
So the period from which the Abraham tradition is being viewed is
the late exilic period, and it is to the exilic community that the
words of this chapter are being addressed. Verse 7b states: “I am
Yahweh who brought you from Ur of the Chaldeans to give you
possession of this land.’ As discussed above, the form of the divine
speech in this passage is the “‘self-introduction formula,” which in
the form expanded by a participial phrase regularly has reference
to the exodus event as it does in the Decalogue (Exod. 20:2, Deut.
5:6) and in other preexilic and early exilic sources. A particularly
close parallel to the one in Genesis comes from the Holiness Code,
Lev. 25:38, which states: ““I am Yahweh your God who brought
you from the land of Egypt to give you the land of Canaan and to
be your God.” This liturgical statement is a declaration of Israel’s
election through the exodus as well as Israel’s right to the land of
Canaan.?*° In the form of paranesis this confession also dominates the
book of Deuteronomy. Until the time of the exile Yahweh’s most
important predication or confession of identity was in terms of the
exodus-election tradition.
In Gen. 15:7, however, the reference to Egypt has been changed
to Ur of the Chaldeans, and with it there is a fundamental shift in
the whole election-tradition. Yahweh is now the God of Abraham
and his offspring. Just when this shift took place can be quite clearly
traced in the biblical texts.41 Jeremiah and Ezekiel, the last prophets
of the monarchy and the early exilic period, still held to the theme
of divine election through the exodus event and the promise of land
to Israel at that time (Ezek. 20:5-6). Ezekiel, it is true, does mention
Abraham once (33:24), and he is the first prophet to do so. But the
claim to land based on the Abraham tradition is treated in rather
disparaging terms.42
But with Deutero-Isaiah the situation has entirely changed.
39. Clark, in ‘‘ Land Promise Theme,” pp. 61—72, argues for an exilic date for 15: 7-21.
40. Lohfink’s treatment of this comparison (Landverheissung, p. 60f.), in which both
references, Gen. 15:7 and Lev. 25:38, are vaguely suggested as belonging to old cultic
formulae, completely misses the point at issue.
41. The shift is certainly complete by the time of the Chronicler. See Neh. g: 7-8, which
is dependent upon both Genesis 15 and 17.
42. See more fully VT 22: 448-451.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 265

Isa. 41:8f. contains a clear reference to election through the fore-

fathers. It states:
You, Israel, my servant,
Jacob, whom I have chosen,
Offspring of Abraham, my friend
whom I seized from the edge of the world
and summoned from its farthest parts,
And said to you, “You are my servant,
I have chosen you and not rejected you.”
Here God’s election and call of Abraham from a distant land is
viewed as Israel’s election also. And the relevance of this for the
exiles is that God can again bring them from these same distant
regions to the promised land.
Likewise, of considerable importance in Gen. 15:7 is the connec-
tion between the election of Abraham and the land. I have recently
tried to show that in the Deuteronomic tradition and in the prophets
Jeremiah and Ezekiel, the land promise theme was closely tied to
the exodus from Egypt and to the conditional covenant of the
wilderness.43 Disobedience to the law meant a curse upon the land,
which could eventually result in forfeiture. The exile was proof that
the covenantal relationship was broken, and with it the legitimate
claim to the land. This was not only a crisis of faith but also a crisis
of corporate identity. Only by establishing a new basis for a claim
to the land that would supercede the older covenantal basis could
this crisis be overcome. Such a basis was found by associating the
promise of land not with the “fathers” of the exodus, but with the
forefathers long before the exodus, a promise which was not condi-
tional. It is in this light that one must view the question by Abraham
in v. 8, ““How can I be sure that I will inherit it?”’ This is the ques-
tion of the exilic community concerning the land. They had become
uncertain because the previous covenantal basis was no longer valid
as any grounds for hope in a restoration. Consequently, in what
follows (vv. g-1o and 17-21), there is a “new” covenant in the
form of the strongest possible oath. It is a promise that is entirely
unconditional.
A word must be said here about the dimensions of the land. It is
often asserted that this description in vv. 18-21 corresponds to the
43. Ibid., pp. 448-454. See also Clark, ‘‘ Land Promise Theme,” pp. 44-46.
266 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Davidic-Solomonic empire, but there is no justification for such a

claim.44 The major part of Syria, the Phoenician coast, and Philistia
were never a part of those kingdoms even though the Deuteronomis-
tic account attempts to idealize their reigns as much as possible.
These dimensions in Gen. 15:18-21 are known from Deuteron-
omic sources as the “land of the Amorites,” in which the seven
indigenous nations lived. The development of this idealized boundary
was the product of the Assyrian domination of the West from the
eighth century onward.*5 However, there are two important differ-
ences with the earlier Deuteronomic form. If we may trust the
extant text, v. 18 speaks of the southern boundary being the “‘river
of Egypt” n®har misraim (the Nile) and not the “wadi of Egypt, ’
nahal misraim (El Arish). This latter, more northern, boundary of
Egypt was apparently valid for most of the Assyrian empire period
but after the rise of the Neo-Babylonian power there is good reason
to believe that the whole region from Gaza to the Eastern Delta was
no longer under Egyptian control. Arab tribes now ruled this
region and cooperated with the Babylonian and Persian authorities.
So the change here might have been quite deliberate. In the same
way one should interpret the three additions to the list of traditional
peoples, the Kenites, Kenizzites and Kadmonites, as representing
the Arab peoples in the immediate vicinity of, or within, the bound-
aries specified. Thus, it included not only the land of the settled
peoples but the regions of the nomadic groups as well.
In light of this new election-covenant construction, the reason for
the prediction in vv. 13-16 becomes clear. Its purpose is twofold.
Firstly, it is able to incorporate the exodus tradition into the land-
promise to the forefathers as a way of explaining historically the
delay in the fulfillment until the conquest. Secondly, it is possible
that the author was using the sojourn in Egypt as a model for the
exile, since it is known from Deutero-Isaiah that such exodus typol-
ogy was popular in the time of the exile.46 There is the statement
in v. 14 “But the nation which they will serve I am about to judge”
(dan ~andki), as if the matter were fairly imminent. There is also the
44. See Clements, Abraham and David, pp. 21-22; Lohfink, Landverheissung, pp. 73ff. For
the historical arguments see A. Malamat, ‘‘Aspects of the Foreign Policies of David
and
Solomon,” FNES 22 (1963): 1-17.
45. See VT 22: 6ff.; also Clark, ‘‘Land Promise Theme,” pp. 65f.
46. B. W. Anderson, ‘‘Exodus Typology in Second Isaiah,” Israel’s Prophetic
Heritage,
ed. B. W. Anderson and W. Harrelson (New York: Harper & Bros., 1962),
pp. 177-95.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 267

apparent discrepancy between the four-hundred-year sojourn and

the fourth generation returning “here.” This problem cannot be
resolved by mathematics or by proposing that two different histor-
ical periods are in view.4? It is much easier to see in the “fourth
generation” a prediction about the actual end of the exile. Finally,
the last statement that “the guilt of the Amorites has not yet reached
its limit”? may be seen as a statement concerned about the delay of
the return from exile.
This brings us to a consideration of 15:1-6. On the basis of what
we have discovered above we can now suggest that v. I is really a
prophetic word addressed to the exilic community. It may appear
in the present context to come “out of the blue” without explana-
tion, but for its hearers it had a very familiar ring. It is the same
prophecy that becomes the theme of Deutero-Isaiah. The latter
states in 40:9-10:
Get up to a high mountain,
Zion, herald of good tidings;
Lift up your voice with strength,
Jerusalem, herald of good tidings,
Lift it up, don’t be afraid; Pal tira’t]
Say to the cities of Judah,
“Behold your God!”
Behold, the Lord, Yahweh comes with might,
And his arm rules for him;
Behold his reward [s¢kdaré] is with him,
And his recompense before him.
Here we have together in the same short space of one saying several
of the same ingredients that we find in Gen. 15:1. Even the
designation for deity, °“déndy yhwh, of 15:2 is found here. It was Ji
Begrich who pointed out that this prophet has developed the
salvation-oracle (Heilsorakel) taken from the cult into a prominent
form of prophetic speech for the exilic period.48 But one can go
beyond this, for we know that this form of salvation oracle originally
had a quite specific royal context. So this prophet has democratized
it and addresses it directly to the people to turn them toward a new
hope in God’s mighty promise of restoration. And by addressing
47. See Lohfink, Landverheissung, pp. 85-86.
48. J. Begrich, ‘‘ Das priesterliche Heilsorakel,” KAW 52 (1934): 81-92.
268 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

such a royal form to Abraham in Gen. 15:1, our author there has
done exactly the same thing. To my mind such a similarity cannot
be fortuitous. Likewise, in Isa. 41:10, following the theme of election
through Abraham, there is another salvation oracle: “Fear not, for
I am with you ...,” and this same form occurs in the theophany to
Isaac, Gen. 26:24. Also, in both stories about Abimelech request-
ing a covenant treaty with the forefather, the foreign king acknow-
ledges that ‘“‘God/Yahweh is with you” (21:22; 26:28). All of
these statements, according to our literary analysis, belong to the
same Yahwistic source.49
Following the salvation oracle in Gen. 15:1, which states the
divine word of promise to the exilic community, there is a lament
by Abraham about his childlessness and a threat to the loss of his
inheritance. One of the characteristic features of Deutero-Isaiah is
the way in which his prophecy is interspersed with direct or indirect
references to laments by the exilic community about the hopelessness
of their plight. One passage in which the prophet seeks to encourage
the despondent community, 54:1-3, is particularly instructive. The
prophet depicts the survivors in Judah as a barren woman and
promises her many children. He also speaks about enlarging the
tent and lengthening the cords. This is not a reference to the mode
of living in Judah at this time, but a direct allusion to the Abraham
tradition. Furthermore, v. 3 directly connects the great increase in
population with the expansion of territories and makes the statement
“your offspring will inherit nations,” wézar‘ék géytm ytras. This
statement could also serve as a summary for Genesis 15 and for the
final promise in vv. 18-21. But it is important to see that the themes
of offspring (collective) to a barren individual, numerous progeny,
inheritance of the land (yrs), and extensive territory, are all in close
combination here. These themes in the rest of the Abraham story
will be taken up again below.
This brings us to the remarkable statement of Gen. 15:6:
“And he believed Yahweh, and he reckoned it to him as righteous-
ness.”” It is remarkable, as von Rad points out in his form-critical
study of it, because the reckoning of one as righteous has been
extracted from its usual cultic and liturgical context and applied to
the act of faith in the promise of God, specifically this promise of
Abraham having numerous descendants who would inherit the
49. See also Gen. 21: 17ff., where the salvation oracle occurs again in this same source.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 269

promised land.5®9 Von Rad did not attempt to find any historical
context for such a “revolutionary formulation.”5! He seems to sug-
gest vaguely that it was the isolated reflection of one man (E) living
sometime during the monarchy. Placing this text in the exilic period,
however, makes its significance immediately clear. Cultic activity
was at a minimum and it was, at any rate, entirely secondary to one
completely overriding concern, namely, whether or not a particular
Jew living in the exile really believed there was a future for Israel
any longer. One cannot read through Deutero-Isaiah without being
convinced that his fundamental concern is with faith in God’s desire
and ability to restore his people once more. In this exilic context the
statement about faith being reckoned as righteousness becomes
most appropriate and Abraham, the sojourner, becomes the ideal of
the Jew who lived in this hope.
Of course, viewed in this light, there is nothing contradictory
about a Jew who held to this promise and yet who wanted to know
on what basis he could lay claim to the land, especially since the
old covenant basis was broken. The explanation of this new basis is
set forth in vv. 7-21 and includes a reorientation of Yahweh’s con-
fessional identity, a new land-promise covenant, and an accounting
for the delay in the fulfillment. In this way the whole chapter became
a very close-knit unit, fully intelligible to the Jew of the exile, telling
him exactly where he stood and what his future was if he would
exercise faith in this word of salvation from the God of Abraham.

The Promises to the Fathers

The two promise themes of numerous progeny and land that

formed the basis of reflection in Genesis 15 must now be considered
within the context of the larger Abraham tradition.52 Of course,
these themes are not restricted to the Abraham tradition alone, but
run throughout the rest of Genesis and are reiterated elsewhere in
the Pentateuch. However, a comprehensive treatment will not be
50. See the works in n. 22 above.
51. Von Rad, Theology 1: 329.
52. In addition to the works cited in n. 1 above, see J. Muilenberg, “‘Abraham and the
Nations,”’ Interpretation 19 (1965) : 389-398; H. W. Wolff, “‘ The Kerygma ofthe Yahwist,”
Interpretation 20 (1966): 131-58; G. von Rad, ‘The Promised Land and Yahweh’s Land
in the Hexateuch” (1943), in The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays, pp. 79-93;
J. Schreiner, ‘‘ Segen fiir die Volker in der Verheissung an die Vater,” BX N.F. 6 (1962):
I-31.
270 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

undertaken here. The two themes as they relate to the forefathers

are most dominant in the Abraham tradition, and we will therefore
concentrate on a reevaluation of these.
In a study of the divine promises to the forefathers, J. Hoftijzer
distinguished between two groups of promise passages in Genesis,
those related to Genesis 15 and those by the author of Genesis 17.53
This distinction was made on the basis of affinity in vocabulary,
phraseology, and motifs within the two groups. The group associ-
ated with Genesis 17 is generally recognized by all the literary critics
as the work of P, and we will consider this group together with a
treatment of Genesis 17. Those of the other group, however, are
often assigned to various sources, but their uniformity, as Hoftijzer
has shown, speaks against this so I will also treat them here as a
group.°4 On the other hand, J cannot follow Hoftijzer in his view
that all the references to the promises outside of Genesis 15 are
secondary, and in many instances we have seen that they are part
of the primary source.
In a more recent treatment of the promise themes, Westermann
approached the discussion in quite a different way.55> He wanted
to deal with the problem that had arisen in the traditio-historical
studies on Abraham, as to which promise theme is the more original
and how far these themes reflect a very early preliterary level of the
tradition. In order to do this he attempted to classify the promise
stories into various types, but his classification may be immediately
disputed. For instance, he regarded both the accounts of 18:10ff.
and 16:1-16 as belonging to his first type, that of stories about the
promise of a son,°¢ but this is hardly an accurate description of
these episodes. The first, as we have seen, is part of the birth story
of Isaac, and the second isa story of a quite different character ending
originally with 16:12. It is hardly a promise story, since Hagar is
already pregnant when the heavenly messenger appears to her. So
there are still only the two basic promise themes, as we mentioned
at the outset.
The opening statement of the Abraham tradition presents what
53. Die Verheissungen an die drei Erzvater, chap. t.
54. The only exception to Hoftijzer’s groupings is Gen. 12: 7 which I have assigned above
to the earliest source, the first pre-Yahwist. But even this reference was included
in the
Yahwistic source as the origin of his land promise theme.
55. ““‘Arten der Erzahlung,” especially pp. 11-34.
56. Ibid., pp. 19-20.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 271

many scholars feel is an important kerygmatic statement by the so-

called Yahwist. The passage in 12:13 states:
Yahweh said to Abram, ‘“‘Go from your homeland, your birth-
place and your father’s household, to the land which I will
reveal to you. And I will make you? into a great nation, and
I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will
be a means of blessing.58 I will bless those who bless you but
the one who curses you I shall curse. Through you will all the
families of the earth obtain a blessing.59
I proposed earlier that on the older level of the written tradition the
Abraham story opened with the land promise alone (12:1 and 6-7).
Consequently, it is the later Yahwist who builds into this older
theme the promise of numerous progeny. It is suggested in the
opening statement of v. 2 that with the gift of the land God will
also make Abraham into a great national state, and such a theme
is repeated in 16:18 (cf. 21:13 and 18 re. Ishmael). Frequently we
are told that this statement reflects the Davidic or Solomonic period
and functioned as a legitimation of the empire.®® But is this really
the case? What this statement has in mind is a purely ethnic form
of identity with no necessity for a monarchy whatever. Abraham is
not the beginning of a royal line but of all the families in Israel.
Now in the Davidic-Solomonic period there does not seem to be
any such sense of unity, even between Israel and Judah, let alone
all the other disparate elements.®! The king was the fundamental
and sole basis of unity, and there is not a hint anywhere of the
monarchy being traced back to Abraham. So the significance of
the statement must be otherwise.
57. There is some question about the significance of the cohortative after an imperative.
Here it expresses more than simple futurity and probably signifies strong intention or
promise; cf. Wolff, Interpretation 20:137, n. 28.
58. There is no need to emend the text to waw consecutive perfect third person singular.
The imperative here expresses purpose and refers directly to Abraham. See Schreiner,
BZ 6: 4-5.
59. The niphal of the verb is used here and in 18:18 and 28:14, while the hithpael is used
in Gen. 22:18; 26:4, and Jer. 4:2. Since the pual and the qal passive participle are not
used here it is suggested that the meaning of the niph‘al and hiphal ought to be more
reflexive. See Schreiner, ibid., p. 7; Wolff, Interpretation 20:137, n. 31.
60. Schreiner, BZ 6: 29-30; Wolff, Interpretation 20:133-373; cf. Wagner, “‘Abraham and
David ?,” pp. 12ff.
61. A. Alt, ‘‘ The Formation of the Israelite State in Palestine,’’ (1930) in Essays on Old
Testament History and Religion, pp. 205ff.
PATE ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

The situation of the exile fits this promise much better. It was not
enough for either the exiles or the remnant in Judah to have the
promise of the land; they must also have people to fill it and to
become strong and respected. This theme of great numbers is strongly
emphasized by comparisons with the stars of heaven, the dust of
the earth, or the sand by the seashore (13:16; 15:5; 22:17; 26:4;
28:14; 32:12). Deuteronomy has a great deal to say about Israel
becoming a people (‘am) of God, but it is not at all concerned about
size or might; in fact, if anything the opposite is true.®? Israel is not
a great nation and must depend entirely on the strength and pro-
tection of Yahweh. The important thing is that it is a holy people
separate from the nations and obedient to God. As such they will
live long on the land that God gives to them. The issue for Deuter-
onomy was not how many people there were but how loyal to God
they were. Only with the threat of extinction in the exile does the
divine promise of numbers become important.
The next term, “I will bless you”? (wa°*barek*ka), presents some
difficulties. First of all, by itself it is ambiguous but from the other
passages it is clear that it can refer to both human fertility (22:17)
and material prosperity (24:35; 26:13). So it may have reference
to both the theme of progeny and the blessing of the land. The more
difficult problem is the form-critical one.6+ This term suggests the
promise of blessing but not the blessing itself. The original Sztz im
Leben of the divine blessing would certainly be in a cultic context in
which the word of blessing is spoken directly (Num. 6:22-27). The
cultic act of blessing would never project a blessing for a certain
time in the future.
But there is another sphere of blessing that may be more helpful.

