Narrative and Novella in Samuel: Studies by Hugo Gressmann and Other Scholars 1906-1923 (JSOT Supplement)

JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT SUPPLEMENT SERIES 116 Editors David J.A. Clines Philip R. Davies HISTORIC ...

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JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT SUPPLEMENT SERIES

116 Editors David J.A. Clines Philip R. Davies

HISTORIC TEXTS AND INTERPRETERS IN BIBLICAL SCHOLARSHIP

9 General Editor Professor J.W. Rogerson (Sheffield) Consultant Editors Professor C.K. Barrett (Durham) Professor R. Smend (Gb'ttingen) Professor D.M. Gunn (Decatur)

Almond Press Sheffield

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NARRATIVE and NOVELLA in SAMUEL

Studies by Hugo Gressmann and Other Scholars 1906-1923

Translated by David E. Orton Edited by David M. Gunn

The Almond

Press

1991

Translation has been made from the following sources: Hugo Gressmann, Die alteste Geschichtsschreibung and Prophetic Israels, in H. Gunkel, W. Stark, P. Volz, H. Gressmann, H. Schmidt and M. Haller (eds.), Die Schriften des Alien Testaments, II.1 (2nd rev. edn, Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1921) (selected sections). Wilhelm Caspari, 'Literarische Art und historischer Wert von 2 Sam. 15— 20', Theologische Studien undKritiken 82 (1909), pp. 317-48. Bernhard Luther, 'Die Novelle von Juda und Tamar und andere israelitische Novellen', in Eduard Meyer, Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme (Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1906), pp. 177-206. Alfons Schulz, Erzahlungskunst in den Samuel-Biichern (Biblische Zeitfragen, llth series, 6-7; Miinster: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1923). Copyright © 1991 Sheffield Academic Press Published by Almond Press Editorial direction: David M. Gunn Columbia Theological Seminary P.O. Box 520, Decatur GA 30031, U.S.A. Almond jf ,,-s is an imprint of Sheffield Academic Press Ltd The University of Sheffield 343 Fulwood Road Sheffield S10 3BP England Typeset by Sheffield Academic Press and Printed on acid-free paper in Great Britain by Billing & Sons Ltd Worcester British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Narrative and novella in Samuel: studies by Hugo Gressmann and other scholars 1906-1923. 1. Bible. O.T. Samuel I. Gressmann, Hugo II. Gunn, David M. (David Miller) 1942III. Series 222.406

ISSN 0309-0787 ISSN 0263-1199 ISBN 1-85075-281-8

CONTENTS

Editor's Preface

7

HUGO GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel Introduction David and Bathsheba (2 Samuel 10.1-12.31) Amnon and Absalom (2 Samuel 13.1-14.33) The Revolt of Absalom and Sheba (2 Samuel 15.1-20.22) David's Officers (2 Samuel 20.23-26) The Conflict between Solomon and Adonijah over the Succession (1 Kings 1.1-2.46)

9 9 23 31 38 52 52

WILHELM CASPARI The Literary Type and Historical Value of

2 Samuel 15-20

59

BERNHARD LUTHER The Novella of Judah and Tamar and Other Israelite Novellas

89

ALFONS SCHULZ Narrative Art in the Books of Samuel

119

Bibliography Index of Biblical References Index of Authors

171 173 183

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EDITOR'S PREFACE In the course of editing and translating Leonhard Host's classic work on the books of Samuel, Die Uberlieferung von der Thronnachfolge Davids (published in 1926; translated as The Succession to the Throne of David [HTIBS, 1; Sheffield: Almond, 1982]), I was struck again by Host's sensitivity to matters of literary artistry. I was also struck by the extent to which this interest in the form and style of 'poetic narratives' typified an interest of other biblical scholars in Germany during the early decades of the twentieth century. The present book grew out of those observations. In 1980, when I conceived the project, biblical studies were beginning to temper their obsessive historicism with a revaluation of biblical narrative as art, nowhere more so than in the books of Samuel. Thus it seemed appropriate in these closing decades of the century to bring into view, through translation, some continuities with past Samuel scholarship that took an interest in the narrator's craft. The pieces chosen for translation are all cited in Rost, though in the case of Bernhard Luther and Alfons Schulz, cited on only one occasion each, and then only to disagree with Luther on the question of whether or not 2 Samuel 13 and 14 formed, as William Caspari and Hugo Gressmann also maintained, an independent Tamar novella'. Yet I rather think both Schulz and Luther, certainly Luther, influenced Rost rather more than those brief citations might suggest (though I shall not attempt to substantiate this point here). In any case, Luther's discussion of the genre novella (German Novelle), a highly crafted (and 'literary' as opposed to 'oral' or 'popular') short story genre much favoured in European literature, sets the terms of discussion that continues with Caspari, Gressmann and Rost. Rost, determined to show the extended nature of the 'Succession History', rejected the notion of shorter self-contained stories as the predominant

8

Narrative and Novella in Samuel

compositional feature of Samuel. But he, like all these critics, took seriously the nature of the material as story, being especially attentive to questions of plot. Of these scholars, Luther is little known apart from this seminal piece and another he wrote, on the Yahwist, in the same Meyer volume. Caspari wrote widely and is probably best known in Samuel studies for his commentary in the series Kommentar zum Alten Testament (Leipzig, 1926). Schulz, too, wrote a commentary on Samuel, in the series Exegetisches Handbuch zum Alten Testament (Miinster, 1919/1920), though his work has received less scholarly recognition, perhaps in part because, as a Catholic, he took a conservative view on matters of composition and history. (It is not inconceivable that his sustained and unusual interest in rhetorical features of the text was itself related to the exigencies of working within his tradition at that time.) The major figure of the group is, of course, Gressmann, whose work might well be ranked with that of Hermann Gunkel, though it is Gunkel who has received sustained attention as the century has proceeded. In Samuel studies, Gressmann's (like Caspari's) view of a loose collection of short individual component narratives gave way to Host's view of a few extensive, unitary narratives. But Gressmann's broad discussions of narrative genre and his detailed comments on the text were important for Rost and many others. He remains a scholar of stature and it is remarkable that so little of his work has ever appeared in English translation. Here is a modest start to changing that situation. In the bibliographic notes to Host's The Succession to the Throne of David I optimistically cited this book as appearing in 1982! The exigencies of my life have rather derailed that projection. My thanks to David Clines and Philip Davies at Sheffield Academic Press for being willing to continue support for a book so long in the making. Above all, I am deeply grateful to David Orton for his patience and perseverance, his care and skill as a translator, and his friendship over these passing years. David M. Gunn Columbia Theological Seminary

January, 1991

THE OLDEST HISTORY WRITING IN ISRAEL Hugo Gressmann

INTRODUCTION

I

a. In the books of Kings, the reign of each king is concluded (with minor variations) with the notice that: 'The rest of the acts of...and all that he did, are they not written in the Books of the Chronicles of the Kings of Israel?' or 'of Judah', according to whether it was an Israelite or a Judaean king. As further information about these books has not come down to us, we are dependent on inferences, which cannot claim complete certainty. The corresponding Hebrew expression, 'Book of the daily events' in its literal rendering, indicates primarily a court journal, a collation of the daily events occurring at court or in the country of the king concerned. It was the duty of an official bearing the title 'chancellor' to keep this journal. Such journals are attested in Egypt, Phoenicia, Persia and at the Hellenistic courts.1 They apparently contained everything that the king said and did, both in private and in public, and especially reports on his military activities. If one is not to assume the existence of additional journals kept by his officials, they also contained all business matters: 'in' and 'out' files, income and expenditure, building, gifts, tributes, journeys, feasts, taxes, censuses, names of those occupying important official posts, births, marriages, deaths and everything else that concerned the royal court. From these journals, then, 1. Est. 2.33; 6.1; H. Gressmann, Altorientalische Texte und Bilder (1909), vol. 1: A. Ungnad and G. von Ranke, Texte, p. 227; Wilcken, Philologus 53 (1894), pp. 80ff.

10


comes the information about David's family (2 Sam. 3.2-5; 5.13-16), his officials (8.16-18; 20.23-26), his wars (8.1-15) and his heroes (23.24-38). Popular saga has no sympathy for such lists, and just as little for the loosely collated pieces of information from Solomon's reign (1 Kgs 9.10-28; 10.11-29). These compilations on the other hand are very much in the style of journals; for the fleeting moment does not make a history; day to day occurrences necessarily have a fragmentary character about them. b. Whether excerpts were made from the journals is open to question; perhaps there were also summarizing annals. Such are known to us from Egypt (the Palermo stone; monuments of Thutmoses III), from Old and New Babylonia ('Chronicles') and from Assyria (inscriptions). While the Assyrian rulers, in accordance with the special interests of their military state, report almost exclusively on their annual war campaigns, in Babylonia and Egypt one also hears of cultural matters, of temple and canal construction, of gifts of incense and offcasts. Since in ancient times there was no defined era in which the years were consecutively numbered, it was necessary for practical reasons, for the world of trade and commerce, to have some way of marking the years, so that in the interpretation of long-term contracts, for example, there would be no room for mistakes. The simplest way of doing this, going by outstanding events that were held in common memory over a lengthy period (such as Amos 1.1: 'two years before the earthquake'), was inadequate in the long term. And so in Egypt and Babylonia it became the custom at a very early period not only to mark the years according to significant events, but also to number them according to the length of the reign of the current king. Thus royal lists were required in which rulers were listed in order, the number of years of their reign given, as well as other facts such as wars, feast-days, manner of death and place of burial. Such royal lists, in the case of Babylonia frequently handed down from very ancient times, will have been quite usual in Judah and Israel also, after the birth of the monarchy. After the division of the kingdom, the dates of the rulers probably were always recorded 'concurrently', the corresponding year of the reign of the king of Israel being added

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel

11

to that of the king of Judah (or vice versa), as is consistently done in the books of Kings. By this means, sources of error were limited and decisions in legal disputes were simplified. It would be quite conceivable that the royal lists or annals would gradually have been further and further expanded and would in due course have grown into a coherent historical account, but in fact this possible development was not realized anywhere in the Near East. Practically all extant annals can be described as bare skeletons lacking flesh and blood—at best a few sober, detached facts that might occupy the mind of a scholar, but mostly without ideas or content of any depth. In Israel, too, history writing was totally independent of the annals, since very little other than the royal lists derives from them. That the reader is repeatedly referred to the 'Book of the daily events' without any quotations being given from it, can only be taken to mean: Whoever wants to know more must consult the archives! c. Finally, one might posit the existence of temple chronicles, which can be thought of as being in the style of court journals, but with the difference that they were confined to temple events. Apart from daily income and expenditure they would contain in particular the building report, a description of the inventory, details of innovations, lists of high priests and the whole priesthood, perhaps also information about feasts, important visitors, bequests, sieges and anything else in the way of occurrences both great and small that a day brought. There is some probability that temple chronicles have been drawn upon for those chapters that deal with Solomon's construction work (1 Kgs 6.1-7.50), the revolt of the priests under Athaliah (2 Kgs 11.1-20), the repair of the damage to the Solomonic sanctuary and the invention of the savings box under Jehoash (2 Kgs 12.1-17), the introduction of a new altar on the Assyrian model under Ahaz (2 Kgs 16.10-18) and the discovery of the book of the law under Josiah (2 Kgs 22f.). All the reports go back to the Jerusalem temple chronicles, an indication that the historical books we have were processed in Judah. But certainly the other sanctuaries in the land, especially the royal temples in Bethel and Samaria, also possessed similar archives, as generally in the Near East temples served

12


simultaneously as libraries. The chapters mentioned are valuable to us; except where they have been subject to later revisions, they are reliable documents. II

Whoever wants to understand Israelite historical writing in its inception and growth must not start from the annalistic sources just described but from the opposite type of account. For its roots reach right down into the soul of the people, from whose creative strength it drew its nourishment, while the official, court-sponsored 'art' soon withered. The compilation of annals and the writing of history, although there are on the surface many points of contact between them, cannot possibly be classed together; indeed one might go so far as to say that to a certain extent they are mutually exclusive. Where official annal composition flourishes, popular history writing cannot thrive. Our evidence of this comes from Babylonia, Assyria and Egypt, empires which have left a plentiful supply of inscriptions, chronicles, lists and annals but which did not progress to history writing. On the other side are the Israelites and the Greeks, two peoples whose court records are relatively few, but whose history writing has reached the highest level of perfection that was granted to ancient times. The reason for this striking phenomenon is evidently to be found principally in the variety of the nations' constitutions. In Babylonia, Assyria and Egypt, kings were all-important and the people counted for nothing. Egypt was the classical land of the veneration of kings; in Babylonia and Assyria, rulers were in general not exactly venerated as gods, but they did tower over their subjects, separated from them by a formidable barrier. Israelites and Greeks on the other hand were free citizens, whose criticism did not even draw the line at the steps to the throne. The history narrator sees the facts through his even temperament; he must feel himself to be above things, if he is to shape them in his mind. Wherever individuality is suppressed, whether by the despotism of kings or by priestly rule, history writing is impossible. If Israel had already been subject to a 'theocracy' (i.e. priestly rule) before the Exile, or if Solomon's attempt to introduce oriental despo-


13

tism into Israel had had long-term success, then the hopeful beginnings of history writing would probably have been nipped in the bud. But the time of Solomon in a sense represents an episode in the life of Israel. a. History writing is preceded by the saga, which to begin with is transmitted only orally. This may be called 'popular*, in that the author is unknown and even incidental. For although it is the work of an individual, its creator belongs to the class of the popular narrator, still well known in the orient today, who must have been present already at a very early date. Although he is nowhere expressly attested in the Old Testament, one can clearly perceive his hand at many points; the names of the Tahwist' and the 'Elohist' given to certain sources of the Hexateuch thus do not denote personalities but schools of narrators of the ninth and eighth centuries BCE. By means of continual repetition in this section of society, the narrative of the individual becomes the common property of many; for whoever transmits it, shapes it and works on it until it has reached its final form. Of course, the original beauty can also be marred by inept additions. Thus during its oral transmission every narrative experiences a history, which can also continue after it is committed to writing. We are frequently in a position to follow its development more precisely; cracks and breaks in the development of ideas, unjustified gaps in series of facts, repetitions and contradictions with the context force the researcher to delete an interpolation from the text at one point and to posit a distortion of the tradition at another. In general, it is precisely in the most beautiful narratives that these phenomena are noted, which is understandable enough as they in particular were most often repeated and were thus especially prone to revisions. The critical treatment which genuine scientific method has to use to divide up the tradition, if it wants to understand it in the way it was originally understood, therefore does not have a destructive effect, but brings attractive results to light. b. History writing, on the other hand, is not a popular genre but an art of educated people, as it presupposes the ability to read and write. True, the history writers were schooled

