It is not too difficult to be biblical if you don’t care about being relevant; it is not difficult to be relevant if you don’t care about being biblical. But if you want to be both biblical and relevant in your teaching, it is a very difficult task indeed.
Howard Hendricks
Methodology
IF A READER has no idea why an author is writing or what that author is trying to accomplish, there is little hope that effective communication will take place. The author of Genesis has made choices. He had to select what information to include. He had to decide how to communicate that information effectively to his audience and how to provide it with the emphasis that would serve his purposes. He had to guide his literary art with discretion so that it would contribute productively to his purpose.
Our belief in inspiration suggests that God’s hand was behind all of these choices. We are not content to consider the book of Genesis as simply the work of a human author. Yet it is the assumption of this commentary that God’s purpose is carried out through the human author’s purpose. As a result, that author should be considered the link to the authoritative Word of God. We understand God’s inspired message when we understand the human author’s message. God’s communication is to Israel through the author of Genesis, but we believe that the book constitutes a part of God’s revelation of himself, so its vitality remains undiminished for us today. Though that message transcends culture, the form it was given in is, to some extent, culture-bound. The task before us as interpreters is to try to dissipate the culturally induced fog so that we can establish a strong authority link to God’s revelation through the communication of that revelation by his chosen spokesman. The anticipated result is that we will be able to interpret the details of the text in relation to the author’s purpose rather than tailoring our interpretation to whatever modern debates have captured our attention.2
The problem of the greatest magnitude is that we cannot cross-examine the author or even begin to “get inside his head.” None of us is immune to the syndrome of hearing what we want to hear. We are all inclined to superimpose our culture and our expectations on a text. In the case of a biblical text, the problem becomes acute because we also tend to superimpose our theology on a text and even excuse that imposition by attributing the meaning we want to derive from it to the divine author if we do not find it on the human level. This is problematic if we lack a methodology to establish independently what the divine author intended. If God had a message that he did not give through the human author, where did he give it?
Usual answers to this question identify the source of additional authoritative insight as coming from other sections of the canon, from the community that we identify as the church, or through personal insight granted by the Holy Spirit. To address these in the detail they deserve would take us too far afield and transform this commentary into a hermeneutics book. Here it can only be said that the method followed in this commentary will be to attribute determinative meaning and authority to the purpose of the author as well as it can be discerned. We will assume a level of integrity to the communication that transpired between the author and his audience—that is, that he was intentionally communicating something meaningful and that he had every reason to expect his audience would understand what he meant. We will assume that although there may be more truth than the author knew, the truth he did know and communicate was authoritative and inspired.
It is therefore the human author’s communication that will be our target as we seek out God’s Word. At times we will be able to identify other layers of meaning that transcend the human author, but it is the initial context that serves as the foundation for any other layers. This foundational layer is the most ignored, the most difficult to penetrate, and the most important, so it will be our primary focus.
Though we cannot reconstruct all that may have been going on in the author’s mind, we can try our best to take our place among those in his audience, assume that he communicated to his audience successfully, and benefit from that communication in the way that anyone in his audience would have. This process includes two parts: the way he says what he says (literary analysis), and the way we hear what we hear (cultural adaptation).
WE ASSUME THAT a biblical author, including the author of Genesis,3 is not simply pasting together a jumbled combination of unrelated sources or random thoughts. Rather, he is writing intelligently with a purpose, and each narrative and each segment of text (whatever the genre) is intentionally chosen to contribute in some way to that purpose. Some interpreters may identify several overlapping purposes or a main purpose with subpurposes, but the point remains that literary integrity is to be assumed for the book and therefore that the parts each contribute to the whole. The logic of this literary intentionality may not be the logic we would use or easily recognize, but it is the interpreter’s duty to try to identify the structures and devices, whether conscious or subconscious, employed by the author.
This literary analysis needs to take place at every level of the text, from discourse analysis down through syntactical, grammatical, and lexical analysis. As a result, we might ask why the narrator in Genesis 37 chose to include the detail of Joseph getting lost and asking for directions. Or we might inquire as to why the Joseph narrative is interrupted by the Judah and Tamar story (Gen. 38). These are matters for literary analysis to decide.
Cultural Adaptation
THERE IS A POPULAR board game called Taboo. Each card contains a word that one person on the team has to get the other members of the team to say. The catch is that the card also lists five other words that may not be used in the attempt. Invariably, and by design, these five words are the ones that would most easily lead to the mystery word. Over years of experience, the results of games have demonstrated what anyone could predict with a little thought: The more shared experiences a team has, the more successful they will be. Thus, if the word were “key,” a husband/wife team might hit the word immediately by saying “what you misplaced this morning,” whereas people who don’t know each other so well might take longer to find the information that will lead to the right answer. This illustrates how important shared knowledge is to communication.
When I first began teaching in the early 1980s, I could refer in passing to “the incident at Kent State” and feel assured that my students would know what I was talking about. By the 1990s that was no longer the case. As another example, I can still make reference to the “Berlin Wall” or to the “Iron Curtain” and assume my students need no further explanation. Within a decade, however, that will no longer be true. Effective communication requires a body of agreed upon words, terms, and ideas. Moreover, when that common core of understanding exists, the author need not bother to explain himself or herself to the understanding audience against the chance that an uninformed person might be listening in.
This is illustrated in the traffic reports that are given in Chicago every ten minutes. Since I am a regular commuter, the traffic reports that offer times of travel from various points and stretches where one might encounter congestion are meaningful to me. When it is reported that it is a thirty-six-minute trip from “the cave to the junction” and that it is congested from “the slip to the Nagle curve,” I know exactly what to expect. When out-of-town guests visit, however, this information only confuses them. They do not know what “the slip” or “the cave” is (nor can they find them on a map); they don’t know how far these places are from one another, and they don’t know that on a good day one can go from the cave to the junction in about eight minutes. If the traffic reporter made the report understandable to the out-of-town visitor, it would be too tiring to be of any use to the regular commuter it seeks to serve.
Since communication requires a common ground of understanding, both speaker and audience must do what they can to enter that common ground. For the speaker this often requires accommodation to the audience. Unlike Humpty-Dumpty in Alice in Wonderland, we cannot make words mean whatever we want them to. Language itself is a cultural convention, and since God chose to use language to communicate, he also bound himself to a culture. This condescension, by definition, required accommodation.
For the audience, by contrast, reaching this common ground may require seeking out additional information or explanation. If someone outside of the language/culture matrix wanted to take advantage of what was communicated within the culture/language matrix, adaptation would be required. For example, twice every year in most of the United States we encounter the phenomenon known as “daylight saving time.” If someone from another culture came to the U.S. and heard the phrase “daylight saving time,” no amount of lexical study would alert them to what it referred to. They would need a quick lesson in cultural adaptation. As another example, one October we had a German exchange student staying in our home. All of the Halloween decorations around the neighborhood were quite befuddling to him, and it took some time to try to explain Halloween to him.
These are issues that go beyond language to culture. In the same way, if we are going to understand communication that took place between members of Israelite culture, we are going to have to adapt to some of the communication elements that were part of the culture and worldview of ancient Israel. The Bible has plenty of “Iron Curtain,” “daylight saving time,” and “Halloween” type examples that they do not explain and we do not intuitively understand. The dangers are summarized nicely by Clark Pinnock:
A strong emphasis on the divine inspiration of the text naturally tends to overshadow the obligation to read the Bible in its own human and historical setting in order to grasp its truth. It encourages readers to seek the pure divine message to themselves here and now and to assume they will grasp its meaning best by reading the text in the most “natural” way, which means, in a way congenial to the assumptions of the reader, maximizing the danger of text manipulation.4
The danger, then, is that we may unconsciously impose our ideas, culture, or worldview on the text. Likewise, we cannot become frustrated and annoyed that it takes some work to interpret the text. How often I have heard the response, “Oh, so only you experts can read the Bible, now? I would think that if God wanted me to know who he was, he wouldn’t make it so difficult!” That is like a missionary saying, “If God wants me to reach this people group, he will help them all learn English.” Successful interpreters must try to understand the cultural background of the ancient Near East just as successful missionaries must learn the culture, language, and worldview of the people they are trying to reach.
A major part of this adaptation comes through awareness of how our values may differ from the values others hold. Sociologists have developed models by which we can assess value orientation. Consider the following example from Kluckhohn and Strodtbeck as adapted by R. Simkins:
At one time a man had a large flock of sheep and goats, but eventually most of them died in different ways. Which response to this situation do you prefer?