62. Only in the late prologue; Deut. 1:10, is it suggested that by the end of the wilderness
journey Israel had become as numerous as the stars.
63. On this theme see M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1972), pp. 226ff.
64. For recent treatments of ‘‘ blessing’? in the OT see J. Scharbert, ‘‘‘Fluchen’ und
“Segnen’ im Alten Testament,” Biblica 39 (1958): 1-26; Schreiner (as cited in n. 52
above); W. Schottroff, Der altisraelitische Fluchspruch (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener
Verlag, 1969) especially pp. 163-198. This work contains an extensive bibliography on
the subject.
65. Cf. Schottroff, Fluchspruch, pp. 170-72. I cannot agree with Schottroff that these
blessing promises originated in the Salvation oracle, for he can offer no such examples.
They are secondary in their development, whether in the first- or third-person form
(Deut. 7:13; 15:10; 16:15).
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 273
In Deuteronomy the notion of the curse as the result of breaking the
law is very strong, and this has been carried over from the whole
realm of Near Eastern law and treaty.6¢ But alongside of this Deuter-
onomy places blessing for those who keep the law. Thus one is
blessed, bark, or cursed, °Griir, according to his obedience or dis-
obedience to the law, Deuteronomy 28 (cf. 11: 26-28). This form is
expressed by the use of a passive participle expressing an immediate
and automatic consequence of a particular action. In another
passage, 7:12-14, Deuteronomy projects into the future the blessing
of fertility that will result from obedience to the law. Here it is
expressed with an active finite verb and with God as subject.6” But
the direct relationship between law and blessing is maintained. In
Gen. 12:2 the promise of blessing is made by the deity in the first
person, and it is now viewed as the result of Abraham’s one act of
obedience. A similar act of obedience in chap. 22 results in a
promise of blessing, vv. 16-18. In 26:5 these acts by Abraham are
apparently interpreted as corresponding to the charges, commands,
statutes, and laws of Deuteronomy. At this point the whole notion of
a blessing associated with a specific set of laws or code has become
abstracted to a very considerable degree. But what is even more
remarkable about 26:3-5 (24) is that Abraham’s past obedience
effects a blessing for the following generations as well. This is certainly
a concept of the “merits of the fathers” that insures the destiny of
the people as a whole. While one may regard the phraseology of
26:5 as Deuteronomic it is quite a different conception of law and
blessing. It suggests that in spite of Israel’s sin, which brought about
the exile, the promises of land and offspring made to Abraham are
still good.
This raises the problem of how law is to be related to the Abraham
tradition.68 The answer is given in Gen. 18:19 in which Abraham
is now the one who instructs his children and household “to keep
the way of Yahweh by doing what is right and just,” and he then
becomes the example of piety for all his descendents. This is not
just a Deuteronomic addition of little consequence, as is so often
66. See recently Weinfeld, Deuteronomy, pp. 116-157; Schottroff, ibid., pp. 152ff.
67. See also Deut. 15:10; 16:15.
68. This is an important question raised throughout Hoftijzer’s book Die Verheissungen
an die drei Erzvater. My basic disagreement with Hoftijzer is that he did not consider the
possibility of his Genesis 15 group coming after Deuteronomy. This would solve a great
many difficulties that arise from his treatment of the promises theme.
274 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

suggested, but a matter of great consequence. Since, on the basis of

Deuteronomy, the Horeb-wilderness covenant was broken and
invalid the whole realm of law was left in limbo. By associating the
law with Abraham and constituting it as a family responsibility
separate from any larger state authority it had a new validity (cf.
Deut. 6:6-g). It is also suggested in 18:19 that the promises are at
least partially conditional upon obedience of the children to the
ways of God.
The question that immediately arises is how these two themes of
obedience to the law and the merit of Abraham’s obedience could
be maintained together. The answer is found once again in the
conception of the Israelite monarchy. The Deuteronomist continu-
ally points out that the kingdom of Judah, and specifically its king,
was spared from ultimate judgment or disaster for David’s sake,
both because of God’s election of David and also because of David’s
faithfulness to God’s commandments (1 Kings 11:32, 34; 2 Kings
19:34; 20:6). Nevertheless this ultimate loyalty to the Davidic
dynasty is qualified by the notion that breach of God’s command-
ments could lead to disciplining and temporary suspension of the
blessings (2 Sam. 7:14-16; cf. Pss. 132:12). It is this specifically
dynastic principle that has been transferred by the Genesis writer to
Abraham and hence to Israel as a whole.
The rest of the motifs in Gen. 12:2-3 properly belong to the royal
court. It is the king whose name is made great (cf. 2 Sam. 7:9) and
through whose name and person blessings come on the whole realm
(Ps. 72). Such blessings also extend beyond the nation itself and
have imperial dimensions (also 18:18; 22:18; 28:14) and this has
its parallel in the coronation blessing, Ps. 72:17:
May his name be blessed forever,
As long as the sun may his name endure;
So that all the families of the earth
may be blessed by him,
All nations regard him as blessed.®9
The theme about blessing those who bless Israel and cursing the one
who curses Israel also has its origin in the concept of an imperial
monarchy. This is true of the related theme of Abraham’s offspring
possessing “the gates of their enemies” (22:18, 26:40). Such an
6g. The text is restored on the basis of the Greek, which suggests the addition of J139 in
17ax% and yoxn ninpwe o> in 17ba. In 17a, yx, which is a hapax legomenon and of
uncertain meaning, is rendered in the Greek by diamenei, ‘‘ may it remain.”
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 275

imperial monarchy does not have in mind the Davidic-Solomonic

period, which never had such effective dimensions.7° It is, instead,
an imitation of the great Assyrian and Babylonian empires of the
eighth to sixth centuries.
Gen. 12:2-3 has deliberately and consciously taken over this
royal form of expression and applied it to Abraham in the same way
as in Gen. 15:1. That is to say, when Abraham is addressed in
this way it can only mean the democratization of royal forms. Just
such a process is also evident in Deutero-Isaiah, in which the
Davidic covenant itself is reapplied to the whole people (Isa.
55:3—5).7! In both Gen. 12:1—3 and Deutero-Isaiah there is a kind of
beneficent imperialism toward the nations.’? This is in contrast to
Deuteronomy, whose attitude was one of antagonism toward other
nations. Deuteronomy speaks of being “‘blessed more than all the
peoples” (7:14), but not as a means of blessing to other peoples.
These promises of numerous increase and of becoming a “bless-
ing”? b¢raka can only be properly understood against the background
of hope in the exilic period. Jer. 30:19 contains the divine promise
“J will multiply them, and they shall not be few; I will make them
honored and they will not be small.”’ The statement in Zech. 8:13
is also instructive, ‘““As you have been a [word of] curse [gala]
among the nations, O house of Judah and house of Israel, so will I
save you and you shall be a blessing [b¢raka]”’ (see also Mal. 3:12).
But it is especially in Deutero-Isaiah that the closest affinities with
Genesis are found. Isa. 51:1-2 states:
Listen to me, you who pursue victory,
you who seek Yahweh;
Look to the rock from which you were hewn,
And to the quarry from which you were dug.
Look to Abraham your father,
And to Sarah who gave you birth;
For he was only one person when I called him,
But I blessed him and made him many.’
70. Cf. Malamat, JNES 22:1-17. Malamat’s reconstruction of agreat empire is based on a
series of hypothetical reconstructions that may be seriously questioned.
71. See O. Eissfeldt, ‘‘The Promises of Grace to David,” in The Heritage of the Hebrew
Prophets, pp. 196-207.
72. See P. Ackroyd, Exile and Restoration (London: SCM, 1968), pp. 136-37 and litera-
ture cited there.
73. Cf. P. A. H. deBoer, Second Isaiah’s Message, OTS 11 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1956),
pp. 58-67.
276 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Just as in Gen. 12:1-3, the themes of blessing and numerous

offspring are directly connected with Abraham’s call, and this is
used as a symbol of hope for the restoration. But the matter goes
deeper than just a historical analogy. What is deliberately empha-
sized is Israel’s origin in, and continuity with, Abraham and Sarah.
The imagery is of God as a skilled craftsman who “carves” Israel
from its origin in the forefather.
This emphasis on Israel’s origin calls to mind a number of other
passages that speak of God “forming” Israel, even forming from
the womb (Isa. 44:2; cf. 43:1, 5-73 44: 21-22, 24; 45:9-11; 46:3-45
49:1-6). This imagery is to be associated with dynastic election and
is common in Assyrian and Babylonian royal inscriptions.’4 In
Deutero-Isaiah the motif has again been democratized, but in the
light of the emphasis upon the forefathers there is undoubtedly some
suggestion here of a kind of dynastic election through Abraham.
We have already discussed above, in connection with Gen.
15:7ff., the significance of the land promise theme in the exile.7®
There remains a brief consideration of those passages in the larger
thematic framework, which also deals with this subject. The promise
of land is made to Abraham in 13:14-17 in its full extent after his
separation from Lot. The land promise here is in the legal form of
land grant.’® This form is followed by even making the grant to
Abraham as well as to his descendents in perpetuity and without
condition (v. 15), even though Abraham himself never actually
gains possession. There is also the symbolic claiming of the land by
walking over its full extent.’” The fact that this legal form duplicates
to some extent the covenant of 15:7ff. does not indicate a different
source.’8 The author uses as many legal forms as possible to empha-
size the certainty of the promise. Some scholars have suggested that
v. 16, dealing with numerous offspring, is an intrusion into the theme
and form. But the point of its inclusion, I think, is to recognize the
74. See Shalom M. Paul, *‘ Deutero-Isaiah and Cuneiform Royal Inscriptions,” JAOS 88
(1968): 180-86, especially 184ff.
75. See also Clark, “‘ Land Promise Theme,” p. 72, n. 2, in which a connection with the
exile is also made.
76. See Weinfeld, FAOS g0:196-200; idem, Deuteronomy, pp. 74-81; Loewenstamm,
FAOS 91:509-10; cf. Clark, ““Land Promise Theme,” pp. 73-81. Clark regards this
passage as the earliest and the only one original to J’s Abraham tradition. But how
would this fit any broader literary theory?
77. So D. Daube, Studies in Biblical Law, pp. 34-9.
78. This is the argument of Clark, “‘ Land Promise Theme,” pp. 61ff.
 THE COVENANT OF ABRAHAM 27)

realities of the exilic period. Only with greatly increased numbers

of people in the land of Palestine was there any hope of spreading
out and inheriting all the land. Such a close combination of themes
also occurs in 26:4 and 28:14. In this last instance it is clearly
stated that the numerous progeny will result directly in their ex-
pansion in four directions similar to the statement in Isa. 54:3.79
There is another aspect of the land promise theme in the Yahwist
that is noteworthy. We have previously argued that the pre-Yahwist
call and land promise theme was contained in 12:1,4a,6a,7. Now
added to this earlier narrative is the remark by the Yahwist in 12:6b
(and repeated in 13:7) that the ‘‘Canaanites were then in the land.”
This statement hardly seems necessary to this context except perhaps
to suggest the pre-Israelite period. Nevertheless, its real significance
can only be seen in Gen. 24:2-8, in which the theme of the divine
call and land promise is recapitulated. But here the focus is on the
antagonism between the indigenous population and the patriarchs,
at least on the question of intermarriage. The inference in 24:7 is
that for the patriarchs (and Israel) to intermarry with the Canaan-
ites would be a rejection of God’s promise to give all the land of the
Canaanites to them.
Here we come into touch with a Deuteronomic theme of non-
intermarriage with the primeval nations, which would lead to apos-
tasy and a breach of the covenant (Deut. 7:3-5). For Deuteronomy
states that no covenants of any kind are to be made with these
people; they are to be exterminated. This theme of non-intermar-
riage becomes important in the Deuteronomistic history (cf. Judg.
3:5-6), always in terms of the threat of apostasy and particularly
in terms of the nation’s rulers (cf. 1 Kings 11: 1ff.). For the Yahwist
the focus is quite different. He is not averse to covenants of peace
with the local authorities (cf. Gen. 21: 22-24; 26:26-31). Nor is ita
question of apostasy. Now it is primarily a preservation of the people
as descendants of Abraham—racial purity—so that the land prom-
ise, which has become the covenant between Israel and Yahweh
79. It is also worth noting in Gen. 28:15 that, after the promises of land and numerous
offspring have been made to Jacob, a unique promise follows: ““See, I will be with you
and will keep you wherever you go and will return you to this land for I will not desert
you until I have done what I promised you.”’ The occasion is Jacob’s flight to Mesopo-
tamia, but this seems to be a clear allusion to the exile and a promise of restoration, with
its strong emphasis on not deserting Israel in a foreign land, but completely restoring her
fortunes.
278 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

through Abraham (15:7-21), can be upheld. This concern with

ethnic descent and racial purity becomes increasingly important in
the exilic and post-exilic periods because it goes hand-in-hand with
the patriarchal promises.
The promises to the fathers, when viewed in terms of the history
of their form and in a comparison with both the pre-exilic theology
of Deuteronomy and the concerns of the exilic prophets, can best be
understood as a response to the needs of the late exilic period. The
whole orientation is similar to that of Deutero-Isaiah, and it was at
this time that the Abraham tradition was taken up and given its
present basic shape as the fundamental unifying identity for the
people of “Israel,’? on the threshold of the restoration.
 CHAPTER 13

The Priestly Traditions of Abraham

There are two stories in the Abraham tradition almost universally

attributed to P, and these are the covenant of circumcision, Genesis
17, and the purchase of Sarah’s burial place, Genesis 23. Yet even
including the other brief elements of the P framework it is scarcely
possible that these ever formed the basis of an independent P tradition.
Much more likely is the view that they are additions dealing with
special subjects of concern. The two chapters provide a striking
contrast, in that one is a highly theological work while the other is
quite profane in character. The reason for such a strong difference
will, I hope, become evident in the analysis that follows.
The Covenant of Circumciston—Genesis 17.
While there is widespread agreement that Genesis 17 belongs to
the priestly corpus (P) of the Pentateuch, many problems and dis-
agreements regarding the analysis of this chapter remain.) Attempts
1. For general discussion of the priestly corpus see the introduction to OT by Eissfeldt
and Fohrer and the works cited there. The classical Wellhausen view of P has long held
that it was an independent and separate literary work of the exilic period, which was
only combined with the other pentateuchal sources by a redactor in the post-exilic period.
A challenge to its independent origin was made by Max Lohr, Untersuchungen zum Hexa-
teuchproblem I: Der Priesterkodex in der Genesis, BZAW 38 (1924), who rejected any indepen-
dent P narrative in Genesis but considered the work more in the nature of editorial
additions. This opinion was supported by P. Volz, Der Elohist als Erzdhler: ein Irrweg der
Pentateuchkritik? BZAW 63 (1933): 135-142. In quite the opposite direction G. von Rad,
in Die Priesterschrift im Hexateuch literarisch untersucht und theologisch gewertet, BWANT 65,
(Stuttgart—Berlin, 1934), argued for two complete strands of P even in the narrative
portions, including Genesis. 17. This study was strongly criticized by P. Humbert, ‘‘ Die
literarische Zweiheit des Priester-Codex in der Genesis (Kritische Untersuchung der
These von Rad),” <AW 17 (1940-41): 30-57. This criticism was accepted by Noth,
among others, in his Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 8-19 (especially p. 10). He reverted to the
older view of P as the work of one man who had a considerable amount of received mate-
rial (but not those of the other pentateuchal sources) and who worked them into a unified
whole. It is this rather vague literary view that is most commonly accepted today. Two
recent studies that call for special mention are: J. G. Vink, The Date and Origin of the
Priestly Code in the Old Testament OTS 15 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1969); Sean McEvenue,

279
280 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

have been made in the past to see various strands or stages of growth
in P, and this division has been carried over into Genesis 17 as well.
The present study cannot answer for the priestly corpus as a whole,
but we must give some consideration to the character of P in Genesis
17. The principal criteria for division of the chapter into at least
two strands or stages have been the presence of repetition, contra-
diction, and variety of themes. Yet the application of these criteria has
been hotly debated.? Repetition is the most doubtful as a reason for
source division because it can often have the opposite literary function
of unifying diverse elements in the same work. It cannot be assumed
that the presence of repetition always means the existence of a
tradition doublet. Contradiction or serious discontinuity of
thematic presentation is a much firmer criterion of sources. But
those who have attempted to find contradictions in Genesis 17 have
not been very convincing. ‘The mere presence, for instance, of the
promise of numerous progeny alongside of the promise of one
heir is hardly reason to claim a contradiction. There is a style of
logical development in this chapter and in the priestly writing
generally that goes from the broad inclusive statement to the partic-
ular, so that appreciation of the author’s logic of movement elimi-
nates most arguments for contradiction. There is, of course, also the
matter of the author’s sources, which may create a slight sense of
unevenness between two parts. Similarly for the criterion of thematic
variation, this will only have weight depending upon an evaluation
of the chapter’s genre, its sources and its pattern of structural
integration of the various parts. It is possible for more than one
theme to be combined in a larger structural unity without indicating
the presence of more than one source, as was the case in Genesis 1 5.
In contrast to the arguments for the disunity of Genesis 17 there is
the strong consensus that only P and no other pentateuchal source
is present in the chapter. This opinion is based on the fact that the
same characteristic vocabulary and terminology associated with P
are used throughout. Furthermore, the same thematic elements
oa Se Ne ed ee
The Narrative Style of the Priestly Writer, An. Bib. 50 (Rome: Biblical Institute Press,
1971). What is quite significant in McEvenue’s study is that he does regard the previous
pentateuchal sources as a most important part of P’s source material. More will
be said
about this work below.
2. < recent criticism of the arguments for disunity see McEvenue, Narrative Style,
pp. :
145-40.
 THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 281

present in Genesis 17 are repeated elsewhere in the Pentateuch in the

P corpus,? and it has long been recognized that this chapter is a
most important pivotal text for the understanding of the whole
work. Part of the scholarly ambivalence toward Genesis 17 results
directly from a lack of clarity about the literary nature of this
source and its relationship to the antecedent pentateuchal sources.
Once scholars had adopted a set of dubious criteria for the division of
pentateuchal sources in general and the principle that all the sources
were originally independent, self-contained units put together by a
series of redactors, it was inevitable that the P corpus itself would be
treated this way with questionable results. From the beginning of
this study, however, we have followed the rule of first evaluating the
relationship of the later sources to their antecedents by a study of the
parallels and on this basis have dealt with the problem of the overall
literary process. Coupled with this has also been a consideration of
form and structure as controls over the questions of unity, originality
and, ultimately, the author’s purpose. These will be the steps in our
consideration of this chapter also.4
The sources for Genesis 17 are primarily those that were already
present in the earlier pentateuchal material and that were known to
P.5 The promises of numerous progeny and of land, presented in
17:1-8, are found in many places in J, as we have seen, but corres-
pond here most closely to the form in Genesis 15. The promise of a
son, Isaac, in vv. 15-21 has its counterpart in 18:10-14. However,
included in this unit as well (vv. 18 and 20) are allusions to the two
stories about Ishmael. The only theme that is additional to those
drawn from the earlier story of Abraham is the cultic institution of
circumcision in vv. 9-14, 23-27, and this corresponds so com-
pletely with the whole style and orientation of the priestly code that
3. See especially Gen. 28: 3-4; 35:9-13; 48:3; Exod. 6:2-8. Lists of characteristic P
terminology may be found in Gunkel, Genesis, p. 264; Skinner, Genesis, p. 289. On the
various themes throughout the priestly source see Hoftijzer, Die Verhetssungen an die drei
Erzvater, chaps. 1 and 2.
4. A detailed treatment of these issues is given by McEvenue, Narrative Style, especially
chap. 4. This work represents an important new departure in the critical analysis of
Genesis 17 by the applications of stylistic criticism. My own presentation of Genesis 17 is
heavily indebted to this work, but I have not attempted to give a complete review of all
its arguments. Nevertheless, I have strong reservations about McEvenue’s comparisons
between P and children’s literature and efforts to make such connections in chap. 17
seem particularly forced. Other minor points of disagreement will be indicated below.
5. See McEvenue, ibid., pp. 149-55-
282 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

it certainly represents P’s own contribution to the tradition corpus.®

But this general statement about P’s sources does not yet give a
very clear idea of the precise relationship of P to these earlier sources.
We have every reason to believe that P had available to him all the
preserved earlier literary sources of the Pentateuch. Yet the case for
direct literary dependence can best be shown by a closer comparison
of Genesis 17 with its sources. The following items occur in both
Genesis 15 and 17:1-8:

1) A theophany with a divine promise stated in general terms,

I5:1-and 17:1~2.
2) Abraham’s reaction, in the one instance by an act of obeis-
ance, 17:3, in the other by a complaint, 15:2-3.
3) The promise of an heir with numerous progeny, 15:4-5, or
numerous progeny alone, 17: 4-6.
4) The covenant (bit) with Abraham and his descendants,
15:7-18; and 17:4-8.
5) The promise of land to Abraham and his descendants,
15:7 and 18; and 17:8.

The similarity of sequence of these items is especially significant as

an indication of dependence, since it does not rest on any narrative
structure in either case and since these promise themes occur else-
where in various forms, contexts, and sequences. In Genesis 15
the themes are distributed between two parallel panels’ in a freely
composed literary composition with very few narrative elements.
In chap. 17 there are also two main parallel panels with a slightly
different distribution of themes but even more artificially composed
with the same lack of narrative quality. Even when the language is
different from chap. 15 it may be similar to the treatment of the
same theme elsewhere in J. Thus, the reference to God’s increasing
Abraham greatly (with hiphil of rbh) is found in 16:10; 22:17;
26:4,24. The belief that Abraham will become “‘nations”’ reflects the
repeated statement in J that Abraham will become “a great nation,”
12:2; 18:18, and the plural may be deduced from the fact that it is

6. For this feature of command-fulfillment in P see C. Westermann, The Genesis Accounts

of Creation, Facet Books, Biblical Series 7 (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1964), pp. 7-8;
McEvenue, ibid., p. 17; idem, “‘ Word and Fulfillment: A Stylistic Feature of the Priestly
Writer,’ Semitics 1 (1970): 104-110.
7. On the stylistic feature of“panels”” see McEvenue, Narrative Style, pp. 155, 158-59.
 THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 283

extended to both Ishmael, 21:13,18, and Isaac, 26:3-4. In the

second part of the chapter (v. 16) P connects the promise of blessing
(6rk) with becoming “‘nations,” and this terminology is also closely
linked in J, 12:2; 22:17; 26:24. The expression “I will establish
[gem] my covenant,” (17:7) corresponds to the use in J “I will
establish [gwm] the oath [S¢bu“ah]”’ (26:3), since oath and covenant
are equivalent terms here. The form of the land promise in 15:18
only mentions the descendants, while in 17:8 both descendants and
the forefather are mentioned. But in the land grant form in 13:14-17,
which corresponds in its legal form more closely to 17:8, both the
patriarch and his descendants are included.8
Yet even when there are differences between P andJ these do not
point to a different tradition Vorlage, but are indications of P’s own
freedom with his source material. This can be seen in his elimination
of the theme of a single heir from the first promises, as in chap. 15,
in order to give greater attention to the theme in the later section,
vv. 15-21. P also mentions b¢rit at the very beginning and thereby
includes all the promises under this term, while chap. 15 used it only
in connection with the land promise. But since J also spoke of the
other promises as a divine oath (22:16; 26:3) this is not a basic
theoretical change. The purpose of using b¢rit throughout will be to
focus on the act of circumcision in vv. 9-14 and 23-27. P also uses
his own terminology, which then takes on larger thematic signifi-
cance beyond the present unit. For instance, there is the special use
of the divine name, El Shaddai (cf. 28:3; 35:11; 48:3; Exod.
6:2-3). The combination of the verbal pair prh and rbh, which
perhaps is meant to represent a kind of divine liturgical blessing, is
very common in P.® Even the notion of name change does not belong
to a special Abraham tradition. It is repeated in connection with
Sarah (v. 15), and Jacob (35:10). The notion very likely derives
from the older story about Jacob’s name change at Penuel (32:28).
One may also compare 17:15-21 with 18:10-14, in which the
following correspondence occurs:
8. On the land grant see M. Weinfeld, ‘‘The Covenant of Grant in the Old Testament
and in the Ancient Near East,” JAOS go (1970): 184-203 (especially 199-200); idem,
Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, p. 78; cf. S. E. Loewenstamm, “The Divine Grants
of Land to the Patriarchs,’’ JAOS 71 (1971): 509-10, who emphasizes that the priestly
phrase for the posterity zar‘akd °ah“rekd is found in the 5th century 8.c. Elephantine papyri
but not in earlier Near Eastern documents.
g. Gen. 1: 22,28; 9:1,7; 17:20; 28:3; 35:11; 47:27b; 48:4; Exod. 1:7.
284 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