14


among the saga-narrators, learning their technique, which is the same in both genres. We meet the same stylistic devices in each: both, for example, follow the rule of letting unimportant matters precede important ones. Both heighten suspense by means of'retardant' factors, that is, they constantly put off the expected end by always inserting new incidental action. Both love to pair off heroes, whether in friendship or in enmity. In both, the action slowly builds up to a climax but then declines rapidly. It is common to both to catch up on matters by first leaving the audience in the dark or being content to drop subtle hints, not supplying the omitted information until later, at a suitable opportunity, when sufficient curiosity has been aroused. In both, also, the frequent repetition of an action, with only minor changes, serves to make the most of the fascination that a situation engenders. The difference between history writing and the saga is in the first place one of subject-matter: historical narrative chooses its subjects from the present or the immediate past; its heroes are the kings and crown princes, military leaders and prophets, in short the leading men of the state. For the eye rests above all on political figures and events, and on the experiences of individuals connected with them. The subject of the saga, on the other hand, is mostly comprised of events in the distant past; its heroes are the patriarchs, their wives and children, the powerful men of early times, Moses, Joshua and the judges. Attention is directed mainly to private persons and their circumstances, and to political matters only insofar as they are connected with these. Secondly, history writing wants to portray what once really happened and will never be repeated. The saga, it is true, also makes some claim on belief, because it aims to be a true reflection of the past, but it does not deserve that belief because it lacks the sense of reality which the historical narrative in fact has. One will look in vain in history writing, as in the sober present, for the miracles that are so dear to the saga. Israel's history writing is, however, no less pious for this—on the contrary, it is precisely its pious tone which distinguishes it from the accounts of other peoples; but it recognizes the hand of God not in the fairy-tale violation of the laws of nature but in the natural course of events, or, as we say, in the rule of provi-


15

dence. Nor does its sobriety mean at all that it lacks imagination; the artistic spirit that links it with the saga has protected it from this. Its political understanding is slight; in general it has no insight into the driving forces of politics. Its objectivity, indeed, is astonishingly great—it does not pass over David's weaknesses (2 Sam. 19), and it describes uninhibitedly Solomon's (1 Kgs If.) or Jehu's (2 Kgs 9f.) acts of murder at their accession to the throne—but in the final analysis this objectivity springs from a lack of discernment, from an inability to criticize its heroes. Thus it has not quite managed to release itself completely from the saga; this is its failing and, at the same time, its strength. c. The bounds of saga and history writing are at times fluid, because the tradition never exactly coincides with the definitions of the terms. So in certain cases one might be in two minds as to whether to reckon a narrative as belonging to the former genre or the latter. The accounts of David's conflicts with Ishbosheth (2 Sam. 2.5), of Amnon and Absalom (13.14), or of Absalom and Sheba (15.20) certainly belong to the history-writing genre and seem sure to have been disseminated only in written form, if only by reason of their length. Smaller units may, however, have spread orally; in such cases we may speak of historical narratives, as in Saul's first heroic act (1 Sam. 11), the conflicts over the throne between Solomon and Adonijah (1 Kgs 1-2) or in the disturbances under Jehu and Athaliah (2 Kgs 9-11). One has to assume, however, that they were set down soon after they came into existence, otherwise they would have become sagas. The transformation of history writing into the saga is easy to understand, because gradually imagination gains the upper hand over the evaporating reality. It was a great temptation for the narrator, who lived in the world of the sagas of his people, to add various fairy-tale and saga-motifs to the historical tradition, and thereby make it more gripping for his audience. At times the transformation process has been halted half-way so that fancy and truth are mixed in roughly equal parts. The historical background is still so clearly recognizable that up to a point it can be described. Often, however, historical facts are so heavily painted over that only isolated and uncertain traces remain.

16


In the long term a historical narrative can only be protected against being dissolved completely into saga by being committed to writing. This does not mean to say that all sagas came out of historical narratives (on the contrary, most sagas were presumably sagas right from the beginning). But in individual cases such a development is quite probable, particularly when a saga is very close to history writing. Thus Saul's wars against the Philistines are in general reliably presented, and it is only at the end that a saga-motif intrudes: the human sacrifice of the king's son (1 Sam. 13.14). Here history writing is well on the way to becoming a saga. d. Over against these regressions stands an advance that begins in the time of David. The historical narrative is given added depth along the lines of the novella. The inner life of the heroes is presented in the action more strongly than was previously the case, even if it is not explicitly described at any great length. The expressions of the human soul become a problem and stimulate literary treatment, whether of historical or unhistorical subject matter (as in the Joseph saga). This is the birth of heightened history writing on the lines of the novella. The narrator's sense of reality has been sharpened. It is no accident that this occurred in David's time. For it was natural that a sense for political events should awaken with the establishment of any empire, although the converse is certainly right also: when eyes were opened to political necessities, the monarchy was set up and people subjected themselves to the constraints of the state. In the time of David, individual narratives began to be preserved in writing from their inception, and it was certainly not long before existing historical narratives of the present and the recent past were collected and written down. When the empire was strengthened under Solomon, when calm came to the land and the people enjoyed peace, the time had come when the treasures of the past could be recalled. As the records were at first limited to the period of the judges, the beginnings of the book of Judges and the first collection of laws in the book of the covenant and in the decalogues (Exod. 20-23) came into being as early as the tenth century. The two subsequent centuries, however, went back further; the source document of the Tahwist' first combined


17

the (already old) sagas of ancient times up to the conquest of Canaan, and to it was added as a second source document, the 'Elohist'. e. If one surveys the types of saga in the history books, their profane character is already evident in the fact that the cult saga almost completely recedes. The only two examples that stem from the priestly circles of Jerusalem are limited to the fate of the Ark of Yahweh and its transfer from Shiloh to Jerusalem (1 Sam. 4.1-7.1; 2 Sam. 6) and to the founding of the first Jerusalem altar of Yahweh (2 Sam. 24). Since, however, the sagas have a religious colouring despite their profane nature, cultic service frequently figures in them; this is specially true of the priestly saga of Samuel, which informs us about the cult at Shiloh (1 Sam. 1-3), and of the prophetsagas, which are directed against the worship at of Bethel (1 Kgs 13) or the worship of Baal on Carmel (1 Kgs 18). Of the hero-sagas, two are particularly valuable for the history of religions, one because it deals with the Teraphim (1 Sam. 19.917), and the other because it deals with necromancy (1 Sam. 28). Local sagas are equally scarce: to this type belong only the sagas of the Judaean desert, of Maon, Engedi and Ziph (1 Sam. 23-24; 26), the saga of Baal Perazim (2 Sam. 5.17-21) and of the spring in Jericho (2 Kgs 2.19-22). Individual places are given 'aetiological' explanations by means of factual observations such as Absalom's monument (2 Sam. 18.18) or by linguistic expositions according to popular etymologies such as the 'Rock of Escape' (1 Sam. 23.28), the 'Lord of breaking through' (2 Sam. 5.20) or the 'field of sword-edges' (2 Sam. 2.16; cf. 20.8, 19). The hero-saga with its graphic detail naturally gives prominence to many other places, such as the two rocks, Bozez and Seneh, which Jonathan climbed (1 Sam. 14.4), and equally the cult saga loves to entangle favourite places in its tendrils, like the stone in the field of Joshua of Beth-shemesh (1 Sam. 6.18), or the great altar-stone of Saul (1 Sam. 14.33). The vast majority of the narratives are hero-sagas, at first about kings like Saul and David, whose life is utterly inexhaustible and whose doings are traced back as far as the time

18


before their accession (1 Sam. 9f.; 16-18). As a special peculiarity we should mention the giant sagas, which described David's battles with the Philistines sometimes in the form of short, detached 'anecdotes' (2 Sam. 21.15-22; 23.8-23), and sometimes in the form of a detailed narrative, as with David and Goliath (1 Sam. 17f.). Etymological motifs are rare, but are not entirely lacking (Samuel, 1 Sam. 1.20; Ichabod, 4.21f.; Nabal, 25.25). In some hero-sagas there is no mistaking a touch of humour, as when the Teraphim are laid in the bed (1 Sam. 19.9ff.) or when David affects insanity (21.11ff.) A further special group comprises the wisdom sagas, which illustrate Solomon's cleverness and betray foreign influences (1 Kgs 3.16-28; 5.9-14; 10.1-13). Next to the kings, it is then seers such as Samuel (1 Sam. 1-3; 9f; 19.18ff.) and prophets such as Ahijah (1 Kgs 11.29ff.; 14), Micaiah (1 Kgs 22), Elijah and Elisha that are extolled by the saga. Saga cycles are demonstrable only in the case of the latter pair, but even here only to a small extent (1 Kgs 17f; 2 Kgs 4.8-37; 8.1-6). f. The powers of imagination, which in the earlier period gave rise to the creation of sagas, turn in the later period to the formation of the legend. This then joins the historical narrative as the second descendant of the saga. Legend and saga are equidistant from reality, so that often it is impossible to extract a historical kernel from them. But the legend differs from the saga in its tendentious, edifying character. Religion, which in the saga appears as the natural background of the words and action and whose delicate fragrance everywhere delights us, becomes highly and sometimes unpleasantly obtrusive in the legend. Miracle, which plays only a minor role in the saga, is quite inseparable from the legend, as the latter lives in the atmosphere of the miraculous. It glorifies the people it talks about with a halo and shifts them into nearness to God, yet it does not succeed in exalting them to the imposing stature that we admire in the heroes of the saga. One may then call the legend a saga in spiritual garb. To it belong the anointing of David by Saul (1 Sam. 16.1-13) and the story of the disobedient man of God and the obedient animal of God (1 Kgs 13). But most of the legends derive only from the Deuteronomist, as


19

does the legend cycle of Samuel (1 Sam. 7.2-8.22; 10.17-27; 12.1-25). Ill

Prophecy lent new impetus to history writing. Amos already looked back on Israel's past in his contemplations of history and took from it examples illustrative of divine grace and the ingratitude of the people. Hosea, however, referred even more frequently to history and summarized its development along definite lines: as long as Israel was in the desert it loved its God and was faithful to him; but when it came to Canaan it fell away from him and paid homage to Baal. In this respect, too, the prophets are dependent on older traditions. Sagas telling of Baal-worship by the Israelites at their entry into the cultivated land existed already in their day. Furthermore, the fight against the Baal cult had never been completely interrupted; from the beginning there were certain circles, such as the Rechabites, which refused to accept the local culture and its religion and which regarded the infusion of these into Israelite mores and the Yahweh cult as sin. The voices of admonishment and warning echoed in the wind; but always they rang out afresh and with increasing volume and urgency. In the major prophets the reaction against Canaanite idolatry gained its most powerful impetus because it was sustained by a passionate devotion to Yahweh. Hosea viewed his people's past from the religious aspect that was the decisive one for him, namely whether Israel had honoured Yahweh or Baal, and he discovered a clean cut separating the period of the wandering in the desert, as the ideal period of young love, from the stay in Canaan, where Israel was unfaithful to its rightful spouse, following other lovers. These ideas, hidden below the surface, continued to have their effect. In the time of Jeremiah we recognize clearly how large sections of the people were convinced of the truth of them. At that time the newly acquired knowledge crystallized into practical suggestions for reform. Deuteronomy came into existence and with it began a transformation of the whole system of worship, intended to do away altogether with the basic evil of the Baal cult and idolatry by eliminating all holy

20


places with the exception of the Jerusalem temple. This Book of the Law introduced under Josiah (622 BCE) not only speaks the language of the prophets, which may be ascertained by a comparison with Jeremiah's speeches, but also breathes the spirit of prophecy. The moral and humane rules it lays down, to care for the poor and oppressed, widows and orphans, slaves and strangers, are a brilliant achievement of the prophetic views. More important are the religious ideas that it took over from prophecy. The centres of the hated Baal religion were the sacred high places scattered throughout the whole land, in Israel and Judah. The northern kingdom had committed its special wickedness when through 'the sin of Jeroboam' calfworship was officially set up in Bethel and Dan. Northern Israel had already paid for its misdeeds and no longer existed. But it was hoped that Judah might escape divine punishment by means of a resolute return to the exclusive worship of Yahweh, the destruction of the high places and the cleansing of the temple of Jerusalem from everything heathen. From this viewpoint Israel's development was now retrospectively presented. When the nation was banished into exile and when there was time to collect memories of the past more comprehensively than hitherto, they were subjected to a unified redaction which is usually called a Deuteronomistic revision. By its peculiar language and thought-world this revision distinguishes itself clearly from its environment. It is especially characteristic of it that it condemns the sacred high places as sin and the calf-worship in particular as Jeroboam's sin, at least since the building of Solomon's temple. The Deuteronomists recognize only the tabernacle during the wanderings in the desert, and later only the sanctuary in Jerusalem, as rightful and permitted places of worship. For the intervening period, from the conquest of Canaan to the reign of Solomon, they allow the high places also, because in their opinion there was no central sanctuary at that time. So each king since Solomon receives his 'grade' according to whether he favoured or opposed worship at the high places. Since its abolition was first demanded by the prophets after Amos, and since it took a long time after that for the prophetic ideals to achieve recognition, it is understandable that, with few exceptions, the record sheets of the kings are very poor. To

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel 21

the Deuteronomistic redaction belong also the concurrent regnal figures, which in part are certainly founded on older tradition, but which in part seem to have been artificially constructed. Complete certainty cannot therefore be obtained as to the dating of the kings, and we have to be content with approximate dates, which may vary by a number of years. The Deuteronomic history writing signifies a tremendous advance, although at first sight one gains a different impression. The few ideas that it handles, and which it constantly repeats to the point of tedium, taken with the edifying garb in which it is dressed, have often hindered a just appreciation. The first important thing is that a framework is now available into which the whole history can be set. By means of the introduction of a system of dating, for the first time a firm skeleton is created; the sagas, historical narratives, anecdotes, annals and legends form the flesh and blood through which the past is brought to life. Now that they are all arranged in their proper place, a deeper historical understanding becomes a possibility. The Deuteronomists add a particular idea to this. They do not simply describe what has happened but at the same time evaluate it from their own special perspective. The tradition is thereby transformed in many ways; indeed, at times, as in the genesis of the monarchy, it is changed into the opposite of what it was. But it must not be overlooked that this history writing aspires at the same time to being a philosophy of history. Beginnings are always primitive and awkward, and this is true here too; modern philosophy of history, despite its high level of sophistication, still frequently violates historical traditions instead of bowing to them. Meanwhile, where the spirit moulds the subject as it wills and pervades it with its perception, history is always simplified, and for that very reason the confusing totality of the phenomena is dissolved into easily grasped formulas. Thus the deeper meaning is extracted from the apparently meaningless occurrence. But the meaning which the Deuteronomists found in the history of Israel was determined by thoroughly religious factors: Yahweh speaks to his people through the events. The good or the bad fate accorded the nation shows it whether or not it is on the right path. In this way Israel is guided by God's hand and admonished and warned by God's voice. It is Israel's own fault if it

22


stumbles and falls. In Deuteronomic reflection, as in prophetic reflection, history is due to divine providence.

