OT115

Introduction

A work incorporating first-person narrative, oracles, prudential wisdom, liturgical doxologies (2:14, 20), and an ancient (or perhaps archaizing) Hebrew poem, Habakkuk is best understood as a prophetic pastiche presenting the prophetic insights of an impatient sentinel who bravely takes Israel’s deity to task for inaction in the face of injustice. Structurally, this seer’s complaint is followed by a vision ensuring recompense—one that he is commanded to record (2:2); a doxology (2:20); and a prayer filled with reminiscences of God’s power and exploits as Divine Warrior. It concludes with a reaffirmation of trust in YHWH from this emotionally shaken, though confident, visionary. Habakkuk offers an evocative model for context-specific theological reflection and social activism in the twenty-first century, that is, one that in no way limits the agency of those who identify and seek redress for injustice. The book takes seriously the role of the sacred in reform initiatives and allows for the deployment and rearticulation of ancestral traditions as points of reference in fashioning spiritualities of resistance that eschew facile hopes for immediate earthly intervention by a divine patron. It presents readers with, in the words of Cheryl Kirk-Duggan, “a matrix of injustice, theodicy, and triumph” (197).

The date and life setting for the book of Habakkuk are difficult to establish with any degree of certainty. The prophet’s name, derived from a Hebrew root meaning “to embrace” or “clasp,” suggests that perhaps the one delivering the prophecy has either seized or been emotionally taken by the message relayed in the book. It has been proposed that the oracles in Habakkuk were delivered between 609 and 597 BCE (Roberts, 82–83). Reference to the “raising up” of “the Chaldeans” (1:6), along with the eschatological thrust of its oracles, suggest a sixth-century-BCE origin for this prophetic anthology. The presence of ancient mythological motifs akin to those in Ugaritic and Sumero-Akkadian lore have suggested to some scholars a much earlier date for Hab. 3:1–15 (e.g., Hiebert; and Roberts, 84, 151–57). Insofar as the reappropriation of traditions focusing on creation and cosmic warfare is common to biblical literature produced in the exilic period, especially in Isaiah 40–66, this poem may serve as the interpretive fulcrum for the entirety of the book.

THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT

In the popular imagination, prophets, seers, and visionaries are viewed as enjoying a particular closeness to God. For some, that unique connection suggests an implicit harmony, an ongoing meeting of the minds, between the source and recipient of a revelatory experience. However, the Hebrew Bible reveals a far more complex reality. We see evidence of prophets struggling with and seeking to make sense of their vocation and instructions (e.g., Isa. 6:1–13; Jer. 11:18–23; Ezek. 4:9–14; 11:13; 37:3). In Jonah, perhaps the theological linchpin of the Book of the Twelve Minor Prophets, we even have a parody focusing on the fraught relationship between God, seer, and mission. At times, the adversarial relationship between prophet and God is central to the rhetoric and structure of Habakkuk.

The book, which is identified as an oracular record of a vision (i.e., “The oracle that the prophet Habakkuk saw”), opens with the prophet registering a complaint to YHWH, the essence of which can be summed up in a single question: Why in the face of pervasive and enduring “wrongdoing” (1:3) and injustice (1:4) has the LORD failed to act? Operating from the presupposition that the righteous should always triumph over the wicked, a concept echoed in both Deuteronomic (e.g., Deut. 7:12–15) and sapiential traditions (e.g., Prov. 11:8; 12:7), Habakkuk calls Israel’s God to task for failing to function as either loving patriarch or omnipotent suzerain.

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

Habakkuk has a fascinating interpretive history. Jewish and Christian readers have pondered its more opaque passages and sought to mine its oracles for gems of wisdom to sustain people of faith in times of crisis. The book is a point of reference for several New Testament writers (see the indexes in Aland et al., 888, 900). The Old Greek/Septuagint version of Hab. 1:5 is quoted directly in Acts 13:41 at the conclusion of Paul’s homily on salvation history in the synagogue of Antioch. Hebrews 10:37–38 quotes and offers an eschatological interpretation of Hab. 2:3–4. In the Pauline corpus, we find two additional quotations of Hab. 2:4 in Rom. 1:17 and 3:11 respectively. Passages alluding to Habakkuk are found in 2 Pet. 3:9 (Hab. 2:3); 1 Cor. 12:2 (Hab. 2:18–19); and Luke 13:6 (Hab. 3:17).