1) God speaks to Abraham and promises him that Sarah will

have a son within a year, 17:15-16 and 18:9-10.
2) In one instance Abraham laughs, 17:17, and in the other
Sarah laughs, 18:12, and both reflect to themselves on the
impossibility of Sarah’s giving birth in her old age.
3) God reaffirms his promise in the face of their doubt that the
son will arrive in a year’s time, 17:19-21; 18:13—14.
The priestly account, 17:15-21, is a freely composed doublet of the
earlier story that, in its present position, becomes completely
anticlimactic for the subsequent episode. But the narrative element
has been almost entirely eliminated. Because the whole chapter is an
address by God to Abraham, Sarah is replaced, and it is Abraham
who laughs. This may also reflect P’s propensity to have the father
and not the mother name the child.1°
A form-critical analysis of 17:15-21 is most instructive at this
point.11 In our earlier analysis of 18:10-14 we recognized this story
as a “‘healing-birth” story that had its original completion in
21:2.12 The Yahwist, as we saw, broke this form by separating the
birth ending from the promise part of the story and thereby created
a story about the “promise of a son,” which is certainly not an
original genre. However, it is precisely this edited ‘‘ promise”’ story
that P uses, without the birth ending, for his unit in 17:15-21. It is
therefore certain that he did not have a Vorlage other than the J
account, because his version breaks off at the same point. In fact,
the ending was too abrupt to suit him, so he added to it (v. 19) to
make it into an announcement of birth, name, and denstiy (ABND),18
10. See also Gen. 16:15 and 21:3. It may be noted that Abraham’s response to God in
v. 18 does not have a parallel in 18:10-14 but does correspond to the complaint in 15: 2-3
at this same point in the narrative and in connection with the single heir. At this point,
therefore, P conflates his two sources, even though they represent entirely different moods.
11. See R. W. Neff, ‘The Birth and Election of Isaac in the Priestly Tradition,” BR 15
(1970): 5-18. Neff’s reconstruction of the form in Gen. 17:15-21 is based on the assump-
tion that there is no direct literary dependence upon 18:10-14, but only a similarity of
common form.
12. Cf. Humbert, ZAW 58:51, and Neff, ibid., p. 6, who point to similar terminology
with P and so ascribe it to this later source. But the key term lammé‘ed (21:2) occurs also
in 18:14 (and v. 10?), and the term /izgundyw, not found in ch. 17 is repeated in 21: 7 and
reflects the frequent use of the root zqn, ‘to be old,” in 18:11,12,13. The only reason for
prefering P is the reference in 21:2b to Elohim which criterion I have rejected above.
13. Cf. Neff, ibid., pp. 13-18. Neff regards v. 19 as a ‘“‘secondary intrusion,” but it is
not very clear what he means by this, for he regards both the primary birth story and the
secondary ABND as belonging to P. Neff’s form-critical analysis does not seem to clarify
the literary history of the text.
 THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 285

probably using the model in the Hagar story (16:11-12). He also

included from 16:10 and 21:17-18 the theme of a blessing for
Ishmael and thus produced a veritable conglomerate of forms. But
this was the result of his direct literary borrowing. It is not possible to
make such allusions to persons and episodes ‘‘out of the blue”
without taking for granted an established corpus of the Abraham
tradition in the form that is now extant in J.
There still remains the further question of whether P merely used
the earlier corpus to create his own separate tradition, or whether he
supplemented the tradition as it came down to him. Here one surely
encounters the dogma of “‘separate sources”’ in its ‘most absurd
form.!4 For apart from chaps. 17 and 23 there are only a few scattered
notations by P for the rest of the Abraham story (11: 27-32; 12:4b-5;
13:6; 16:3a, 15-16; 19:29; 21:3-5; 25:7-10). These together
cannot possibly be construed as an account of Abraham’s life, even
if P is regarded as “‘summarizing”’ in the extreme. Most of them are
brief editorial additions containing chronology or suggesting minor
“‘adjustment.’’!5 As far as I know there is no reason against drawing
the most obvious conclusion, that P merely supplemented the older
tradition as he received it in the written form of J.16
Once one accepts this origin for Genesis 17 the question of its
unity is largely answered in the affirmative. The tension between the
promise of the many and of the one, or the shift in themes, is all
accounted for by the nature of the chapter as a complex combination
of elements from the older sources, taken together with P’s own
special interests. Repetition is used very deliberately to create a
sense of unity between all the separate elements. The chapter cannot
be analyzed as if it were a narrative because it contains virtually no
dramatic elements or interest whatever.1” Its structure and logic are

14. This is my most serious disagreement with McEvenue, Narrative Style, pp. 151,
181ff., who still regards P as a separate document. But once he admits dependence on JE
there is no reason any longer to see it as a separate work.
15. It is puzzling to me how Noth (Pentateuchal Traditions, p. 12) can speak about the
final form of the patriarchal stories as the work of a redactor who “‘ made the P narrative
the basis of his work and enriched it by suitably inserting here and there parts of the other
narratives.’? The P source of the Abraham story could not possibly serve as a basis for a
continuous tradition cycle.
16. No redactor Rp is necessary. For recent protests against the notion of numerous
redactors, apart from the main sources themselves, see S. Sandmel, “‘The Haggada
within Scripture,” JBL 80 (1961): 105-122; F. V. Winnett, “‘ Re-Examining the Founda-
tions,” JBL 84 (1965): 1-19.
17. McEvenue, Narrative Style, pp. 150-51.
286 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

of an entirely different character. As Sean McEvenue has recently

shown,18 the whole unit is framed by an introductory and concluding
statement of chronology (vv. 1a and 24-25), as well as a statement
about God appearing to Abraham (v. 1b) and God leaving Abraham
(v. 22). Within this frame there are five divine speeches. The second
and fifth speeches are marked off by Abraham’s falling down before
God (vv. 3,17), but there is no dialogue except for the sole reply by
Abraham in v. 18. The speeches are arranged, instead, to produce a
balance of themes. The first two speeches deal with the theme of num-
erous progeny (vv. 2-8), and the last two deal with the individual heir
(vv. 15-21). The central speech is instruction—priestly torah—con-
cerning circumcision, which links the divine establishment of the
perpetual covenant through successive generations, l¢ddrdtam librit
“élam (v. 7), with the maintaining of that covenant by means of cir-
cumcision through successive generations, l@¢dérétam (v. g).19 This
divine instruction in the third speech is then immediately carried out
at the conclusion of the divine address with the circumcision of
Abraham’s household given in the style of a report (vv. 23-27), a
characteristic of P’s stylistic structuring.2° The fact that the central
speech is priestly torah heightens its significance for this source, and
it becomes the focus by which the borrowed traditions of the other
speeches are interpreted.
There are also other ways besides this balancing of units whereby
the two parts of the chapter are tied together, and one of these is the
use of repetition. For instance, both Abraham and Sarah are given
name changes (vv. 5 and 15), even though this motif is not developed
further in the case of Sarah. Furthermore, although the second
unit emphasizes the gift of a son to Sarah in addition to Ishmael, it
repeats in the language of the first unit the theme of numerous
progeny for both of them, and with both Abraham (v. 7) and Isaac
(vv. 18b,21a) God establishes his eternal covenant. There is also
considerable interlocking by repetition between the first two speeches
18. Ibid., pp. 157-58. A much more detailed structural analysis is given here. An earlier
attempt at a unified structuring of Genesis 17, based on the covenant-treaty model, was
attempted by S. R. Killing, Zur Datierung der ‘‘ Genesis-P-Stiicke”’ namentlich des Kapitels
Genesis XVII, (Kampen, Netherlands: J. H. Kok, 1964), pp. 242-49. This work is rightly
criticized by McEvenue, ibid., pp. 2'56f., n. 21.
1g. There is a certain ambiguity in the meaning of dor, which can also mean ‘‘ assembly ””
and may have this sense in v. 11. See McEvenue, Narrative Style, p. 164, n. 33.
20. See n. 6 above.
 THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 287

and the third, as well as the connection of the last two speeches to
the act of circumcision by drawing special attention to the fact that
Ishmael was also circumcised (v. 23, 25-26). The connection between
Sarah’s promised son and circumcision is postponed until the notation
by P in 21:3-5. All of this careful structuring, bridging and inter-
weaving, in spite of P’s fidelity to the sources he uses, make it impos-
sible to view chap. 17 as anything but the literary work of one author.

The Themes of Genesis 17

The chapter begins with an introduction in which it is stated:
“Yahweh appeared to Abram and said to him, ‘I am El Shaddai.’”
The divine speech itself is a type of self-introduction formula that is
encountered frequently in the OT, usually in a specific cultic, liturgi-
cal, or confessional context.2! But the name “El Shaddai”’ clearly
indicates that the form is borrowed with certainly no liturgical
usage in mind. Secondly, it should be noted that the priestly writer
uses the divine name Yahweh instead of the usual Elohim to make it
quite clear that it was Yahweh who appeared to Abraham and with
whom the latter was in covenant, even though under the name of
El Shaddai.?? There is, fortunately, no question about this interpreta-
tion because it is clearly stated in Exod. 6:2-3. This is not only a
syncretism between Yahweh and El Shaddai but also the explanation
of this syncretism in terms of successive stages of revelation. It
raises the question of whether there was any anticipation of this
development in the received tradition.
It is most usual to point to Exod. 3:13ff. as a similar instance of
such a notion by E, in which the God of the fathers is only identified
with Yahweh in the time of the exodus. The presence of an E source
in this chapter at all is very questionable, and in v. 15 it is as much a
question of identifying the fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as it is
the name of Yahweh.?8 The passage by itself is quite inconclusive.
On the other hand, within J in the Abraham tradition itself all the
elements are already present for P’s theological construction. There is,
21. See W. Zimmerli, ‘‘Ich bin Jawhe,”’ (1953) Gottes Offenbarung, pp. 11-40 (especially
p- 18).
22. A full discussion of this name is not possible here. See recently M. Weippert, ‘‘ Erwa-
gungen zur Etymologie des Gottesnamens El Shadday,” <DMG 111 (1961): 42-62.
There is no reason to believe that the name in Israel is particularly ancient or derives from
Israel’s prehistory.
23. See my article ‘‘ Confessional Reformulation,” VT 22: 456-57.
288 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

firstly, the shift of Yahweh’s distinctive self-revelation through the

exodus back to the time of Abraham (15:7), creating a scheme of
successive stages in God’s saving history and revelation, even though
J retained the same divine name for each of these stages. Yet J also
suggested a syncretism between Yahweh and the various forms of
El that were known to him. But this is especially evident in 16:18a, .
which states: “‘So she [Hagar] invoked the name of Yahweh who
had spoken to her, ‘O thou El Ro’i’ [or ‘El who sees’].”24 P
merely took up these two lines of development and created a con-
sistent scheme, whereby each successive stage of divine activity is
represented by a different designation for the deity: Elohim for the
period from Creation to Abraham, El Shaddai for the time of the
patriarchs,25 and Yahweh from Moses onward.
The form of the covenant, b¢rit, in chap. 17 follows J as a divine
oath of promise rather than as the so-called treaty pattern of Deuter-
onomy. This oath is not conditioned by various stipulations, but is
in the nature of a reward for Abraham’s righteous living, v. 2. As
such it becomes an irrevokable pledge, brit ‘dlam, to all Abraham’s
descendants. This notion of the Abrahamic covenant as a reward for
his righteousness is suggested in chap. 15 by the fact that the covenant
follows the statement about Abraham’s righteousness in v. 6. But
this is made quite explicit in other J passages, such as 22:16,18;
and 26:5,24, where the promises of land and progeny are directly
related to Abraham’s obedience to God. In all the instances in J and
P it is God’s oath that he will make good. It does not contain law and
the related notion of curse as a part of it.
This oath in Genesis 17 contains a threefold promise: numerous
progeny, the land of Canaan, and the promise to be Israel’s God. In
the promise of progeny the emphasis has shifted from one nation to
many nations and to Abraham becoming the father of kings. This
cannot be interpreted narrowly as a reference only to the two
kingdoms of Israel and Judah and to their monarchies.26 It is quite
clear, for instance, that Ishmael and his descendants are included,
v. 20. The reference there to twelve “princes,” n®s#°im, refers to the
eponymous sons whose names are not those of historical rulers but

24. See also 21:33. Note the remarks by Winnett, JBL 84:11, and N. Wagner, “A
Literary Analysis of Genesis 12-36,”’ p. 49.
25. See McEvenue, Narrative Style, p. 166.
26. Cf. Weinfeld, JAOS go: 202.
 THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 289

are primarily geographical terms (25:13-16), so the ‘“‘kings” in

17:6,16 and 35:11 may also be thought of primarily as eponyms. It is
true that the covenant model as a perpetual covenant, bérit “élam
(17:7,19), is a dynastic one, and this could explain to some extent its
narrowing down to Isaac. But it is scarcely possible for this form of
the covenant to serve as a legitimation of the Judean monarchy. On
the contrary, since the limits of the covenant are defined by circum-
cision, this is another instance of a royal form being democratized.
The promise of the land in 17:8 is in the form of a legal land grant,
which is made as a possession in perpetuity both to the recipient and
to his descendants. This goes beyond the donation form in 15:18 but
is similar to the legal style of 13:14ff. Since the language of 17:8
seems to approximate a specific legal form, one cannot regard the
inclusion of Abraham himself as an anticipation of the land purchase
in Genesis 23.2? This would hardly square with the references in
28:4 and 35:12, which already suggest that the whole land was
given to Abraham. This promise of land does not have as prominent
a place in chap. 17 as it does in chap. 15, but one cannot conclude
from this that P plays down the land promise theme. It receives
quite equal weight in 28:4 and 35:12 and even special emphasis as
the covenant and oath to the fathers in Exod. 6: 4,8. However, since
P is supplementing the earlier tradition he can take for granted the
emphasis on the land promise in Gen. 15:7-21 and merely sum-
marize it in 17:8 in his own way.
The third promise has to do with Yahweh becoming the God of
Abraham and his descendants. This promise is repeated twice, once
in connection with Israel becoming ‘‘nations,” vv. 6-7, and the
second time linked with the promise of the land, v. 8. The first
connection, between people and God, occurs frequently in Deu-
teronomy in the statement about Israel becoming God’s people
through his election and redemption in the exodus event.?8 But it
also speaks of the same relationship in reciprocal form in the context
of entering into the covenant relationship with God. Thus Deut.
26:17-18 states:
You declare this day that Yahweh is your God [lihyét eka
lélohtm| and that you will walk in his ways, and keep his

27. Cf. McEvenue, Narrative Style, pp. 142-44, 153-

28. Deut. 4:20; 7:6; 14:2; 27:9.
290 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

statutes and his commandments ... and Yahweh declares

this day that you are a people for his sole possession, as he has
promised you ....29

In contrast to Genesis 17 it is the people who covenant to make

Yahweh their God by obeying his laws, and it is Yahweh who in
reciprocal action makes the people his own. In a later exilic addition
to Deuteronomy (29:11), in a covenant renewal that is here spoken
of as entering a sworn covenant of Yahweh, /@obr¢kd bibrit yhwh ...
ub@alaté (29:11), the following terms are laid down by God (v. 12):
“that he might establish [gwm] you today as his people and that he
might be your God [yihyeh lleké lélohim] as he promised you and
as he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.”
There has been a most important shift here from the reciprocal
agreement form to the double promise, in which God promises to be
Israel’s God. This double promise form becomes quite frequent in the
exilic period in expressions about the restoration of Israel as a
people.29 But alongside of this there is a connection made between
Yahweh becoming Israel’s God. again and his gift of the land. Thus
Ezek. 36:28 states: ““You shall dwell in the land which I gave
to your fathers; and you shall be my people, and I will be your God”’
(cf. 37:25-27; Zech. 8:8). Evidently, this promise of becoming
Israel’s God developed two connections in the exilic period: the one,
God-people, and the other God-land. Consequently, P inherited both
of these forms and for this reason repeated the promise of Yahweh
becoming the God of Abraham’s offspring in both of its forms (17:7
and 8).31
A feature of P’s understanding of the covenant is that it is not only
the oath itself but also the “sign,” °dt, (v. 11)—a perpetual or
permanent mark of recognition, which in this case is circumcision.?2

29. For a fulldiscussion of this form see N. Lohfink, “Dt 26, 17-19 und die ‘ Bundes-
formel,’”? ZK Th gt (1969): 517-553-
30. Exilic references that have in mind the exodus are: Lev. 26:12; Jer. 7:23; 11:4.
Those that point to the restoration are Jer. 13:11; 24:73 30: 22,25; 31:32; 32:38; Ezek.
11:20; 14:11; 36:28; 37: 23,27; and Zech. 8:8. In the Jeremiah and Ezekiel references
there is still a strong association with obedience to God’s law as a basis for the reciprocal
relationship, similar to Deuteronomy. The Jater they are the more they become promise
alone (Zech. 8:8).
31. Contra Weinfeld, Deuteronomy, p. 80 and JAOS go: 202, who suggests a development
in the opposite direction.
32. See McEvenue, Narrative Style, p. 171; von Rad, Genesis, pp. 195-96.
 THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 291

Keeping the covenant means, for P, maintaining this mark of

identity as an Israelite. There is a certain amount of ambiguity in
the matter of who is included within this covenant. Since all the
males in Abraham’s household are circumcised, including Ishmael,
who also receives a special “blessing” (v. 20), the covenant would
seem to be wider than Israel. Yet it is specifically stated, in a kind
of dynastic sense, that the covenant is with Isaac with an implied
contrast to Ishmael (v. 21). This may imply that Israel has a special
“royal” role among the larger group of nations. The problem of
ambiguity may also result from the fact that the sign of the covenant
—circumcision—was in fact practiced by the Arab peoples of the
day as well, so that some recognition was given to them on this
account. On the other hand, the limits of the covenant are also
narrower than all the natural born Israelites, because those who do
not circumcise their children cannot participate in it.
This last statement in the instructions (v. 14), which speaks about
“excommunication from the community,” is most interesting. In
place of the older agreement form of covenant, with its laws and
attendant curses, there is only this threat of excommunication.
Grelot’s recent study of this form points strongly to the post-exilic
community for this development of religious law.33 In this post-
exilic context it is the conscious choice of the people to maintain
their identity, which alone can perpetuate the covenant community.

Genesis 17 in its Historical Context

It is not possible, on the basis of Genesis 17 alone, to answer com-
pletely or authoritatively the question of what the priestly work
meant for its own time, or to decide conclusively on its date. Yet some
observations can be made from our study thus far; these at least
point in the direction in which that answer must be given. One of
the remarkable features about the priestly work is that, in spite of all
the emphasis on the Sinai legislation and the wilderness period as the
time of the institution of Israel’s cultic and religious life, P gives no
direct attention to a Sinai covenant. Instead we have a heavy
stress made on the covenant with Abraham as the initial event for

33. P. Grelot, ‘‘La derniére étape de la rédaction sacerdotale,” VT 6 (1956): 174-189

(especially 175-76). Grelot regards this reference to excommunication as a later addition,
but there is little in the text to support this; cf. McEvenue, ibid., pp. 161f., n. 40; also
Vink, Priestly Code, p. 91.
292 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

the relationship of Israel with Yahweh and their beginning as his

people. W. Zimmerli has recently attempted to explain this feature of
the P work by citing evidence for the fact that the exile brought
about a crisis for the Sinai-Horeb covenant.34 Since that covenant
was proclaimed as broken, the people stood under its judgment and
curse. One way out of the crisis, as reflected in the Holiness Code,
Lev. 26:42ff., was to point to a covenant with the fathers prior to
that of Sinai, which consisted only of promise. Consequently,
according to Zimmerli, P followed this lead and emphasized the
already existing ‘‘covenant of grace’? to Abraham in the older
sources, to the exclusion of the Sinai covenant.
As far as Zimmerli’s interpretation of the place of Abraham in the
exilic period is concerned, I heartily concur, but suggest that there is
considerable additional evidence that he has not considered.®® Yet it
is not P, in the first instance, who has given the Abraham covenant
this special significance in the exilic period, but the Yahwist. As we
attempted to show above, Genesis 15 is a very conscious effort to
substitute the election and covenant of Abraham for the exodus
election and Sinai covenant, and this was done in the late exilic
period and close to the time of Deutero-Isaiah. Like this exilic
prophet, Genesis 15 is a response to a crisis of faith for the exilic
period much more than is the case for Genesis 17.
This dating of J would put P after the period of restoration and
very likely not long before the time of Ezra and his reform move-
ment.?6 P is no longer concerned with the crisis of the exile and its
temptation to abandon the faith. Its preoccupation is with the
creation of a new sense of order and stability in the universe, in the
world of nations and history, and in the cultic community of the
new “Israel.” The work is thoroughly programmatic.3? This, of
course, 1s fairly obvious when one is dealing with the cultic legislation,
but becomes more debatable in the interpretation of the narrative
passages.
I would suggest that the covenant of Abraham in Genesis 17 was
not primarily viewed as a message of hope, as it was in J, but was
accepted as a fixed datum of the sacred tradition and was thus

34. W. Zimmerli, ‘‘Sinaibund und Abrahambund,” ThZ 16 (1960): 268-80 (same as

Gottes Offenbarung, pp. 205-216). Cf. Vink, Priestly Code, p. 89.
35. See J. Van Seters, ‘ Confessional Reformulation in the Exilic Period,” VT 22: 448-59.
36. Cf. Vink, Priestly Code, p. 63.
37- See Vink, ibid., pp. 12ff., on its programmatic character.
 --THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 293

_ institutionalized by association with the custom of circumcision.