A. You just can’t blame a man when things like this happen. There are just so many things that can and do happen, and a man can do almost nothing to prevent such losses when they come. We all have to learn to take the bad with the good.
B. The sheep and goats died because the man had not lived his life right—had not done things in the right way to keep harmony between himself and the forces of nature (i.e., the ways of nature like the rain, winds, snow, etc.).
C. It was probably the man’s own fault that he lost so much of his flock. He probably did not use his head to prevent the losses. It is usually the case that people who keep up on new ways of doing things, and really set themselves to it, almost always find a way to keep out of such trouble.5
In the ancient world, people would have answered in accordance with one of the first two categories. The dominant way of thinking in the modern Western world is represented in option C. This contemporary Western value orientation results in a worldview characterized by the following assumptions:
1. People are fundamentally different from all other creatures on earth, over which they have dominion.
2. People are masters of their destiny; they can choose their goals and learn to do whatever is necessary to achieve them.
3. The world is vast, and thus provides unlimited opportunities for humans.
4. The history of humanity is one of progress; for every problem there is a solution, and thus progress need never cease.6
These are aspects of our worldview that we may need to set aside in part or in whole when reading Genesis, because they were not part of Israel’s worldview. But after we identify some of the elements of our worldview and set them aside, how do we find out what Israel’s worldview was? No document exists that delineates Israel’s worldview because Israel was what sociologists call a “high context society”; that is, their society was characterized by a rich common culture that was assumed by all members of the society and that defined their identity. In contrast, a “low context culture” contains a mixture of people from all different backgrounds and ethnic identities, thus requiring a more visible articulation of worldview and values.7 Simkins draws out the significance of this distinction for reading and understanding text:
The Bible was produced by a high context society for high context readers. It assumes a rich culture that the biblical writers felt no need to describe. It is not surprising, then, that the Bible lacks any explicit articulation of the Israelites’ worldview and values toward the natural world. Their worldview and values were simply assumed by all members of the society; they formed the presupposition of the biblical writers rather than the subject of their discourse. Consequently, we cannot expect to discover their worldview and values from a low context reading of the biblical texts.
If we hope to glean their unexpressed worldview and values from the biblical texts, then we must become acquainted with the ancient Israelite culture that is assumed by the texts. In other words, we must read the Bible from the high context perspective in which it was written.8
This goal can be achieved through the use of comparative studies. Comparative studies examine the literature and archaeology of the ancient Near East in order to reconstruct from them the behavior, beliefs, culture, values, and worldview of the people.
Comparative Studies
COMPARATIVE STUDIES GIVE us the tools to make the cultural adaptation. Familiarity with the literature of the ancient Near East helps us to become informed about ancient culture and worldview. There are ways of thinking of which we are hardly even aware that distinguish us from the ancient world. John Pilch provided a very helpful list identifying some of the important differences:9
When we use the literature of the ancient Near East in comparison with the Bible, we are not trying to identify or suggest a literary trail or relationship. Rather, we are trying to recover the ancient worldview. By catching a glimpse of how they thought about themselves and their world, we sometimes discover ways that the Israelites would have thought that are totally different from how we think. Since most readers have little familiarity with the literature of the ancient Near East, the following paragraphs will attempt to offer a general introduction to the types of literature, the pieces of literature, and the kinds of information they provide.
Mythology
THIS IS THE MOST troubling category for those who take the Bible seriously. We get a little defensive if anyone compares Genesis to mythology. We think of mythology as make-believe stories of Greek and Roman gods acting in ways that are undignified, perverse, selfish, or even ridiculous. Comparison of the Bible to these pagan fairy tales strikes us as a diabolical distortion of Holy Writ—a paradox of highest proportion. To find any fruitful comparison, however, we must get beyond the superficial level of the content of mythology to its function in culture.
Mythology in the ancient world was like science in our modern world—it was their explanation of how the world came into being and how it worked. The gods had purposes, and their activities were the causes of what humans experienced as effects. In contrast, our modern scientific approach attempts to understand cause and effect based on natural laws.
Mythology is thus a window to culture. It reflects the worldview and values of the culture that forged it. For ancient Israelite culture, many of the writings we find in the Old Testament performed the same function as mythology did in other cultures—it gave the Israelites a literary mechanism for preserving and transmitting their worldview and values. When we read the mythology of the ancient Near East, we discover how these ancient peoples thought about themselves, their world, and their gods. When we read Genesis, we see how Israelites thought about themselves, their world, and their God. Whether the Israelite views were the same as their neighbors, as they sometimes were, or diametrically opposed, there is value in the comparison.
The mythological literature of the ancient Near East is relevant to all of Genesis because it provides an understanding of how people thought about deity in the ancient world. It is more specifically relevant to Genesis 1–11 because the narratives in those chapters have parallels in the mythology of the ancient Near East. We will refer to many mythological texts in the pages of this commentary, but four deserve particular attention in this introduction.10
1. The Tale of Adapa. The main character is Adapa, a priest of Ea—the patron god of Eridu (near the Persian Gulf). Adapa is known in Mesopotamian history as the first of seven antediluvian sages who brought the skills of civilization to humanity. When the south wind tips over his boat, he responds (apparently by means of an incantation) by “breaking the wing” of the south wind. For this act he is summoned before the god of the heavens, Anu. Ea instructs Adapa not to eat food there and tells him how to appease Anu. Adapa does as instructed but is later informed that the food was “food of life.” Adapa, by his refusal, loses his opportunity to gain immortality.
2. The Atrahasis Epic. The lower deities become tired of their work and rebel. Their solution is to create the human race to do the work. As people proliferate, their noise (probably including both violence and pleas to the gods) becomes overwhelming. The population is reduced by plague, famine, and drought, but the problem remains unresolved. Finally a flood is sent. Atrahasis, king of Shuruppak, is told of the coming destruction and builds a boat in which animals and birds are saved. It is assumed that other people were saved as well, but breaks in the text obscure the details.
3. The Gilgamesh Epic. This epic is composed of twelve tablets documenting Gilgamesh’s search for immortality. The tale begins by describing the greatness of King Gilgamesh as well as the burden he is to his people in the town of Uruk. The gods respond to the complaints of the people by creating Enkidu to distract Gilgamesh from his oppressive ways. The initial encounter between Gilgamesh and Enkidu results in their bonding together in a friendship of mutual admiration and respect. They undertake adventures together, including the quest to the cedar forest to combat the dreaded Huwawa, the gods’ guardian of the forest. After the defeat of Huwawa, the goddess Ishtar is impressed with Gilgamesh and propositions him. When he rejects her advances, she goes into a rage and demands that Gilgamesh and Enkidu be punished for the slaughter of Huwawa. As retribution, the bull of heaven is sent against them, and it is also killed.
The gods now decide that one of the two champions must die, and Enkidu is chosen. His death leads Gilgamesh to explore the whole issue of human mortality. He therefore undertakes a quest for eternal life. His quest leads him beyond the end of the world to the home of Utnapishtim, a one-time mortal who gained immortality. Utnapishtim’s story is the flood account, where he is saved from the destruction of the flood by building a boat. All humans were supposed to be destroyed in the flood, but the god Ea betrayed his oath and gave Utnapishtim advance notice. After the flood when the chief god Enlil discovers that someone has survived, Utnapishtim is granted eternal life. This path to immortality is not open to Gilgamesh, but Utnapishtim tells him of a rejuvenating plant growing at the bottom of the sea. Gilgamesh finds the plant, but it is eaten by a serpent before he can taste of it. He returns to Uruk determined to make the best of his life.
4. Enuma Elish: The Epic of Creation. This composition, recorded on seven tablets, tells of Marduk’s ascension to the head of the Babylonian pantheon. Tablet 1 begins with a cosmogony/theogony leading up to a description of the birth of Marduk. It describes the discontent between the wild and demanding younger gods and the sedate older gods, who are seeking tranquil equilibrium, peace, and quiet. Eventually the goddess Tiamat, one of the older gods representing the primordial sea, becomes the leader of the young rebels. In tablet 2, the older gods seek a champion but are unsuccessful until Marduk accepts the challenge. He agrees to oppose Tiamat if his victory will result in his becoming head of the pantheon. Tablet 3 brings acceptance of his proposal, and in tablet 4 Marduk is armed and the battle is enjoined. Tiamat is defeated by powerful incantations, and her corpse is used to construct the cosmos. In tablet 5 Marduk organizes the cosmos and the divine realm and is proclaimed king of the gods. People are created in tablet 6, using the blood of Kingu, the partner of Tiamat in the rebellion. The availability of people to do the work that the younger gods had been obliged to do relieves the tension among the gods. The composition ends with the proclamation of Marduk’s fifty names.