IV The books of Samuel and Kings were split into two parts only at a late stage; originally there was just one book of Samuel and one book of Kings. Part of the text is unfortunately transmitted in very poor condition and is corrupt at many points, not only through accidental deterioration but also through intentional revisions. A number of scholars assume that the sources evident in the Hexateuch also extend right through the books of the Judges and the book of Samuel and the book of Kings. But this view is hardly tenable. Apart from 1 Sam. 17.1-18.5, 20.1-21.1, 2 Samuel 1 and 1 Kgs 11.14-43, 'sources' are nowhere to be found. The concept of a source requires that the verses separated from their incompatible context can be joined together into a unity and that at least in some places living organisms can be brought to light. But above all, we may only speak of a source when the additions that are removed as such have a content that is at variance with their context. Thus when we have only isolated contradictions, or even simply repetitions, which applies to the books of Samuel and Kings, we are more probably dealing with manuscript variants. We must assume that the text of these books once had an extremely varied form in the different manuscripts. This is confirmed by the Septuagint, which represents a special recension and which has transmitted much else with varying degrees of accuracy. Then the Hebrew manuscripts were at some time compared with each other, and the variants were not, in the manner of present-day publications, given in the margin, but in the continuous text. In addition, there are many complements that seem also to have been added to the original text in the course of a comprehensive revision. They have arisen from an over-pedantic need for clarity. While the oldest narrators name the subject and object as infrequently as possible, almost too seldom, and make very great demands on the understanding of the audience, the copyists have generally inserted the missing word into the text. But in so doing they have gone far beyond the necessary


and by their constant repetitions of self-evident names and objects have spoilt many a beautiful narrative. Artistic taste as well as respect for the authors demand that these complements be removed. Since they are not always discernible with certainty, the decision rests, as with any improvement of the tradition, on the sensitivity of the scholar. DAVID AND BATHSHEBA 2 Samuel 10.1-12.31 Introduction Part I Part II Conclusion

The War with the Ammonites (10.1-11.1) David and Bathsheba (11.2-27a) David and Nathan (11.27b-12.25) The Conquest of Kabbah (12.26-31)

The War with the Ammonites and the Conquest ofRabbah The introduction and the conclusion to this section (10.1-11.1; 12.26-31) form a unity in content and style which is quite distinct from the middle part between them; originally it will have circulated on its own. All details are subordinated to the overall plan, which is to give a general view of David's conflicts with the Ammonites. In comparison with other contemporary war reports, here we are dealing with an excellent history narrative. For whereas usually only those individual sections are selected that have arrested the attention of the popular narrator, here we gain a real insight into the whole course of the campaign, whose main stages are clearly indicated. The Introduction(10.1-5) names the cause of the war, but perhaps does not quite correspond to the facts, since it onesidedly heaps all the blame on the Ammonites. On the death of King Nahash, who was prevented by Saul from conquering Jabesh in Gilead (1 Sam. 11), David sent a special delegation to express his sympathy to Hanun, the king's son—a custom already presupposed in the Amarna letters and already in use as an expression of friendship between allied peoples (so also 1 Kgs 5.15). It may be doubted whether Hanun was moved only by mistrust, but in any case he dishonoured David's

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envoys. The oriental man is particularly proud of his beard; even to grasp hold of it is a serious insult,1 let alone to cut off one side of it! A similar humiliation could also be inflicted on an Arab delegation,2 and there is also an attested instance, relating to prisoners of war, of clothing being cut off at the waist (Isa. 20.4). This amounted to a declaration of war. The first campaign (2 Sam. 10.6-14) ended with a battle before the walls of the Ammonite capital Kabbah, later Philadelphia, today again called Amman (= Ammon), situated on the upper Jabbok, the present-day Nahr Ezzerka. Since the Ammonites felt too weak on their own, they had recruited large numbers of mercenaries from among the Aramaeans. Ammon, which reached about as far as the Yarmuk, was joined by its northern neighbours, the Aramaeans, previously the Geshurites, then further north Maachah at the foot of Mount Hermon, Zobah (subject to Ashurbanipal) and Rehob in the region of Damascus, while Ish-tob (= Tob? Judg. 11.3) seems to have been further to the east. The Israelites, in danger of attack on two sides—they were thus positioned to the north of the city, with the city to the south of them and the Aramaeans approaching from the north—split up and, filled with a courageous trust in God, defeated their opponents. The Aramaeans fled and the Ammonites retreated into the security of the city, which Joab was not equipped to besiege. In the second campaign (10.15-19), which can hardly have taken place in the same year, David personally confronted the Aramaeans, who had regrouped and recruited reinforcements from Hadadezer's country beyond the Euphrates, that is Aram Naharaim, called Mitanni in the Amarna letters, which is identical with Mesopotamia. David defeated them at Helam, probably located in the upper reaches of the Yarmuk, killed their commander Shobach and concluded a peace with the Aramaeans. It is doubtful whether they immediately submitted (v. 19). But at that time Toi, king of Hamath in the province of Zobah, another Aramaean prince and opponent of Hadadezer, sent his son Joram to David with rich gifts to congratulate him on his victory over Hadadezer (8.9, 10). The 1. Cf. Palastina-Jahrbuch, II, p. 70. 2. Ibn Attir 8.360; cf. also Herod. 2.121; Musil 3.161; Janssen, p. 95.


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information that David had set up overseers1 in Damascus and its area (8.6) is usually held to be an exaggeration. After this dangerous opposition had been removed, David could hope to deal with the Ammonites more easily. So the command of the third campaign (11.1; 12.26-31) David again left to Joab. The latter set out in the spring, 'when kings go forth to battle'. In winter, during the rainy season, armies stay at home; but in April, when harvest-time approaches and with it the promise of a rich booty, it is time to move out again. Joab succeeded in storming the most secure part of the city, the fortress, which controlled the rich stream on the north side, being connected with it by means of a subterranean canal (Polybius 5.71)—hence it was called simply 'the city of waters'. As the inhabitants were consequently cut off from their water supply, the main part of the job was done. However, in order that the glory should pass to David—the naming of the name originally has a legal significance and designates the owner—he was called, and he completed what Joab had begun. According to the once usual translation (cf. Luther), the captives were tortured to death in the most horrific way, but the Hebrew expressions do not favour this interpretation. Rather, the numerous implements associated with the brick moulds suggest that the Ammonites had to work as masons and bricklayers; the picks were used to hack out and break up the clay, and the axes and saws to split the stones and timbers (1 Kgs 7.9). According to his inscription, King Mesha of Moab used the captive Israelites in the same way, to dig trenches. Of the items of booty only the most valuable, the jewel-encrusted crown of Milkom, the God of the Ammonites, is mentioned. Milkom, another form of Melek (Moloch), characterizes the god as the 'king* (of the land), while the Canaanites were accustomed to using the title Baal, lord' (of the land). The weight of the crown, 59 kg, will be just as exaggerated as that of the Midianite gold rings (28 kg) which Jerubbaal took as booty (Judg. 8.26).

1. RSV 'garrisons'.

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David and Bathsheba (11.2-27a) Into the account of the Ammonite war a middle piece has been inserted, which is different in content and style. For whereas the former unit reports political events in a concise, almost all too concise, form, the latter treats personal experiences with an agreeable breadth. There the eye is caught by the facts of the story, here by the depiction of the characters. In the present, extant form of the section, the Ammonite war does indeed form the introduction and the conclusion but this was not originally the case, because it is described in too much detail and is too self-contained. On the other hand the middle piece is completely incomprehensible without that framework, and cannot have circulated without it; thus the piece must be younger than the history narrative of the Ammonite war, and this is confirmed by the relative length of its units. The psychological depth of the characters gives it (like 1 Sam. 25) the stamp of the novella. This still does not answer the question of the provenance of the material, however, which will require separate treatment in the respective cases of the Bathsheba and the Nathan episodes. The Introduction (11.2-4) knows of a secret love-scene in David's palace, related reticently in spite of all its plainness, giving only absolutely necessary information. From the roof of his palace the king can look into the courtyards of the houses situated further down the hill-side; there he sees a beautiful woman bathing (like Susanna) and sends for her. Such is the custom of eastern rulers. A magical formula in the pyramid of the Egyptian king Una includes the revealing words: 'So he takes away wives from their husbands, to wherever he wants, whenever the fancy takes him'.1 What is true of the dead Pharaoh is also recorded of the living one, at least in the saga (Gen. 12.15). In the Germanic saga these motifs are very scarce;2 the orient is more lustful than the Occident. It is expressly added that Bathsheba had just become clear of her (sexual) impurity, in order to emphasize that there can be no doubt as to David's paternity, as every husband knows. The 1. E. Meyer, Geschichte des Altertums (2nd edn), 1.2, p. 142. 2. R.M. Meyer, Religionsgeschichte, p. 319.


intrigue does not begin until the consequences of the adultery become noticeable. Part I (11.5-13) reports how David makes a vain attempt to cover up. Suspense is skilfully awakened in the audience by Bathsheba's message to David. Now it is up to the king to avert punishment from her and shame from himself. How will David manage to extricate himself from this tricky situation? It is not without cause that he has a reputation for cunning (1 Sam. 23.22). But his cleverly conceived plan to make Uriah himself appear to be the father of the child, by shamefacedly requesting him to go home and 'wash his feet', comes to grief when he refuses to spend a night with his wife: Uriah wants to be no better off than his comrades, who are camping in the open, or, according to a variant reading, dwelling in tents, far from their wives. David dare not repeat his order for fear of arousing suspicion, but grants him his wish to sleep in the palace porch. Although the king has promised to send him back the next day, he makes a second, more determined attempt to arouse Uriah's yearning for his wife by plying him with good food and drink. But still Uriah is unswayed. The attention of the audience is now at a peak: Will David find another way out, or will he risk a court scandal? Since all moderate means are exhausted, in Part II (11.1425), the narrator has him go to extremes. The king commands Joab in a letter to storm the besieged city, and slips in, by the way, the instruction that Uriah the Hittite should be entrusted with an especially honourable position, where he will be able to prove his bravery. Joab understands his lord's discreet wink and has Uriah's death announced to him in a special message. Nor does Joab blurt it out either, but gives express instructions that the news that among others Uriah also has fallen should only be appended, as the most painful occurrence, at the end of his account. He knows his lord, and knows what he wants to hear. Thus he can also accurately calculate his emotions in advance. When at last David has learned the desired news, he can breathe a sigh of relief. His inner agitation is very finely drawn by means of the change of mood: first he is enraged; but when the decisive word is spoken he immediately calms down and speaks extremely kindly. Now he even gives his general a word of advice and consoles him with his reference to the well-

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known example of Jerubbaal (Judg. 9.50ff.). This consolation is the climax in the two men's devious game, although in the present text its finesse is admittedly spoilt by the clumsy addition at the beginning (11.15; for a similar case cf. 1 Kgs 21.10)1 and by other derangements of the text. If David had openly said what he wanted, he would not have needed to encourage his general after the event. The Conclusion (11.26-27a) shows David with his wishes realized; Bathsheba becomes his wife and bears him a son. The narrator's technique is quite brilliant. He knows how to send his audience into breathless suspense, both in the first part and the second part. Delicate matters are so sensitively circumlocuted that one cannot be offended by them, indeed so much so that sometimes they are hardly noticed at all. The quiet way in which wicked thoughts creep about in the dark is inimitably drawn in the 'Uriah-letter' as well as in Joab's message. From a purely aesthetic point of view one has to admire David's art in trying to extricate himself from the 'affair'. The almost boundless licence of the despot, limited only by the effort at least publicly to preserve decency, has been learnt from real life, as has the henchman-obedience of his servants, who, attendant on the merest wink, are capable of picking up any hint. This classic example teaches us how easy it was for David to gain an 'oracle' from his priest to remove the politically dangerous sons of Saul out of his way, and how Joab is unscrupulous enough to dispose of Uriah in order to make possible the satisfaction of the king's personal whim. Although the narrative fully gives the impression of being drawn from life, it still has to be deemed a saga when it is realized that the Uriah-letter motif is widespread elsewhere: in Homer (Iliad 6.156f£), in Shakespeare (Hamlet V.2), in Somadeva (Brockhaus, pp. 16f.), in the Russian popular fairy-tale (Dietrich, p. 90; other examples in Gunkel, Marchen, p. 132). But such traits are not attributed to every king, and David would hardly have been given such a damaging reputation if 1. Translator's note: Gressmann's translation places v. 21a-c between v. 25a and 25b. Verse 24a is followed by: Then David became angry with Joab and said to the messenger, "Why did you go so near the city? Did you not know that they would shoot from the wall?" The messenger answered him..."


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there had been no reason to do so. In his own lifetime David was already Israel's favourite and later became more and more idolized, unlike Saul, who was increasingly despised. Thus the Chronicler excised the Bathsheba episode from the life of David because he found it simply too objectionable. David and Nathan (11.27b-12.25) It is, however, quite out of the question that the preceding narrative of Bathsheba should ever have ended in the way that, for the sake of clarity, has hitherto been supposed. For, to begin with, one expects to be told at least the name of the son born to David at that time, in case he did not die young. Now some scholars have linked 11.27 with 12.24b and deleted everything in between, so that Solomon would be the son issuing from the adultery. This is impossible for various reasons, but especially because one must first learn how the narrator feels about David's actions and in what direction he wants to influence his audience. Though it is not good style to express a judgment directly, it is good style to hint at it indirectly. Hence a sequel is absolutely necessary. Other scholars consider only Nathan's appearance not to be original and thus delete 11.27b—12.15a as a later addition, probably correctly so. The parable is taken from the everyday life of the people; here it presents a legal case (cf. 2 Sam. 14; Isa. 5) which it is for the king to judge. As in the German fairy-tale (Grimm, no. 89), for Hebrew tastes also the culprit must speak his own verdict against himself (1 Kgs 20.40; cf. also Herodotus 3.32). The moving narrative with its exaggerated affection for animals, which ill befits Uriah's relationship to his wife, castigates only the violent action of the pitiless rich man; but David has not only taken the poor man's sheep, but on top of that has killed the man. Thus the parable was not composed for the present case but was already available and was subsequently inserted into this context. This also explains how the death sentence against David comes to be mitigated: *You yourself shall not die, but your child'; Nathan's judgment originally ran thus, probably because there was a historical justification for this. When the child born of David's intercourse with Bathsheba died, this was seen as the just punishment for the

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king's sin, and an appropriate threat was placed on the prophet's lips. If Nathan did not say such a thing, which no one had any way of knowing, in the narrator's opinion he really should have done so. The other 'predictions after the event' must be deemed later additions: the constant family quarrels (v. 10) and Absalom's shameful conduct in publicly making his father's concubines his own harem, during his father's lifetime (w. llf.; cf. 16.22). Since the whole section is a late interpolation, nothing of any historical certainty can be learned from it concerning the figure of Nathan. But it does seem as though the prophetic movement took control of internal politics at an early period and judged the king's actions by religious standards; perhaps even in given circumstances it was not afraid to interfere in the affairs of the ruler. A remarkable, and admittedly still inadequately explained, counterpart to this saga's Nathan is found in Ipuwer the wise, who dares to throw the charge *You have spoken lies' in the Egyptian king's face.1 With the child's death (12.15b-23) the narrative steers back to the older version. David's notion of seeking to influence the deity by his fasting, weeping and prostration and by his mourning clothes is a widespread one throughout the whole of the ancient world. From this we learn that people generally used to give such a meaning to mourning customs, but it may be doubted whether this was also their original significance. It is understandable, too, that David washes and anoints himself, dressing in clean clothing to go into the sanctuary; on the entrance to the inner temple rooms of Egypt was written: 'Let everyone who enters here be pure'.2 And yet David's behaviour is peculiar, because he does the opposite of what is usually done: the customs of mourning, which normally come after the death, he performs in advance of it, and thus champions the right to personal freedom over against the restrictiveness of a convention that was even mightier then than it is today. The account reveals how David's inner struggles begin to cap1. Gressmann, Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alien Testament (2nd edn; Berlin, 1926-27), I, p. 210. 2. A. Erman, Die agyptische Religion(2nd edn; Berlin, 1909), p. 86; numerous 'purity regulations in the Greek cult' in Wachter, pp. 10-15.