Such a form of continuous covenant “renewal’? emphasized the
individual responsibility of every family unit to affirm their identity
with the people of God—a most crucial need in the post-exilic
period. Furthermore, J’s concept of a “blessing” to the nations,
which reflected his situation in the diaspora, is worked out in P in
the form of a possible non-Israelite inclusion within the “household”
of Abraham through the sign of circumcision. This “ecumenical
- spirit” may be found in many parts of the larger priestly work.38
Needless to say, precisely this form of the Abraham covenant
allowed -for the possibility of proselytism among the diaspora. It
seems to me, then, that Genesis 17 represents a movement toward
reconstituting the religion of Israel for the condition and needs of the
post-exilic period.
The Burial Place at Hebron—Genesis 23
There is little reason, to my mind, to dispute either the unity of
Genesis 23 or the P authorship ascribed to it.39 This judgment is
based on characteristic features of P: 1) the chronological frame-
work, 2) the designation of the inhabitants as “Hittites”? and the
ancient name of Hebron as Kiriath-arba, 3) the vocabulary, which
has many terms distinctive of P, 4) the highly repetitious style.
Furthermore, in the following P framework of the patriarchal narra-
tives it is P who refers back to the grave site at Machpelah and makes
it the common burial place of the patriarchs and their wives (25:9;
35:29; 49:30; 50:13). The story of the purchase also appears to
interrupt the genealogy of Abraham’s Aramean relatives in 22: 20-24
and the subsequent story in chap. 24 about obtaining an Aramean
wife for Isaac.
The question of the story’s form is of considerable importance
because it has often been noted that it does not seem to correspond
to P’s usual theological style.4° There is also scarcely any reference
to deity in the whole chapter.*! For these reasons the chapter’s
form has often been regarded as reflecting an ancient traditional
38. See Vink, ibid., pp. go-g1.
39. See the commentaries. One scholar who rejected its connection with P was Volz,
Der Elohist, pp. 139-40.
40. McEvenue, Narrative Style, p. 22.
41. The only exception is the reference in v. 6 to Abraham as a “prince of God,” n*si°
>¢/ghim, which must be understood as a superlative meaning “exalted,” or “‘ mighty”
(RSV).
2904 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

source behind the written product. Noth suggested that the story
originally had an etiological base explaining a “double cave” in
the region of Hebron used as a burial place for a forefather and his
wife.42 But there is certainly nothing in the extant version that sug-
gests either an etiology or this particular version, and such a conjec-
ture must be viewed as very doubtful. Another approach has been to
accept the proposals made by Lehmann and others that the references
to ‘‘Hittites” and to the legal procedures are evidence for great
antiquity.43 But these proposals have been shown above to be quite
misleading and inadequate.
In our earlier discussion of the legal conventions reflected in
Genesis 23 it was pointed out that the account reflects very closely the
“dialogue document”’ of sales agreements that are well known from
the Neo-Babylonian and Persian periods. The episode is presented
not as a story, but as a straightforward report of a sale transaction
having to do with the formal transfer of a piece of property. Such
a report form, based on customary procedures of the post-exilic
period, cannot be used to give any indication of an early date.
Even the reference to Hittites corresponds to the usage of this same
period as a designation for the general population of Syria-Palestine.
The form of the story, therefore, gives no warrant for the view that
there was any ancient grave tradition associating the patriarchs
with Hebron much before the post-exilic period of the P writer. It is
always possible that an old tradition about patriarchal burials in the
region of Hebron did exist, but if so we can say nothing about its
form, content, or transmission from generation to generation.
Whatever such a tradition might have contained, the priestly
writer does not seem to have been bound by it in any way.
The purpose of the story is not at all clear, and it is beyond the scope
of this study to deal with this question fully. Von Rad interprets the
story as an initial fulfillment of the divine promise of land.44 Though
the patriarchs all lived in a “land of sojourning” (eres m¢gurim,
17:8; 28:4; 36:7; 37:1; 47:9), they at least possessed their graves as
their own. They did not have to rest in “Hittite earth.’? While
this suggestion is quite plausible, it is also weakened by the fact that

42. Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, pp. 113f., 195.

43. So Westermann, ‘‘Arten der Erzahlung,” pp. 70-71; Fohrer, Introduction, p. 182.
44. Von Rad, Genesis, p. 245; see also K. Elliger, ‘“‘Sinn und Ursprung du priesterlichen
Geschichtserzahlung,” ZTK 49 (1952): 121-143.
 THE PRIESTLY TRADITIONS OF ABRAHAM 2905

such a theological perspective is not supported by a single reference

to deity. The concluding statement about Abraham’s possession of
the land does not make any reference to the divine promises theme.
A somewhat different interpretation has recently been suggested by
Vink.*> Since he views the whole of the priestly code as a programma-
tic work, he sees in this story an appeal to the wealthy Jews of the
diaspora to buy back the promised land from the Edomites, who in
the post-exilic period were now in possession of it. But the purchase of
a grave site (cf. Gen. 33:10f) does not by itself suggest very strongly
such a programmatic scheme.
Nevertheless, the earlier interpretation by Gunkel still seems to
represent the best approach to the problem.46 He pointed out that the
specific location of grave sites of ancestors and heros in the ancient
world encouraged and supported a cult of the dead, or at least hero
veneration. There are indications in the OT that ancestors and holy
men often had their grave sites identified, and a cult of the dead
existed in spite of religious opposition to it. It may be that the
priestly writer, in presenting the purchase of the patriarchal grave
site in a completely profane manner and including virtually all the
ancestors and their wives in it, wanted to lessen this inclination to
undue veneration. Certainly the tone of the whole piece, with its
repeated statement by Abraham “that I may bury my dead out
of my sight,” is so strongly contrasted with the very careful treatment
of everything cultic in P that it cannot but suggest the opposite in
this case. There is not a single religious act associated with the
burial. Yet if that was his purpose it may ironically have had the
opposite effect.4” The grave site in Hebron, thought to be that of
Machpelah, was certainly highly venerated by Jews of the first
century B.c. and received special honor from Herod the Great. That
honor has continued at the same location, the Haram el Halil, to the
present day.

45. Vink, The Priestly Code, p. 91.

46. Gunkel, Genesis, pp. 273-74; see also S. Mowinckel, Erwagungen zur Pentateuch Quellen-
frage, p. 30; cf. McEvenue, Narrative Style, p. 142. On the hero cult in Greece see M. P. Nils-
son, A History of Greek Religion (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1949), p. 250.
47. Cf. the tradition about Moses’ burial in Deut. 32:6, which denies any knowledge of
his grave site.
 CHAPTER 14

Victory over the Kings of the East—Genesis 14

It is not my intention to become involved in a detailed discussion of

this much-debated chapter. This is neither possible nor desirable in
the context of the present study, and the whole subject has recently
received rather extensive review.! The focus here will be on the
relationship of this rather unique chapter to the larger tradition.
This will involve the investigation of the sources behind the story
as well as the problem of its dating and function as a piece of tradition
in the history of the Israelite community.
Presuppositions about the traditions behind this chapter have a
great deal of influence on views regarding its unity and the sources
upon which it drew. Thus, the decision about how one proceeds with
the analysis is most important. The first issue is the story’s unity or
lack of it. If there were various phases in its growth it is necessary
to uncover the first basic written account involving the figure of
Abraham and the subsequent stages of growth. This procedure will
have to be controlled by form-critical and structural analysis as well
as by such literary criteria as internal consistency. Only after its
redactional history is clear can the issue of the story’s sources be dealt
with and some assessment be made of the chapter’s place in the
larger tradition.

1. M. C. Astour, “Political and Cosmic Symbolism in Genesis 14 and in its Babylonian

Sources,” Biblical Motifs, pp. 65-112; J. A. Emerton, “‘Some False Clues in the Study of
Genesis xiv,” VT 21 (1971): 24-47; idem, ‘‘ The Riddle of Genesis xiv,” VT 21 (1971):
403-439. This last author’s work contains a comprehensive review of previous positions
with many judicious criticisms, which I see no need to duplicate. However, I cannot
agree with his own solution to the interpretation of Genesis 14, so much of my own criticism
will be directed at Emerton’s study. A work that came to my attention too late for detailed
consideration is W. Schatz, Genesis 14, Eine Untersuchung (Bern and Frankfurt: Herbert
Land/Peter Lang, 1972). It contains a detailed consideration of all the basic questions’
raised to date, but it does not differ very much in its final conclusions from those of
Emerton.

2096
 VICTORY OVER THE KINGS OF THE EAST 297

Form, Structure, and Unity

A number of proposals have been made about possible additions

to an original version of the story, and it might be helpful to begin
with these as a way of highlighting certain issues that subsequent
form-critical and structural analysis will have to clarify. First of all,
the story contains a number of explanatory phrases that are intended
to identify supposedly ancient places by their more modern equiva-
lents. These have often been construed as secondary glosses.2 While
such a decision is clearly possible it is not a necessary one and rests
on a prior literary judgment. It assumes an archaic account as a
Vorlage behind the present literary version, which had to introduce
the present names to make the account intelligible. But it is also
possible that explanatory phrases are used as a literary device in
order to give an archaic sense to the whole account. Such a use is not
uncommon elsewhere in the Pentateuch.? Furthermore, some of
these equivalents are clearly artificial. Thus, for instance, the city of
Bela is identified with Zoar. But Bela means ‘‘devoured,”’ which is
nonsense as a name. Yet if the author knew that the name Zoar was
given to the city at a later date by Lot he would have had to create an
older name for it, and he did so using the same style of name as he
gave to the kings of the other cities. It is likely that all the equivalents
are purely artificial creations. Consequently, a decision about the
primary or secondary character of the explanatory phrases rests
entirely upon a decision about the form and literary character of the
whole.
The next problem has to do with v. 13b (or part of it) and v. 24
and the criterion of the story’s internal consistency. The question
these verses raise is whether Abraham acted alone or with the
assistance of allies, since in vv. 14 and 15 Abraham and his own men
appear to carry out the whole military operation alone.* If wv. 13b
and 24 are regarded as original it is possible to regard the men as of
inferior rank—vassal princes under his authority—such that they
could be spoken of as his “‘servants”’ (v. 15). Admittedly, this inter-
pretation is somewhat forced. Yet if vv. 13b and 24 were added one is
faced perhaps with a more difficult problem of explaining why such

2. Emerton, VT 21: 404-438.

3. Note, for instance, the glosses in Gen. 23: 2,19.
4. Emerton, VT 21: 404,438.
298 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

an addition would have been made.® Thus, a decision for or against

the originality of vv. 13b and 24 cannot be made very easily. Yet it is
only a minor aspect of the story, and its absence would not affect the
total interpretation very much.
A more important question is whether or not the references to Lot
in vv. 12,14, and 16 are original. The argument that since v. 12 is
largely repetitious of v. 11 it is secondary counts for very little. The
repetition may be used for deliberate effect to emphasize the capture
of Lot. The same order of vv. 11 and 12 is maintained in v. 16. The
only real difficulty in v. 12 is with the phrase “the nephew of Abram,”
ben “ht °abram. It is clearly out of place following “his property,”
rekusé, and it mentions Abraham prematurely since he is formally
introduced in v. 13 as “Abraham the Hebrew.” It also conflicts
with the subsequent characterization of Lot as Abraham’s “brother,”
-ahiyw, vv. 14 and 16. So this phrase, ‘‘the nephew of Abram,”’ is
probably a later addition to make the story fit the priestly view of the
relationship between Abraham and Lot.
The fact that the references to Lot in vv. 12 and 16 could be
removed without disturbing the immediate context is not decisive
against their originality. The real crux of the matter is v. 14a. Here
the reference to “‘his kinsman,”’ is directly related to the other two
mentions of Lot, and it is integral to the verse in which it stands. It
provides the whole motivation for Abraham’s subsequent action. If
references to Lot are to be removed a radical emendation of the
entire story—not just of this text—would be necessary. For instance,
v. 11 only mentions that booty was taken, but vv. 2ef. indicate that
this could not have motivated Abraham since he shows disdain
toward such goods. The vague suggestion that the original story was
just an act of friendship toward the king of Sodom is hardly reflected
in Abraham’s curt rebuff of any friendly gesture.? The whole event
5. Emerton, ibid., regards the references to the three allies in vv. 13 and 24 as having
been added by the same hand that added vv. 18-20. If it is possible to do so in this in-
stance, it is possible to do so in vv. 14-16.
6. Emerton, ibid., pp. 406-07.
7. Emerton, ibid., p. 407, states that “‘its reference to Lot could be removed without
difficulty.’’ But what appears to be simple for him to understand is very difficult for me,
since it involves the complete reconstruction of the story in which Abraham goes to the
assistance of Sodom as a friendly act to rescue captives not previously mentioned. His
whole interpretation of the story ultimately rests on this radical emendation. What one
does with v. 14a becomes the key for everything else, and Emerton’s easy dismissal of this
difficulty is unacceptable.
 VICTORY OVER THE KINGS OF THE EAST 299

focuses on Abraham’s magnanimous rescue of Lot for no personal

gain of his own. Consequently, in spite of the somewhat awkward
style of this author it is hard to see how references to Lot can be
viewed as secondary.8 They must all be part of the original story.
The question of the Melchisedek episode (vv. 18-20) is quite
different.? There seems to be no motivation within the story itself
for the appearance of this priest-king or for his proffering provisions,
which in view of all the booty, was quite unnecessary. There is also
some tension with the notion of Abraham giving a “‘tithe of all,”
since he later claims none of the booty for himself. But the strongest
reason for viewing vv. 18-20 as an interpolation is the obvious way
in which they interrupt the action of the story and the final scene
between the king of Sodom and Abraham. The former comes out to
meet Abraham in v. 17, but does not speak until v. 21. The reference
to ““El Elyon, creator of heaven and earth” in v. 22, in addition to
the name of Yahweh, can probably be regarded as a connective
added by the same hand that added wv. 18-20. Consequently, the
original written story did not have vv. 18-20, so one must deal first
with the version that does not have it and then account for its
addition. In no case should vv. 18-20, the addition, be used as a
point of departure to explain the chapter as a whole.!°
The next question to be dealt with is that of the forms, or genres,
within the chapter.11 This will clarify the literary nature of the
components used in its composition, which has a bearing both on the
question of unity and on the problem of whether any forms of pre-
literary tradition were incorporated into the account. The first part,
vv. I-II, is primarily in the form of a military campaign report.1?
The best examples of such reports are the Assyrian and Babylonian

8. Emerton, ibid., p. 407, uses the criterion of awkward style as a clue to a foreign source
in vv. 12 and 16, but in VT 21:34-36 he rejects this criterion as evidence for a foreign
source in vy. 1-2. What is evident is that there is a rather difficult non-classical style of
Hebrew throughout.
g. Emerton, ibid., pp. 407-12.
10. As did Emerton, ibid., pp. 412ff., and many other authors whom he reviews. I find
it very strange that the author of the addition actually becomes the earliest author of a
written version of the story, according to Emerton’s view.
11. A major weakness of almost all the previous studies, including Emerton’s is that this
form-critical question is given so little attention. Only Astour, Beblical Motifs, pp. 70-71,
deals with it at all.
12. Cf. my previous treatment of this subject in ‘‘ The Conquest of Sihon’s Kingdom: A
Literary Examination,” JBL 91 (1972): 187-89.
300 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

royal inscriptions. These usually contain the following basic com-

ponents: 1) the motivation for military activity, such as news of a
rebellion in part of the empire, 2) preparations for the campaign,
3) the campaign with details of the route and battles conducted,
4) the results in terms of devastation of cities, captives and booty
taken, and tribute imposed. Such a report is usually given in the
first person singular as the statement of the victorious king who
quelled the rebellion. The purpose of such reports was clearly for the
glory of the king and the deity in whose name the king fought. A
rather late style of such reports is the Chronicle form, in which the
events are reported in a rather objective fashion using the third
person and without reference to the deity. The report in Gen. 14:1-11
is in the “chronicle” style, but with a still further development
toward historical reporting achieved by putting the event in a larger
context of affairs between the two regions involved. It is also pre-
sented from a third party viewpoint of an uninvolved region. Such a
form has nothing in common with local or tribal oral tales and can
only be the product of a late literary development.1%
If the report in 14:1-11 could be accepted at face value, the
origin would almost certainly have to be Mesopotamian, since the
campaign initiated from this region and up to v. 11 had a successful
conclusion. Such campaign reports were not created or preserved by
uninvolved nations, and the suggestion that this report could be ~
based on an ancient record preserved in Jerusalem is quite unreason-
able. The whole area of Palestine was not involved. Even in the
period of the monarchy almost no attention was paid to foreign
invasion of neighboring states unless it directly affected Israel.14
Yet in terms of the content of Gen. 14:1-11, as we have seen above,
the whole report is so completely fanciful that we can only suppose
it to be a completely artificial literary creation, using the campaign
report in chronicle form as a model. As such, the account has no

13. Emerton states (VT 21:437) “The possibility that such records existed as early as
the reign of David cannot be denied”? and mentions “‘ Canaanite historical records.”
But these must be flatly rejected. The only possible form of a “‘ record’? would have been a
royal inscription boasting of the local king’s conquests, which is not what we have, nor
would they have been preserved by David if they ever existed. The third-person chronicle
genre is a very late form—arising in the late Assyrian empire—and there is no reason to
think it was in vogue in the West any earlier.
14. Exceptions to this are the oracles against the nations, but such a genre could hardly
form the basis for the account here.
 VICTORY OVER THE KINGS OF THE EAST 301

independent self-contained status, no possible function as a piece of

folk tradition, and therefore it could not go back to any preliterary
Vorlage.
It may be noted that v. 12, from the point of view of form, is
really a continuation of the report. But Lot is not a political figure
who might receive special mention in such a report. He is a story
figure connected with the Abraham tradition. So the mention of Lot
in v. 12 creates an effective transition from mere report to story and
becomes the vital connection between the two halves of the chapter.
This means that the whole report of vv. 1-11 functions only as an
elaborate way of setting the scene for the story that follows.
The second half of the chapter also begins with a military campaign
report, in vv. 13-16, with all the same basic features. But the motiva-
tion for the action by Abraham is the action of the earlier report and
particularly the capture of Lot. The report certainly has no indepen-
dence, and any effort to make it self-contained is forced to recon-
struct a new setting for it. The fact that it follows the same type of
literary convention of a reporting genre also speaks against any oral
Vorlage and points to the same authorship as the preceding unit. The
whole treatment of the episode in this brief objective style scarcely
justifies the characterization of the second part as a “‘popular oral
tradition.’’15
The story concludes with a dialogue between the king of Sodom
and Abraham, vv. 17, 21-23(4). This is a return to the story form,
since many stories reach their climax with a discourse or dialogue.
The reference to the “king of Sodom” provides a connection with
the first part in spite of the apparent reference to his destruction in
v. 10.16 It is clear, however, that v. 10 does not refer to the king
personally but to his forces. Yet the story does not prepare us in any
way for this confrontation between king and patriarch, so that it
becomes hard to see it as a climax or the resolution of a situation of
tension or need. At the most it is only a brief vignette that adds
nothing of dramatic significance beyond the conclusion of v. 16. In
fact, the ending in v. 23 (or 24) is very abrupt and most awkward for
an actual story form.
The form of the addition in vv. 18-20 is dominated by the two
poetic lines in vv. 19b-20a. The statement in v. 19a “He blessed
15. Emerton, VT 21: 437.
16. See Emerton, ibid., pp. 27-28, in which he discusses this apparent contradiction.
302 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

him” would suggest that the form is a benediction, but in fact since
it refers to past events and since v. 20a is directed at the deity, it is
more in the nature of liturgical doxology.!”? In some instances it
could function as a very formal greeting conferring honor and respect
upon the person addressed. But it could also have some confessional
and liturgical function, especially in the mouth of a priest. In this
respect the tithe (v. 20b) must then be viewed as a formal cultic
response to the confession implied in the previous statement.18 The
question, of course, arises as to what function such a genre could
possibly have in its present context. In terms of its position in the
present story it stands at the point where one would expect to find the
climax, and there is little doubt that this was the intention of the one
who added it. But its very weak connection with the story (v. 18),
as we have noted already, proves that it was not original.
This form-critical discussion makes the analysis of the chapter’s
structure rather obvious. The story contains the following com-
ponents:
1) The setting: the invasion by the eastern kings, vv. 1-12
a) The first campaign report, vv. I-11
b) The transition to the story: the capture of Lot, v. 12
2) The core event: Abraham’s victory, vv. 13-16
a) The second campaign report, vv. 13-16a
b) The climax (?): the freeing of Lot, v. 16b
3) The concluding dialogue, vv. 17, 21-23 (24) Confrontation
between the defeated king of Sodom (pt. 1) and the victorious
Abraham (pt. 2)
4) Addition: the liturgical doxology by Melchisedek, vv. 18-20.
According to the above form-critical and structural analysis, the
development of this unit of tradition was in two stages and both of
these on the written level of the tradition. All the proposals for a pre-
literary stage are speculative and from every perspective of form and
17. On this form see W. S. Towner, ‘‘‘ Blessed Be YHWH?’ and “Blessed Art Thou
YHWH?’: The Modulation of a Biblical Formula,” CBQ 30 (1968) :386-399 (especially
386—go). Towner does not actually discuss this passage, but it certainly fits the first form.
18. Note the parallel in Exod. 18:10-12, in which Jethro, the priest of Midian, comes
out
to meet Israel and uses this same form of blessing. This is followed by the statement
that
he “‘received”’ sacrifices (wayyigqah, cf. RSV “‘offered’’). Finally, there is
a common
meal between Jethro and the representatives of Israel. Towner (ibid., p. 389, n.
5) places
this instance in the category of noncultic blessings, but it seems to me
to be quite cultic
in character.
 VICTORY OVER THE KINGS OF THE EAST 303