Studies of these and other documents result in the following comparisons:11
Concepts | Israel | Ancient Near East |
Chaotic beginning | Formless and empty | Egypt: concept of nonexistence Mesopotamia: absence of gods and names |
Primal condition | Water and darkness | Egypt: flood, water, darkness, chaos Mesopotamia: undifferentiated water and darkness |
Spirit of God | Egypt: potential inherent in nonexistence Mesopotamia: wind disrupts waters | |
Sea | Waters of the deep (tehom) not deified or personified | Egypt: Nun as the chaos ocean Mesopotamia: Tiamat as primordial ocean |
Process of creation | Speech and naming | Egypt: self-creation, procreation, speech, naming Mesopotamia: procreation and naming |
Separation of waters | Waters above and below separated by firmament | Egypt: air pocket in boundless ocean held back by vault Mesopotamia: Tiamat’s corpse divided with skin holding back waters above |
Sea creatures | Tannin are regular creatures with established function | Egypt: Apophis Mesopotamia: Tiamat and her eleven chaos monsters |
Human material | Dust to which they return | Egypt: potter’s clay Mesopotamia: clay mixed with slain deity’s blood |
Invigoration | Breath of life | Egypt: breath of life Mesopotamia: spirit of the god |
Image of God | In male and female | Egypt: mostly in king Mesopotamia: in idols |
Rest | Divine rest in cosmos and temple | Mesopotamia: rest achieved through victory over chaos and in temple |
Assigning functions, roles, and names | Egypt: assigning roles and giving names to deities Mesopotamia: Bringing order and organization; fixing of destinies | |
Conflict | None in Genesis; hints in other books but no threat | Egypt: Re vs. Apophis Mesopotamia: defeat of Tiamat |
Human role | Serving as priests | Mesopotamia: serving as laborers |
Flood | Planned by God to punish violence. One righteous family spared in ark | Mesopotamia: short-sighted plan by gods to exterminate all people. Some survived in boat as a result of a ruse of one of the gods (No flood account in Egypt) |
Boat | Pitch-coated boat, 3 levels, 300×50×30 cubits | Pitch-coated boat, 9 sections, 120×120×120 cubits |
Duration of flood | 40 days, 40 nights; on boat one year | Six days and nights |
Landing and egress | Rests on mountains of Ararat; raven and dove (3×) sent out | Rests on Mount Nisir; dove, swallow, and raven sent out |
Response | Sacrifice of worship | Sacrifice of appeasement |
Blessing | Earthly covenant | Immortality |
Personal and Royal Archives
ARCHAEOLOGICAL EXCAVATIONS HAVE unearthed numerous important archives of the ancient Near East. Some, such as the Nuzi texts, preserve family records that include contracts of adoption, marriage, real estate transactions, and inheritance. Documents such as these help us to understand ancient family life and therefore offer insight into the details of family life that pervade the patriarchal narratives. Most archives, however, are public archives connected to temple or palace. Some of the most famous are from cities such as Ebla, Mari, Emar, Amarna, and Ugarit. They generally contain a variety of documents, from literary texts and royal inscriptions to international correspondence, treaties, and economic texts.
Epics
A FEW EPICS have already been mentioned in the mythology segment. Several others from Egypt are less mythological and should receive special mention.
1. The Tale of Sinuhe. In his first-person narrative, Sinuhe, an official in the court of Amenemhet I, tells of his flight from Egypt, a long period of self-imposed exile, and his reconciliation to the court. The account opens with the death of Amenemhet. Sinuhe overhears some information concerning the struggle for succession and concludes that he needs to flee for his life. His escape is successful, and he travels through Palestine to Byblos. There he is accepted in good standing into the court and marries the daughter of the prince of Retenu. There is a lengthy description of his accomplishments, offices, and good deeds. When Sinuhe is old, the pharaoh hears of him and summons him to return. Sinuhe is received with great honor, and a pyramid is constructed for him.
2. The Report of Wenamun. Wenamun was an official of the temple of Amun. This is his first-person account of a trip to Byblos for the purpose of purchasing lumber. Most of it reports the negotiations between Wenamun and the king of Byblos.
Hymnic and Wisdom Literature
THOUGH THESE ARE very different types of literature, they both make similar contributions to the study of Genesis. Both offer significant insight into the theological beliefs and worship practices of the people, helping us understand what they thought about the gods and their relationship to the gods. They indicate what the expectations of the gods were and how the gods needed to be approached.
Miscellaneous
A FEW ADDITIONAL texts will round out the list of those that have the most significant impact on studies in Genesis.
1. Sumerian king list. As its name suggests, this is a list of kings whose opening section gives the names, cities, and lengths of reign of eight rulers who reigned before the Flood. The length of reign ranges from 18,000 years to 43,200 years. The rulers after the Flood have greatly reduced tenures but are still in the hundreds.
2. Gudea cylinders. These two Sumerian cylinders tell the story of Gudea, ruler of Lagash, constructing a temple for Ningirsu. It gives detailed information about the process involved with constructing a temple from the initial idea and receiving of divine approval and instructions, through the actual construction and dedication processes.
3. Omen texts. Omens constituted one of the most significant components of the ancient worldview. Omens were read from many different sources, including the celestial bodies, the viscera of sacrificed animals, dreams, the behavior of animals or insects, and the abnormal appearance or malformations of newborn animals.
The following chart summarizes some of the results from analysis of this literature.
Key Theological Distinctions Between Israel and Her Neighbors12
Issue | Israel Ideal | Pagan polytheism |
Ultimacy of deity | Yahweh is the ultimate power in the universe. He answers to no one, and there are no limitations on his jurisdiction. | The gods have competing agendas and limited jurisdiction. Even as a corporate body they do not exercise ultimate sovereignty. |
Manifestation of deity | Yahweh cannot be represented in material form or in the form of any natural phenomena. | Deities represented iconically, anthropomorphically, or in natural phenomena. |
Disposition of deity | Yahweh is consistent in character and has bound himself by his attributes. | Deity is not bound by any code of conduct. Inconsistent, unpredictable, and accountable only marginally to the divine assembly. |
Autonomy of deity | Yahweh is not dependent on people for the provision of any needs. | People provided food and housing for deity (sacrifices and temples). |
Requirements of deity | Made known in detail through the giving of the law. | Not revealed; could only be inferred from one’s fortunes. |
Yahweh expects conformity to the law and to his holiness and justice. | Ritualistic, though maintaining an ordered society was important. | |
Creation of the cosmos | Yahweh undertook and sovereignly executed a cohesive plan of creation. | Accomplished by procreation of the gods, with no directing influence and was organized and established through conflict between the gods. |
Human dignity | Derived from being created in the image of God and placed over creation. Yahweh creates for people and with people in mind. | Since humans were a bother and an afterthought, created as slaves, dignity derived from the belief that they provided the needs of the gods. |
Revelation | Yahweh’s will, purposes, and nature were a matter of public record provided by Yahweh. | The will, purposes, and nature of deity could only be inferred. |
Election | Israel understood herself to be the elect people of God. | Occasionally a king or dynasty was considered elect, but no sustained doctrine of election existed. |
Historiography | History recorded as a means of Yahweh’s revelation and was therefore didactic. | History recorded as a means of propagandistic justification and certification of the current regime. |
Divine intervention | Directed toward an established and consistent goal in keeping with Yahweh’s intention of revealing himself and his attributes. | Directed toward maintaining a status quo or returning to a previous status quo and is primarily ad hoc. |
Omens | Worldview of Israel rejected omen mentality. | Viewed as indicating whether the gods were bringing favorable or unfavorable circumstances. |
Worldview of Israel rejected manipulation of deity by incantations. | Incantations used as a magical means of coercing deity to respond in desired ways. |
Purpose and Structure
Methodology
THERE IS LITTLE that is more important about a biblical book than its purpose, which is either explicit or implicit. If it is explicit, then one only has to find it and read it (e.g., Josh. 21:43–45). If it is implicit, it must be inferred by the interpreter based on literary criteria and logical observations concerning cohesion. That is, if we assume that all of the parts are included with a purpose and make a contribution to that purpose, it should be possible to arrive at it through observing how the parts cohere. Additionally, the use of various literary and rhetorical devices should elucidate the structure of the book, which in turn should lead to the purpose.