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tivate the narrator's attention—the king in his despair is even thought capable of taking his own life. Nothing is said here about any penitence of David such as should be expected after Nathan's appearance: thus we now have confirmation that the parable is foreign to the original text. But the king is not frivolous either; he first wrestles for his child before submitting to that which cannot be altered. The narrator, on the other hand, even if he does not explicitly say so, sees the child's death as a just punishment for David's guilt. The conclusion (12.2425) reports the birth of Solomon, who is said to receive the appellation Jedidiah, 'beloved of Yahweh'. AMNON AND ABSALOM 2 Samuel 13.1-14.33 Structure Part I Part II Part III

The Rape of Tamar by Amnon (13.1-22) Absalom's Revenge on Amnon (13.23-38) Absalom's Pardon (13.39-14.33)

1. Analysis

Part I (13.1-22) reports Amnon's wicked deed against his half-sister Tamar. Amnon, David's eldest son, was the offspring of Ahinoam of Jezreel, while Absalom and Tamar were children of Maacah, a daughter of the Aramaean-Geshurite king Talmai (3.2f.). Marriage between half-brothers and halfsisters was not in the least unusual among the Phoenicians and Semites, and was also considered permissible among the Israelites of the time of David. For Tamar expressly challenges Amnon to ask David for her hand, which he will certainly not refuse. Later, such marriages were forbidden (Deut. 27.22; Lev. 18.9; 20.17) but nonetheless still occurred now and again (Ezek. 22.11). Scene 1 (w. 1-5) is enacted by Amnon and Jonadab. The crown prince, whose sleepless nights have caused him to waste away, bewails his lovesickness to his friend, since he does not know on what clever pretext he can entice Tamar, who lives in a special house with Absalom, into his own palace; he thinks it impossible to get near her since, as a virgin, she is

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well protected. It seems that princesses were subject to a stricter custom than was otherwise the case; even in presentday Palestine, Islamic prescriptions are maintained much more strictly by well-to-do city girls than by the common country girls, who have considerably greater freedom of movement. The counsel of Jonadab, son of Shimeah (= Shammah, 1 Sam. 16.9) rests on the custom also permitted among the ancient Arabs, that the sick may receive female visitors. But elsewhere also sickness is frequently feigned in order to lure a lover to one's bedside.1 In order to get no one but Tamar to come, Amnon, we are told, expresses his wish for a special kind of cake which that princess alone can bake so well. The food in question may be medicine in the form of a cake (Gunkel). The cunningly conceived plan of Jonadab and Amnon succeeds, as Scene 2 (w. 610) emphasizes. First, the royal father appears, enquiring after the condition of his ostensibly sick son. He is quite prepared, without reservation, to grant Amnon's request, in line with the still widespread axiom that the sick must be allowed to have their way; they themselves have a feeling for what is in their own best interests. Tamar, too, is quite unsuspecting, prepares the heart-shaped cakes in the bedroom and gives them to Amnon to eat. It is taken for granted that no servants are present. According to a variant, the servants are expressly dismissed; furthermore, Tamar has not baked the cakes in the bedroom but in an ante-room, only then bringing them into the inner chamber. In this case one has to assume that Amnon has a good view of the ante-room from his couch. Scene 3 (vv. 11-17) forms the climax of Part I. What the narrator thinks of Amnon's behaviour is revealed in the words he places on Tamar's lips. Only scoundrels perpetrate such wicked deeds in Israel. At least the seducer could have redeemed himself by subsequent marriage, instead of throwing the girl into the street after gratifying his lusts! This rough conduct witnesses to the fact that Amnon was not moved by any deep, inner affection but was swept along by a flood of sensual passion that was over as quickly as it had come. The sudden change from love into hatred is the ancient narrator's 1. P. Wendland, De fabellis antiquis (Gottingen, 1911).


simple but effective means of depicting the troubled spirit of a libertine. As Scene 4 (w. 18-22) shows, Amnon's deed has no immediate consequences. Tamar returns to her brother Absalom's house with gestures of mourning and despair (Jer. 2.37), and he realizes at once that Amnon has 'been with her' and has violated her; and there she remains childless and unmarried for the rest of her life. David, who hears of the matter, in misguided weakness towards Amnon, his firstborn and favourite, does not venture to intervene. Only Absalom's broody silence prepares for the revenge to follow. But initially he hides his hatred and waits for a favourable opportunity. An interpolation (v. 18) which was superfluous for contemporaries and has got into the wrong position in the text, as it belongs to v. 19, tells us about the sleeved garments that were the traditional costume of unmarried princesses (and presumably of princes, too; cf. Gen. 37.3). Unlike usual garments which had no sleeves and reached to the knees, they were designed with sleeves and reached to the ankles. As a sign of mourning, it was customary to grip the garments at the neck and tear them with some force. At last, after two years, so Scene 1 of Part II (vv. 23-27) reports, the time comes for retribution. Absalom uses the sheep-shearing festival on his estates as a pretext to invite all the princes of the royal house, Amnon of course being duty bound to attend with them. Though the king is slightly suspicious, he nonetheless gives his sons permission to go with Absalom. Baal Hazor, present-day El-'Asur north of Bethel near the unknown Ephron, was a remote hill-sanctuary in Absalom's pasture land, where there was absolutely no hope of escape. From there the road leads southwards to Jerusalem; immediately to the north of the city it leads into the road to Horonaim, present-day Bet 'Ur, situated north-west of Jerusalem. From the 'hillside' in the text (v. 34) one descends to the city.1 Scene 2 (w. 28, 29) briefly describes the rich feast, in the course of which Amnon, lulled into a sense of security by the two-year interval, is murdered on his brother's orders. Thus 1. Palastina-Jahrbuch, IX, pp. 15f.

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the wicked deed is atoned for, since in the Israelite view Amnon is deserving of death (Lev. 20.17). In Scene 3 (w. 3038) the narrator gives more detailed attention to David, who has to go through a worrying time when the exaggerated rumour of the deaths of all the princes overtakes him. But although Amnon alone has fallen, the king mourns deeply. Absalom fears his punishment and flees to his grandfather Talmai in Geshur, on whose protection he can count. Three years have passed. The king's temper has become open to milder sentiments. He has consoled himself over Amnon's death, but can still not decide to call Absalom back because his duty to execute blood revenge hinders him. And so, according to Part III (13.39-14.33) Joab undertakes to overturn the king's views on blood revenge and to move him to pardon Absalom, through the offices of a 'wise woman' of Tekoa, present-day Teku, birthplace of the prophet Amos. David accedes, but forbids Absalom to come into his presence. Not until two years later can Joab bring about a complete reconciliation between father and son, which is sealed with a kiss. But it takes the burning of his fields for Joab to be forced to appear before Absalom, rather like the way Bismarck summoned his servant by a pistol shot. An addition (14.25-27), which would be better placed at the end of the whole narrative, contains reliable information about Absalom and his family. The weight of his hair (3 kg) is exaggerated, but there may already have been a 'royal weight' in ancient Israel, just as there was in Assyria or later in Persia. While according to 18.18 he had no children, here he is credited with three sons and a daughter, which is certainly the correct information. The notice as to the beauty of this Tamar can only derive from a contemporary source. That she became Rehoboam's wife, and thus the ancestress of the royal line of Judah, is confirmed by 1 Kgs 15.2 (where she is mistakenly called Maacah; in fact Maacah was Absalom's mother). This narrative, in which some scholars wrongly see mythic motifs, thus spans a period of seven years. There can be not the slightest doubt as to its historicity, even if details are influenced by artistic fantasy. The conversations between Amnon and Tamar, between the king and the woman, and perhaps other features too, are thus invented. The narrative is given novella-


like depth. Noticeable everywhere is the concern to penetrate the mind of the heroes. But more important are the first tentative attempts to describe internal processes. Since these previously found expression only in the actions of the heroes and had to be guessed at by the listener, something new in principle is being pioneered here. This can be observed particularly easily in the case of Amnon. In older times the facts would simply have been reported—how Amnon seduces Tamar and then has her thrown into the street. But now there is a concern to explain this behaviour psychologically in terms of the alternation of love and hatred, and thus to facilitate the listener's interpretation of the facts. The manifestations of the emotional life begin to be a problem and thus in the time of David prepare for the birth of the novella, which was to produce what may be considered its ripest fruit in the later book of Ruth. But here already the characters stand out clearly. In a few strokes Amnon is depicted as a libertine undeserving of sympathy. Nor does the darkly resolute Absalom shrink from using any means in achieving his goal. When he has a field of barley burnt in order to induce Joab to visit him, this is the kind of trick that only oriental princes can afford to make with impunity, but at the same time it reveals his Bismarcklike nature. His passion is even more powerfully in evidence when he does not even shrink from infringing the sacrosanct law of hospitality (like Jael, Judg. 5.24ff.), in order to avenge the violation of his sister. In the end David appears as a weakling whose wild sons have become too much for him and who lets inopportune leniency govern his dealings with them. There is no contextual connection with what has gone before; rather, the narrative makes a fresh start. David's domestic misfortune is not here considered to be a consequence of his adultery with Bathsheba, nor as a punishment for it (despite 12.10ff.). 2. Blood revenge

In states—such as present-day Turkey,1 for example—which have no impartial authority protecting the law and executing 1. Translator's note: The author's comments concerning contemporary Turkey and Palestine were made in 1910.

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judgments, blood revenge is a necessary and salutary custom; for without it the individual would be outlawed. In Palestine today, even without police, one is safer from being murdered than in our country. Everyone guards against killing because blood requires more blood. This unbreakable law, which ultimately rests on religious ideas, can always become a danger where it prevails in its full rigour and where blood revenge may degenerate into blood feud. Even Bedouin Arab tribes, when one of their number has been murdered, are not always content with the death of the murderer but kill seven or more members of his family, clan, or village, until they feel the account is settled. And if counter-revenge should occur, endless bloodshed can ensue. However, in general the punishment of the culprit or his next of kin is sufficiently just for the revenge to cease on its own. Incidentally, nowadays blood revenge does not occur when someone kills a person who has violated his mother or his sister. As soon as an ordered state system comes into being, the obligation of blood revenge begins to be limited, or to be completely abolished. Mohammed set restraints on it, just as in the Old Testament it was later permitted only in the case of wilful murder (Exod. 21.12ff.; Deut. 19.4ff.). Now the present chapter is of particular interest by virtue of its opposition to blood revenge. By murdering Amnon, Absalom has become subject to blood revenge, from which he has escaped by fleeing. If he returns, David must kill him, unless he waives the execution of his duty. Joab desires that Absalom be spared but does not dare to ask this of the king directly because he fears his anger. Thus he takes an indirect course, by calling a 'wise woman' from Tekoa who is unknown in Jerusalem. She too is afraid of David, whose royal moods are unpredictable. She therefore chooses, as is expressly pointed out (14.15), the parable form, a story taken from human life, in order to make clear to him covertly, first of all, the injustice of his conduct; her talkativeness, which has the effect of amusing the audience, can also be put down to fear, as can her sycophantic flattery, which compares the king with the Angel of Yahweh in his wisdom (v. 17). The parable takes as its starting-point a particularly difficult case of blood revenge, over which, in real life also, decisions were always divided. If


one brother murders another—such excesses of passion are more comprehensible among the children of a widow than in the father's lifetime—then this is such a serious infringement of the natural order that blood revenge is called for unconditionally. On the other hand it is advisable to spare the murderer so as not to rob the family of more of its members, particularly if he is the only heir. Only grasping relatives insist on blood revenge, as the inheritance then falls to them (Num. 27.11). The king agrees with the woman: where the heir of the household has become liable to the dagger of the bloodavenger, it would be unjust to hand him over and thereby to extinguish 'the last spark' in the family. To spare the murderer is a sin, however, since blood revenge is a divine duty, but the woman expressly takes the blame upon herself and her house. Thereupon with an oath David guarantees her son, the murderer of his brother, complete impunity. Thus the application of the parable is given too. The king's decision in the case of the widow's son is valid also in Absalom's case: the duty to maintain the family stands higher than the duty to avenge the murder. We must all die and become like water, which, once it has been poured on the ground, cannot be retrieved; like our names, our souls also live on only in our children. So God can no longer carry off the king's soul, if David calls back his heir, in whom he himself lives on, out of banishment. After Amnon's death Absalom had become heir to the throne; so it was not only revenge, but envy also, that drove him to murder. Since David was helpless, he made the best of a bad job and restored Absalom to favour at the instigation of Joab.1

1. Cf. Erwin Merz, Die Blutrache bei den Israeliten (Leipzig, 1916).

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THE REVOLT OF ABSALOM AND SHEBA 2 Samuel 15.1-20.22 Structure Introduction. The Preparation for Absalom's Revolt (15.1-12) Part I. David's flight from Jerusalem (15.13-17.29 ) Scene 1 Scene 2 Scene 3 Scene 4 Scene 5 Scene 6 Scene 7 Scene 8 Scene 9 Scene 10 Scene 11 Scene 12

David and his court (15.13-17) David and Ittai (15.17b-23) David and the priests (15.23b-29) David and Hushai (15.30-37) David and Ziba (16.1-4) David and Shimei (16.5-14) Absalom and Hushai (16.15-19) Absalom and Ahithophel (16.20-23) Ahitophel and Hushai (17.1-14) Jonathan and Ahimaaz (17.15-22) David pursued by Absalom (17.23-26) David's arrival in Mahanaim (17.27-29)

Part II. David's conflict with Absalom (18.1-19.9a ) Scene Scene Scene Scene Scene

1 2 3 4 5

David and his army (18.1-6a) The murder of Absalom (18.6b-18) The messengers' race (18.19-23) The news of the death (18.24-19.1) David and Joab (19.2-9a)

Part III. David's return from Mahanaim (19.9b-41) Scene 1 Scene 2 Scene 3 Scene 4

The restoration of the king (19.9b-16) The pardon of Shimei (19.17-24) The pardon of Mephibosheth (19.25-31) Barzillai's farewell (19.32-41)

Part IV. Sheba's revolt (19.42-20.22) Scene 1 Scene 2 Scene 3 Scene 4

The conflict between Judaeans and Israelites (19.4220.2) David and Amasa (20.3-7) Joab and Amasa (20.8-13) The death of Sheba (20.14-22)

GRESSMANN The Oldest History Writing in Israel 39 1. Analysis

The Introduction (15.1-12) turns a spot-light on Absalom's preparations for the revolt. When after Amnon's death he became heir to the throne, he also expressed his eminence publicly. A royal team of horses plus fifty footmen, who had to run ahead of the chariot and double as bodyguards, were thenceforward the symbol of the heir to the throne (1 Kgs 1.5; 14.27). Given the meagreness of the prevailing conditions, such a hitherto unusual procession was certainly suited to causing a stir. Absalom's ostentatious appearance, his physical beauty and his captivating charm won him many supporters among friends of David in high position as well as among humble folk. The narrator illustrates in particular the graciously condescending affability with which Absalom, in secret of course, took all the accused and discontented under his wing. We are told he did this for four years until he believed the moment for action had arrived, exactly as he had once waited two years in order to be more sure of dealing Amnon the death-blow. And again he used as a pretext a festival, as he had nine years previously, this time in Hebron, his native town. So as not to arouse any suspicion in David, he claimed he had to pay a vow there; in antiquity people felt very closely attached to the god of the locality in which they were born. In reality, Absalom had selected Hebron as the centre of the revolt because there he could most confidently count on support for his plans. For the local inhabitants saw him as one of them and were so much the more disposed to help him because they were jealous of Jerusalem after the transfer of the royal residence. The conscripted men of Hebron and the fifty footmen were joined by two hundred men of Jerusalem whom Absalom had invited—relatives and acquaintances from the most elevated circles, who were certainly not ignorant of what was coming. In any case the contingent would have been large enough not to have been forced against their will into participation in the revolt. Ahithophel, whose wisdom was legendary, is named as the most prominent of the conspirators. He had the title 'Counsellor of the King* (like our 'privy councillor') and lived in his home town of Gilo, perhaps present-day Bedshala near Bethlehem. As Bathsheba's grandfather he was an enemy of David (cf. 23.34 with 11.3).