content quite unwarranted. Any discussion about the tradition’s

meaning and function must begin with the basic story (nos. 1-3
above), and only after this has been done can one deal with the
significance of the addition in vv. 18-20.
We are now ready to consider how this story is related to the other
pentateuchal sources. The obvious point of connection is with the
Lot-Sodom cycle in the late Yahwistic source. If we regard the
phrase “the nephew of Abram” in v. 12 as secondary, for reasons
stated above, the way in which Lot enters the story presupposes a
prior introduction of his association with Abraham and his sub-
sequent separation. And this is reinforced by the statement that “he
was living in Sodom.”’ It is also assumed that the reader knows that Lot
is Abraham’s “kinsman,” ’ahiyw (v. 14, cf. 13:8). On the other
hand, it is quite unlikely that the source is actually J. This story adds
the names of Admah and Zeboiim following Deut. 29:23, in which
they are all grouped together. Only Sodom, Gomorrah, and Zoar are
mentioned in J’s story. The general region of these cities is here
called the “‘ Plain of Siddim”’ (v. 2), while in J it is always referred to
as the “Kikkar of the Jordan.” If v. 13b is original there is the
reference to the “‘Terebinths of Mamre”’ from J’s combined sources,
but here Mamre is construed as a personal name, which is certainly
not suggested in the other sources. It would appear that the author of
Genesis 14. made use of the Abraham tradition as he knew it, at least
in the version of the Yahwist.
There is also a number of affinities between this chapter and
Deuteronomy or the Deuteronomic school, so that one recent study
has suggested that the author is the Deuteronomist.1° Some of the
similarities have to do with the same chronistic style in the campaign
reports as we have pointed out above. But this convention is clearly
broader than its use by the Deuteronomist, although it is unlikely
that it is any earlier. More important are the borrowings of specific
materials from Deuteronomy 2 and 3, especially the names of the
primordial peoples of Transjordan. As I have tried to show above,
these names are not derived from an old Israelite tradition. The
Deuteronomist regarded the mythical Rephaim as the ancient
inhabitants of the whole of Transjordan, but he recognized that the
Moabites preferred to call them Emim and the Ammonites Zam-
zumim. It was the author of Genesis 14 who borrowed all these
1g. Astour, ‘Genesis 14,” pp. 68-73. Cf. Emerton, VT 21: 404-06.
304 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

names and restricted them to the particular regions corresponding to

the political states of a later day. The direction of this borrowing
could only go from Deuteronomy to Genesis 14 and not vice-versa.
Another strong argument against the author of Genesis 14 being the
Deuteronomist is the fact that he has no qualms about making
Abraham a treaty partner to three Amorite chieftains of the Hebron
region. All of this suggests that Genesis 14 is directly dependent upon
Deuteronomy, but considerably later in time.
Some have argued that Genesis 14 is dependent upon P. It is
fairly clear that the use of the divine name Yahweh by Abraham
would not be appropriate for P himself. But there is a similarity in
vocabulary between the two sources. For instance, there is the use of
rekus, “goods” (but cf. 15:14), yelid bat, ‘household slave,” and
nepes in the sense of “person.” The expression for taking an oath by
“raising the hand” using the verb rwm in the hiphil + yd is a close
synonym ‘to P’s usage with the verb ns°+ yd (also found in Deut.
32:40; Ezek. 20:23). However, it is noteworthy that such a late
source as Dan. 12:7 uses the verb rwm, similar to Genesis 14, and not
the verb ns°. The argument from vocabulary usage is not very strong,
but it would point to a rather late period and possibly even later
than P.2° And this would make the addition, vv. 18-20, whose
terminology is clearly not that of P even later.

The Meaning of Genesis 14

Almost invariably the point of departure for a discussion about the
meaning of this chapter is the addition of vv. 18-20, so that any
stage of the story’s development prior to this is given very little
consideration. One usually finds only vague statements about the
remains of a “hero story” having to do with Abraham’s exploits.
Quite apart from the fact that there is no trace of such a popular
view in the rest of the tradition, such an approach can only be
maintained on the basis of quite different form-critical and literary
conclusions. The second part, containing Abraham’s victory, does
not have a scene of personal combat so typical of the Heldensage. It is
in the same genre as the previous part. The personal confrontation
only begins in part three (vv. 17, 21-24), which is tied to both the
previous campaign reports but in itself contains virtually no dramatic
20. Note the similar styles of introduction in 14:1 and Esther 1:1. See Emerton, VT
21235.
 VICTORY OVER THE KINGS OF THE EAST 305

character whatever. It is only a pietistic vignette. Consequently, the

description of the earlier stage of the Abraham story as a hero story
is very superficial and quite inadequate.?!
This form of the story, in which one finds a mixture of quasi-
historical reporting of events with an admixture of heroic and
legendary elements, was recognized already by Gunkel as character-
istic of Jewish popular stories in the Persian and Hellenistic periods.22
Such episodes are found in the work of the Chronicler, but they are
best exemplified by the book of Judith. The perspective of these
works is the confrontation of a world empire by very few, the strong
sense of individual piety, and the love of a certain archaism by its
efforts to reconstruct an elaborate past historical setting.
There are, nevertheless, a number of specific clues to the story’s
dating. Since virtually all the names of places and countries are
intended to be the archaic counterparts of later entities it is clear
that Elam must really stand for Persia. The supposed Elamite
empire is really the Persian domination of the West of a later day.
Chedorlaomer is presented as the leader of the expeditionary force,
and the Western states are his vassals. The fact that Babylon is an
ally probably points to a period long after the animosity between
Persia and Babylon when all the three “kingdoms” in league with
Persia represent major satrapies of a later day. The perspective of the
story is the late Persian empire. Another such clue is the change in
attitude toward the “‘Amorites.”’ They are viewed as being in close
association with the Amalekites, living primarily in the northern
Negeb, but also in friendly association with Abraham at Hebron.
How can one account for this change in attitude? It appears that the
term Amorite shifted in meaning in the Persian period from the
indigenous population to the Arab peoples. So they could then be
viewed as the nomadic and pastoral peoples of southern Judah
including the region of Hebron. And in the late Persian period there
was an increasing mixture and absorption of these peoples, who
largely represented the same cultural milieu. Likewise, the use of the
term Hebrew to describe Abraham is very similar to that of the
Jonah story, which comes from this same general period.?%
It is difficult to see any programmatic or legitimating function to
a1. Cf. Emerton, ibid., pp. 431ff.
22. Genesis, pp. 189-90.
23. So also deVaux, Histoire, p. 203.
306 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

the story in this first stage. It can hardly be regarded as supporting a

claim to the land of Palestine parallel to the conquest tradition, as
Astour has suggested,24 because the story does not suggest that
Palestine was a part of Chedorlaomer’s empire or was threatened by
his invasion. Abraham, by his victory, does not win anything for
himself or his posterity. The only point of the story according to
the closing discourse is to teach the virtues of courage, loyalty, and
piety by Abraham’s example.
The addition, vv. 18-20, is quite a different matter, and here the
interpretations are many.?5 It will be possible to consider only the
most recent arguments for an early date and then to suggest an
alternative in the late post-exilic period. The early dating of these
verses rests primarily upon a prior hypothesis about the nature of the
Judean monarchy and the pre-Israelite form of religion in Jerusalem.
On the basis of Ps. 110:4 it is suggested that the Judean monarchy
was also priestly and derived this function from the previous “Ca-
naanite’’ form of the monarchy, whose “‘founder”’ was Melchisedek.
Secondly, the deity of the pre-Israelite Jerusalem cult is said to have
been El Elyon, so that with the establishment of the Davidic mon-
archy an identity was made between El and Yahweh.2® All the
theories that date Gen. 14:18-20 early interpret the passage as a
form of legitimation of the monarchy (or the priesthood) and this
religious syncretism. However the dating and interpretation of’
Ps. 110 are very problematic and there is no evidence whatever to
view the Judean monarchy as an extension of the Jebusite dynasty.
Nor is there any proof that El Elyon was the deity in Jerusalem
before the rise of David, or that a program of syncretism was carried
through at that time.2”
Furthermore, the early dating of vv. 18-20 must see in either
Abraham or Melchisedek the figure of David. But such an interpreta-
tion becomes forced because there is not the slightest resemblance to

24. Astour, ‘‘ Genesis 14,”

p. 74.
25. See the review of these
by Emerton, VT 21: 412-38. See also W. Zimmerli, “Abraham
und Melchisedek,” BZAW 105 (1967): 255-64.
26. This theory is set forth
extensively in R. E. Clements, God and Temple (Philadelphia:
Fortress Press, 1965), chap. 4.
27. The whole reconstruction has become completely circular. Emerton’s dating of
Gen. 14:18-0 rests heavily upon it and yet Clements states (ibid., p. 43) ““The most
important clue for the discovery of the nature of the worship of pre-Israelite Jerusalem,
and of the god, or gods, venerated there, is to be found in Gen. xiv 18-24.”
 VICTORY OVER THE KINGS OF THE EAST 307

David’s monarchy in this story. If David is the warrior Abraham, he

certainly did not fight foreign invaders from Mesopotamia or come
to the aid of the Transjordanian peoples. On the contrary, he
subjugated them and took booty for himself. He was allied with
no other powers in Palestine, and the Amorites of chap. 14 cannot
simply be identified with the ‘‘Canaanites” of David’s kingdom.28
On the other hand, it would be strange to think of Melchisedek as
David, since he appears quite aloof from the military and political
events of the day.?® There is nothing in the story that corresponds in
any way to the realities of the Davidic period as we know it from the
Or:
I think scholars are correct in seeing in the addition of vv. 18-20
the purpose of legitimation, but for quite a different period. First of
all, the deity named in the “blessing”’ is not just the god Elyon, who
is known from Aramaic and Phoenician sources of the first millen-
nium. Instead, the name represents a combination of ‘elyon and
>el qn °rs, who are two distinct deities.29 And in the case of the
second deity the title has been expanded to include both heaven and
earth. The result is one complex title for the deity. This is then taken
one step further in v. 22 by the attributing of this title to Yahweh, so
that out of the divine names is created a complex epithet. Such a
process was begun by J and carried forward by P in their identifying
forms of El with Yahweh, and it reaches its culmination in Genesis 14.
The addition in vv. 18-20 is concerned with the legitimation of
this form of syncretism. The clue to this interpretation is in the fact
that a set liturgical form that regularly uses the name Yahweh
28. On the basis of our discussion of ‘‘ Ganaanites’’ above, it remains extremely doubtful
whether there was such a people as ‘‘ Canaanites”’ in David’s kingdom. This term would
imply a strong sense of unity among all the non-Israelite inhabitants of Palestine, but the
existence of such a unity is very doubtful. It is also scarcely possible for the term Amorite to
have been used in this way in the time of David.
29. Emerton’s suggestion (V7 21: 421ff.) that David is to be seen in both Abraham and
Melchisedek is too farfetched. He completely blurs the differences between David and
Abraham, which are considerable. Abraham did not defend anyone against an attack,
although he conceivably had lots of time to join the coalition against the invaders. He
did nothing until the damage was done because he had a concern only for Lot his kinsman.
There was no foreign attack on Canaan, and his encounter with the foreign kings was
beyond Israel’s traditional borders. The whole theory is quite unconvincing.
30. Clements, God and Temple, pp. 44-47, weighs against the evidence of epigraphic data
that El and Elyon were separate deities in the first millennium the theoretic possibility
that in Jerusalem Elyon was only a title applied to El. Theories built on such conjectures
can carry little weight.
308 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

(‘Blessed be Yahweh’’) is here modified to “Blessed be El Elyon.”’#1

This form of doxology was often used to express kerygmatically
Yahweh’s creative power and saving acts, but here the same is
attributed to El Elyon. The fact that Abraham pays a tithe to this
deity and then swears by him is further demonstration of the titles
legitimation.
The crucial question is: when is the most likely period for such a
syncretistic movement to have taken place? It is significant that
although Melchisedek is called ‘“‘priest of El Elyon” such a title is
not used throughout the whole history of the priesthood recorded in
the OT. It is only in the Maccabean period that the Hasmoneans
used the title of “high priests of God most high.”’8? It is unlikely that
they simply borrowed the title from this passage or that the title
originated with them. It is more probable that it belongs to the late
Persian or early Hellenistic period, when such syncretism became
common throughout the Near East, and even the Jerusalem religious
community was caught up in it. By the time of the Hasmoneans it
was probably a fixed title whose origins were no longer known.
Melchisedek, then, represents the priesthood of the second temple.
It may be objected that the royal claims of the priesthood only
became explicit with the Hasmoneans. But there is considerable
evidence to indicate that such claims were very clearly implicit in
the previous period, and that only the political situation prevented
them from becoming clearly stated.33 It is even possible that the
dual role was actually inherited from the monarchy, but this is not
entirely clear.
The dating and general historical situation to which Genesis 14
and the addition in vv. 18-20 speak must remain unclear since the
history of the whole period from Ezra to the Maccabees is still
obscure. Yet all the evidence of form and content would seem to
point to this period, at the close of the fourth century B.c., as the
time when the biblical tradition of Abraham received its final
chapter.

31. See Towner, n. 17 above. This is similar to P’s modification of the formula ‘‘I am
Yahweh” to “‘I am El Shaddai.”’
32. See Skinner, Genesis, pp. 270-71.
33. On the royal aspects of the post-exilic priesthood see deVaux, Ancient Israel, pp. 400-01.
 CHAPTER 15

Conclusion

The conclusions to this study regarding the Abraham tradition lie in

two principal areas: the dating of the tradition, and the nature of its
literary development. I have argued from the beginning that these
two questions are interrelated to such a degree that any reconsidera-
tion of the one demands a review of the other as well. On the matter
of dating I have tried to show that there is no unambiguous evidence
that points to a great antiquity for this tradition. Arguments based on
reconstructing the patriarch’s nomadic way of life, the personal
names in Genesis, the social customs reflected in the stories, and
correlation of the traditions of Genesis with the archaeological data
of the Middle Bronze age have all been found, in Part One above,
to be quite defective in demonstrating an origin for the Abraham
tradition in the second millennium B.c. Consequently, without any
such effective historical controls on the tradition one cannot use any
part of it in an attempt to reconstruct the primitive period of Israelite
history. Furthermore, a vague presupposition about the antiquity of
the tradition based upon a consensus approval of such arguments
should no longer be used as a warrant for proposing a history of the
tradition related to early premonarchic times.
Likewise, one cannot argue from the form of the tradition back to a
preliterate stage for the tradition as a whole, the way that Noth has
done. The degree to which the stories reflect any oral tradition may be
explained entirely by the use of folkloristic forms and motifs that
were accessible to Israelite culture throughout its history and not
primarily by the deposit of a preliterate period. There is virtually no
way of deciding when oral narrative forms or motifs became associa-
ted with a particular person such as Abraham, and it could well have
happened in every case when the story was first put in written form.
The results of the literary examination of the Abraham tradition, in
Part Two, would suggest that oral forms and motifs are confined
to a rather small part of the tradition, certainly much less than
309
310 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

Gunkel originally proposed. The notion, so frequently expressed

and most strongly by Noth, that a long and complex tradition-
history on the preliterate level lies behind the whole of the present
literary form is regarded by this study as completely unfounded.
A date for the first literary formation of the tradition, by the
Yahwist, to the time of the United Monarchy has also been rejected
in this study. Such a date is so widely accepted because it serves as a
convenient complement to the theory about the tradition’s history in
a preliterate period. The Yahwist is then viewed as the one who fixed
in a written form the development of the oral tradition at that point
with very little contribution of his own. However, specific arguments
for a setting in the early monarchy are extremely sparse and become
quite inadequate if one cannot accept the proposals regarding the
preliterate development of the tradition.
The present study has argued that the Yahwistic version of the
tradition dates to the exilic period. The Priestly version, which is
viewed here as a direct literary supplement to the earlier work,
must be later and post-exilic in date. This dating of the Yahwist is
based on the fact that while he consciously portrays a primitive age
without the political structures of a later day he still gives frequent
clues to his own time. His use of various designations for the indigen-
ous inhabitants is quite unhistorical and reflects the development of
such archaisms in the late period of the monarchy. The prominence
that he gives to the Arameans of the region around Harran (but not
Syria) and the Arabs of north Arabia and the Negeb reflect a late
date. The references to Ur of the Chaldeans and its close connections
with Harran and the West point most clearly to the late Neo-
Babylonian period. Even the portrayal of the nomadic element in
the story, with camels and tents, points to a time when such bedouin
were most prominent—in the mid-first millennium B.c.
The literary analysis of the Abraham tradition likewise confirms
this late dating. The Yahwist sometimes employs cultic and prophetic
forms that may be judged by comparative study to be quite late. At
other points, as I have argued, he seems to make use of royal and
cultic forms of the pre-exilic period and to reapply them to the new
situation of the exile when the monarchy was ended and the formal
practice of the cult was minimal. But above all the Yahwist must be
viewed in the light of the history of Israel’s sacred traditions of
election. In this regard the tradition of Abraham as a means of
 CONCLUSIONS 3II

corporate identity for Israel only came to the fore in the exilic
period. Here the whole perspective of the Yahwist stands in a very
close relationship to that of Deutero-Isaiah in contrast to Deutero-
nomy and the prophets Jeremiah and Ezekiel. It is to the despairing
community of the exile that the unbreakable promises of the patri-
archs are addressed, and Abraham becomes the focus of corporate
identity and the lifeline of their hope and destiny.
Alongside of the matter of dating the tradition is the question of
its literary form and development. Here I have taken issue with the
current method of pentateuchal criticism as it has to do primarily
with the Abraham tradition. On the basis of a study of the doublets,
I have concluded that the literary sources are not independent
developments of the tradition, which were only combined by a
series of later redactors. Instead, each succeeding source is directly
dependent upon, and supplements, the earlier tradition. The
Yahwist, usually regarded as the earliest source, was in fact preceded
by an earlier written level of the tradition, which included the
stories of Abraham in Egypt (Gen. 12:10-20), Hagar’s flight
(16:1-12), and the birth of Isaac (18:1a, 10-143; 21:2, 6-7). It also
included the first supplement to the Abraham story, the episode of
Abraham at Abimelech’s court (20:1-17; 21:25-26, 28-31a). This
story is usually associated with a larger pentateuchal source, the
Elohist (E), which is dated after the Yahwist. However, apart from
this one episode I can find no further evidence of it in the Abraham
tradition, and here it comes before the Yahwist. The whole existence
of an extensive E source in the Pentateuch has been questioned by
this study. What the Yahwist received in a written form he rearranged
and supplemented to express in it his own concerns. He also added
further stories and episodes of his own. The Priestly writer sub-
sequently added to the Yahwist’s tradition his own version of the
Abrahamic covenant (chap. 17), which was strongly dependent
upon the earlier source, as well as the burial of Sarah (chap. 23),
which was an independent story. The last addition to the whole was
the story of the defeat of the eastern kings (Genesis 14).
This reconstruction of the literary history of the Abraham tradition
has important implications for the discussion of oral tradition. Oral
tradition does not need to be used to explain why independent
sources are similar, since the degree and character of that similarity
point to literary dependency. The positing of any oral tradition
812 ABRAHAM IN TRADITION

behind the written version must be based entirely upon characteris-

tics of form and structure belonging to preliterary genre such as
enumerated in Olrik’s epic laws. With the meager evidence of oral
tradition that can be found in this way one can hardly reconstruct a
form of society or social setting in a preliterate period in which
such elements of the tradition had any special function.
The present study also proposes that form-criticism and structural
analysis precede any attempt at source division in order to serve as a
control over it. Failure to do so has resulted in a proliferation of
source division using other more questionable criteria. The applica-
tion of form-criticism in this study as a control of literary criticism
has resulted in disputing the value of such long established criteria as
the use of the divine name to separate a J and E source, the use of
repetition within a story unit, the use of special vocabulary, etc.
Form-criticism must also serve as a control over tradition-history
and not vice versa. It is not legitimate to prejudge what the form and
function of a unit of tradition may have been based on a precon-
ceived history of the tradition, especially oral tradition. It appears
to me at the present time that one can say little about any oral
tradition. What must be clarified first and foremost is the place of
the tradition in Israel’s literature and history as reflected in the
Old Testament texts. This has been the task of my study.
 Appendix: The Literary Sources of the
Abraham Tradition of Genesis

The following represent the various stages of growth, as argued in

the foregoing study:
i Pre-Yahwistic first stage: 12:1, 4a*, 6a, 7, 10-203; 13:1*-2;
16:1-3a, 4-9, I1ab, 12; 13:18; 18:1a, 10-143 21:2, 6-7.
(* except the references to Lot). These references represent a
small unified work with three episodes and a brief framework.
II. Pre-Yahwistic second stage (“E”): 20:1-17; 21:25-26,
28-31a. This represents one unified story that originally came
after the adventure in Egypt (13:1), to which it was added. It
was subsequently transposed to its present position by the
Yahwist, who added 20:1a (“From there’... Negeb’’) as a
transition.
LEE. Yahwist:
A. brief secondary additions to previous works: 12:2-3, 6b,
2-O, 10: 7Ds 10, 11C, 13-14; 207 taa} 21: T.
B. larger episodic units: 13:3-5, 7-17; chap. 15; 18:1b-9,
15-19:38; 21:8-24, 27, 31b-34; chap. 22; chap. 24;
25:1-6, 11; (chap. 26). All of these were skillfully in-
corporated into the older literary work with some new
arrangement of the materials.
IV. Priestly:
A. Secondary genealogical and chronological additions:
11:26-32; 12:4b-5; 13:6; 16:3b, 15-16; 21:3-5;
25: 7-10.
B. Larger episodic units: chaps. 17 and 23.
Post-Priestly: chap. 14 (of which vv. 18-20 are secondary).

