Dating the Patriarchal Stories

006

In his review of my book, Abraham in History and Tradition, Nahum Sarna sets the context for his remarks with a brief but very helpful survey of the development of historical criticism of the Pentateuch, including literary and form criticism (see “Abraham in History,” BAR 03:04). However, he does not deal with my literary treatment of the stories of Abraham except to say that it is a return to the position of Wellhausen but “even more extreme”.

Since I regard this part of the book as the most important aspect of my study, I am not entirely happy with this rather pejorative assessment of my literary analysis. The historical and archaeological questions were taken up to show that the traditions were not the heritage of a very early period in Israel’s history but could be viewed as a literary product of the exilic period. So, while literary and historical issues are closely related, they must be separated here since the debate on differences between us is only focused on historical questions.

Sarna admits that the arguments of my book against an exclusively early date for the customs reflected in Genesis are “irrefutable.” However he wants to turn the issue around and say that because they could be late does not mean that they could not be early. Yet by saying this he somewhat obscures the issue which he himself has posed. In his article Sarna quoted a statement from Wellhausen as representing the results of 19th century Biblical criticism to the effect that the stories of the patriarchs do not reflect a historical period of hoary antiquity but rather the customs, attitudes, and religion of the Israelite authors projected back into the past. Against Wellhausen’s position and the whole methodology which lay behind it, Albright, Gordon, and others had argued that the customs demanded an early date.

But if there is no evidence which demands an early date then one must take seriously all of the reasons for which Wellhausen and others arrived at their view in the first place. They saw numerous literary and theological constraints on dating the material, so that one cannot choose an early or late date as a matter of personal preference. Nor can one any longer dismiss the discipline of Biblical criticism (with which I deal in part 2 of my book) simply by referring to the work of Albright and other American scholars.

In my book I discussed the use of the term Canaan and Canaanite in Genesis and mentioned that the earliest known reference is in the 15th century B.C. Sarna points out that there may now be an earlier occurrence in the third millennium texts from Ebla. However, the real point of my discussion is not the antiquity of the term but how Genesis corresponds to the development of its usage. R. de Vaux has shown that Canaan and Canaanite first applied to the land of Palestine (rather than to a limited region of the Phoenician coast) only after the establishment of the Egyptian provincial system in the 14th to 13th century B.C. It was this usage of Canaan which was left as a legacy in the region of Palestine long after the Egyptian empire was forgotten—and this usage (no earlier than the 14th century B.C.) is what is reflected in the Biblical texts.

Regarding the rumor of a northern location for Ur in the Ebla texts I can only say that there have been at least two other northern “Urs” proposed in the past, but none seem to commend themselves to scholars. The only strong argument in the past against taking Ur as the city in lower Mesopotamia (the southern Ur, excavated by Woolley) is because the qualifying phrase “of the Chaldeans” seemed to point so 007unambiguously to the rise in prominence of this southern city under the Chaldean rulers of the Neo-Babylonian empire (605 B.C.–559 B.C.). This datum conflicted with the previous early dating of the Biblical source (the Yahwist) in which these references to Ur were found. But if the Yahwistic source is exilic in date (587 B.C.–540 B.C.), as I have suggested, then there is no need to look elsewhere (i.e., in the north) for another Ur.

In the past scholars like Sarna have tried to explain the life-style of the patriarchs as “semi-nomadic”, a transitional phase from the nomadic life to a more sedentary existence. Isaac is regarded as the prime example of the nomad in transition (Genesis 26:12ff.) since he practices limited agriculture but also has large flocks and herds. This is compared with references in the Mari archives of the second millennium B.C. in which certain nomadic groups are encouraged by the authorities to engage in agricultural activity. However, this rough comparison is still quite misleading. The picture of the patriarchs in Genesis is largely pastoral but not specifically nomadic of any period or degree. The patriarchs are portrayed as families with customs and a way of life no different from most large flock owners in Judah of the late period. The stories offer us no specific piece of information which can be related to the social phenomena of nomadic life, apart from the few references to living in tents. If the authors of Genesis really thought of the patriarchs as belonging to a nomadic age their portrayal suggests a very superficial acquaintance with that way of life. Any Judean of the late monarchic period could have been familiar with nomads who lived in tents, had mixed flocks and herds, including camels, and no fixed dwelling place. At no point, however, do the traditions themselves give evidence of arising out of that stratum of society.

Let me also restate the issue regarding the references in Genesis to Beersheba. The recent excavations at Beersheba indicate that the city was not founded until the Iron Age (12th century B.C.) so that references to Beersheba in Genesis cannot date from a period before that time. Sarna states that I have “overlooked the fact that not a single Biblical passage makes reference to any permanent settlement at Beersheba.” But surely it is true that stories about the founding of an important city cannot arise until sometime after that city has come into being. Of course in such stories the city itself does not yet exist but it certainly does for the story-teller, and such a reference as we have in Genesis 26:33 which links Isaac’s naming of the well to the name of the later city is not a “late editorial note” as Sarna suggests but the real point of the story.