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Absalom had timed his attack well, as Part I (15.13-17.29) reports. According to Scene 1 (15.13-17a) David was surprised by the events. There was no question of defending Jerusalem, not to mention of an attack on Absalom. True, the king had his regular troops available, but they were too few in number. In addition there was the danger that many of the men of Jerusalem might go over to Absalom. There was no time to summon the national army, for Absalom was already moving closer with sinister speed. The only means of escaping the hand of Absalom that was left open to David and his supporters was flight. Since the south was blocked by Absalom, and the north by the Benjaminites, who were loyal to the house of Saul and thus unreliable, and since the west was out of the question, there was no alternative but to turn to the east. If one wanted to save women and children from a cruel fate it was advisable to take them along, even though flight was thereby made considerably more difficult. While the king did not separate from his legitimate wives, he left ten concubines behind, probably because he had no fears that any ill would befall them. There now follows a series of artistically ordered glimpses, distributed over the individual stages of the journey. So Scene 2 (15.17b-23a) is moved to the last house in Jerusalem, thus immediately next to the city gate. This was the moment to tear oneself away from the beloved home for unknown parts, perhaps never to return. The melancholy mood that overshadows this picture is ideally suited to the position chosen for it. While David stands still with his 'servants', i.e. the whole royal retinue, the troops march past him, the Cherethites and the Pelethites (8.18; 15.18; 20.7, 23; 1 Kgs 1.38, 44; 1 Chron. 18.17) at the fore. These were led by Benaiah and formed the king's bodyguard. Their name is probably due to the fact that they were 'Philistine-Cretan' mercenaries. They are followed by Ittai with 600 Philistines from Gath and by a whole crowd of women and children. They had only recently been banished, and David will have been glad to grant them his protection as they amounted to a not inconsiderable additional force. Israel's ruler could certainly do with 600 men just now, but he feels sorry for them and does not wish to subject them to the misery of another flight. Strong-hearted, he wants to bear his fate alone, and he selflessly orders them to go back into the city. But


they are no more preoccupied with their own interests than he is and insist unselfishly on following their new master—a stirring picture of the loyalty of foreign retainers in contrast to the wayward son and the disloyal friends! 'And all the country wept aloud.' David then crosses the Kidron valley, which lies to the east of Jerusalem, intending to ascend the Mount of Olives. There he encounters the priests with the Ark of Yahweh, and Scene 3 (15.23b-29) is enacted. At first it seems odd that the king should send the Ark back, as it guarantees the visible (v. 25) presence of the deity. One is reluctant to let go of such a symbol, still less does one present one's enemy with it. But David wishes to have loyal people in the city, who might be able to serve him as spies and inform him of Absalom's plans. Hard as it is for him to do so, he makes a quick decision to part company with the Ark, so that at the same time the priests can also remain in Jerusalem on a plausible pretext. It would be a disgrace for them to relinquish the sacred object entrusted to their care, while Absalom will not be able to take exception to their presence. The sons of the priests, as is reiterated later (17.17), have been cautious enough not to return to the city themselves, but remain hidden in the neighbourhood so as to be able to keep David informed, who awaits them in the Tords of the wilderness' (at the foot of the Judaean highlands on the way to Jericho). And David's adherents travel on, like a funeral procession, perhaps precisely in penitential procession, on the road from Jerusalem to the Jordan. At that time, unlike today, the road ran not through the valleys but along the heights, like the Roman road. The king has only just heard that Ahithophel is also among the conspirators, when he reaches the top of the Mount of Olives and meets his 'friend' Hushai the 'Archite' from Ephraim (Josh. 16.2) at the sanctuary. Thus in Scene 4 (15.30-37) the narrator stresses the hand of providence, which unites with David's presence of mind to turn the misfortune into good. In spite of his flight the king has not lost his head, but seeks to keep the strings in his hand and outwit Absalom. Hushai too must therefore return to the city and pretend to join the rebels. We gather fresh hope that Yahweh will thwart Ahithophel's plan through him.

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Even more distressing for David is the news of Mephibosheth's defection, which he receives on the other side of the Mount of Olives in Scene 5 (16.1-4). It is with such base ingratitude that Mephibosheth, the son of Jonathan, who eats at David's court and owes him his life, repays the good deeds of his royal master. But his servant Ziba has kept faith with David and has come running, anxious to be of service, to take care of the next emergency. Without wasting a word in anger, David draws the consequences from the conduct of the two men, rewarding one and punishing the other. The painful trek reaches its climax at Bahurim, David's Gethsemane, where Scene 6 (16.5-14) takes place. Bahurim is to be found in the valley of Bukedan, three-quarters of an hour away from Jerusalem.1 Here the long-suffering monarch has to put up with the worst thing that could happen to him in this situation. Shimei, also a relative of Saul, seeks to wound David by throwing stones at him and casts a curse in his face, whereby the disaster that has befallen him is portrayed as the divine punishment for his bloody deeds to the house of Saul (21.Iff.). The narrator certainly does not share this view, as has been wrongly maintained; on the contrary, he sees in Shimei's reproaches an unwarranted humiliation of the sorely tested king. Piously submissive to the unsearchable will of God, who has added this further misfortune to all the rest, David rejects Abishai's desires for revenge and decides to do without human aid. Yahweh has brought the misfortune upon him, and Yahweh alone can take it away from him; perhaps he will change the curse into blessing. This deeply moving scene has a (superior) counterpart in the life of Jesus, the greatest long-sufferer of all. A short concluding word reports the escape, for the time being, of David and the host that has fled with him (16.14). But they are still not in complete safety. Will Absalom catch them up before they have crossed the Jordan? So in the three subsequent scenes the narrator turns back to Absalom. Scene 7 (16.15-19) describes Hushai's meeting with the insurgents. Since he has left David on the summit of the Mount of Olives and immediately moves into Jerusalem with 1. Palastina-Jahrbuch, V, p. 76.


Absalom (15.37), the underlying presupposition is that the king has only just managed to escape. Half an hour, or at the latest one hour, after David's departure Absalom is already master of the city. On the advice of Ahithophel, as Scene 8 (16.20-23) shows, Absalom immediately takes over the king's harem. The bridal chamber is erected on the palace roof, so that the proceedings take place in public view. This measure, as a state action, signifies an official accession to power, but is nonetheless an insult to his father. Ahithophel pressed for this on purpose, in order to encourage the rebels. For, since there can now be no further possibility of reconciliation they need have no fear of being handed over to David's revenge by Absalom himself. In Scene 9 (17.1-14) the conspirators' council of war assembles. While Ahithophel draws up a plan to suit Absalom's situation, insisting on a swift pursuit of the fugitives, Hushai endeavours to gain time for David. In his short, well-illustrated speech, he is able so impressively to present, first, the heroism of the king, who can go day and night without rest and who is ready at any point to stage an ambush, and then the serious consequences of a defeat at the beginning of the war, that he successfully confounds the clever advice of Ahithophel. In this way Yahweh helps the pious king and plunges Absalom into ruin. Again, the hand of providence is explicitly stressed. In three further scenes David's definitive escape is then completed. Scene 10 (17.15-22) describes the messenger service, which despite the hasty flight has been set up perfectly, and which bears witness to David's clever circumspection. From Hushai the message reaches the two priests of the Ark, and from there, by the agency of a maid, it reaches the priests' two sons who are waiting in front of the city. The Rogel spring, probably the present-day 'Job's Spring5, lies to the south of Jerusalem at the point where the Kidron and the Hinnom valleys meet. It is not unthinkable, despite the short space of time, that David was informed several times, as the messengers could reach him en route also. In the end, the two couriers would almost have been caught if they had not found a safe hiding-place in the open well of a farmstead. In that same

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night David crosses over the Jordan and has already arrived in Mahanaim when his son is just crossing the river. In Scene 11 (17.23-26) the fate awaiting Absalom casts its dark shadow before it. Ahithophel knows the unhappy end of the revolt in advance and hangs himself in order to escape the threatening punishment—a course customary among the Egyptians as well as the Assyrians, and an understandable one in the light of the cruelty of ancient times. Meanwhile suicides, for other reasons too, seem not to have been unusual at that time, and even such a one as David was considered capable of an attempt on his life, following the death of his child (12.18). In contrast to the previous scene, Scene 12 (17.27-29) calls attention to the friendly reception prepared for the king in Mahanaim. Shobi, the vassal prince of the Ammonites, Hanun's brother, and envoys of the cities situated on the Aramaean border and indebted to David have arrived to supply the fugitives with their basic needs. When David had to leave Jerusalem in the lurch he did not know where he would lay his head. Now in foreign parts he is accorded more love than at home. Thus the day that followed those shocking scenes ends with a promising picture for Israel's king. Without any indication of time or any more exact data about the rallying of an army, Part II (18.1-19.9a) jumps straight to David's battle against Absalom, but even here the narrator confines himself almost entirely to personal matters. In Scene 1 (18.1-6a) the rough warriors' moving care for their elderly ruler is stressed: they prevent him from going into battle with them and putting his precious life at risk. David's tender heart still beats for his wayward son and in the presence of all he enjoins leniency for him on his military leaders. When Absalom is later so shamefully treated, this is against David's express orders. Scene 2 (18.6b-18) puts the defeat of the enemy down to the terrain. The countryside in Gilead, now called Adshlun, is, to European taste, the most beautiful in Palestine. At times one feels one is in the Thiiringen highlands; the trees are not so diminutive or so few and far between as one is accustomed to elsewhere in Palestine, but form real forests, even impenetrable primaeval forests, where the tree-trunks reach a height of up to ten to twenty metres. A high proportion is made up by


the evergreen oaks, whose thorns make the misfortune that befell Absalom understandable; the Abyssinian king Tacla Maimanoth II was also left hanging like this, through carelessness, by his hair and his coat, on the branch of a gandaffa tree.1 The narrow forest paths even now sometimes compel the rider to duck down in order to escape Absalom's fate. In some places loose boulders block the way, lending the area an almost wild beauty. It is totally unsuitable for the deployment of a battle array, however, and it is easy for the forest to 'to devour more men than the sword'.2 A huge pile of stones is heaped up over Absalom's body, as in the case of a criminal (Josh. 7.26; 8.29), in order to protest against any association with him, and also to despise him in his death.3 According to Scene 3 (18.19-23), Ahimaaz volunteers to take the news of Absalom's death to David, but Joab is unwilling to let him go because he fears for his life. While joyful news is customarily rewarded with 'messenger bread', among the Arabs with milk, the bearer of bad tidings is struck down in the hope of hitting the message itself and thus repelling it.4 In the race that follows, Ahimaaz overtakes the negro, even though he covers a longer distance. For to have crossed the Jordan river he must first have descended the slopes of the Adshlun in a westerly direction and then have climbed up eastwards onto the mountain range. If the 'Forest of Ephraim' is to be found at some considerable distance from Mahanaim, such a diversion might have been worthwhile. With high drama, Scene 4 (18.24-19.1) describes the conveyance of the news of Absalom's death. On hearing of the approach of the two runners the king is put in a joyful frame of mind, since he can expect good news. Ahimaaz is better than Joab thought he would be at preparing David for the worst. The worried question concerning Absalom, whom he tenderly calls a 'lad', shows that David at heart is interested only in his fate. He has barely heard of his end when the harsh pain of 1. J. Bruce, Reise zur Entdeckung der Quellen des Nils, VII, p. 3. 2. Palastina-Jahrbuch, I, pp. 48ff., IV, pp. 119ff. 3. Cf. Rudolf Hirzel, Die Strafe der Steinigung (Leipzig, 1909). 4. Examples in Hirzel, p. 249; E. Littmann,Arabische BeduinenErzahlungen (Strassburg, 1908), p. x.