313
 Indexes

AUTHORS

Ackroyd, P., 275n Cardascia, G., 1gn, 66n, 97n

Aharoni, Y., 42n, 47n, 105n, 111n Cassin, E. M., 66n, 89n, 93n
Albright, W. F., 7-8, 8, 11, 14nn, 23n, Cazelles, H., 12, 87n, 125n, 249n, 251,
32n, 33n, 39n, 40n, 4Inn, 42nn, 45n, 255n, 258n
4.70, 53n, 59nn, 6onn, 61nn, 85, 86n, Chadwick, H. M. and N. K., 131n
87n, 98n, 105-06, 107, 107nn, 112n, Chiera, E., 66n
113gn, 114n, 115, 131n, 132n Childs, B., 133, 133nn, 143, 143n, 144,
Alt, A., gn, 110n, 132, 139-42, 146, 147, 147n, 19In, 220n
148, 150n, 152, 228, 250, 251, 271n Clark, W. M., 249n, 258n, 259n, 263n,
Aly, W., 138n 264n, 265n, 276nn
Anderson, B. W., 266n Clements, R. E., 149n, 151n, 152, 249n,
Anderson, T. A., 136n, 137n 252n, 255n, 256n, 260n, 263n, 266n,
Astour, M. C., 47nn, 61n, 112n, 113nn, 306nn, 307n
114n, 116-17, 116n, 118, 118n, 119-20, Coats, G. W., 143n, 239n
296n, 303n, 306n Cowley, A., 67n
Augapfel, J., 66n, 97n Cross, F. M., Jr., 141n
Avi-Yonah, M., 47n Culley, R. C., 157n, 158n, 159n

Barnett, R. D., 53n Daube, D., 174, 276n

Beckerath, J. von, 10gn Delcor, M., 53n
Begrich, J., 267 Dentan, R. C., 130n
Besters, A., 130n Dever, W. G., 21nn, 51n, 106, ro6nn,
Beyerlin, W., 143n 1o7nn
Bietak, M., 22n Dhorme, E., 12
Blenkinsopp, J., 1510 Dietrich, M., 66n
Boer, P. A. H. de, 275n Dion, H. M., 254n
Bottéro, J., 20n, 26n, 61n Donner, H., 40n, 41nn
Bowmann, R. A., 29n, 33n, 58n Dossin, G., 20n, 22nn, 44n
Boyer, G., gon Dostal, W., 17n
Branden, A. van den, 61n Dougherty, R. P., 36nn, 46n
Brekelmans, C., 130n Draffkorn, A. E., 93n, 102n
Bright,J.,9, 11, 23n, 39n, 40n, 59n, 65n, Driver, G. R., 65, 6gn
71n, 98n, 104n, Iron, 112n, 133gn Dumbrell, W.J., 35n, 36n, 62n, 64nn
Brink, H. van den, 98n, 99n Dupont-Sommer, A., 29n, 30nn
Brinkman, J. A., 15n, 25n, 31n
Broome, E. C., 64n
Ebeling, E., 26n
Bruggemann, W., 151n
Edel, E., 310
Buccellati, G., 4on
Edzard, D. O., 13n, 20nn, 30n, 44n
Burrows, M., 72n, 74n, 78n, 81n, 82nn, 84
Eissfeldt, O., gn, 12, 125n, 275, 279n
Caloz, M., 130n Elliger, K., 257n, 294n |
Caquot, A., 249n, 254n, 255n Ellis, P. F., 149n
316 INDEXES

Emerton,J.A., 116nn, 118n, 119, 120n, 209n, 213nn, 217nn, 218nn, 219n, 220n,
296n, 297nn, 298nn, 299nn, 300n, 223N, 225n, 228, 229, 233n, 242-43, 244,
3oInn, 303n, 304n, 305n, 306nn, 307n 258n, 281n, 295, 305
Engnell, I., r25n, 158n Gurney, O. R., 32n, 45nn, 110n
Ephal, I., 37n, 60n
Engnell, I., r25n, 158n Haase, R., 65n
Ephal, I., 37n, 60n Haldar, A., 44n
Erlenmeyer, H., and M. L., 53n Hallo, W. W., 46n, 259n
Hand, W. D., 131n, 138n
Falk, Z. W., 87n Harding, G. L., 4on, 42n, 63n
Feigin, S., 79n Harland, J. P., 117n
Fichtner, J., 133n, 184n, 207n, 231n Harris, J. R., 209n
Filippi, W. de, 162n Helck, W., 26n, 27
Finkelstein,J.J., 33n, 58n, 59n, gon, Henninger, J., 13nn, 14nn, 87n, gin, 101n
95-97; 96nn, g8n Heusler, A., 134, 136
Finnegan, R., 158n, 159nn Hinz, W., 113n
Fitzmyer, J. A., 103n Hoftijzer, J., 249n, 270, 273n, 281n
Fohrer, G., gnn, 125n, 127n, 128, 129, Holt,J.M., 10n
129n, 143n, 145n, 148n, 279n, 294n Hommel, F., 40
Foldes, L., 13n Horn, S. H., 62n
Frankena, R., 96n Huffmon, H. B., 40n, 41n
Frazer,J.G., 100-01 Humbert, P., 279n, 284n
Freedman, D. N., 75n
Fuss, W., 130n Jeffery, A., 32n, 35n, 37, 60n, 61n
Jolles, A., 134, 135, 136, 137, 137n, 138
Gabrieli, F., 13n
Gadd, C. J., 20n, 24n, 66n, 73n, 84n, 89n, Kahle, P., 168n
g3n Kaiser, O., 249nn, 250-51, 253n, 254,
Gardiner, A. H., 48n, 50nn, 52n, 7on, 81n 254n
Gauthier, H., 50n Kaufmann, Y., 125n
Gelb, I. J., 20n Keller, C. A., 167n, 174n
Gibson,J. C. L., 33n, 43n, 45n, 47nn Kenyon, K. M., 47n, 106, 106nn, 107n,
Ginsberg, H. L., 86, 255n 108n
Giveon, R., 27n, 56n, 63n Kilian, R., 148n, 167n, 168n, 170n, 171nn,
Glueck, N., 8, 11, 27n, 105-06, ro5nn, 115 177n, 178n, 179n, 180n, 182n, 184n,
Goetze, A., 45n 194n, 202n, 203n, 206n, 21onn, 211n,
Goodenough, E. R., 258n 213n, 215n, 217nn, 218n, 21gnn, 222nn,
Gordon, C. H., 9, 11, 66, 68n, 69n, 72n, 223nn, 225nn, 227, 228-29, 229n, 233-
79, 81, 81n, 87n, 93nn, 98n 37, 236nn, 252n, 256n, 263n
Grayson, A. K., r20n, 259n Kitchen, K. A., 17n, 27n
Greenberg, M., 26n, 56n, 65n, 93-94 Klengel, H., 14n
Greenfield,J. C., 53n Koch, K., 26n, 55n, 129n, 133n, 134,
Greengus, S., 75n 137-38, 137n, 154n, 157n, 167n, 168n,
Grelot, P., 291n 170n, 171n, 172nn, 173nn, 174n, 176,
Grollenberg, L. H., 15n 176nn, 177n, 180n
Grondahl, F., 40on, 41nn Kohler, J., 66n, 83nn, g1n, 93n, 97n
Gunkel, H., 110n, 112n, 131-34, 135, 137, Koschaker, P., 71n, 72, 72nn, 73n
138, 139, 141, 142, 144, 148, 160, 167, Kraeling, E. G., 67n
168, 170, 171, 173n, 176, 184, 193n, Kramer, S. N., 113n
194n, 196n, 198, 201n, 202n, 203, 203nn, Kraus, F. R., 95n
 INDEXES 317

Krohn, K., 160n Muilenberg, J., 269n

Killing, S. R., 286n
Kupper, J.-R., 13n, 14n, 15n, 20n, 23n, Neff, R., 194-95, 204, 205nn, 284nn
24n, 30n, 44n: Neufeld, E., 78n
Nielsen, E., 158n
Lacheman, E. R., 66n Nilsson, M. P., 29n, 148n, 190n, 295n
Lambert, W. G., 96n, 259n Noth, M., 9n, 12, 33n, 39nn, 4onn, 41nn,
Landes, G. M., 28n 42nn, 43n, 90, gonn, 92, 105n, I10n,
Lapp, P., 106 114n, 126, 127, 128-29, 130n, 132, 133,
Leach, E. R., 157n 134, 134n, 135n, 143-48, 149, 152, 159n,
Leclant, J., 22n 168, 170, 173n, 176, 180n, 183, 184n,
Lehmann, M. R., 98-99 187, 188n, 210n, 213n, 220n, 226, 227n,
Levine, L. D., 162n 228, 241, 242-43, 279n, 285n, 294n,
Levi-Strauss, C., 157n 309-10
Lewy, J., 24n, 37n, 42n, 63n, 6gn, 84n
Loewenstamm, S. E., 101, 102, 258n, Olvik, A., 132, 133, 137, 138, 160-61, 165,
259n, 276n, 283n 169, 170, 171, 195, 197-98, 200, 235,
Lohfink, N., 130n, 249nn, 251-52, 254nn, 236, 243
255n, 258n, 260, 263, 263nn, 264n, Oppenheim, A. L., 159n
267n, 290n
Lohr, M., 279n Parker, B., 70n
Long, B., 133, 133nn, 184n, 187n, 193n, Parker, R. A., 50n
207n, 218nn, 220nn, 22In, 231n Parpola, S., 35n, 44n, 45n, 59n, 63n
Lord, A. B., 163n Parrot, A., 12
Loreta, O., 66n, 205n Paul, S. M., 276n
‘Luckenbill, D. D., 33n, 44n, 46n, 119n Petschow, H., 67n, 74n, 77n, 84nn, gin,
Luddeckens, E., 75n, 76n g7nn, ggn, 100n
Petzoldt, L., 135n, 138n
McCarthy, D.J., rorn, 102n, 103n, 184n Peuchert, W. E., 137n
McEvenue, S., 279n, 280nn, 281nn, 282nn, Pfeiffer, R. H., 66n
285nn, 286, 286nn, 288n, 28gn, 290n, Ploeg,J.P. M. van der, 18n
29In, 293n, 295n Porter, B., 67n
Maisler, B. See Mazar, B. Posener, G., 21nn
Malamat, A., 14n, 17n, 51n, 59nn, 108n, Praag, A. van, 72n, 77n, 82nn
152n, 275n Pritchard,J. B., 10, 65
Mayer, W., 66n
Mazar, B., 32n, 33n, 41n, 47n, 48n, 62n Rabinowitz, J. J.,67n, 76n, ggn
Meek, T. J., 12, 6gn Rad, G. von, 19n, 132, 134, 142-43, 144,
Meissner, B., 67n 146, 148, 149, 151n, 168n, 170nn, 180n,
Mendelsohn, I., 18n, 19n 184n, 187n, 202n, 212n, 213nn, 214-15,
Mendenhall, G. E., 15n, 151n 214nn, 220n, 225n, 228n, 239nn, 242,
Miles,J.C., 65, 69n 244n, 257, 257nn, 268-69, 269n, 279n,
Mitchell, T. C., 53n 2gon, 294
Montgomery,J.A., 35n, 60n Rainey, A. F., 36nn, 64n
Moore, E. W., 66n, 93n Redford, D. B., 50n, 54n, 55n, 68
Moran, W. L., 76n Reed, W. L., 61n, 63nn, 64n
Moritz, B., 59n Reventlow, H. G., 228-29, 229nn, 234-37,
Moscati, S., 2onn, 29n, 30, 35n, 236nn
Mowinckel, S., 125n, 127n, 133n, 148n, Richter, W., 154n, 156nn, 157n, 261n
172n, 173nn, 184n, 200n, 295n Rohrich, L., 137nn, 138n
 318 INDEXES

Rollig, W., 40n, 41nn Tucker, G. M., 65n, ggnn, roonn

Rosmarin, T. W., 35n
Ross,J.F., r10on Ungnad, A., 40n, 66n, 81n, 83nn, 84nn,
Roth, W., 244-46 ginn, 93nn, 97n
Roux. G., 25nn, 31n
Rowley, H. H., 12 Van Seters, J., 22n, 23n, 43nn, 44n, 45n,
Rudolf, W., 126n 49n, 51n, 65n, 68n, 7onn, 79n, 8on,
Ruppert, L., 239n 107n, 108n, rogn, 111n, 118n, 120n,
Ryckmans, G., 35n, 42n, 63n 178n, 181n, 201n, 260n, 263n, 287n,
292n, 299n
Saggs, H. W. F., 25n Vansina, J., 145, 153n, 158nn
Sandmel, S., 285n Vaux, R. de, ron, 12, 13n, 14n, 15n, 17nn,
San Nicold, M., 66n, 74n, 77n, 81n, 84nn, 18n, 19n, 20n, 23n, 24n, 26nn, 29n, 3on,
ginn, 93nn 33n, 39n, 40nn, 41nn, 42n, 43n, 46n,
Scharbert, J., 130n, 272n 47nn, 48-49, 48nn, 49n, 51nn, 52n, 53n,
Schatz, W., 112n, 296n 54nn, 55n, 56-57, 56n, 57nn, 59nn, 65n,
Schmidt, H., 168n 67n, 71n, 82n, 87n, 93n, g6n, 145n,
Schmitt, G., 167n 305n, 308n
Schorr, M., 69n, 74n Vink,J. G., 125n, 279n, 291n, 292nn,
Schottroff, W., 272nn, 273n 293n, 295n
Schreiner, J., 269n, 271nn, 272n Volz, P., 126, 127n, 128, 129-30, 173n,
Seebass, H., 147n, 249n, 255n 279N, 293n
Seeligmann, I. L., 133n
Shaffer, A., 51n Wagner, N. E., 127n, 128n, 130n, 148,
Sievers, E., 132n 149, 149nNn, 152n, 153, 271n, 288n
Simons, J., 33n, 58n, 59n, 6onn, 63n, 117n Ward, W.A., 21n
Skaist, A., 72n, 74n Weidmann, H., 141n
Skinner, J., 42n, 60nn, 116n, 167n, 170nn, Weinfeld, M., 102-03, 102nn, 259n, 272n,
184n, 193n, 194n, 196n, 198n, 199n, 273n, 276n, 283n, 288n, 290n
202n, 213nn, 218n, 219n, 225n, 258n, Weippert, M., 13n, 14nn, 15n, 17n, 26nn,
281n, 308n 27, 31n, 50n, 56n, 57nn, 287n
Smith, M., 1on, 66n, 67n Weir, C. J. Mullo, 66n, 75n
Smith, S., 48n Wellhausen, J., 3, 7, 149, 279n
Smith, W. R., gn, 101 Westermann, C., 134, 135, 137, 148, 206n,
Snijders, L. A., 249n 220N, 222N, 234, 243n; 251, 255n, 260n,
Speiser, A., 11, 66, 66n, 68n, 6gnn, 71, 263, 270, 282n, 294n
Whybray, R. N., 151n
72nn, 73, 74, 74n, 76-77, 82n, 84, 86n,
89n, gon, 93n, 94, 94n, 95n, 112n, 113nn, Widengren, G., 162nn
115, 116n, 229nn, 255n Wilson, R. R., 152n
Staerk, W., 127n, 129 Winnett, F. V., 60n, 61nn, 62n, 63nn, 64n,
Stamm, J. J., 39n, 4on, 42nn 127n, 130nn, 148n, 200n, 285n
Stark, J. K., gon Wiseman, D.J., 46n, 102, 102nn
Steindorff, G., 48n Wolff, H. W., 149nn, 230n, 269n, 271nn
Sveinsson, E. O., 136nn, 162n, 163nn Wright, G. E., 8, 9, 11, 104n, 107, 108nn,
Sydow, C. W. von, 131n, 135n, 136n 109-11, 228-29, 228nn
Wiurthwein, E., 161n
Thompson,J.A., 17n
Tigay,J.H., 79n Yaron, R., 67n, 74n, 82n, 84n
Yeivin, S., 108n, 112n, 114n
Tournay, R.-J., 66n
Towner, W.S., 302n, 308n Zimmerli, W., 257n, 287n, 292, 306n
 INDEXES 319

BIBLICAL REFERENCES

Genesis Page no 13:1ff 170

I: 22, 28 283n 1-2 170, 223, 224
9g: 1,7 283n I-13 165
Io: 7, 26 61n 2 18n, 224, 224n, 247
15f 45 3-4 223
15-19 43, 46, 51 5-8 18n
11-50 7 aS 222n
Il: 10-26 225 6 225, 285
21-22 59 7 46n, 277
22-32 58-59 7-12 (13) 221-23
26-32 225 8 225, 303
27-32 285 10 222n
28-30 225 14ff 289
32ff 33 14-17 276, 283
12 1725200,221 16 272
12-13 221-26 18 203, 207, 224
12-25 I 18, 54, 105, 107, 108,
12: I E72) 108, 224. 112-20, 166, 254,
iff 182 296-308, 311
1-3 271, 275, 276 1431-11 300
1, 4a, 6a, 7 277 Big 117
1, 6-7 271 52
2 273, 282, 283 119
2-3 18, 188, 247, 274, 275 7523 43
4a 224 10 119
4b-5 225, 285 13 45> 54
5,16 18n 14 18n
6-7 110 140, 141, 146, 151,
6 46n 153, 154, 166, 249-78,
6b 277 280, 282, 283, 288,
7 270n 289, 292
8 2295,223n 230, 267-68, 282
9 170.223 224n
10 16n 267
10-20 71-76,
128, 154, 164, 244n
167-71,183, 187, 85-87,
282, 284n
I9I, 192, 193, 196, 18-19, 18n
223, 223n, 224, 282
234, 311 272
II 179 268
13,16 17In 264-65, 288
180 282
15
16 247 rey 269, 289
17 76, 173, 181 mA
eT
emia
Ta
laeDe)
ie
a
iS)N=
wo © 100-03
18-19 180, 181 103n
er!
Te
So)
a

20 189 = oO 16n
188, 190, 209, 221 13-16 152
13
13: oI 224 nS 304
320 INDEXES

15:16 43 18: 2o0ff 214

18 44, 283,
289 23-24 214
20 45 23-32 214-15
20-21 43n 203, 209, 211, 214,
18n, 68-70,
154, 165, 215-21
192-96, 197-200, 210n, 212
202, 204, 208 J Wy| 213
TO 197, 224, 224n 16n
ff 224 15 214
I-I2 196, 224, 285, 311 17 214, 222n
1-16 270 18,19 206-07
2 70 1off 215
16:3a, 15-16 285 25 222n
9 195 29 285
10 282, 285 20 71-76, 154, 155, 165,
LHC 199 LOL [Om by Ua
12 18, 37, 62, 64, 270 178n, 183, 185, 186,
13a 288 187, 188, 191, 200n
15 284n 20; 16n
17 126, 154, 166, 264n, IQI, 311
270, 279-93, 311 181
17:1-8 282 181
4-6, 16, 20 18 181
6,16 289- 186
7, 19 289 A)
Tt
ken
cory
sip
(eoye
Way 76
8 16n, 283, 289, 294 9, 11 180
i ae eekaod 18n 185
15-21 283-84 II 181
19 194 Il, 13 179
20 283n 12 75-76, 181
QI 206 13 182
25 155 14 18n
18 155, 203, 208, 209-16 15 19, 188
18-19 222, 246, 259 17 (18) 185
18:1a 224, 311 21 155, 190
Ia, 10-14 207, 209, 311 21: I 206
I-15 165, 192, 202-08 iff 204
2-3 216 1-2, 6-7 204
@ 18n I~] 165, 192, 202
10 284n 12% 172
1off 270 205, 206, 211, 248,
10-14 204-05,
211, 283-84, 284nn
284nn 2,6 204n
11-13 284n 2, 6-7 207, 311
14 284n 2b 284n
16-19:29 117 284n
16-19: 38 165 355 206, 285, 287
16-33 215 6a 206
18 18, 271n,
274, 282 G7 206
19 273, 274 6b-7 206
 INDEXES 321
21:7 284n 25 155
Sf 230, 238 25: iff 197
8-21 18n, 154, 155, 165, 15 60-62
192, 196-202,
204, 1-6 248
230 248
10 88 88
13,18 18, 271, 283 7-10 285
17-18 285 45> 293
17ff 268n II 248
20 37 13-16 62-64, 289
20-21 18, 64 16 18
22 268 18 64, 195
22-24 277 20 58
22-34 165, 172, 184-87, 23 18
188, 191 29-34 88
23, 34 16n 26 3, 155, 186, 242
25ff 175 26: iff 52
25-26, 28-31a 191, 311 I-11 F705 1545 165,
30-32 230 167-68,
170, 175-82,
39 52 183, 188, 191
33 IgI, 288n 12 128
34 230 167n
22 165, 227-240, 239n, 230, 238
248 16n, 103, 283
2221-19 227-40 283
I, 20 253n 188, 259
3f 18n 273
13-14 247 271Nn, 272, 277
16 103, 283 282
16-18 273 273
16,18 288 288
17 272, 282, 289 180
18 271n, 274 76
20 230 19, 247
20-24 59, 165, 248, 293 165, 187-91
23 45, 98-100, 98n, 247
ggnn,
126, 166, 270, 18n, 272
285, 289, 293-95,
311 18n
2372,19 297n 268, 283
16n 19
a4 17, 18n, 60n, 76-78, 26-31 LOTT
127, 134, 165, 227, 28 268
240-48, 293 29 247
24, 29-31 33 34 45
24-31 g6n 40 274
24: 2ff 18n 27 88
2-8 277 275 36 94-95
a 277 40 150, 151
10 58n 46 45
35 272 28 141
322 INDEXES