In Genesis, the first clue to its structure is both a guide and a problem. There exists a universally recognized division between chapters 1–11 and chapters 12–50. This is a guide in that it helps us to see an important structural element in the book. It is a problem in that the interpreter has to identify a purpose for the book that can account for both these disparate parts.
The second observation is likewise both a guide and a problem. The book features eleven toledot formulas (NIV: “This is the account of . . .”), as follows:
2:4 | Heaven and earth |
5:1 | Adam’s line |
6:9 | Noah |
10:1 | Shem, Ham, and Japheth |
11:10 | Shem |
11:27 | Terah |
25:12 | Ishmael |
25:19 | Isaac |
36:1 | Esau |
36:9 | Esau |
37:2 | Jacob |
These are a guide in that they reveal divisions in the text through a ready-made structure from the hand of the author. They are a problem in that (a) the meaning of toledot is disputed, and (b) it is disputed whether the toledot introduce sections or conclude sections. It is also confusing why, for instance, two are associated with Esau and none with Abram.
Beyond these basic structural elements, there have been numerous suggestions about internal structuring.13 Moreover, the interpreter also must cope with a number of difficult sections in the book. How do the genealogies contribute to the author’s purpose? How is it that chapter 10 speaks of the distribution of languages before chapter 11 relates the differentiation of languages? What role is served by narratives such as the rape of Dinah and Simeon and Levi’s revenge? Why is a whole chapter devoted to the purchase of a tomb for Sarah? Why does the story of Judah and Tamar interrupt the Joseph story?
These are questions that must be answered in order to meet the criterion of logical cohesion. If a proposed purpose of the book cannot successfully incorporate these chapters but treats them as aberrations or intrusions (or ignores them altogether), then the proposal must be discarded and another sought out. If the purpose is being inferred, confidence in the result will be based on the extent to which all of the sections of the book can be accounted for by that purpose and the extent to which the observable structural devices support that purpose.
Proposal of Purpose
BIOGRAPHICAL? The casual reader of the patriarchal narratives might initially surmise that there was something biographical about the author’s purpose. That first impression is just as easily discarded when closer attention is paid to the details. There are far too many gaps in the accounts of the lives of the patriarchs to sustain a biographical purpose. Certainly the author uses biographical information, but that cannot be his main purpose.
Moralistic lesson? A second hypothesis, based on a prior knowledge of Scripture and its use, might propose that the book is offering moralistic lessons of faith, holding out the patriarchs and their wives as examples, usually of godly behavior, but occasionally of ill-advised choices and their consequences. Careful reading, however, likewise mitigates this possibility as narrative after narrative fails to deliver the necessary moralistic guidance. Was Abraham right to try to pass his wife off as his sister? Was Lot’s choice of the plains born of sinful motivation? Was Isaac misguided in his preference for Esau? Was Joseph doing the right thing by imprisoning Simeon? How can it be the text’s intention to teach moral lessons when it so frequently stops short of informing the reader what lesson should be learned? The moral guidance is not transparent, so it is not likely that this is the primary purpose.
History? As this second proposal is rejected, we realize that we have been focusing on chapters 12–50 with little notice of chapters 1–11. If we turn our attention there, perhaps we may conclude that Genesis is historical in nature. Chapters 1–11 contain history on a universal scale, while chapters 12–50 concern the history of Israel’s beginnings. True enough. But what connection is there between the obviously scant selection of stories in chapters 1–11 and the patriarchal narratives in the rest of the book? Genesis is not history for history’s sake—there is an agenda at work. It is not a history of Israel, because that still leaves chapters 1–11 out of the picture. Yet it can hardly be called world history.
Covenant history? A more defensible proposal is that Genesis represents the history of the establishment of the covenant. Chapters 1–11 establish the need for the covenant, and chapters 12–50 establish the formation of the covenant. A synopsis of the book with this purpose in view goes as follows:
God created everything just right for people, but sin came through disobedience and brought corruption, impacting not only individuals, but permeating families and society and eventually pervading all of creation (chs. 1–11). Since people had distanced themselves from God and knowledge of God had become distorted and corrupted, reclamation was necessary and required God to reveal himself to people. The chosen instrument for this self-revelation was a covenant made with one elect individual, Abram. This covenant was made through many difficult circumstances and overcame many stumbling blocks. In the process the faith of Abram and his family was strengthened, evidenced, and demonstrated, and the faithfulness and sovereignty of God was maintained as many of the promises of the covenant were brought to reality. The book proceeds up to the first transitionary period, a time of incubation in Egypt until the next stage of development is prepared.
A few initial observations will conclude this discussion of purpose. (1) Notice that this purpose is premised on a particular view of the covenant, namely, that the covenant is understood as representing the revelatory plan of God.14 Its purpose is to provide a means whereby God will reveal himself to the world. This revelation is to take place through Abraham and his family, and it is because God is so using them that through them all the nations of the world will be blessed. All special revelation comes through Abraham and his family: the law, their history, Scripture, and, most important, Christ. This concept will be developed in more depth in the commentary on chapter 12.
(2) This approach to Genesis is appropriate to its status as the Word of God. As readily as Christians acknowledge the Bible as God’s revelation of himself, for many the assertion remains a facile truism. Our sermons and Bible studies betray a different conviction as they focus on the characters: Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, and so on. The conviction represented in the above purpose statement is that the driving purpose of Genesis is not revelation of any of these people; Genesis intends to reveal God.
“Bible stories” tend to be weighted too much on the anthropocentric. Biblical narrative is all too often searched for moral examples that can be followed or shunned, as the case may be. Biblical history thus is dissolved into a number of instances of human conduct, moral or immoral. The historical context within which the events are placed by the biblical author tends to be ignored. When a straight line is drawn from the “then” to the “now,” the uniqueness of the biblical events as instances of God’s self-revelation is in danger of being overlooked. The nuances of meaning placed in the biblical account by the inspired authors fail to get their due, for everything turns around the supposed “lesson.” Biblical events tend to be lifted out of their redemptive-historical context by being made into timeless paradigms of moral behavior.15
This is not to say that Scripture’s teaching has nothing to do with the human characters. The authors of the Bible take note of Abraham’s faith, of Job’s righteousness, of David’s seeking after God’s own heart, and certainly those things are commendable to emulate. But that must not take the focus off God. Each of these narratives seeks to reveal something about God. Even as God embarks on a revelatory plan, he is revealing important information about himself. He is Yahweh, the Creator, patient with sinfulness, planning reconciliation; in his plan of history he intends to reveal himself to his fallen creatures. He is the covenant maker and the faithful promise keeper. This is a God-centered approach to the book.
It is important in this approach, then, that we avoid two extremes. In some denominational traditions application seeks to be theocentric but never moves beyond God to the implications for individual conduct. In its most radical forms, this can result in people who understand that God is holy but who demonstrate little holiness in their lives. There is no moral impact. In other denominational traditions, the desire for moral impact is so great that it is artificially created by trying to derive moral instruction from every incidental of the text. This approach can foster a strident legalism on the one hand and lose sight of God’s centrality on the other. We are seeking an approach that will understand the revelation of God as the central focus, but it will drive home the idea that once we know who God is, we have a responsibility to serve him and strive to be like him.
(3) The book is blessing-driven. As will be developed throughout the commentary, the blessing of 1:26 is the core motif of chapters 1–11. That blessing is recapitulated in the covenant blessings offered to Abram in chapter 12, which in turn become the core motif for the remainder of the book. The three aspects of the covenant promises are addressed through the narratives connected to the three patriarchs who are the subjects of the main blocks of text. That is, the issue of land is most in focus in Abraham as he is brought to the land, given the land, and told that the fulfillment of this promise is many centuries in the future. The issue of descendants is in focus in Jacob as he acquires wives and children; those children then become the ancestral heads of the twelve tribes. The issue of blessing is most in focus in Joseph as the text recounts how all the world came to Joseph for food and was saved (i.e., blessed) through him. We will discuss the various dimensions of blessing more specifically as we move through the text. For now it is enough to understand that it represents God’s favor.