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fatherly love breaks through. In the meantime, kings have even less right to lose their composure than other mortals. David has to be told this by Joab in Scene 5 (19.2-9a); Joab personifies the relentless state necessity, and, as in the murder of Absalom, here again he serves David's cause better than David himself. Again a wonderfully effective picture worth reflecting on: on one hand the tender, warm-blooded king with a broken heart, on the other the grim, steely vassal whose hands are dripping with blood—Gunther and Hagen! Joab has his way, but from this point on he has fallen into disgrace. Since the rebellion has been put down, there is no longer anything to prevent David's return to Jerusalem, which takes up Part III (19.9b-41). But having first been forced to flee, the king now wants to return only at the express wish of all concerned and demands to be brought back in honour. Scene 1 (19.9b-16) is especially important for a general assessment of Absalom's revolt from the historical point of view. Northern Israel is immediately ready to bring David home, while the Judaeans hesitate and have first to be pressed by their king. This is only understandable if the Judaeans, in view of their preference for Absalom, cannot count on their pardon for sure, while such misgivings are not to be found with the northern Israelites. According to the received data, among Absalom's followers were inhabitants of Hebron and discontented inhabitants of Jerusalem and northern Israel. The Benjaminites came from northern Israel; though they only formed a fraction of the opposition, as friends and relatives of Saul they were sworn enemies of David. The driving force of the revolt was only in part the ambition of the crown prince who would not wait for his ruling father to die, which was hardly a rare occurrence in the ancient world. For when Absalom was dead, Sheba continued the struggle. So Absalom was only an instrument of hatred in the hand of the Benjaminites, and the insurrection in the final analysis was due to the political tribal conflicts between northern and southern Palestine. As a counterpiece to the confrontations in Part I, distributed over various points between Jerusalem and Bahurim, here three scenes are placed next to one another, all of which take place on the west bank of the Jordan. While the mass of


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Judaeans and Benjaminites waits at Gilgal near Jericho, the zealous Ziba (16.Iff.) has brought David with his family across the ford. David is met first of all by Shimei. Scene 2 (19.17-24) bears witness to the magnanimity of David, who is not to be led astray by the tempter Abishai. Even though Shimei has dealt him the most serious of insults and cursed him as a man of blood (16.5ff.), David pardons him, thus returning good for evil. According to Scene 3 (19.25-31), the conciliatory mood the king is in proves useful also to Mephibosheth, Jonathan's son, who has cut neither his nails nor his moustache as a sign of his mourning over David's misfortune, and who in order to cleanse himself of all guilt has accused his servant of treachery. Though David does not trust him, he leaves the matter uninvestigated. In Scene 4 (19.32-41) he takes his leave of Barzillai. He would like to thank him for the many services rendered him, but the elderly Barzillai modestly declines and in his unselfishness desires nothing for himself, asking only that his son Chimham be well cared for. A touching picture of sincere loyalty! The king has not yet arrived in Jerusalem when a new rebellion breaks out, which is the subject of Part IV (19.4220.22). The narrator has intertwined Sheba's revolt with Absalom's so firmly, that they each encroach on the other. Already at Gilgal between Jericho and the Jordan—this is presupposed in Scene 1 (19.42-20.2)—the jealous strife between northern Israelites and Judaeans is kindled anew. Though the Judaeans deny having enjoyed any advantages for their tribe from the kingship of David, such as having eaten at the king's table (1 Kgs 18.19) or having been brought portions from the king's table (Gen. 43.34), still proximity to the court naturally did bring such benefits (1 Sam. 22.7). The Israelites feel themselves to be the 'firstborn' in relation to the Judaeans, considering themselves better than those born after them. It was then, we are told, that Sheba first struck up the war chant that later became the Israelite Marseillaise and made the separation of the northern Israelites from David and his dynasty a political slogan. His insurrection signifies Benjamin's last attempt to restore the precedence gained under Saul's rule.

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Of the king's eventual homecoming to Jerusalem, Scene 2 (20.3-7) reports only the banishment of the concubines violated by Absalom. Then a new worry occupies all David's energies. He orders Amasa to call up the military. Joab has been odious to David since the murder of Absalom and is due to be replaced by Amasa (19.14); thus the latter is now entrusted with supreme command. When he is not back in time, Abishai is sent out with the standing army to pursue Sheba with all possible speed, Joab again being intentionally passed over. Joab accompanies him in a subordinate position, but his boundless ambition costs Amasa his life, as Scene 3 (20.8-13) relates. Amasa has simply come a little late and has caught up Abishai's recently departed warriors at Gibeon. There Joab greets his opponent amiably with a Judas-kiss, only to strike him down maliciously with his sword, which had slipped from his grasp and which, unnoticed by Amasa, he had picked up with his left hand. The place seems to be the same as the one named 'field of sides' in 2.16, there given another explanation. From now on the conduct of the war is back in Joab's hand, who quickly leads it to a satisfactory end. Scene 4 (20.14-22) shows us Sheba already besieged in Abel, present-day Ibl, near the source of the Jordan, by Dan. Abel was 'mother', i.e. capital of a province, and had achieved legendary fame through ancient traditions; border towns often maintain national peculiarities most faithfully. A 'wise woman'—several of these are mentioned for that period (1 Sam. 28; 2 Sam. 14.2)—succeeds in persuading the inhabitants to kill Sheba and thereby save themselves. 2. Character of the narrative The totally homogeneous narrative is the longest one in all the historical books of the Old Testament; for the others that might be compared with it have only become larger compositions by the accretion of originally independent, smaller units. A relatively short period is here described with great relish. The two days in which David flees from Jerusalem to Mahanaim alone occupy twelve scenes! The most frequent change of situation, the great abundance of personalities and the constant changes of mood reveal a developed technique in high quality narrative art. As surely as on one hand the material


used may be deemed historically reliable, it is equally without doubt on the other hand that the historical facts are stylized. What we see is reality, but not sober description of what happened; rather, the events are artistically glorified. Whereas throughout the rest of the books of Samuel only the beginnings of the novella are to be found, this extensively detailed narrative may be directly termed a novella, or, more precisely, a history-narrative with novella-type depth as distinct from 'saga-novellas' that spring from fantasy only, such as we meet in the Joseph story and the book of Ruth. The narrative's novella-like character is most clear in the psychological depth of the persons appearing in it. While the figure of Absalom held little fascination for the author, his character being only briefly indicated in the introduction, a warm light falls on David, whose rich characteristics are drawn out in sharp relief and whose states of mind are lovingly depicted: clever in his plans and prudent in his calculations, humbly submissive to his fate and strong in his trust in God, liberal towards his friends and magnanimous towards his enemies, sympathizing with the misfortunes of others and kind towards everyone—such is the reputation accorded to David here. But neither are his faults concealed. Just as in the Bathsheba narrative he is reproached as to his susceptibility to beautiful women, which lets him sink so far as to become a murderer, so in this case he is reproached for his weakness towards his wayward son, which carries him into unjust treatment of his loyal supporters. His tenderness, especially towards his family, must have been (as it was for Herod) a dominant trait in David's nature, since it is emphasized in various stories. It is from this tenderness that his winning kindness, with which he has charmed the hearts of his contemporaries, springs, as does his ability to give poetic form to deeply felt impressions. And next to him Joab, son of Zeruiah, as his 'tempter', his more wicked and at the same time stronger Ego! The narrators of old already compared the two, liking to place them next to one another in order to bring colour and contrast into their pictures of them. In relation to Joab's violent nature, the king appears as the weaker, almost helpless one (3.39). If kings also have to smile through their pain, then the way in which David lets Joab remonstrate with

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him over his injustice, being obliged to give in to his threats, (19.6fF.), is characteristic of this. Joab has been a reliable but sinister companion, always ready to use his sword to gain his rights. Abner, Absalom and Amasa fell victim to his lust for killing, to mention only the names of those he killed by treachery. Thoughts which David hardly dared entertain and mentioned only quietly if at all were translated into action by Joab. Without Joab's unscrupulous aid the Hittite Uriah might not have been removed and Abner might have survived. David is certainly completely innocent of Absalom's death. Since Joab interceded for Absalom before the revolt, it seems his cruel deed was motivated solely by concern for the kingdom, which was more important to him than sympathy for the father. But Amasa he struck down only because he feared him as a dangerous rival. And finally the abundance of other figures passing fleetingly before our eyes: Ittai, Hushai, Ahithophel, Shimei, Ziba, Mephibosheth, Barzillai—a new character in almost every scene! One characteristic which the present story shares with the Joseph-saga and the Ruth narrative is the gentle poignancy. The soft tone that rings out from most of the words has a deeply moving effect today, and probably always will have. What an abundance of delicate buds is put into the fragrant bouquet! The human soul, it seems, has hardly changed in the millennia. And yet a small change can be discerned. People were more lacrymose in antiquity than they are today. It strikes us as strange when the rough, often coarse, warriors on leaving Jerusalem climb the Mount of Olives weeping and sobbing. But in the orient people are still like children even today, are unable to contain their pain or their joy and, losing their composure, give in to their feelings. A second feature to be observed in all the Israelite 'novellas' is the strong emphasis on belief in providence. Unlike the older sagas which have God intervene in events in a marvellous way, the later novellas see the controlling hand of God in the natural occurrences of human life—an unpretentious perspective which fully corresponds to our own. These narratives moreover push into the background the otherwise dominant notion of the God of the people, showing rather God's provision for the individual, again a type of piety we understand better


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than the former. If one draws on the novellas of other peoples as a comparison, the greatest difference that appears is that those of the Israelites have an all-pervading religious love. Only such comparisons as these show how unique is that which most take for granted, the religious air we breathe everywhere, even in the historical narratives of the Old Testament. 3. Monuments

Monuments are sacred stones of various shapes and sizes. They stand on holy sites, usually on high mountains and under green trees (2 Kgs 17.10), less frequently at the entrances to temples (1 Kgs 7.21), on battle-fields (1 Sam. 7.12), beside graves (Gen. 35.14; 2 Sam. 18.18) and at a border (Gen. 31.44ff.; Exod. 24.4), as markers of holy ground. Their significance has changed in the course of time. Originally they seem to have been regarded everywhere as the seat or the liouse of God' (Gen. 28.22), to a certain extent as a visible symbol of the invisible deity. For a long time they served the same purposes as the altar: the sacrifice was presented before the monument, the blood was spread on it or the oil was poured over it. The Israelites took over this custom from the Canaanites and maintained it until the exile, although it was opposed by the prophets and by the prophet-influenced Deuteronomist. But already at an early period these cultic stones were seen as memorial stones and thus more or less stripped of their religious meaning. Gravestones go back to prehistoric times, as the menhirs that have been found in the dolmen fields of east Jordan show us. Innumerable gravestones were intended by the Egyptians 'to preserve the name' of the man, by the Phoenicians 'as a memorial among the living', by the Greeks 'for the sake of memory', and so too by the Israelites, 'to keep the name in remembrance' (2 Sam. 18.18). Occasionally they were erected by people who had no children, in their own lifetime. This strange compulsion to procure oneself a monument is not explained by piety alone. Even the term 'monument' betrays the fact that the deceased was once regarded as a 'divine being' (1 Sam 28.13) whose soul lived in the stone; hence the Aramaic name of the gravestone, which resembles the word

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'soul'. However, in general this view had disappeared already in the time of David, and 'monument' (Malstein) had become simply 'memorial stone' (Denkstein).The justification for the monument at Absalom's grave is apparently wrong (18.18), since better information indicates that he had children (14.27). The present-day so-called Tomb of Absalom' in the Kidron Valley dates back only to the Hellenistic period; the 'King's Valley' is unknown to us. DAVID'S OFFICERS 2 Samuel 20.23-26 The list given here does not quite accord with 8.16-18. Adoniram and Ira are missing there, while 'the sons of David' are there labelled 'priests', a striking, but certainly reliable, piece of information. The name of the scribe (transmitted in different forms, of which the best is 1 Chron. 18.16), Shavsha, is Babylonian; Babylonian seems still to have been the diplomatic language of the Near East at that time, as in the time of the Tell el-Amarna letters (c. 1400 BCE), and state-scribes therefore had to be Babylonians. The feudal master Adoniram we meet also under Solomon and Rehoboam (1 Kgs 4.6; 5.28; 12.18). Instead of'Cherethites' (= Cretans), who are closely associated with the Pelethites (= Philistines), the Hebrew text names the 'Charites' of Asia Minor; but this is presumably only a scribal error.

THE CONFLICT BETWEEN SOLOMON AND ADONIJAH OVER THE SUCCESSION 1 Kings 1.1-2.46 1. Additions 2.1-12, 31b-33, 44-45, which contain David's will and report its execution, are a later addition in the style of the Deuteronomist, as we learn from the exhortation to obedience to the law and from the numerical data. In addition, there are links with other narratives: the warning of revenge on Joab for the murder of Abner (2 Sam. 3.27) and of Amasa (2 Sam. 20.10),


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the call to reward Barzillai (2 Sam. 17.27ff.; 19.32ff.) and to punish Shimei (2 Sam. 16.5ff.; 19.17ff.). This will cannot belong to the original text, since Solomon acts on his own responsibility, taking no account at all of part of it, and the rest only later; this becomes especially clear in the treatment of Shimei and the text that reports it (2.36-46). The reward of Barzillai's 'sons' ('son' would be more accurate) is entirely absent. The strange version of 2.45 is explained by the intention to render Shimei's curse harmless by means of a blessing. 2. Analysis Part I (1.1-53) takes place before the death of David, apparently shortly before. With bold strokes the Introduction (1.1-4) draws a picture of the elderly David, one which is absolutely necessary for a correct understanding of the action that follows and which should certainly not be considered an inconsequential piece of information. The feeble old king is physically spent and no longer leaves the camp (1.47). In vain an attempt is made, in accordance with the rules of ancient medicine, to strengthen his fading energies with a youthful virgin, Abishag of Shunem (present-day Solem in the plain of Megiddo), who is glorified as the beloved of Solomon in the Song of Songs under the better-known name 'the Shulamite' (= Shunamite), and who achieved immortal fame on account of her beauty. David can deal personally neither with the business of government nor with the affairs of his family but is dependent on the help of others. And his physical incapacity is accompanied by his mental incapacity. Not having any will of his own, he is a mere tool in the hands of those who know how to control him. Thus the way is opened to palace intrigues. Scene 1 (1.5-10) informs us that Adonijah has the best prospects for succession to the throne. Spoilt by his father, loved by the masses and favoured by an influential party, as the eldest of David's surviving sons following the death of Absalom he has first claim to the kingship. For a long time he has appeared unhindered as crown prince (1.5); but to ensure against all eventualities he decides to have himself proclaimed king while his father is still alive. To this end, without David's knowledge he gathers his supporters by the Serpent's Stone,

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situated near the Fuller's Spring,1 and arranges liberal sacrifices, the meat from which is intended to serve for the coronation meal. The narrator does not say that Adonijah has been placed on the throne by his comrades but only indicates that this is imminent. According to Scene 2 (1.11-14), Nathan the prophet on hearing of the events immediately rushes off to Bathsheba in order to take counter-measures in favour of Solomon. He is exaggerating when he represents the anointing of Adonijah as having already been completed, in order to stimulate Bathsheba and David into quick intervention. Nathan's championship of Solomon is understandable, as the latter was entrusted to him in his youth for his education (2 Sam. 12.25). The prophet fears he will suffer the fate which later befalls Adonijah and therefore suggests a ruse to Bathsheba: both of them together determine to persuade the king that he once swore to Bathsheba that he would make his son Solomon his successor. In reality he had given no such promise; for otherwise Bathsheba would not have needed Nathan's advice but could have called upon him, of her own accord, to keep his promise. The prophet's readiness to 'confirm' the words of Bathsheba proves even more clearly that from the start he considers a 'recollection' to be out of the question. Accordingly, both are counting on the weakness of the old ruler's memory and are hoping to be able to deceive him. Their finely conceived plan succeeds, as Scenes 3-7 describe (1.15-40). Again, an addition emphasizes the frailty of David, who is not allowed to leave his bedroom. If David had not been so old and fragile, we are to think, then he could not have been deceived in such a humiliating fashion. Bathsheba and Nathan take it in turns to go in to the king and come out, a fact which has to be traced back to etiquette. Bathsheba seeks above all to appeal to his honour: as a man of honour, should he break his oath, thereby possibly delivering Bathsheba and Solomon to their deaths, should he calmly put up with Adonijah's inconsiderate conduct and, like an abdicator, expose his kingdom to the danger of fraternal war? Nathan does not 1. 'Rogel Spring*, probably present-day 'Job's Well' (Palastina-Jahrbuch, XIV, pp. 49f.).