28: ff 45 35:9-13 281n

2, 6,7 58 10 283n
3 283, 283n gy 18, 283, 283n,
289
3-4 281n 12 289
4 16n, 289, 294 27 16n
14 271N,
272, 274, 277 29 293
15 277 45
29: 13f 79 16n, 294
15-30 80 20-30 52
24, 29 84 S71 16n, 294
30: iff 202 397] 253n
3 69 14, 17 54
9 69 40:1 253n
25 80 54
25-34 80 4i:12 54
26 80 AN eee 54
27-34 95-98 46: 1-3 139
30 80 18
3iff 80 47°49 16n
35 79 294
43 18n, 80 283n
31 Pape? 48 88
Bir 80 48:1 253n
18n, 79, 82 281n, 283
82 283n
80 92
80 58
80 18
81-84 49°3-4 89
81n 89
80 89
g5n 153
95-98 45
80 293
96 50:13 293
80
79 Exodus
34 I-14 130n
91794 84 Le7 283n
53 139 2323-25 261
32: 16n 156nn, 258n, 261
5ff 18n ar 261-62
12 272 Sy 1gon
28 283 3:155 261
33: 18-20 110 6, 13-15 262
1of 7-10 261
295
24 264. Soy 43n
34 51, 150 II-12 261
34: 46n,51 12 262
30 46n 13ff 287
 INDEXES 323
SoA. 139 7313 272n
5ff 262 14 275
6:2-3 283, 287 8 239
2-8 281n 11:26-28 273
4, 8 289 14:2 289n
1333-14 130n 15:10 272n, 273n
18: 10-12 302n 12-17 55
20:2 264 16:15 272n, 273n
21:2-6 55 20:17 43n
12, 15-17 181 QI:15-17 92
23:23, 28 43n 23:5 58n
34:6 130n 26:5 33
6f 130n 5ff 147n
34:11 43n 559 142-43
36:28 290 17-18 289-90
37:25-27 290 17-19 2gon
2719 289n

Leviticus + ot)
25:38 264, 264n om
26:12 29on ee ba da
soft oe 32": 295n
40 103, 304
34:3 222n
Numbers
6322-27 272 Joshua
13322 109 13: 2ff 49
29 5° 2-6 46
20:14-21 181n 94: gb-13 142,°143n
Q1:21-35 156n na 43n
24°17 153 29 253n
3422-12 46
34:24 6on andacs

1:10 45
Deuteronomy 3:3 52
1:10 272 5-6 277
2-8 303 8 58n
2:10-12, 20-23 117-18 6-8 17n
12 52 6 261
26 64 6:1-6 261
3:9-13 117-18 riff 261
4:20 289n 12-14 261
5-11 130n 15-16 261
5:6 264 17-23 262
6:6-9 : 274 7-8 262
20-24 142-43 13 261
Go : 43n Total 261
3-5 277 aff 1g5n
6 289n 4-5) 7 195
12-14 273 5 261

————————————————
 324 INDEXES

13°59 7 194 20: 8ff 256

15-20 2470
15-21 262 1 Chronicles
15-22 211n 4°25 64
14-16 262 Ee 92
I-2 88n
Ruth 10, 15ff 62
TG 240 5:19 64
4:17b-22 152n 19:6 58n
21323 99
1 Samuel 22:9-10 194, 195
4: 6ff 55 Q7317 60n
g: 1-10,16 261n
13:3ff 55 Ezra
I4i ll, 21 Hee:
So) 253n
25 18 gil
43n
29:13 55
Nehemiah
2 Samuel
9: 6ffF 143n
7 I51, 253 7-8 264n
7:9 274
12 255n, 256 Esther
14-16 274 BL
8 304n
139) Q:1 253n
9-20 I51
3:1
mot 253n
151n
16: 1-4
87 Job
1g:12f
79 Leight 64n
29 87 Tia
24:17 64n
214n 6:19
22-23a 64n
99 32:2,6 64n
1 Kings Psalms
I-2 151 15 257
Drsntt QI
207, 117n
14ff 151 24 257
32, 34 274 60:2 58n
13:2 72
194 g5n, 274
ego) 253n 72217
P38 rsa | 274
253n Seay, 62
8 62
2 Kings 89: 20ff
4: 8fF 256
207 11074 306
8-17 204-05 132:11-12 256
14-17 204-05 12
8: 20-22 274
151 136 143n
14:7 151
16:6 MOG Proverbs
19°34 274 6:6-11
20:6 245
274 Fipousy
245
 INDEXES 325
17:2 87 34:9, 14 55
24: 30-34 245 18 103n, 258
18-20 IOI, 103
Song of Solomon 49:7-8, 28-30 64n
374 240
On 240 Ezekiel
8-11 256n
Isaiah 11:20 29o0n
7*3-14 195 14: 1-20 214n
10-17 256 II 2gon
14-17 194 16:3 51
Ttieer 152 18 257
ENG) 275 5ff 214n
Qi:1-17 64n 20:5-6 264
40:9-10 267 23 $04
41:8f 201, 265 DORI 174
10 268 Q5i13 64n
Azer 18 27:20-22 64n
Zayevey| 276 36:28 29on
age2, 276 37°23,27 290n
25-22)24) 276 38:13 64n
45:9-I1 276 47:15-20 46, 49
46: 3-4 276
49:1-6 276
Daniel
5I:1-2 275 Loe7 304
53:5,10 214
DAS 268
277 Hosea
60:6 61 Dio 117
6-7 64n 12:12 [13] 58

Jeremiah
Amos
2:10 64n
4:2 271n
7:9, 16 39
9:7 52
6:20 64n
7+ 23 29on
11:4 290n Jonah
I3:I-II 224n I:1I-3 224n
II 29on 9 55
18: 1-6 224n 3°3 224n
22:35 103
24:7 2gon
Zechariah
25:23 64n
30:19
8:8 290, 290n
275
22, 25 2gon 13 275
13:8 92
31:32 290n
32:8-12 100n
38 29on Malachi
33: 20ff 256 3712
326 INDEXES
FOREIGN WORDS AND PHRASES

Hebrew ger 16
°ab 116 ~~gér w®tdsab 98
-adonay yhwh ; 260, 267 = gdy 17, 199
2ahar haddebarim haélleh 230, 253 goyim 113-14
>“hattennah 96-97 grs 201
-ahitennah 97 garm 103
-ahiyw 298, 303 = hapki 218
kl 81n har 231n
°al-tira® °abram 254 hayah dbar yhwh 253
°amah 196, 202 ~—hayyeled 196
-angsim ahim 225 hazzeh 231n
2anoki °*hattennah 96n = hl? dammeseq °¢li<ezer 86
°anséy hammagém 179 =h*ta°ah g@dolah 180
-arammi °dobéd 33 herem 201
artir 273 hesérim 18
°asam 180 hizzayon 253
Ser yésé mimmé<eyka 255n ht? 96-97
°ehayw 195n kaét hayyah 205
-élayw 203 ki 231
2elohim 202, 256n lah 193n
°el qn °rs 307 lammé<éd 205, 284n
Pel yir-eh 233 ~=—«(le<abr’ka bibrit yhwh... ub?°alaté 290
°eres hammériyah 238 ledorétam 286
Peres megurim 294 ledordtam librit “dlam 286
6t 290 ~=—:(L¢gdy gadél 201n
cad hayyém hazzeh 231 = ‘Lihydt I¢ka lé°lohim 289
‘al °ahad heharim °@Ser °6mar °éleyka 230 = lizqunayw 284n
‘al kén qara° 5¢mah 231 mah*zeh 253
cam 272 magom 179
“ednah 206 ~=massébéth 110

<elyon 307 méegdm s&kem 224n

“ibri 54. 55, 57-58 =mis‘ar 207
cqd 227n =missam 172
bariik 273 miyyadi t¢bagsennah g6n
bekérah 87 = mkr 84
ben “hi °abram 298 mohar 77,84
ben bayt, bn byt 18-19, 86 —_nepes 304
ben meseq 285 nesi-im 288
ben meseq bétt 86 —_n®si? >eldhim 293n
beqirbah 204n ng 174, 181
beraka 275 8 8ns° 215, 304
brit 283, 288 pi Snayim 92
berit “lam 288, 289 = prh 283
betam l¢babi ubeniqyon kappay 174 q¢lala 275
bn byt 18-19 = g*tdret 60
brk 188, 283 qwm 283, 290
dor 286n = rita 178n
gdl 188 bh 282, 283
 INDEXES 327

rekus 304 Akkadian

r’kus6 298 abam-rama|aba-rama 40
ro<im I 89 ahatitu 71-75, 76, 78
Tem 304 akalu 8in
S’ranim 53 ana ahati 74
Seren 53 ana ahatiti 72, 74
sph 214 ana kalluti 73
saddiq 174 eqléti aramima 30-31
shq 206 errebu 78, 79, 85
Sakar 254 gayum|gawum 18
§¢dé-Aram 58 hapiru/SA.GAZ 55-57
sn? 116 hasarum 18
$¢bu“ah 283 hata 96
S¢kon ba@ares
Siphah
*Ser omar éleyka 230 yan 97
202 hitum 95, 96
sms 99 thitma iddassu 99
S6se/Sosim 57n ikkal 73
tispeh 214 ilani 93, 93n
tissapeh 214 ilku 98
wa “barek*ka 272 sme 99
wayyahpok 218 mar biti|bitati 18-19, 87
wayyahs*beha ll s¢dagah 257 maryannu 52
wayyiqgah 3o2n mat kaldu 31
wayyigra> et $¢mé PN 231 nadanu 97
wehe° &min 256n naditu 69
wezarék goyim yiras 268 nudunnit 81n, 83, 84
yd 304 pisati u salmati 98
yelid bayit 304 gadistum 69n
phwh 231n, 256n qistum 86
phwh yirreh 233, 238 rihtu 71
ythyeh lleka lé?lohim 290 sinnisu ina zittu 89
yishag m’sahég 181n Sumuil 63
yrrh 231 Salsu g!I
ors 201, 255, 261, 268 Sittin go, gon
zar“aka °ah*reka 283n [sum] Istar uséli 102
zera® 261 terhatu 77, 83
Zqn 284n tupis PN ina libbi X Siklu kaspi...talgi 83n
tuppi ahati 74
tuppi ahatiti 71
Aramaic tuppr rikst 73
col? 103n uséli 102, 102n
gezr 103 zittu 81n
mhr 82 2-ta qaté gI

SUBJECT INDEX

Abba-el, 102 Abiram, 41

Abida, 61 Abishai, 41
Abimelech, 52, 54, 155, 165, 172-74, ABND (Announcement of birth, nature,
177-88, 247, 311 and destiny), 194, 195
328 INDEXES

Abner, 41 Aramaic language, 32

Abraham, Abram: relation to Amorites, Arameans, 24, 25, 28, 29-34, 57, 58-60,
23-26, 43; etymology of name, 40-42; 121, 150, 293, 310
victory of, 112-20, 296-308; God of, Aramean sources, 307
140, 269; relation to David, 152; as Aram Naharaim, 33, 37, 58, 246
prophet, 174; call of, 183, 247, 265, Arauna, 99
276; testing of, 237-39; faith of, 237, Archaeological data/ evidence, 7-8,
241, 246; “‘Shield of,” 251 104-12, 309
Abraham’s covenant: with God (J), Arioch, 114
100-03, 151-52, 154, 249-69, 311; of Armenia, 51
circumcision (P), 166, 279-93; with Arrapha, 66, 89
Abimelech, 183-91 Arriwuk, 114
Abraham tradition: dating of, 1-4, Artemis, 233
148-53; as corporate identity, 2, 276, Arvad, 45
310f. See also Promises, Blessings Ashdod, 45, 53
Absolom, 41 Ashkelon, 45, 53
Aburahana (°bwrhn?), 42 Ashurbanipal, 25n, 254
Acco, 48 Ashurnasirpal II, 31
Adbeel, 63 Ashurnirari V, 101
Admah (Adamah), 117, 303 Asia Minor, 30, 45
Adoption, 69-74, 78-91 Asklepios, 205, 207
Adumu (Adumatu, Al Jauf), 25, 36, 64 Assyria, 24, 32, 35, 114
Ahaz, 151 Assyrian empire, 24-26, 31, 34, 37, 38,
Ahiram, 41 254, 266, 274, 300n
Ablamu, 30 Assyrian inscriptions, 29-30, 162, 276
Ai, 177 Aulis, 233
Akkad, 20, 30
Alalah, 8, 10, 23, 44, 48, 56, 57, 90, 102, Baal, 111
III Babylon, 8, 25, 36, 40, 114, 115, 305
Aleppo, 32, 45 Babylonia, 24, 31, 32, 34, 113
Amalekites, 43, 150, 305 Babylonian inscriptions, 162, 276
Amarna Age, 23, 52, 119 Bad‘, 61
Amarna letters, 26, 29, 48, 56, 58 Balih, 22, 34, 59
Amaziah, 151 Bashan, 117
Amenophis III, 31 Batna, 59
Ammia, 48 Bazu (Buz), 60
Ammon, 36, 190 Beersheba, 107, 111-12, 121, 140, 141,
Ammonites, 26-29, 150, 217, 220-22, 303 168, 184-86, 190, 191, 229-30
Amor, 50 Bela, 116
Amorites (Amurru), 20-26, 33-34, 36, Benjaminites, 15, 19, 22
43-45, 49, 50, 56, 106, 118, 178, 266, Bega Valley, 48
267, 304, 305, 307 Bera, 116
Amraphel, 113 Beth Ammon, 45. See Ammon
Anakim, 118 Bethel, 112, 117, 140, 141, 223
Apparu, 61 Bethuel, 77
Aqaba, Gulf of, 61 Bilhah, 69
Arabah, 62 Birsha, 116
Arabia, 15, 17, 25, 32, 34, 36, 37, 310 Birth announcement, 261
Arabs, 20, 28, 35-37, 60-64, 121, 201, Birth of Isaac, 192, 202-08, 224, 227, 248,
266, 291, 305, 310 270, 311
 INDEXES 329
Birth of Ishmael, 192-96 Damascus, 31, 46, 48, 255
Bishri, Mount, 20 David, 54, 99, 119, 150-52, 253, 274,
Bit-Adini, 24, 32 300n, 306, 307
Bit-Agushi, 32 Davidic-Solomonic period/empire,
Bit-Amukani, 31 150-51, 252, 266, 271, 275, 306, 307
Bit-Bahiani, 32 Dead Sea, 113, 116, 117, 220
Bit-Dakkuri, 31 Decalogue, 264
Bit-Jakin, 31 Dedan, 61
Bit-Rehob, 31 Democratization: of royal forms, 289
Blessing: of nations, 187, 293; by God of Demythologizing the sacred, 238
patriarchs, 188, 189, 272-76, 283; Deutero-Isaiah, 201, 264, 266-69, 275,
promise of, 188, 237, 239, 247, 273, 276, 278, 311
283; of land, 272; of fertility, 273; and Deuteronomic corpus/redactor (Dtr), 125,
obedience, 273-74; and cursing, 274; 129-31, 143, 182,238, 230, 250, 253,
and king, 274; of Ishmael, 285, 291; 260, 265, 266, 273, 277, 303, 304
as doxology, 302n Deuteronomy (D), 201, 239, 259, 264,
Blind motive, 163, 180, 183, 188 272-75, 277, 278, 289-90, 303, 304, 311
Bogazkoi, 8 Dialogue documents, 97-100, 294
Burial of Sarah, 279, 293-95, 311 Diaspora, 293, 295
Byblos, 45, 48, 106 Dibon, 27
Didactic story, 246
Cambyses, 36 Dimensions: of the land, 265f
Camels, 13, 15, 16, 17, 20, 35, 38, 310 Discursive style, 133, 242-44
Canaan/Canaanites, 32, 43, 45, 46-51, Divine guidance, 241, 243, 246, 248
150, 151, 169, 178, 221, 223, 228, 243, Divine names. See Source Analysis
244, 264, 277, 288, 307 Divine providence, 237-38, 246
Canaanite historical records, 300n Diyala River, 30
Carchemish, 45 Documentary hypothesis, 125, 177
Chaldeans, 23, 25, 26, 31, 32, 38, 59-60, Doublets (variants), 126-28, 133, 134,
264 162-67, 169-202, 170, 249, 250, 280,
Chedorlaomer, 113, 305, 306 284, 311
Chesed, 59 Dumah, 64. See Adumu
Childless wives, 68-70 Dynastic oracle, 253
Chronicler, 62, 64, 264n, 305 Dynastic promise, 256
Circumcision. See Covenant
Compositional variants, 162-64, 183. Eastern Delta, 266
See also Doublets Edom/Edomites, 27, 28, 35, 37, 45, 52>
Covenant: making of, 100-03, 191; treaty 62, 88, 118, 150, 151, 295
model, 143, 268; Abrahamic, 151-52, Edom: settlement of, 26-29
154; Davidic, 151-52, 153; of Egypt/Egyptian, 21-23, 25-27, 29, 31,
circumcision (P), 166, 279-93; with 33, 35, 36, 105, 108, 146, 169, 172, 177,
Abimelech, 183-91; as oath, 186, 288; 182, 188, 189, 196, 200, 208, 224, 247,
of land (J), 249-69; Horeb-wilderness, 264-66, 311, 313
265; ‘‘new,” 265; breach of, 277; of Ekron,
45, 53
peace, 277; dynastic, 289-91; of grace, El, 111, 140, 147, 235n, 288, 306, 307
292 El] Arish, 266
Credo: confessional formula, 142, 143 El Elyon, 299, 306-08
Crete, 52 El Roi, 288
Cult legend, 142, 143, 229, 232, 234 El Shaddai, 283, 287, 288, 308n
Cyrus the Great, 36 El ‘Ula Oasis, 61
330 INDEXES
Elam / Elamites, 20, 113-16, 119, 305 Family stories /sagas, 134-37
Elamite empire, 305 Feast of Weeks, 143
Elda‘ah, 61 Feudal service (i/kum), 98-99
Election: of Isaac, 201; of Israel, 264-65; Fidelity: of oral transmission, 139
of Abraham, 265; of David, 274; in First-born: right of, 87-95
exodus, 289, 292 Focal concentration, 161, 170, 173n, 174,
Elephantine, 66, 74, 82, 84 176, 195f, 197, 236, 244
Eliezer, 244n, 255 Folklore. See Oral tradition
Elim numina, 139, 140, 147 Folklorists, 135, 158-59
Elisha, 205 Folktale, 158, 159, 167-71, 173, 175, 176,
Ellasar, 114 177, 180, 183, 234, 243
Elohist, 125-30, 149, 170, 173, 178, 183, Fulfillment: of promise, 205, 206; of
184n, 185, 191, 202, 204, 227, 230, 239, prophecy, 259
250, 269, 287, 311, 312, 313
Emim, 117, 303 Galilee: 42; Sea of, 48
Entertainment motive: for story, 168, 234 Gath, 53
Ephah, 61 Gaza, 36, 45, 48, 53, 266
Epher, 61 Gebal, 62
Ephraim, 92 Gehazi, 204
Ephron, 98—99 Geistesbeschaftigung of legend, 137-38
Epic laws (Olrik’s), 132, 133, 137, 138, Genealogy, 152, 153, 248, 293
160-61, 165, 168-74, 176, 195-98, 200, Genesis Apocryphon, 116
235-36, 243-44, 312 Gerar, 52, 54, 75, 107, 108, 115, 147,
Epidauros, 205 150, 165501755. 172, 17751795 L025, LO,
Eponyms, 39, 148 186, 188, 189
Esarhaddon, 45, 254 Geshur, 31
Esau, 37, 45, 88, 93, 95 Ghwafah, 61
Etiological motif, 185, 195, 207, 217-21, Gideon, 261
234 Gilead, 34
Etiology, 1-3, 132, 133, 148, 181n, 184, Gilgal, 143
185, 187, 190, 193, 195, 199, 207, Gindibu, 35
217-21, 229, 231-33, 236-37, 240, 294 God: of the Fathers, 139, 140, 141, 142,
Euphrates: 20, 32, 44, 46, 58; Upper, 22, 146, 147, 250, 269, 289; of Abraham,
25, 30, 31, 32, 34; Middle, 22, 31 140, 269; of Isaac, 140; of Jacob, 140;
Euripides, 233 of PN, 147
Example story, 245 Gods: traveling incognito, 203, 207,
Excommunication, 291 209-12, 213, 216. See also Heavenly
Execration texts, 21, 42, 108 visitors
Exile: of prophets, 256-57, 278, 292; Gomorrah, 105, 107, 116, 117, 210, 303.
community, 264-65, 267-68, 272 See also Sodom
Exilic period, 150, 214, 215, 243n, 247, Grant: of land, 225, 259. See also Land
254, 264-69, 272, 275-78, 290, 292, grant
310-11 Grave of the ancestors, 295
Exodus: tradition, 26, 143, 146, 147, 264, Greece, 29, 148
265, 266, 289, 292; typology, 266
Expulsion: of Hagar, 192-202; of non- Habur, 22, 34, 58
Israelites, 201 Hadad, 64, 151
Ezekiel, 214, 253, 256, 264, 265, 290n, Hagar /Hagrites: as ancestors of Arabs,
311 36, 60-64, 88; flight of, 68, 70, 154,
Ezra, 292, 308 165, 192-96, 224, 270, 285, 288, 311;
 INDEXES 33 I