Purpose-Oriented Structure
THE NEXT STEP in the process is to demonstrate that the structure of the book supports the proposed purpose and that all of the sections can be seen as contributing to that purpose. The book may be topically divided into four sections:
1. Creation (1:1–2:3)
2. Before the Patriarchs: The Need for a Covenant People (2:4–11:26)
3. The Patriarchs in Palestine: The Establishment of the Covenant People (11:27–37:1)
4. The Patriarchs in Egypt: The Incubation of the Covenant People (37:2–50:26)
As we will see in the commentary on chapter 1, Genesis 1:1 is an introductory title equivalent to the toledot formula used throughout the remainder of the book. It initiates the sequence that is carried along by the toledot from section to section. If this is so, then parts 1 and 4 in the above outline each feature a single introductory statement. Parts 2 and 3 then feature five toledot each.16 This yields the following structure:
1. Creation: In the Beginning (1:1–2:3)
2. Before the Patriarchs: The Need for a Covenant People
a. Toledot of heavens and earth (2:4–4:26)
d. Toledot of Shem, Ham, and Japheth (10:1–11:9)
3. The Patriarchs in Palestine: The Establishment of a Covenant People
a. Toledot of Terah (11:27–25:11)
b. Toledot of Ishmael (25:12–18)
c. Toledot of Isaac (25:19–35:29)
e. Toledot of Esau (36:9–37:1)
4. The Patriarchs in Egypt: Incubation for the Covenant People (Toledot of Jacob: 37:2–50:26)
Toledot. In the above discussion we have identified a particular role for the toledot. This role can be substantiated by a study of the term and its use in Genesis. The noun is built from the root yld, which means to “bring forth” (notice the similarity to English, in which “generations” has its related verb, “to generate”). Nevertheless, we must be careful not to assume that the meaning of the noun will always be transparently related to the meaning of the verb. The contextual use of the noun suggests that it refers to the “developments that arise out of . . .” and in so doing introduces the next exigency. That exigency might be a genealogy (2.e, 3.b, 3.e), a narrative (2.c, 3.c, 4), or a combination of both (narrative first: 2.a); genealogy first: 2.b, 2.d, 3.a, 3.d). The noun form occurs twenty-eight other times in the Old Testament (twenty-one of those in 1 Chronicles and in Numbers 1), and in every case pertains to genealogical information.17
The defense for the proposed structure can only be accomplished by working through the details. Throughout the commentary we will attempt to demonstrate how each pericope or narrative contributes to the purpose we have identified. Our working hypothesis will be that the toledot formula is an introduction to the section that follows it in the text. Whether or not it is called a colophon,18 it is plausible that it identifies what may have originally been independent sources that have been used in the composition of the canonical book.
Authorship and Compilation
REGARDING THE AUTHORSHIP of Genesis, the case that can be made on the basis of the traditions represented in the canon (especially references back to the material by later biblical writers) as well as on logic is firm enough. All biblical traditions connect the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible) in general with Moses, and the biblical profile given of the man Moses makes him perfectly suited, indeed, a most logical candidate, to compile this book. Acceptance, therefore, of the biblical traditions concerning the canon and the man leave little foothold for doubt about the significant role played by Moses. It is easy to imagine the Israelites at Mount Sinai or in the desert as the audience for the material addressed in Genesis.
Nevertheless, equal confidence is not provided by specific claims of the book or for sweeping absolute statements. The book itself gives no indication of its authorship, and in the rest of the Bible Moses is never specifically identified as the author of any material from Genesis. Biblical authority therefore has no unequivocal demands to make on this point. Biblical tradition and logic are sufficient to attribute a significant and guiding role to Moses, but even then, there are statements in the book that are difficult to attribute to Moses. Perhaps the most notorious example of this is Genesis 12:6, where it is noted that “the Canaanites were [then] in the land.”19 It is difficult to imagine Moses making such a statement. Nonetheless, such exceptional cases of updating are trivial and immaterial to the larger issue of Moses’ involvement.
Willingness to accept a significant role for Moses, however, still leaves many issues undecided. How much of his role was authorial as opposed to editorial? This is not a theological question, because inspiration can take place through editors just as easily as it can take place through authors. If the purpose of the book is accomplished through activities such as selection, arrangement, and emphasis, the editorial role is crucial. Note, for instance, how the Chronicler tells us of the many sources he used to compile 1 and 2 Chronicles, many of which are noncanonical. We assume, then, that the inspiration was in the purposeful use and arrangement of sources undertaken by the Chronicler.
It is entirely plausible to expect that Moses had many sources of information available to him, both in written and oral form. In this scenario inspiration enabled him to select sources that were accurate and to weave that material together into a purposeful composition that is essentially the book of Genesis as we have it today. Whatever limited additions or revisions may have been made after the time of Moses must likewise be considered inspired. We contend, however, that the principal inspired, purposeful, and creative mind behind Genesis was Moses.
Genesis and History
ONE OF MY GREATEST JOYS is teaching sixth graders at my church in a yearlong course that introduces them to the fundamental doctrines of Christianity. Whenever we get the chance, we play what we call “stump the chump,” which is their opportunity to ask me whatever biblical or theological questions are on their inquisitive minds. It is amazing how often these questions come back to the chapters of Genesis. As these students begin their long journey from the innocent childhood acceptance of what their parents and Sunday school teachers have told them to the ownership of a faith that is truly theirs, the issues of Genesis loom large as the first obstacle. But whether I am addressing those sixth graders, a high school Bible study, a college class, an adult discipleship class, a group of pastors, or colleagues in private conversation, the same issues are never far from the surface.
There is perhaps no book in the Bible (dare we say in the world?) for which the issue of historical authenticity is more poignant than Genesis. For centuries it framed the beliefs of Western culture concerning the natural world and the history of civilization. Only in the aftermath of the Enlightenment did its tenets begin to be subjected to inquiry under the onslaught of rationalism and empiricism. Over the last few centuries, then, Christians have been challenged with regard to the correlation between the Bible and history. Were the patriarchs real flesh and blood people or literary-cultural constructs whose legends grew up to embody the cultural heritage of a small but influential ethnic group? Did God really have conversations with these people? Are the many diverse languages of the earth the result of God’s judgment? Was there a worldwide flood? Did Adam and Eve actually exist, and did all people come from them? Was there a garden with such marvelous trees? Did the serpent really talk? Did God create in seven twenty-four-hour days? Where do the dinosaur fossils fit in? It is testimony to the powerful impact of the Bible on Western civilization that we continue to address these questions.
The only way to get to the specific questions is through the big issues. My commitment is first and foremost to take the text at face value and then to bring to it a worldview of faith. I must determine what the text asks me to believe in order to make an informed commitment. To do this, I must understand that discerning the face value of a text is dependent on the reader’s awareness of the vehicles used in delivering the message of the text.
There are three main vehicles that we will address. (1) The first is the genre of the literature. If the author intended something to be a parable, we must read it as parable. If the text was intended to be poetically figurative, that is how we want to read it. (2) Next is the issue of cultural perspective. Cultures have ways of communicating that may differentiate them from other cultures. There may be features in the text that enable the communication without embodying the message, and those need to be identified in the search for face value. (3) We must try to assess the focus of the revelation. There may be a difference between what Israelites believed and what the text is communicating. Though we can at times discern the former, it may not impact the latter. Thus, for example, when Genesis 7:11 speaks of “the windows of the heavens” (NRSV), we may conclude that the Israelites believed there were windows in heaven, but we need not conclude that the Bible is teaching that there are such windows. It is not the focus of revelation.
Once we are armed with a hermeneutic (face value), a worldview (faith), and an informed understanding of literature, culture, and the intent of the revelation, we can identify what mandates of belief the text is placing upon us. Then we either consider the evidence that substantiates belief in the historical veracity of the text or step up to a statement of faith.
Worldview of Faith Issues
WITH NO APOLOGIES or embarrassment I accept the Bible as God’s revelation of himself. It is a supernatural book, and its affirmations of God’s involvement in the world are unassailable. He is the source from which Scripture flows, enabling it to emerge as true and authoritative. As a result, I am committed to accepting without question whatever God has revealed. If I am convinced, for instance, that the Bible teaches a global flood, my worldview of faith dictates that whatever scientific or logical problems may exist must be set aside in deference to the text.