Biblical manuscripts and a detailed commentary (Hebrew—pesher) exploring the eschatological implications of Habakkuk are extant in the Dead Sea Scrolls corpus. Such indicate the esteem in which the book was held among those for whom the sectarian community founded at Qumran was a spiritual sanctuary. In the Habakkuk pesher (1QpHab), “the wicked,” “righteous,” and “Chaldeans,” referenced in Hab. 1:4, 6, are understood to be the opponents of the community, those aligning themselves with the mysterious “upright teacher,” and—perhaps—the armies of the Roman Empire respectively (Graham, 475; Reventlow, 31–32). Engagement of the book by a vast array of Jewish and Christian interpreters from late antiquity to the modern era illustrates its broad applicability in a variety of life settings (see Graham).

THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION

Habakkuk reminds those in all generations to stand at their “watchpost”; speak truth to power, whether spiritual, temporal, or—in some cases—ultimate; and await appropriate responses to any “complaint” made on behalf of those without agency (Hab. 2:1). In our own world, application of the laws maintaining our social fabric all too often appear “slack” (1:4), and justice, it seems, at least for those radically “othered” or at the bottom of our social or economic hierarchies, “never prevails” (1:4). The deaths of Trayvon Martin (Sanford, FL, 2012), Jonathan Ferrell (Charlotte, NC, 2013), and Renisha McBride (Dearborn, MI, 2013); the disproportionate impact that stop-and-frisk practices by the New York City Police Department have on people of color living in the city’s boroughs (on which see http://www.nyclu.org/issues/racial-justice/stop-and-frisk-practices, accessed January 27, 2014); and the insensitive representations of Asian peoples and cultures in cinema (e.g., the 2012 movie Cloud Atlas) and television (e.g., season 9, episode 14 of the CBS serial How I Met Your Mother) raise major concerns about the ways in which negative racial stereotypes influence public perceptions of African Americans and Latino/a cultures in the United States. The marginalization and mistreatment of the LGBTQ community by several mainstream Christian denominations raises comparable concerns. The same can be said regarding policies governing colonization and ideologies (e.g., that of Manifest Destiny) promoting territorial expansion that resulted in the genocide of native peoples here and in others parts of the world. Habakkuk issues a clarion call to those who would assume the prophetic mantle to speak evocatively about what needs to be done to address injustice and set things right.

THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT

The LORD provides an intriguing answer to Habakkuk’s query, instructing him to record clearly what he is told. Patience is counseled (2:2–3) and a reminder given that the upright should rely on faithfulness to sustain them (2:4). Warnings are given against pride (2:4), wealth, and arrogance (2:5), those who exploit and despoil (2:6–8), those profiting from ill-gotten gain (2:9–11), the bloodthirsty (2:12–13), the wrathful (2:15–17), and idol makers (2:18–19). Two remarkable doxologies are strategically placed in this extensive collection of “Woe” admonitions. The first affirms the pervasive influence of YHWH’s presence (2:14). The second demands silence in light of the LORD’S presence in the sacred precinct (2:20). The rhetoric of the speech seems intended to elicit awe and reverence rather than directly to address Habakkuk’s primary concerns. Sapiential musings that reduce the complexities of human behavior to moral binaries (2:4) offer little solace when injustice is rampant and political upheaval is about to consume one’s homeland (1:6).