Hagar/Hagrites (cont.) Hyksos, 22, 107, 108

expulsion of, 154, 155, 165, 196-202, Hyrieus, 207n
238; and Sarah, 192-202, 208
Hagaranu, 62f Ibadidi, 61
Haiappa, 61 Iceland, 136
Hamath, 21, 31, 45, 46, 51 Icelandic sagas, 134-37, 145, 162, 163n
Hammurapi: 113; law code of, 67, 69, 78, Idea-criticism, 138, 142
Idiba°ili, 63
89, 94; 95
Hamor, 51 Idrimi, 48, 56, 57
Hanakiya, 61 Imageless cult, 258
Haneans, 22 Images, 258
Hanoch, 61 Inheritance of land: Israel’s; 200, 201,
268, 269
Hapiru/ ‘apiru, 26-29, 55-58
Inheritance rights, 78, 80-82, 86, 87, 197,
Haram el Halil, 295
Haran, 225, 226 248, 255, 257
Iphigenia, 233
Haremhab, 27
Iron Age, 105, 111, 141
Harran, 16, 23-26, 33, 34, 37; 38, 58, 59, Irridi, 102
121, 225, 310
Isaac: parallel to Abraham, 3, 191; and
Hasmoneans, 308
nomadism, 19; as eponym, 39; treaty
Hatti. See Hittites
with Abimelech, 54, 187-91; death-bed
Hattusas, 8
blessing of, 94-95; birth of, 155, 165,
Hazazon, 43
202-08, 224, 263, 270, 281, 311; at
Hazo/Hazu, 60
Gerar, 155, 176-83; theophany to, 168,
Hazor, 44, 48
180-82, 1g0f; election of, 201, 289;
Healing narratives, 204, 284
sacrifice (binding) of, 227-40
Heavenly visitors, 209-12, 247
Isaiah, 152
Hebrews: etymology, 54; used of
Ishbak, 61
Abraham, 54, 298, 305; relation to
Ishmael: as ancestor of Arabs, 36-37,
Hapiru, 57-58 62-63; birth of, 155, 192-96, 270;
Hebron /Mamre, 43, 45, 54, 98-99, 107, expulsion of, 196-202; promise to, 238,
108, 112, 117, 140, 151, 204, 207,
283, 285, 288; in P tradition, 281-86,
293-95, 303, 304, 305 288, 291
Hejaz, 25, 35, 61
Ishmaelites, 18, 28, 36, 37, 62-63, 64,
Hellenistic period, 305, 308
121, 195n, 199
Hero legends (Heldensagen), 135, 304, 305
Ishtar, 102
Herod the Great, 295
Itureans, 62, 64
Heth, 45, 51. See also Hittites
Hexateuch, 142, 143 J. See Yahwist
Hinzuri, 72 Jabbok River, 117, 303
Hiram, 41 Jacob, 3, 16, 29, 33, 34, 38, 39, 68, 70,
Historical narratives, 158-59 78-84, 88, 92-98, 139, 140, 146, 147,
Historiographic use: of etiology, 220 277n, 283, 287
Hittites (Hatti), 23, 31, 32, 43, 45-46, 50, Jebusite dynasty, 306
g8-100, 113-15, 118, 293-94 Jeremiah, 253, 262, 264, 265, 290n, 311
Hivites, 43, 51, 111 Jericho, 222
Holiness Code, 257, 264, 292 Jerusalem, 108, 119, 153, 238, 300, 306,
Horeb, 274, 292. See also Sinai 308
Horites, 51-52, 118 Jesse, 152
Hurrians: 51-52; customs of, 71-72, 74 Jether. See Itureans
Huru: land of, 27, 48, 50, 52 Jethro, 302n
332 INDEXES

Jews, 269, 295 Literary device/technique, 177, 185, 187,

Jokshan, 61 190
Joktan, 61 Literary histories (Samuel-Kings,
Jonah, 271n, 305 Chronicles), 144
Joram, 151 Lot: 42, 113, 117, 170, 190, 247, 276,
Jordan, 221-23 297-303, 307n, 313; wife of, 217-19;
Joseph, 16, 54, 68 daughters of, 219;
Joshua: Book of, 125, 148, 171n separation from Abraham, 221-26
Judges, 141, 145 Lot-Sodom story, 165, 208, 209-21, 259
Lulahhu, 57
Kadesh, 118
Maacah (Ma‘akah), 31, 60
Kadmonites, 260, 266
Maccabees /Maccabean, 308
Kedar/Kedarites (Qidri), 36, 63, 64
Machpelah, 98, 293, 295
Kedemah, 64
Mamre. See Hebron
Kenites, 64
Manasseh, 92
Kenizzites, 260, 266
Manoah, 261
Kerygmatic framework. See Thematic
Marduk, 25
framework
Mari, 7, 8, 10, 14, 15, 17-18, 19, 22, 23,
Keturah, 60, 88
24, 44, 56, 59, 90, 91, 92, 108, 111, 114
Kikkar of Jordan, 303
Marriage: Assyro-Babylonian, 69-70, 73,
King’s Highway, 25, 34
83, 91; Nuzi, 69, 72-74; Hurrian, 71;
Kiriath-arba, 293. See also Hebron
Egyptian, 75-76; errebu, 78-79, 85;
Kumidi, 48
purchase-marriage, 83-84; to half-sister,
174
Laban, 33, 34, 42, 77, 78-84, 95-98, 139, Massa (Masai), 63
243 Mati‘ilu, 101
Labyu, 27
Megiddo, 109
Lahai-roi, 193
Melchisedek, 299, 301, 302, 306-08
Lament, 260. See also Prayer
Merits of the fathers, 273f
Land grant: legal form of, 276, 283, 289
Merneptah, 27
Land promise. See Promises
Mesopotamia, 243, 259, 2770, 307
Land purchase, 289
Mibsam, 64
Late Bronze (LB), 29, 105, 210
Middle Bronze Age, 9, 21, 104-12, 309
Laws: Assyrian, 77, 78, 82-83, 89. See
Midian, 37, 60, 61, 302n
also Epic laws; Hammurapi: law code
Milcah, 42, 59
of; Lipit-Ishtar; Social customs
Military campaign report, 299-301, 303
Leah, 42, 69
Mishma, 64
Lebo-Hamath, 46, 51
Mitanni, 52
Legend (‘‘saga,” Sage), 131-37, 142, 144,
Mixture: of forms, 232
145, 155, 159, 180, 185, 199, 262, 263
Moab/ Moabites, 26-29, 36, 45, 62, 64,
Legitimation: of the monarchy, 271, 289,
118, 150, 190, 217, 220-22, 303
306
Moreh, 224
Levi, 89
Moriah, 235n
Lipit-Ishtar: law code of, 89
Mosaic-Sinai tradition, 139
Literary compositional variants, 183, 197
Moses, 139, 261, 262, 288, 295n
Literary conflation, 183, 190
Literary criticism: of the Pentateuch, Nabaioth (Nabatu/Nabaitu), 63
125-30, 134, 154, 166, 167, 176, 183, Nabal, 18
192, 200, 311, 313. See also Source Nabataean: inscriptions, 140, 141;
analysis religion, 142
 INDEXES 333
Nabataeans, 36, 63 P. See Priestly writer/ code
Nabonidus, 24-25, 34, 35, 36, 38, 264 Paddan-Aram, 33, 58
Naharaim, 33, 59 Palestine, 177, 221, 222, 224, 238, 277,
Nahor/Nahuru, 33, 59
294, 300, 306, 307n
Nahrima (Nhrn), 58, 59 Palmyrene Oasis, 20
Name change: for Abraham and Sarah, Panels: as compositional structure, 282
283, 286 Patriarchal age: dating of, 1-3, 7-13,
Names: Amorite, 39; of Patriarchs, 39-40; as earliest period of Israelite
40-42; of peoples and places, 43-64 history, 9, 252; as idealistic, 11; as
Naphish, 64 nomadic, 13, 228
Narrative structure, 170 Patriarchal religion. See God of the Fathers
Nathan, 253 Pentateuch, 125, 127, 128, 142-44, 164,
National tradition, 153 270, 297. See also Literary criticism
Nebuchadrezzar, 36, 53 Pentateuchal tradition: history of,
Negeb, 37, 62, 105, 106, 107, 117, 121, 125-28, 143-44, 149, 164; themes of,
170, 223, 310, 313 127-28, 143-46, 147, 149
Neo-Babylonian period: 264, 2€6, 294, Penuel, 140, 283
310; empire, 266, 275 Perizzites, 43
Neo-Hittites, 32, 45 Perpetual covenant (brit ‘dlam), 286, 289
Nephilim, 118 Persia, 305
Nile, 22 Persian Gulf, 32, 113
Nimrud, 70 Persian period, 294, 305, 307, 308
Nomads /nomadism: and Israelite origins, Persian sources, 307
9, 228; camel-, 13; definition of, 13-14; Pharaoh, 173, 174, 180, 188, 247
in MB I, 13-14, 106; donkey-, 13, Philemon and Baucis, 207n
85-94; characteristics of, 14-16, 38; Philistia, Philistines, 19, 43, 48, 52-54,
and tents, 14, 19, 20, 38; in patriarchal 121, 150, 177-79, 187-91, 266
traditions, 16-19, 37-38, 105, 146, 266, Phoenicia, Phoenicians, 32, 44, 48, 49,
305, 309; migrations, 19; and 76, 266
agriculture, 19, 187 Pillar-of-salt motif, 217-19
Norway, 136 Plain of Siddim, 303
Nuzi, 7, 8, 10, 56, 66-74, 86, 89, go-94 Post-exilic period, 164, 293-95
Post-exilic priesthood, 308n
Oath: in covenant making, 100-03, 283, Prayer: of lament/complaint, 254-56,
289 268; for a sign, 260
‘Ofr, 61 Pre-deuteronomic source, 130
Omen, 258, 260 Prediction: of childbirth, 205-06
Oral tradition/ folklore: nature and Pre-literary stage: of the traditions, 134,
characteristics of, 1-2, 145, 153n, 144, 14.7, 307-10, 312. See also Oral
158-64, 233-35, 252, 300, 312; and tradition
legends, 131-36, 138, 229; and etiology, Priestesses, 69-70
132-33, 187; transmission of, 134, Priestly torah, 286
139, 148, 161-62, 164, 233, 294; and Priestly writer /code (P): nature of,
pre-literary form of the Pentateuch, 125-26, 129-30, 311; in Abraham
142-48, 242; reliability of, 159; and traditions, 193-94, 223-25, 279-95,
doublets, 165-79, 183, 311; and 313; relationship to other sources, 194n,
tradition-history, 231-37, 242-45, 206, 282-91; terminology of, 257, 280,
309-12. See also Epic laws 304, 308n; plurality of sources in, 280,
Orontes, 21, 46 282; as programmatic work, 292;
Ovid, 207n syncretism in, 307
334 INDEXES
Promises: to become a great nation, 18; Saga, Sage. See Legend
of land, 100, 146, 151, 182, 223, 241, Salvation oracle (Heilsorakel), 254-56,
242, 249, 257, 261, 263-65, 266, 269, 267-68
270-77, 281-83, 288, 289, 294; to the Samhuna, 42
fathers, patriarchs, 143, 146, 152, 166, Samsi (Arab Queen), 37
238, 239, 248, 269-78, 311; of numer- Samsimuruna, 45
ous progeny, 146, 151, 249, 256, 268, Sarah/Sarai: name of, 42, 283, 286; and
269, 272-76, 280-82, 286, 288; of Hagar, 68, 70, 88, 192-202, 224; in
prosperity, 182; fulfilled in Isaac, 188; wife-sister motif, 75; burial of, 98, 166,
to Isaac, 199; to Ishmael, 199, 238; 279, 293-95; and Abraham, 169-75,
ofa son, offspring, heir, 203, 225, 249, 178, 179, 180, 185, 188; and birth of
256, 257, 261, 270, 280-84, 286; of Isaac, 202-08, 284; with heavenly
restoration, 267; and obedience, 288; visitors, 211; death of, 244; as ances-
to be Israel’s God, 288-90; of blessing. tress, 275f
see Blessing Sarugi, 59
Prophetic oracle, 194 Saul, 54, 62
Prophetic reception: of revelation, 253 Scene-within-a-scene, 259
Prophetic visionary reports, 256 Scenic dualism, 160, 195, 198
Proselytism, 293 Sea-Peoples, 28, 31, 53
Proto-Arameans, 33n Sefire I, 103
Proverbs: Book of, 246 Seir, 27
Post-exilic period, 164, 293-95 Self-predication formula, 254, 260, 262,
264, 287
Qarqar, 35 Semi-nomads, semi-nomadism, 13-14,
Qatna, 44 106, 188, 229
Qidri. See Kedar
Semitic migrations, 20
Quasi-historical reporting, 305
Sennacherib, 16-17, 33n, 45, 63
Rachel, 42, 68, 93 Serug, 59
Ramesses II, 27, 28, 48 Seti I, 27
Ramesses III, 27, 53 Shalmanezer III, 31, 35
Ras Shamra/ Ugarit, 8, 30, 41, 55, 56, 76 a Sharkalisharri, 20
86, 106 Sheba, 61
Rebekah: name of, 42; marriage to Shechem, 29, 51, 107, 108, 109-12, 140,
Isaac, 77, 134, 240-48; in Abimelech’s 223, 224
court, 155, 176-79, 181 Shemeber, 116
Reed Sea, 143 Shiloh, 101
Rehoboth, 190 Shinab, 116
Religious syncretism, 287-88, 306-08 Shinar, 113
Repetition: literary use of, 156, 285, 286, Shishak, 41
293, 298, 312 Shosu (ssw), 27, 57
Rephaim, 117, 303 Shuah, 61
Restoration period, 278, 290, 292 Sidon, 45, 51
Reuben, 88, 89, 92 Simeon, 64, 88, 89
Reumah, 60 Sin (god), 24, 25
Re°u/ Ru°ua, 59 Sinai, 36, 139, 143, 258, 262
Sinai covenant, 291-92
Sacrifice: and covenant, 101-03; of Skeletal outline, 198
Isaac (“‘binding’’), 227-40; archaco- Slave/slavery, 18-19, 69-70
logical-historical approach, 227-29, Sobah, 31
2373 traditio-historical approach, Social customs: parallels in second
227-29, 237 millennium, 7-10, 65-67, 251; parallels
 INDEXES 335
Social customs (cont.) Tidal / Tudhalia’, 113-14, 116
in first millennium, 10, 66-67; Tiglath-Pileser I, 30, 31
marriage, 68-85, 89, 93, 94; adoption, Tiglath-Pileser III, 25n, 31, 35
69-74, 78-91; inheritance, 78, 80-82, Tigris, 30, 56
86, 87; right of first-born, 87-95; Til Nahiri, 59. See also Nahor
herding contracts, 95-98; land Til Turahi, 59
purchase, 98-100; covenant-making, Tradents, 158
100-03 Tradition-history, 131, 134, 139-48, 149,
Sodom/Gommorrah, 105, 107, 112, 116, 152, 167, 168, 173n, 195, 203, 209, 215,
208-26, 298, 299, 302, 303 Q17N, 222, 226, 235, 250-52, 260, 270,
Solomon, 111, 117, 150, 151 310, 312
Source analysis/ criticism: division and Transjordan /Transjordanian peoples, 221,
identification, 125-31, 154-57, 165-66, 226, 303, 307
183-84, 191, 202, 229-31, 240-42, 250, Transmission variants, 161-62, 164
261n, 270, 280, 312; use of divine Treaty, 187. See Covenant
names in, 125, 129, 156, 283, 284n, Triad, 160, 195, 244
287, 288, 304; conflation of sources, Tyre, 45
155; relationship of sources to each
other, 157, 171-75, 186, 282-91 Ugarit. See Ras Shamra
Stability: of introduction and conclusion, Umman Manda, 113
160, 172, 176, 200 Upi, 48
Stages of revelation, 287, 288 Ur, 8, 16, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 30, 34, 38,
Story-telling, 169-70, 174-75, 182, 183, 59, 121
196, 243 Uz, 60
Structural analysis: method of, 157, 157n,
Variants, 161-64, 167, 170, 240, 250.
165, 312; in Abrahamic traditions,
See also Doublets
168-69, 175, 192-93, 207, 238-39, 252;
Vaticinium ex eventu, 259
260-61, 282, 286f, 296, 302-03
Veneration of patriarchs, 295
Suhu, 61
Sumu°il, 63. See also Ishmaelites Yahwist (J): source of Pentateuch,
Sutu, 30, 57 125-30; themes in, 146, 182, 189, 194,
Synoptic Gospels, 162 200, 201, 202, 230, 239, 245-46, 270n,
271, 277, 287-88, 292, 293, 307; dating
Table of Nations, 43, 51 of, 148-53, 292; as redactor, 170, 176;
Tamar, 43 in traditions of Abraham, 183, 186,
Tanis, 109 190, II, 204, 223-25, 227, 230, 250,
Taylor prism, 33n 276n, 284-85, 303, 311-13; relation to
Tebah, 60 P, 281-83
Teima/Tema, 25, 36, 63, 64 Yamhad, 102
Tell ed Deb‘a, 22 Yarimlim, 102
Terah, 59, 225 Yasbuq, 61
Teraphim, 93, 95
Tetrateuch, 125, 143, 148 Zamzumim/Zuzim, 118, 303
Thamud, 61 Zeboiim, 117, 303
Thematic framework, 142, 146, 166, 182, Ziba, 87
183, 189, 242, 246, 271, 276 Zikipa, 72
Theophany: to Abimelech, 173-74; to Zilpah, 69
Isaac, 176, 181-82, 190-91; to Hagar, Zion, 238
194, 198, 200; to Abraham, 198, 200, Zoan, 109
204, 207, 224, 238, 261-63, 282; to Zoar, 116, 117, 215, 217, 218, 220, 222n,
servant, 247. See also Heavenly visitors 297; 303
re 2.)

a ¥ - Be hamactea
, d aTae
ri ¢

wee ie Oi BAS onan

voemiaatlais RRL Og
cameenltoy
8ia
vihi 108
ed
4 a iti Piece
sas,
im,

eases Sie oe
FIR SS ry ame oe an
} ett ee. eh ee
ee wes -'
is ri Bi. ; wet E Fa They ‘Mee ant a6 ais oe: i
cae $235 Ae ems a ok
= ae = ade amis expo agar Tees
act at ' 4 A: Sh egt ie cael. oak, a wed See A
© wt 4
-4 area
y .
c mete, BR CASS yolk ee hee of eetoses lo OA
38 (BES ae, ie Mis Ce
ne Hh Fig: oe See a cad <A bast
i er : He3 't aed!

a oe ed
: aed J
Pd 7 keke aes eae Oar

’ ite 2 eI aA, EP eee iy ;

ae at ee Oe aedoe eS a ee eo
tr ce , * -
' tase Nit ia
;
eS = Et

$ Bi gens ery (4ige y Tae

FL;
» sha
- * Siena e
—*
i
Py a iy; =
~~ pid, pmreesa A Se

(
: : om ee? ay = . 4 —~ io

c Det ae ve vate Ae

y pe : cas
; Ri Bo Po ae ek ee eae
tie ee wt eres

4g

Pig)
"
Pih.a ea
*
KXING’S COLLEGE LONDON LIBRARY
 Religion

Abraham in History and Tradition

John Van Seters is

“The author has undertaken an objective evaluation of the more serious |

scholarly attempts at reconstructing the early patriarchal period during me
the past half century of archaeologically oriented research. . . . He pre-
sents a wealth of extra-biblical material, in conjunction with the bibli-
cal, to determine how much of the data dealing with Abraham (and in
part with Isaac) are historical and how the data in general are to be
handled. . . . The study provides a badly needed whiff of fresh air in
a period whose scholarly atmosphere has become stale. Three useful
indexes. . . . bring this stimulating volume to a close.” —Harry
Orlinsky, JWB Curcle
“An important work which cannot be ignored.” —Journal ofBiblical
Literature
“Old Testament scholars have learned to expect critical precision and
provocative insight from the pen of John Van Seters. His book on the
Abraham traditions meets those expectations in detail not previously
available in print and thus must be welcomed by all involved in Penta-
teuchal research.” —George W. Coats, Interpretation
“This book is the mature product of many years of research. The author
displays a remarkable mastery of Pentateuchal research of the past
hundred years both in America and in Europe, both in the history of
the Ancient Near East and in the literary study of the Biblical text.”
—Biblica
“[Van Seters’s} book is serious, well organized, very often cogent, and a
challenge well worth taking up.” —A. Cody, 0.s.B., Catholic Biblical
Quarterly
JOHN VAN SETERS, James A. Gray Professor of Biblical Literature at the
University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, is also the In Search he
ofHistory: Historiography in the Ancient World and the Or blical >
History. ;

YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS

New Haven and London

. Ss
-—TSBNO-300-04040-7——