Yet while this firm commitment is not subject to compromise or equivocation, it cannot afford to be naive. The last thing that we want to do is to bring the text to disrepute and subject it and ourselves to ridicule by making claims for the Bible that it never makes for itself. Examples of such misplaced faith litter the landscape of history. Perhaps the best known is the case of Galileo, who was opposed by the medieval church because of its persuasion that his heliocentric theories contradicted the church’s Aristotelian interpretation of Scripture.20 We must therefore bring an informed discernment to the table when we address these questions. Without being simple, we must remain without guile.
Face Value
MICHAEL FOX HAS said that “the willingness not to take the text at face value is the essence of critical scholarship.”21 Whether we are willing to agree with that assessment or not, if it were true, then evangelicals could not engage in critical scholarship, because we are committed to taking the text at face value. When we say we take the text at face value, it means we are not trying to read anything into the text nor are we trying to squeeze something out of the text. We are not trying to sidestep the text or to avoid what it makes obvious. We are not trying to subordinate the text to our own agenda or purpose, nor are we trying to co-opt it for our theology or make it answer our questions. We are simply trying to understand the text in the way that the author wanted it to be understood by his audience.
This means that we must be alert to a wide array of factors that could inadvertently lead us to misconstrue the face value and therefore distort the communication. After we make adjustments for these factors, however, we should have a clear idea of what the text asks of us. So, for instance, the face value of the text does not ask us to believe that the builders of Babel were trying to storm heaven under the leadership of Nimrod, the inventor of idolatry. A careful reading of the face value of the narrative leaves such an interpretation unsupported, so we need not try to defend the historicity of that scenario. As another example, the text may not demand that Genesis 6 reports intermarriage between angels and mortals. Should it demand such an occurrence, we must be unflinching in our acceptance of it; but if other possibilities can be supported as the face value of the text, then there is one less obstacle to hurdle. Following is a brief discussion of three of the principal factors for determining face value.
Nature (genre) of literature issues. The first item that must be taken into account when determining the face value is the type of literature represented in the text. In our culture, the face value of a mystery novel is certainly different from the face value of a biography. Genesis is made up of a number of different types of literature, though narrative is certainly the most prominent one. As we consider the various genres, we need to become informed about how those genres were used and understood in the ancient world.
As an example, let us briefly consider one of most baffling genres in Genesis, genealogy. We have certain expectations of a genealogy based on the way our culture uses the genre. A genealogy in our culture represents a line of descent for the purpose of identifying ancestors in their sequential order. Interestingly, anthropologists studying genealogies in primitive cultures have found that sequential order was not a major concern of the genealogical representations.22 The order was more representative of the relative significance of the various ancestors. As a result, liquidity could be observed (switching around the order). Likewise, the ages attributed to various ancestors did not necessarily represent the years of life. Other considerations were factors in assigning years. Consequently, though it goes against our understanding of the genre of genealogy, we can hardly label a genealogy of these cultures as false or deceptive if it is found to be out of order or to list ages that differed from “reality.” So what about the genealogies of Genesis? Is the truth of Genesis dependent on our ability to defend a 969-year life span for Methuselah? One must come to an understanding of the genealogy genre in Israel before deciding what the face value is of assigning Methuselah 969 years.
What about narrative? As with genealogy, we must try our best to understand how narrative works in Israel rather than assume it works the same as it does in English. The narrative style can be used for mythology, epic, folktale, parable, and fable as well as for history.23 As a result, identifying something as narrative is not the same as identifying it as history. Sometimes it is difficult to assess what expectations the narrator has of his audience, making literary analysis to no avail. For instance, we easily label Jotham’s narrative in Judges 9 as fable because the trees talk there, and we all know trees don’t talk.
By the same criterion, some have concluded that Genesis 3 ought also to be considered fable because of the talking serpent. Obviously the issues are complex. If we are going to take the text at face value, we must go beyond a single criterion and ask what the Israelite audience believed about it. In this case, neither literary analysis nor understanding of the culture gives a clear indication of how the Israelites heard this narrative. Continuing revelation, however, suggests that they did not understand it as fable because in the rest of Scripture the surrounding narrative (trees, garden, temptation, sin) is all taken with the seriousness of fact (Rom. 5:12–14; 2 Cor. 11:3; 1 Tim. 2:13–14). Thus, taking this particular narrative at face value precludes classifying it as fable, despite the presence of literary elements that may otherwise point in that direction.
Cultural background issues. The cultural dimension must also be considered when trying to discern the face value of a text. As an example, we can return to the issue of the “sons of God” in Genesis 6:2 alluded to above. If the face value of the text suggests that angels intermarried with mortals, we must be prepared to accept that and defend it. Some interpreters, however, have concluded that an understanding of the culture and literature of the ancient Near East suggests the possibility that the text was making reference to the heroic, but oppressive, kings of old. If the latter is true (see discussion of ch. 6), then familiarity with the culture provides a face value for the text that is not immediately obvious to the modern reader but may have been intuitive to the author and his audience. Consequently, the historical intermarriage of angels with mortals need not be defended.
Focus of revelation issues. An understanding of the focus of revelation is also essential for gaining a clear comprehension of face value. For instance, in Genesis 1:9 the text says that all the land was gathered into one place. Is the author talking about the concept of Pangea?24 The existence of continents was unknown in the ancient world. Even though there were continents, they knew of only one major landmass. It would be difficult to conclude that the author was communicating that God initially created one landmass that eventually broke into several.25 This text more likely refers to a single landmass in the way the audience thought. It would have been meaningless to the original readers to talk about God creating the continents. Thus, we can conclude that revelation at its face value had no intention of making statements about geography and the number of landmasses or continents that existed. The interpreter is under no obligation to find a way to defend the use of “one” in 1:9. It was not and is not the focus of revelation.26
Consideration of Evidence Issues
WHEN, AFTER ALL of this analysis, the conclusion is drawn about what the face value of the text is, we can ask whether that which the narrative presents as truth can be defended from extrabiblical information. In some cases such defense will not be possible (as in the case of the historicity of Adam and Eve). In other cases, a general defense will be possible. So, for instance, even though we find no historical trail to Joseph in Egyptian records, the authenticity of details relative to the Joseph narrative lend credence and plausibility to the historicity of the biblical account. An examination of authentic details falls short, however, of “proving” its historicity.
One could, for example, identify all sorts of authentic details in the Epic of Gilgamesh and conclude that he was a historical figure, a “real” king who actually reigned in the city of Uruk. Such verification would still fall short of proving that the story of Gilgamesh was historical. In more recent times, one can point to the King Arthur stories as another example. Where extrabiblical evidence falls short, the testimony of the remainder of the canon can contribute to our understanding of face value if it offers an understanding of Israelite perception. In the end, however, when the text seems clear, our faith premise urges us to step out beyond what historical evidence can provide.
When we begin the task of verifying biblical reports, it is important to understand what audience we are addressing. Are we interested in shoring up our own evangelical beliefs that are already held as a matter of faith? Are we thinking of doctrinal training for children or new converts? Are we interested in strengthening the faith or resolve of those for whom the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak? Are we thinking in terms of winning over that generally secular (but uninformed) audience with preconceived notions about the inherent mythical nature of the Bible? Or are we engaged in debate with the scholastic skeptics who are spokespersons for culture? Some of these groups will need far less persuasion than others. Some groups will need different types of evidence than others. Often presuppositions play as important a role as the nature or amount of evidence. Such considerations show that attempts to demonstrate the accuracy of the Bible may enjoy varying degrees of success.
When it comes down to the specifics, though scientific, archaeological, or historical data provide much in the areas of persuasion, defense, and support of the Genesis narrative, there is little in Genesis that can be considered absolutely proven by the standards of academic disciplines. In other words, there is plenty to affirm the faith of those who are willing to believe but much less that will be persuasive to the rigorous expectations of a hardened skeptic. Neither geology not archaeology has produced “flood layers” that can be connected to the biblical Flood. Sufficient evidence is not yet forthcoming to demonstrate that Noah’s ark has been found. Ziggurats exist, but none can be identified as the tower of Babel. As a result, the narratives in Genesis 1–11 do not enjoy historical “proof.”
The narratives of Genesis 12–50 may seem more likely to enjoy outside verification, but that is not the case. On the one hand, we would not expect to be able to detect a small insignificant clan like Abram’s or Jacob’s in the royal archives of their contemporary ancient world. But on the other hand, when the patriarchs encounter significant political entities (e.g., ch. 14), it would not be an unrealistic expectation that the named kings could be identified. So far, however, no identifications have been forthcoming.