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

Habakkuk 2 has given rise to considerable theological, musical, and esoteric musings. In the Qumran community, Hab. 2:4 is seen as a reference to the upright adherents of Torah teaching (Reventlow, 31). Pauline thought owes undeniable indebtedness to Hab. 2:4. Along with Gen. 15:6, it is certainly one of the texts that inspired the itinerant apostle from Tarsus. M. Patrick Graham has noted fascination with this chapter among Christian apologists ranging from antiquity to the Protestant Reformation, among whom he numbers Cyril of Alexandria, Martin Luther, and John Calvin. He notes that both Luther and Calvin affirmed the christological import of Hab. 2:4 (see Graham, 475–76). Arthur Ainger’s nineteenth-century hymn “God Is Working His Purpose Out” is an extended reflection on Hab. 2:14. George Root’s hymn “The Lord Is in His Holy Temple” builds a theme expressed in Hab. 2:20 (Carpenter and Williams, 627). In recent years, Hab. 2:2 has been popularized as a mantra for focused pursuit of one’s vision by musical artist and preacher the Rev. Joseph Simmons, also known as “DJ Run” of the pioneering rap group Run-D.M.C. (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SC2oh6s6d7o). These passages are likely to continue firing the imaginations of future interpreters.

THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION

In the worldview of the Bible, the God of Israel sheds light on elements of the divine plan to selected women and men from time to time. On some occasions, those celestial communiqués are straightforward responses to queries (Exod. 3:13–15). On others, they are either voluntary disclosures accompanying theophanies (Gen. 12:1–3), or tantalizing clues that have to be either wrestled from mysterious envoys (Gen. 32:22–32), or secured through deft negotiation (Gen. 18:16–33). In a few very special cases, such as Job 38–41 or Hab. 2:2–20, a revelatory experience with the ineffable confronts a seeker with oblique advice shrouded in unfathomable mystery. Many members of today’s Jewish and Christian communities would no doubt speak of their relationship with God in similar terms. A stern rebuke like that in Job 38:2—“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?”—might cower an anguished soul into accepting its place in the cosmos. A firm admonition like that of Hab. 2:20—“The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him!”—might well have the same impact. However, the literary texture of Habakkuk allows for a more nuanced encounter with God and lived experience. Habakkuk, after all, ignores the divine “gag order.” He speaks, as should all people of conscience.

THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT

In what appears to be an inversion of the pattern encountered in Job 38–41, it is Habakkuk—not YHWH—who has the final word in this high-stakes verbal game of challenge and riposte. It is the prophet who recounts the cosmogonic march from Teman (Hab. 3:3) to rescue the faithful (3:13), acknowledges the devastating realization that disaster in his own world is imminent (3:16), refuses to embrace despair (3:18), and affirms his fidelity to the one who is his “salvation” and “strength” (3:18–19). Inclusion of this ancient poem and the prophet’s admonitions to his God makes Habakkuk an instructional manual for those who would make themselves open to the incursions of the spirit without succumbing to the strictures of Deuteronomic thought, the narrow binaries of the sages, the eschatological musings of apocalyptic separatists, or the fatalistic strains expressed in Qohelet (Eccles. 1:1–11).

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

Habakkuk is an enigmatic figure who—like Enoch, Elijah, Joseph of Arimathea, and Mary Magdalene—spawned fanciful speculation in antiquity, some of which is retained in apocryphal and pseudepigraphic sources (see Bel 33–39; and the Martyrdom of Isaiah 2:9). Habakkuk 3, one of the most intriguing chapters of this prophetic anthology, has also received considerable attention. The Septuagint deploys Egyptian solar imagery to make sense of 3:5 (Reventlow, 23). Augustine views the entire poem as discourse between Habakkuk and Jesus (Graham, 475). William Hayes Ward long ago posited that the poem was likely part of liturgical worship in the Jerusalem temple (Ward, 6). Among more recent commentators, Roberts (84) and Anderson (260) argue convincingly that this poem has an ancient pedigree. Many of its interpretive cruxes are intractable and unlikely to be resolved in the near future. Whatever its age or original provenance, it is integral to the canonical form of the book and confronts all readers with the question: Why did Habakkuk lift up this tefilla (“prayer”); and why should every subsequent generation of readers follow his example?