Furthermore Sarna makes much of the work of Gunkel, Alt and Noth who tried to establish that there was a large body of oral tradition which came down to the Biblical writers from great antiquity. He claims that their conclusions strongly support the historicity of the patriarchal stories. But much of their work rests on the principle that the patriarchal stories were preserved from these early times at such urban centers as Beersheba, so the non-existence of such a place in the earlier period before the rise of the Israelite state is a serious blow to the whole tradition-history approach and cannot be glossed over so easily.

Sarna also argues that the mores and religion of the patriarchs would be offensive to any author of the exilic period. He cites as an example Abraham’s marriage to his half-sister (Genesis 20:12) and contrasts this with the laws prohibiting such a marriage in Leviticus 18:9, Leviticus 18:11; Leviticus 20:17; and Deuteronomy 27:22. He fails to point out, however, that in 2 Samuel 13:13, referring to a union between a half-brother and sister among the children of David, it is regarded as permissible. In a learned study on sexual taboos in the Biblical law codes, D. Daube (in Studies in Biblical Law, pp. 78–82) has argued that even as late as the exilic period the matter of marriage to a half-sister was still an unsettled question. In this same category also is the law against marrying two sisters as Jacob did with Leah and Rachel (see Leviticus 18:18). Sarna overlooks the fact that Ezekiel represents God himself as doing just that in Ezekiel 23.

Religious practices which would be offensive, in Sarna’s view, to a later age are the planting of sacred trees, setting up of sacred pillars, and building numerous altars all of which appear to be condemned by Deuteronomy. But the problem is not really solved by making the accounts early since it does not explain why the references could not be removed by later 008editors. In fact, even the latest exilic writer (P) makes mention of such a sacred pillar in Genesis 35:14ff. And these problems are not restricted to the patriarchal stories, for Moses set up pillars at Sinai (Exodus 24:3ff.) and Joshua at Gilgal (Joshua 4). However, in all these cases the trees and pillars are not regarded as cult objects but as “memorials” of past events in the sacred history of the people. Note especially the story of Joshua 22, where a controversial altar is interpreted not as an altar for sacrifice but as a memorial and therefore legitimate. It is precisely in this way, it seems to me, that the author has reinterpreted objects of popular piety as memorials of a past age, rather than adopt the unsuccessful iconoclastic approach of Deuteronomy (calling for their destruction) which we know was largely a failure. The commemorative element of trees and pillars is especially emphasized in Genesis 21:33f.; Genesis 28:18, Genesis 28:22 and even in the late priestly account in Genesis 35:14f. Often closely associated with trees are altars which, however, are rarely used for sacrifice but are primarily places of prayer and the reception of revelations (Genesis 12:7; Genesis 13:18; Genesis 26:25; Genesis 3:20; Genesis 35:7; cf Genesis 46:1). There is no hint in these accounts of anything related to Canaanite fertility cults or anything very “primitive”.

Sarna also suggests that the patriarchal stories contain “rare and often unique divine names in the patriarchal narratives—such as El Elyon (Genesis 14:18, Genesis 14:22), El Ro’i (Genesis 16:13), El ‘Olam (Genesis 21:33) and El Beth-El (Genesis 31:13; Genesis 35:7)”, which, he says, are not found in the later literature”. My response to this is that in no instance can it be shown that these are actual divine names and not simply epithets of Yahweh i.e., the most high God, the seeing God, the eternal God, the God of Bethel. Furthermore, in the case of the epithet elyon and olam these occur frequently in the later literature, especially in the liturgical literature. It is true that the phrase el ro’i is unique to Genesis, but given the great variety of epithets for deity in the Old Testament generally and the particular demands of that story in Genesis 16:13f. this is not surprising. The term “God (el) of Bethel” is easy to explain on the basis of Near Eastern parallels. It simply associates a major cult place with a particular deity. Furthermore, Sarna ignores the fact that in most instances these epithets are directly linked with the name of Yahweh as is the pattern elsewhere in the Old Testament and with the names of other principal deities in parallel instances of divine epithets in the Near East generally.

Sarna’s final remark, which strongly suggests that the Ebla tablets will do me in, is somewhat disconcerting. I am just as eager as he to see these published, but not for the purpose of carrying on this debate. Far too much has already been said that is based on rumor and on a very incomplete understanding of the content of these texts. When they are published, they will still require much careful study to illuminate the history and culture of the Levant in the third millennium B.C. Only then will we be able to say anything worthwhile about how that period relates to subsequent history and culture of Syria-Palestine, without the frantic search for Biblical parallels which has so often bedeviled the proper understanding of texts from Mari, Nuzi, Ugarit and other important finds of the ancient Near East.