Nevertheless, there is much that can be said about the realism of the narratives. They coincide with what is known about the culture and conditions of the ancient Near East in the general time period. Illumination comes from several quarters. Archaeology provides information about migrations to and settlement patterns in the land of Canaan during the patriarchal period. The excavation of cities verifies the economic conditions encountered by Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Numerous details large and small from archival texts can be brought alongside the biblical text for comparison. Some of these data offer a resounding affirmation of the authenticity of the text. Others pose additional problems and cause interpreters to go back and look at the text more carefully to see if they have misread the face value of the text.
When problems appear insurmountable (such as finding a period when the Babylonians, Assyrians, Hittites, and Elamites all would have been allies in an invasion of Palestine, Gen. 14), there are two appropriate, simultaneous reactions: (1) a reiteration of a faith commitment to whatever the face value of the text is, even if the problem currently admits of no resolution; and (2) a renewed determination to seek out whatever literary, cultural, historical, or contextual information may lead to a revised understanding of the face value of the passage. We continue to look for more information from the ancient Near East in order to resolve our dilemma.
Issues of Chronology
IS THERE A face value reading of the text of Genesis that mandates a particular scheme of chronology? If we add up numbers, the result is something like the scheme devised in the seventeenth century by Bishop James Ussher, who assigned creation to 4004 B.C., the flood to 2349, and Abraham’s arrival in Canaan to 2126.
But we must ask whether taking the text at face value requires us to add up numbers. Even the most conservative interpreters have generally accepted the suggestion of literary analysis that there are gaps in the genealogies. If this is so, the contention can be made that the text does not seek to reveal a chronological system that assigns a date to the events of Genesis 1–11. But if the ages of the patriarchs are taken seriously (Abraham, 175; Isaac, 180; Jacob, 147; Joseph 110), they can be factored into the statistics of Exodus 12:40 and 1 Kings 6:1 to at least arrive at a date for the patriarchs (not much different from Ussher’s). But even among those who take the biblical text seriously, there are some who believe that a literary and cultural understanding of the numbers in Exodus 12:40 and 1 Kings 6:1 indicates that the Israelite face-value reading of those numbers would be far different from the face value we would intuitively attach to them.27
Consequently, it is difficult to assign dates to the patriarchs with confidence. Even a faith commitment to the face value of the text does not resolve the issue in that the face value associated to various numbers remains controversial. Abraham’s entrance into the land of Canaan may be placed anywhere from about 2100 B.C.28 to about 1875 B.C.29 Most who choose a date lower than that do so generally through discounting the face value of the text on critical grounds.
Genesis and Theology
Creation
THOUGH CREATION IS not the central topic of discussion for Genesis, the book does contain the most important statements in the Old Testament about creation, so a few words are in order. Discussion of the creation account both in the context of the ancient world and in connection with modern science will be addressed in other places. Here our concern is the general creation theology of Genesis and the Old Testament.
God alone is sovereign. The acts of creation should not be isolated from nature and history. The three merge together and blend into a seamless continuum. This continuum is a demonstration of God’s independent, autonomous position as the sole and ultimate source of power and knowledge in the cosmos. In the Old Testament, unlike today, the question is not whether there is such a being; the question is whether there was one or many. The intention of the text, then, is to demonstrate that there was (1) no competition in God’s creative acts (against powers of chaos or other gods), (2) no differentiation that took place in the divine sphere (i.e., the bringing forth of other gods from or by a creator god), and (3) no delegation of jurisdiction to other gods. These were significant theological statements in the ancient world.
The impact of this teaching on our worldview is that there is no way to break up what should be viewed as an interrelated creation-nature-history continuum. To choose one combination for illustration, Genesis assumes that the foundation for God’s control of history is his work in creation. It is impossible to reduce his role in creation without reducing his role in history. It is impossible to reduce his role in history without reducing his role in nature. If we engage in reduction across the board, we forfeit a biblical view of sovereignty.
The entire creation-nature-history continuum is totally dependent on God. There was nothing that Israelites would have referred to as natural laws. There was no “natural” cause and effect that was worth noting in creation, nature, or history. That is not to say that they had no comprehension of ideas like “crops need water to grow.” It is just that they believed that people could water crops all they wanted, but they would not grow unless God so ordained. In other words, the identification of something that we might classify as natural cause and effect in no way precluded or operated independently from God’s cause and effect. It was not an “either/or situation”; it was a “both/and.” In fact, there was no bifurcation between “natural” and “supernatural,” though they did make a distinction between earthly and heavenly. But nothing in the earthly realm happened independently of the heavenly realm.
Our modern “dilemma” of trying to discern what happens naturally and what is a result of God’s intervention would seem to ancient Israelites, at best, ludicrous and, at worst, heretical. It would not even seem “pagan” because the pagans of the ancient world likewise disdained a dividing line between natural and supernatural. There could be no such thing as “intervention” because to intervene in something it must be to some extent independent of the one intervening. One cannot speak of a teacher’s intervention into a course that he is teaching.
This does not mean that Israel considered nature as having divine attributes. Two caveats are necessary to clarify the theological options on this issue. (1) In most of the ancient world the admixture of what we call natural and supernatural was achieved by infusing nature with the divine. Consequently, the gods were seen to be inherent in nature, manifested in the elements and, at least in the early periods, of one and the same essence with them. Israel did not attribute divine attributes to nature in this way. The forces and elements of nature are Yahweh’s minions, not his essence. This distinction is defined in the creation narratives and clearly seen when the Israelite creation text is compared with those of the ancient Near East. The issues in Israel are the jurisdiction and authority of deity, whereas the ancient Near East went further by defining deity by means of association with nature.
(2) The merger of natural and supernatural does not imply that nature operates in accordance with God’s attributes, such as justice. God is able to express his attributes using nature as an instrument, but discussions of the retribution principle (the righteous prosper, the wicked suffer), especially in God’s speeches in Job, make it clear that it is a mistake to think that God’s favor or disfavor can be confidently inferred from what takes place in nature (e.g., Job 38:25–27).
As a result of these two caveats, we understand that though there is a merger of natural and supernatural, the result is not the characterization of nature as having divine attributes. The Genesis creation narrative reflects this as each element of nature is shown to be empty of any divine quality.
Is this merger of the natural and supernatural simply a cultural perspective that we have appropriately grown out of, or is it an essential of biblical theology that we have indiscriminately discarded under gradual and subtle pressure from culture? There may be many areas where we can build a case that the biblical worldview is culturally conditioned or a side issue that revelation does not affirm. But there is nothing more fundamental to biblical revelation than the picture of God that it offers. If we set aside the picture of God affirmed in the text, we have lost our last foothold of authority. In the chapters that follow, therefore, we will explore the implications of this theology, its foundation in the text and the worldview of Israel, and the impact it must have in our lives.
Covenant
THE BOOK OF Genesis presents the establishment of God’s covenant. In order to understand the theology set in motion there, we may do well to start from our current position and work backward. Our experience of God’s (new) covenant is primarily in our salvation from sin. Using the theological term for salvation, we can say that we are the soteriological people of God. That is, we are defined as his elect people by virtue of the salvation he has provided. Consequently, our most natural inclination is to think of the covenant as somehow intrinsically connected to salvation. Unfortunately, this can skew our understanding of Genesis and its theology.
The election of Abram and his family as God’s people was not soteriological. What I mean by this is that there is no suggestion of all ethnic Israelites being saved from their sins simply because they were born Israelites—the covenant is never defined in such terms. Yet all of Abram’s family was included in covenant election. We must conclude, then, that the covenant established in Genesis was not soteriological. As alternatives, terms like “promissorial” or “administrative” are often set forth.30 Promises figure prominently in the covenant, and the covenants definitely have an administrative function. But the larger question concerns the purpose of the covenant. God could make promises without a covenant. The covenant included election, so we must ask, election to what (if not salvation)?
As suggested in the section on the purpose of the book above, the structure of Genesis directs our attention to the issue of revelation. Since the knowledge of God had been lost and the concept of God distorted (as traced in Gen. 1–11; see esp. the treatment of ch. 11 in the commentary), God determined to embark on a program of revelation. Abram and his family were elected as the instruments of that revelatory program, and the covenant was chosen as the mechanism. God revealed himself through the covenant. The promises given to Abraham were both a means for God to reveal his attributes (power, love, mercy, justice, etc.) as well as a benefit to him and his family, conditional on their cooperation and participation. The various stages of revelation would take place through Israel whether they cooperated or not, but they would only enjoy the benefits (e.g., land, nation) when they cooperated.