need to confirm the supposed oath at all; for David immediately renews it and commands those loyal to him to anoint Solomon at the spring of Gihon, probably the present-day Mary's Spring. There remains the insoluble problem of why Solomon has to be anointed at a spring, just as Adonijah was, rather than in the palace or in the Tent of Yahweh. In Scene 8 (1.41-49), Jonathan (whom we know from 2 Sam. 15.27ff.; 17.17ff.) brings news of the events to Adonijah and his guests. Here we have an example of how (by Joab's question as an incidental third party) the dramatic vividness of the scene is enhanced. According to Scene 9 (1.50-53) Solomon grants protection to his brother, who has grasped the 'horns' of the altar. These horns, as far as we know from finds in Palestine, should not be thought of as real animal horns, but only ornamental pieces on the four corners of the altar, which are especially sacred and usually guarantee sanctuary to anyone seeking protection (Exod. 21.14). These ornaments are presumably nothing but deteriorated monuments, which we know used to be placed on the altars also. While the events of Part I of the narrative follow one another in rapid succession and take place in a single day, those of Part II (2.10-46) extend over a greater period. Between the two parts is the death of David, through which Solomon is freed from all need to show consideration. In accordance with the customs of oriental rulers, he too begins to secure his throne by murdering open opponents and dubious friends. Scenes 1-3 (2.10-25) report the definitive removal of Adonijah. A pretext is readily available if one looks for one. Adonijah has fallen in love with the beautiful Shulamite and is foolish enough to seek her hand from the king. Even though he wins Solomon's own mother as an advocate, he is still killed as a criminal dangerous to the state; because he demands the king's wife he is aspiring to the kingdom (2 Sam. 3.7; 12.8; 16.20ff.). Adonijah is apparently aware of his presumption, and this is why he speaks so cautiously to Bathsheba. She really speaks on his behalf, not just ostensibly; for she makes his request her own and has the granting of it promised in advance, though still in vain. Solomon believes there is a conspiracy agreed with Abiathar and Joab. In terms of cultural history, the difference in the treatment of Bathsheba by David

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and by Solomon is instructive. The king's consort has a lower rank than the Queen Mother, who even occupies the place of honour at the right hand of the ruler. Adonijah's supporters fall with him. Though, according to Scene 4 (2.26-27), Abiathar escapes with his life, he is banished to Anathoth, present-day 'Anata, near Jerusalem. Zadok becomes his successor, whose family later lays exclusive claim to the office of the priesthood, artificially tracing its origins back to Aaron. Joab, the grim veteran, suffers a worse fate than Abiathar, who, as Scene 5 (2.28-35) relates, is not even protected by the sanctity of the altar from being murdered. Benaiah, himself worthy of Joab as an executioner, receives his position. Scene 6 (2.36-46) adds the fate of Shimei, who is certainly not identical with the 'friend of David' and partisan of Solomon named in 1.8. The person meant is, rather, the relative of Saul, whom the new ruler regards with suspicion because of his participation in Absalom's insurrection (2 Sam. 16.5fF.; 19.17ff.). Although initially treated leniently, in the end, as might be expected, he is executed when the opportunity presents itself. 3. Literary Character There is no reason to doubt the historicity of the events described here, even if the facts have been unmistakably stylized by the mind of the artist. We need only be reminded how well informed the author is about the unspoken secrets of harem life and the confidential conversations of the royal figures. As in the closely related pieces of the books of Samuel, in this history-narrative with novella-type depth the internal connection between the events is the creative property of the narrator. Nathan is celebrated as the director of the drama: he it was who brought down Adonijah, who already had the crown in his hands, and he it was who set his pupil on the throne, just as Samuel once was active behind the scenes in helping Saul to the kingship. But while we can picture Samuel as a powerful seer inspired by God, here Nathan appears as the type of scheming politician that works with human, all-too-human, methods. Anyone with sensitive feelings will find the prophet's


cunning, with which he catches a feeble old man unawares, objectionable. The narrator of antiquity judges by success and thus sees Solomon's victory as a divine act (2.15). Adonijah is not portrayed as a dangerous agitator, but rather, on the contrary, as a rightful heir to the throne. But he lacks the discreet prudence that is Solomon's and his supporters'. It is rash foolhardiness (1.5) for Adonijah to proclaim himself king without David's knowledge. Equally ill advised is his courting of Abishag of Shunem, which though taken as harmless by Bathsheba, must necessarily appear in quite another light to the distrustful Solomon. The narrator is so careful to reserve his judgment that his opinion is not everywhere surely recognizable. We do not get close to Solomon, the man, at all, since he is nothing more than a true oriental despot who establishes his throne on the corpses of his opponents. A comparison with David's actions is inescapable. When the latter took over Saul's inheritance, the sword of Joab, it is true, raged just as Benaiah's does now. Nevertheless, a great difference cannot be overlooked: David never publicly admitted the deeds of his henchmen, but, on the contrary, strongly condemned them; the narrators at least have made a keen effort to exonerate him of all responsibility. How different things are with Solomon, whose naked egocentricity is not veiled by kindness of any sort! The king himself clearly set no store by dressing up his conduct in any way. The development has become complete surprisingly quickly; Saul, David, Solomon—already in the third generation the Israelite rulers have become studied pupils of their counterparts in other countries. Through Solomon, Israel is included as an equal link in the chain of heathen world powers in the Near East. From now on, Israel begins to introduce, in greater measure than ever before, foreign products, both cultural and spiritual. The foreign influences had a transforming effect in almost all areas of life, particularly those of literature and religion, sometimes encouraging and sometimes inhibiting development. However powerful an advance was made in some respects, on the other hand the danger was considerable that the Israelite character would not only merge with the foreign but would completely disappear in it. If this danger was successfully averted, the credit

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should go to later prophecy, which through its opposition reawakened the Israelite spirit in its original purity. Beyond this, the narrator, who has correctly gauged the character of Solomon as the unapproachable tyrant and who has drawn a true-to-life picture of the elderly David, will also have drawn from real life the figure of the scheming prophet as well as that of the foolhardy pretender to the throne. It is all the more regrettable that the novella-type narratives so important for the books of Samuel and 1 Kings If. disappear front now on. The contemporaneity with the reign of Solomon can be no coincidence but must have its reasons in the nature of things. Up to this point the kings were the most popular object of the novella. Precisely this becomes impossible from this point on. For a despot has no soul, and woe to anyone who dares credit him with human traits!

THE LITERARY TYPE AND HISTORICAL VALUE OF 2 SAMUEL 15-20

Wilhelm Caspari

At a time which was still dominated by the idea that the Old Testament was composed exclusively of books, the sources of the story of David began to be subjected to the kinds of literarycritical analysis that have held their own to the present day. These analyses started from historical books and led on to more historical books, but to ones which were contained in or incorporated into the first ones. But still the nature of the object had been preserved under the analysis; it was little felt that the genesis of a historical book held a problem in itself, and still less was thought given to putting the analytical method itself into the service of the problem. So it is that we are presented with sources for the history of David which have passed through a long process of narration, giving many and varied accounts which are unified only in that everything concerns one and the same king. This is shown convincingly by Thenius-Lohr,1 who have a table giving in parallel columns the various critical results for 2 Samuel 9-1 Kings 2 (without 2 Sam. 21-24): it is an integrated whole, with no larger section being dispensable and no difference being discernible between authors (Budde); its unity of authorship is clear (Cornill); it is a single, high-quality historical source (Kittel and Wellhausen); and 14.26 is usually considered a gloss, along with w. 25 and 27 (possibly).

1. O. Thenius and M. Lohr, Die Bucher Samuels (3rd edn; Leipzig, 1898), pp. Iviiff.

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Budde1 in particular attributes to chs. 13—20 'an uninterrupted, tragic course'. To trace this in the reported events and to regard the texts devoted to them as a unified literary whole are clearly two different things, however. The text depicts only general phenomena, even in the best sections of the book...; at some points the text shows a greater degree of corruption (cf. especially 15.23ff.; 17.3; 18.12ff.; 20.28f.); here and there a paragraph seems to have suffered a shift to the wrong position, which has occasionally been followed by further corruption (13.37, 38a; 19.12b; 20.15f.); there are isolated instances of glosses, as in the fanciful expansion in 14.26, perhaps the small tendentious alterations in 15.24ff. and then the antiquarian 18.18.2

Budde directs his criticism of 14.26 initially to the weight of the princely hair; perhaps one numeral has merely been miscopied. It is important, and for all those who maintain the unity of the chapter it is necessary, to decide between 14.27 and 18.18. There is clearly nothing to be gained by dismissing both as glosses. 18.18 matches the style of those local sagas which conclude with an express connection of the material with a place known to the narrator and his audience. In content, it is true, the verse is not to be compared with its models, for it concerns another place, rather than the one that belongs to the previous narrative. The progress of the action is already interrupted by v. 17b; for by the time the statement that 'the Israelites fled every one to his own home' is completely fulfilled, the events of the remainder of ch. 18 and the beginning of ch. 19 are long past. So much adheres to the passage therefore, that an interruption is made in any case, perhaps with the purpose of preparing for 19.9b, 10, or perhaps just to record the tragic moment exhaustively. To dwell briefly on the victim of the catastrophe, in the manner of an obituary, does not seem out of place here; the great difference between aspiration and achievement is impressively drawn.3 1. K. Budde, Die Biicher der Richter und Samuel (Giessen, 1890), p. 251. 2. Budde, op. cit., p. 253. 3. The author of 18.18 may also have recognized an omen in Absalom's quoted words.

CASPARI Literary Type of 2 Samuel 15-20

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Admittedly these are only considerations of taste, internal reasons. It is certainly not our aim thereby to prove the authenticity of v. 18. But it was precisely on internal grounds that it was doubted. It is demonstrable, then, that not enough reliance can in fact be placed on the critical judgments. There is another possible means of illuminating the matter. Should not 18.18 be evaluated like 17.23,14b; 16.23; 20.3b? 14.27 is incompatible with 18.18. The question is whether the contradiction can be overcome by deletion. This would probably have to extend not just to the one verse, but to w. 25-27. The deletion cannot really be justified by the 200 shekels alone. But for the rest, the project of deletion is again dependent on internal grounds. We shall do well to accept them initially without closer inspection: 'So Absalom dwelt apart in his own house, and did not come into the king's presence. So Absalom dwelt two full years in Jerusalem, without coming into the king's presence.' Twice consecutively, then, we have the same subordinate clause, as in a litany. This is so unlike the narrator's usual style, that any deletion of w. 25-27 must be further extended to include one of the two identical clauses. As they stand now, between them they presuppose a fairly major interruption of the context which makes desirable a virtual repetition of the statement made in v. 24. To oppose internal grounds with other internal grounds, however, the content of vv. 25-27 definitely has a use here. The main point is that Absalom was able and permitted to lead a family life. This is surely in some conflict with the continuing royal disfavour. If his four children are by one mother, they would have periods of two years (v. 28) and four years (15.7) to fit into. The assumption is allowable, then, that all four births occur in these years, and it is not necessary to look back to the period before 13.23. There is even time left over which he may have spent unmarried. The narrator is thus faced with a problem: in conditions such as Absalom's it is not the purest of pleasures to set up house. It was a risk to bride and parents. So however great the misgivings were, the influences which counterbalanced them must have been so much the greater. Was this not a suitable moment, then, to speak of Absalom's winsome looks (14.25f.)?

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One might still wish to declare the author to be a glossator on account of his carelessness in calling Absalom's daughter Tamar in v. 27, when her name is in fact Maacah (1 Kgs 15.2)—'she was a beautiful woman'. This piece of information requires us, to begin with, to stay with the one daughter of Absalom: for if she had not been the king's mother, no anticipatory parenthesis would have been devoted to her at this point. Nor does the variant reading Mccaxa offer a satisfactory way out—it appears to be a scribal correction. And it will certainly not do to correct to Tamar in 1 Kgs 15.2. So we are left with the charge of carelessness in 14.27. But the beautiful daughter belongs to the beautiful father (14.25) and thus has a share in the literary-critical treatment of the whole piece. Is it not old-fashioned apologetics to whitewash the author of the charge by divesting him of responsibility for the passage? Yes, if the same author showed knowledge of the right name elsewhere. But it is only on this one occasion that he speaks of her. There remains the course of deleting no more than the two words "inn nnch as a gloss. The Greek evidence could be used to support this also: the name was missed because the daughter had been made interesting by the note that follows; two glossators filled it in, one from documentary knowledge, the other from the novella. Even this information is not very satisfactory, however. If the daughter's future was already spoken of, the narrator could surely not have spread a veil over her as over 'a woman of Tekoa'. One therefore gains the impression that it pleased the narrator to name the daughter after the avenged sister; this would have been a moment when his predilection for conclusions rich in affinities and ideas sent him beyond what the official documents said. At least it will be difficult by suggesting his ignorance of the facts, for example, to get around the possibility that the author could have so blatantly offended against the principles of historical conscientiousness. For then the narrative would have had to have been completed too long after the daughter's death, and there is much that militates against this.1 1. 1 Kgs 14.21: 'Rehoboam was 41 years old when he began to reign'. The statement looks suspiciously schematic. Maacah must then have


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Assuming that the narrator, acting on his own authority, here harks back to the first Tamar, the further assumption can hardly be avoided that what began in ch. 13 closes here. Verse 33 would really end off this literary product. This might be deemed impossible; anyone who narrated so much about Absalom would want to report on his revolt too. But the contradiction between 14.27 and 18.18 cannot be avoided this way. If this contradiction did not rest in actual history, a writer of any astuteness should have been more careful here. If preference is given to the assumption that an account of the revolt must follow on from ch. 14, it must first be shown that chs. 15ff. are really its sequel. It could be that Absalom's revolt was the subject of a number of descriptions and that the redactor let another source speak from ch. 15 onwards. This suggestion is opposed on the grounds (1) that 15.Iff. is not a proper opening for a book and (2) that the style is the same after 15.1 as before. On the first point, it may be answered that the three opening words of 15.1 are a connecting formula, such as is permissible to any redactor. One may readily admit that we no longer have the beginning of a possibly independent description of the rebellion; but this we do have at the latest from v. 7 onwards. Arguments from stylistic differences are hardly to be expected given the limited extent of the comparable literary products and especially in view of the lack of individualization among writers of the period. The parity of style points no further than to the origin of both pieces in one school and one milieu. Where there are cases of unbalance in the subject matter one cannot go beyond the assertion of a common school.

been about ten years older than he. If Asa is her son also (v. 10) and thus Abijah's brother, not his son (v. 8), who came to the throne by means of a coup perhaps, he must already have been born under Solomon, c. 940. In Asa's reign we read of his mother's great political influence, and it seems that he began his rule by putting a stop to this. Assuming someone had given an account of the Absalom—Tamar story at that time, could it not have seemed advisable to him to pass over the name of one who had fallen from grace? (On the historical situation, cf. S. Ottli, Geschichte Israels [Stuttgart, 1925], p. 339.)