As the covenant established in Genesis develops throughout the rest of the Bible, its stages were marked by covenants, or phases of the covenant. God revealed his holiness and character through the law at Mount Sinai as the nation of Israel became God’s elect people.31 God revealed his kingship through the Davidic covenant as David’s line became God’s elect rulers. Finally, God revealed his salvation through Christ as election became soteriological in nature. These are all results of what was begun in Genesis. Christ fulfills the covenant in that he is the climax of God’s revelation. As God incarnate he is the ultimate revelation of the holiness and character of God. As Messiah he reveals God’s kingship perfectly. As Savior, he is the instrument by which salvation becomes available. Christ concludes what Genesis began.
This revelatory program is the means by which all people will be blessed through Abram and his family. The concept is represented through the Old Testament in the recurring statement, “Then you will know that I am Yahweh.”32 This strongly suggests revelation as the purpose of the covenant. Indeed, it is true that all of God’s special revelation comes through Israel. Christ is the climax of this revelation, but he is not the sum total of it. Salvation is the end result, but salvation does not define the covenant. God wants us to know him. If we had only a distorted and corrupt view of God, there would be no impetus to know him or to enter into relationship with him. The covenant is characteristically redemptive (in broad terms) and ultimately soteric, but it is essentially revelatory. Since the initiation of this covenant is the purpose of Genesis, we will have ample opportunity to trace this theology as we proceed through the book. For Genesis, the covenant marks the beginning of God’s program of special revelation.
Blessing
JUST AS SOME think of the covenant in soteriological terms, some also think of blessing in Christological terms. It is therefore not uncommon for interpreters to elaborate on the messianic element in the seed of the woman in Genesis 3:15 and in the promise of the blessing to all people in 12:3.33 Harboring no intention to diminish Christology, we nevertheless must see the blessing in the theology of Genesis in broader terms.
Broadly speaking, a blessing is an offering of God’s favor (if coming from God) or a wish for God’s favor (if coming from humans). The foundational statement of the blessing occurs in 1:28–30, where God grants the privileges of fertility and food supply as well as the mandate to subdue and rule. As we will suggest in the commentary, the blessing is made functional in chapter 2 and is the basis of the pronouncement in 3:16–19. The genealogies demonstrate the continuation of the blessing (fertility). The Flood leads to a reiteration of it (ch. 9), and the curse/blessing of Noah regarding his sons imitates it. The account of the tower of Babel must be read in light of it (ch. 11). The covenant promises pick up the themes of being fruitful and filling the land by promising Abram a big family and land to fill with his descendants, in addition to promising fertility of the land (food) and victory over enemies (subdue and rule). These themes continue both inside and outside of covenant contexts as one generation passes on blessing to another.34
The resulting theology of blessing goes far beyond Christology or Messianism. It expresses God’s love for the people he created and his intention to bless them in spite of rebellion and sin. The picture of love, mercy, and compassion thus portrayed by means of the blessing stands in stark contrast to the self-protection and self-promotion that characterized the gods of the ancient world. It is an essential foundation to the understanding of God’s grace that transcends the narrow perspective of our salvation. The theology of Genesis thereby leads us to an understanding and appreciation of grace as an expression of God’s character that reaches far beyond our own personal experience of redemption. This will be further developed in the commentary.
Genesis and the Church
IT IS EASY for the modern reader of Genesis to feel lost between genealogies and Gilgamesh, the obscure and the mythological. Emerging from the overgrown and hoary wood of antiquity into the modern era, we become mired in the bog of science and sociology. It is no surprise, then, that modern readers are inclined to flee to the safety of role models if they resist leaving the world of Genesis altogether. Rather than allowing the book to focus our attention on God, we easily succumb to the inclination to make Abraham, Jacob, or Joseph the focus of our attention and study. This is a false security if it only leads us to a deeper knowledge of fellow fallen mortals. Following in the footsteps of Abraham’s faith only gets us as far as Abraham. Though we might think that such an aspiration directs our gaze to as high a pinnacle as we dare imagine, the Bible calls us to a different vision. As Hebrews 12:2 encourages us to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith,” so when we study Genesis or any other book of the Old Testament, we should take our marching orders from Deuteronomy 4:32–35, 39:
Ask now about the former days, long before your time, from the day God created man on the earth; ask from one end of the heavens to the other. Has anything so great as this ever happened, or has anything like it ever been heard of? Has any other people heard the voice of God speaking out of fire, as you have, and lived? Has any god ever tried to take for himself one nation out of another nation, by testings, by miraculous signs and wonders, by war, by a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, or by great and awesome deeds, like all the things the LORD your God did for you in Egypt before your very eyes?
You were shown these things so that you might know that the LORD is God; besides him there is no other. . . .
Acknowledge and take to heart this day that the LORD is God in heaven above and on the earth below. There is no other.
We can uncover the message of Genesis by focusing on the picture of God that it offers. The church is desperately in need of recovering the view of God offered by Genesis. The concept of original sin is less about genetics and more about the generous dose of paganism inside each one of us. Genesis led a revolution against the universal human proclivity to fabricate gods that could be controlled and manipulated. In the ancient world this was accomplished by people making gods in their own image. The gods possessed limited power, pedestrian character, and prodigious appetites. Their needs and their foibles would have made them laughable if they were not so inclined to irrational outbursts and retributive tantrums. Such was the divine caricature created by the people in the ancient world.
Prophets tried to disabuse Israel of this view of deity only to find that it coursed unabated through their veins, and we are their descendants. Though its permutations vary from time to time and culture to culture, the paganism in each of us is inclined to fabricate a manageable deity. Whether our bribes are the blood of bulls and goats, our tithes and offerings, or our church activities, it is easy to think that God can be bought. Whenever we think that God is obliged to us, that he needs us, or that he can be backed into a corner with demands pressed on him, our paganism is showing, and we need to take a refresher course in the revolutionary manifesto of Genesis. The details of this message are what will occupy us in our study of the text.
It is common in our society to think that for a book of the Bible, whether Genesis or any other, to be practical and relevant, it must give us a course of action. It is more common in the Old Testament for its practical teaching to give us a way of thinking. Our actions spring from our thoughts. If our actions need to change, it is not enough to simply adopt a new course of action. We must be taught a new way of thinking. The practical lessons of Genesis offer a new way of thinking that will inevitably result in life changes.
When we install new software packages on our computers, we are often given the option of doing a full installation or a customized installation that will only transfer some of the programs. Such an option does not exist when it comes to matters of installing new “software” in our hearts. We cannot afford to settle for a customized version. Contrary to our nature, we must be patient enough to adopt the whole program of life transformation rather than the shortened version. This transformation comes through a renewed concept of deity that helps us to recognize the paganism within us and to come to know God in all of his biblical resplendence.
The church is also in need of a revitalized openness toward the text. It is easy to become so entrenched in our conventional ways of thinking about the text that we no longer allow it to speak. Exegesis is the result of research fueled by tradition (how the church has historically interpreted a passage) and ideas (new data, analyses, and perspectives). As evangelicals we are tied to traditions. That is not a bad thing; in fact, it is essential to our identity. But our attachment to traditions must never stifle our commitment to ideas. We must continue to think. G. K. Chesterton warned that ideas are dangerous:
But the man to whom they are least dangerous is the man of ideas. He is acquainted with ideas and moves among them like a lion-tamer. Ideas are dangerous but the man to whom they are most dangerous is the man of no ideas. The man of no ideas will find the first idea fly to his head like wine to the head of a teetotaller.35
Ideas need not be a threat to traditions. Indeed, all traditions were once ideas. Ideas may eventually result in certain traditions being discarded, but more often they shape traditions and have the potential to free them from misguided bondage. We need to be people of ideas. In this commentary we will consider many new ideas, but we will also try to discuss openly how ideas can be weighed and considered. Some readers may find some of these ideas disconcerting. It is possible that some conventions may be threatened and that some traditions may be challenged with the need for revision. But there is no threat to orthodoxy here, only the conviction that the biblical text can still surprise if we succeed in keeping our minds open to it.
See what no one else sees; see what everyone else chooses not to see—out of fear, or conformity, or laziness—see the whole world anew each day.
From the movie Patch Adams