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It is not only the statements about Absalom's children that are unbalanced. So too is Joab's behaviour towards Absalom. Up to 14.33 he is his friend, and from there onwards his enemy. Serious attempts have been made to explain the change by his annoyance at the loss of his crops in 14.30! There is also some variance in David's behaviour towards his son. With regard to the crime of revenge, he is quite strict, whereas towards the traitor he proclaims leniency.1 In the first affair, David has a minister called Jonadab, in the second, Ahithophel, Hushai and others. All these discrepancies may not have been such in historical reality, and perhaps made a coherent sequence. Yet one would have thought that one writer would have exercised sufficient control to attempt to smooth over the contradictions to some extent. To 14.33 he could have said, for example, 'And from that day on, Joab and Absalom were at enmity with one another. Joab said in his heart, "You will pay for that cornfield of mine".' The fact that precisely at this point there is no hint at all of what is to follow leads one towards the conclusion that the Tamar narrator had no further plans. Moreover, there is not a total lack of stylistic differences: 15.32 says nirjn; 13.19 says ~I?K. The mourning ceremonies are different, or differently named: 19.1 vs. 13.31; 19.2 vs. 13.36. Taan occurs in 15.13; nyntfn in 13.30. After the imperative of Dip, 17.21 has t; 13.15 does not. In 14.21 the king calls Absalom a iw because he does not want to accept him into favour, and in 18.5 because he pardons him. The tone in which the word is spoken is different in each case. In 17.29 we read "^Kb itf'jin with *p, in 13.11 with -•». For ^ Kfetf? n;n in 19.36, 13.25 has •» 139. This list could be lengthened as desired. But the purpose of the examples given here is simply to set the assertion of the stylistic unity of both pieces in its correct proportion. Such an assertion cannot be extended as far as to conclude any unity of authorship if there are objections to this in respect of subject matter. And such are the irregularities we have registered.

1. The avenger of the womanly honour in ch. 13 also contrasts strongly with the Absalom of 16.22. But even the narrator considered it particularly necessary to give reasons for the latter step.


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2 Sam. 9-20, held to be such a solid unit, thereby falls apart, at one point at least, namely 15.1. But since the beginning in 15.1 is comparable to that in 13.1, we have a self-contained unit in chs. 13f.: the Amnon-Tamar-Absalom novella, with a homogeneous, well-defined story-line in several scenes. One might think of this, as indicated above, as having been composed in the time of Asa, perhaps under the stylistic influence of the Egyptian novellas imported by Solomon's wife. At this point, however, this unit has not been investigated for its own sake, but only in line with our concern to illuminate its relationship to chs. 15-20. We are now justified in examining chs. 15—20 as a whole and interpreting it in its own right. The period of conflict between north and south immediately suggests itself as the possible time of this piece's composition; it is in the light of this conflict that the narrator frequently views Absalom's revolt. It has hitherto been thought necessary to follow him blindly in this, but, in so doing, a historical understanding of the revolt has been obstructed from the start. The Absalom narrator only occasionally sets the Israel-Judah conflict (among other sources) alongside his account; it is hardly more than a touch of spice by means of which he makes his material topical and blends into it connections to the present. He may have written already under Rehoboam, even perhaps in the wake of Jeroboam's first revolt under Solomon. It will be difficult to be more precise than this. Here we are only concerned to indicate a certain probability that the second Absalom narrative could be older than the first. With the disappearance of a formal book of David and its reduction into individual constructions of the novella type, however, our understanding of the David source seems to me to be advanced considerably. Earlier scholars have concerned themselves only to a limited extent with the problem of where such continuous descriptions of individual reigns may have come from, of who required such descriptions and of when the preconditions for such literary achievements obtained; it has been taken for granted that there actually were such descriptions of the various reigns; when absolutely necessary the ever helpful imperial annals have been consulted, even though from the Babylonian-Assyrian counterparts it is now

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sufficiently well known how the content of such annals was supplied. It was a relatively easy matter to have only to put together a book of a reign from individual novellas or products of the novella type that were effective in their presentation and were thus popular. And it is no less understandable that one should commence with the reign of a particularly popular king. But if it looks as though already in Asa's reign David was elevated to a kind of ideal that was officially held up as a star, this was in marked contrast to the reality both of Asa's and of David's time. In what follows we shall be looking in greater detail at chs. 15-20, which remain from the preceding study. What kind of a literary product do they offer us? In what style are they written? Whatever answer is given will be the basis for answering the further question of the historical value of the chapters. This question is the primary reason for studies of these chapters.1 For a long time it was answered confidently; even Renan2 used special praise to register his confidence. Alongside this, however, there is a cooler judgment, that the source is already a long way from the events, that it was composed from the point of view of the pure party, that it aimed to narrate something of beauty, and that its accuracy has suffered as a result. By such judgments the objectivity of the source is brought into question; it appears either as a tendentious work or as a piece of entertainment.

1. H. Ewald, Geschichte des Volkes Israel (3rd edn; Gottingen, 186468), I, p. 44: 'Narratives such as Judges 9 or 2 Sam. 13—20 give us such vivid pictures of those times, drawn on such a firm background, that we can imagine ourselves easily and directly, and perfectly clearly, in the particular conditions of the time and in all its major and subsidiary circumstances, without being significantly impeded in our view and our revivification of what is related by any obstacles that might have become mixed in with it' (cf. p. 45). Such romantic optimism can no longer be maintained today. 2. J.E. Renan, Histoire du peuple d'Israel (5 vols.; Paris, 1899-93), II, p. 73.


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In order to be able to assess the historical value of the source we must thus first seek to determine its literary character more closely. This character used to be defined—cautiously—as 'narrative'. Since Sievers one would be more accurate to call the author a metric narrator,1 without the term 'narrator' becoming thereby untenable. This term is still useful in many respects; it can be profitably used to gain closer, negative definitions. The narrator is not a poet, despite the metre, and his product is not an epic. The most that could be considered is whether it contains epic resonances, namely individual devices of a mythic type. These must always be present in the epic of the day.2 Nor can a cycle of romances be discerned in the source. Above all it lacks the ideal unity which the person of the hero ought to establish. Is Absalom really this hero around whom the various details of the text conglomerate and from whom 1. The source's literary form per se is not the subject of the discussion introduced here. The main point of discussion is thus not the alternative between poetic and prosaic speech. Our concern is only to consider to what extent facts and report coincide with or depart from one another, if the latter has been formed under the influence of a particular literary type. It is not, however, totally uninteresting to historians whether or not metre belongs among the distinctive features of the type. They will generally take the incidence of metre to mean that more attention has been given to secondary, aesthetic purposes than a prosewriter would have given. This conclusion is only of use, however, if comparable prose-writers are available. But it is not easy to say whether the Absalom narrator is more interested in verse than other roughly contemporary narrators of similar material. Even given that the necessary counterparts were available, this would still not prove that the Absalom narrator would be relatively less true to history. But the presence of traces of metre, though among the determining factors, is not decisive for the question of his direct relationship to his material. 2. Passages which give a mythic impression can frequently only be tested and evaluated in the context of the surrounding report. Only then does it become clear whether they deserve the epithet 'mythic' and how far the historical validity of the source has been affected by them. It is popular for instance, to regard Absalom's death by his long hair as a mythical depiction. The role played by the hair is, however, not part of the text at all, but midrash, appearing apparently for the first time in Josephus,Ant.7.10.2.

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they derive their right to be present? If one reads the source through again one will find that it is only the modern terms 'Absalom-chapter', 'Absalom-narrator' and the like that have given rise to the notion that he is the hero of the text in which he figures. Rather, the position of the hero is shared consecutively by Absalom, David and Joab. All the same, the stylistic conjunction of the individual sections of the source is close enough. They cannot, therefore, have been taken from different cycles of romances either.1 The narrator, furthermore, is no historian, and his product, even in the terms of his own day, is not a scientific work. Occasionally he neglects to say things that are necessary for comprehension, even at points where we should think he ought to feel bound to do so.2 So he is neither absolutely nor relatively complete. But his selection of relevant factors is not an objective one either, not being a really proportionate crosssection of all the actual data. This has to be admitted straightaway in order to avoid further complications. The only question is whether the historian ever had sources of another type than these at his disposal. An admission that they are not objective is still a long way from accepting that they are scientifically unusable. Nor is the narrator an official recorder. His dating of events is untidy, both absolutely and relatively speaking. Only at the beginning does he make a somewhat unclear attempt. The value of his numerical data is problematic (15.11: 500?); the geographical data invited corrections already at an early period, and these have quite obscured their reliability. Thus it would be wrong to want to reject the designation 'narrator' altogether. It is not merely an empty term; some criteria, if only negative ones, are drawn out by it. But it is more often accused of being too glossy, that it surreptitiously 1. This would also be an assumption that one would scarcely pursue without some compelling reason. Moreover such a figure as Joab, for example, is not suited as the focus of a self-contained cycle of romances, any more than the often compared Hagen von Tronje. Such 'moons' may indeed cause such eclipses of the sun but cannot shine without the sun, not even in national poetic memory. 2. E.g. 'the Moor' (RSV, 'the Cushite') in 18.21. In 15.14, why do they not wait in Jerusalem? And so on.


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permits of the part and the whole being declared reliable, without very much effort being made at documentation. This may require one to draw upon an as yet unexhausted capital of confidence in the Bible, on which so many demands are already being made that one has to ask oneself on occasion whether this is necessary. Certainly, if the designation 'narrator' is too glossy and impedes a clear insight into the relationship of the report to the material it must be faulted. But the problem might be obviated if one retains the term and defines it more precisely, to the point where the undesirable all-toocomfortable glossiness ceases. No one can really dispute the fact that the term is too vague. Perhaps the word 'popular' (volkstiimlich) would be an appropriate qualification of the term. Wildeboer1 has some pertinent remarks about the 'popular narrator' (volkstiimlicher Erzdhler) on Israelite soil. However, our understanding of the Absalom narrator in particular is little improved by this. Where is his people, and how does he approach it with his product? One can hardly fail to recognize that the Absalom narrator's product was intended to be read, not to be publicly recited. The figures among the people in 15.2ff. are so unrealistic, so colourless, mere shadows; such are of no use to a reciter. True, this feature is partially compensated for by contrasting ones in v. 13. But then again the formalities of the Ark are not popular. Probably2 it is the author himself who makes use of the abbreviations in 17.15, 21; finally the long sequels to the catastrophe in chs. 19 and 20, which put together diplomatic negotiations and a host of local celebrities from various districts, are not, in this form, such features as would be likely to grip the people.3 Another possibly very significant point must be brought out here: the material is drawn from the most serious and still unsolved problems of the nation's existence. A coherent representation of such a course of events presupposes a situation in which passions have cooled and friend and foe can arrive at an objective assessment of the 1. See G. Wildeboer, Die Litteratur des Alien Testaments (German edition, Gottingen, 1895), pp. 53ff. 2. Cf. Sievers, Metrische Studien, III, pp. 92f. 3. Their mention is more reminiscent of courtly-courteous addresses of the Muallakat.

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matters that previously divided them; times must have changed, with no one left alive who had fervently supported David or Absalom. Until the time is ripe for such an account, only biased accounts are possible, that constantly remind the defeated of their 'rights' and the victors of their 'success'. Our source is certainly not such an account. Rather it is on the side of the party vindicated by the events;1 but it does not become indignant against the intriguer Absalom, nor does it reprimand him with the fourth commandment. It narrates in such a way that one cannot shake off the impression that the author is above erstwhile personal matters; his readers have not gone through the events he narrates, and certainly do not get agitated—time has passed beyond the cares and objects of dispute of those days. One might think, too, of the government of the land: from what point onwards does it regard a renewed concern with those times of ferment as opportune? An expose of these could hardly come into being at some provincial out-ofthe-way place; it had to use direct traditions2 of some kind; 1. The narrator's position is on David's side. This is proved on one hand by the courtly formulae devoted to him in 15.6, 7, 9, 15ff., 19, 21, 23, 25, 27; 16.2ff., 5f., 9ff., 14; 18.4f., 25; 19.3, 5f., 9-20, 24-26, 30, 32-35, 3944; 20.4, from the mouth of the narrator or the people in 15.3, 15, 21; 16.2, 9; 17.16; 18.12f., 19-21, 28, 31f.; 19.20-22, 27-29, 31, 35-38; 20.21f., from the mouths of characters in the action, among them whole scenes of loyal submissiveness such as 15.15, 21, 32; 18.3 inter alia. Absalom on the other hand is spared nothing detrimental: he is a seeker of public favour (15.1-6); he involves honest people in bad affairs (15.11); he dares to do nothing or else excessively wicked things (16.22); the earlier dealings with the family (ch. 13) and the cenotaph (?) (18.18) add to the picture. If Absalom had stayed on the throne we would have a description of his relationship to his father similar to that of Esarhaddon to Sennacherib in 681, who had not brought him back from banishment. Just how many problems are involved in this violent change of government is shown by C. Niebuhr (Ex Oriente Lux 1.4, pp. 18f.). One might also read Ashurbanipal's annalistic inscriptions (Rassam cylinder, I, 21-39). 2. Through the Sofer, an office which cannot, it is true, be conceived of as without priestly education, but which by no means excludes a non-hierarchical standing; contra W. Erbt (Die Hebraer [Leipzig, 1906], p. 103) one might refer to 2 Sam. 11; 1 Kgs 2.26 (1 Sam. 3.13f.) has recourse to the criticism of the hierarchy.


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wind of the intention of an expose would get about; it could be prevented, and copies of it confiscated. But quite apart from the attitude of the government of the land, by the time a single popular narrator mastered such material and could speak of it in such a calm way, indeed with artistry and literary relish, this material must have gone off the boil—in fact it must have gone quite cold. One could even draw the conclusion from this that the report must be much younger than the events. But this is valid only if we are to assume that we are dealing with a popular narrator. If he worked for a reading public, then this assumption is groundless—for that period. In that case he is, rather, a non-popular narrator. This brings us to a recent assessment of the Absalom narrator. B. Luther1 calls him a 'novellist' (a writer of novellas), his work a masterpiece. There is no lack of features that speak for such a designation. Above all, the suspense is skilfully awakened, in the way Absalom craves leave—the reader would not grant it to him— in the way the council of war is held, in the way the runners catch up with the main body of David's army,2 and finally in the way David gives the watchword that Absalom is to be delivered to him alive. Four times things go differently from what one would expect;3 if such was the historical situation it is surely not just coincidental that these are seen and made use of in the narrative. The manner of speech of those concerned is not individualized, but is characterized in social terms: the subject (16.4); the strivers (18.19-32); the trooper (18.11, 22; 16.9; 15.21); the elo1. See his article in this volume. Meyer would not like to go later than Solomon with the time of composition. 2. There is no scientific objection to the assumption that a popular subject of narration, namely how people used to be hidden, is being accommodated at this opportunity—'a lad, a man, the woman' seem to be fixed figures—even though the detailed narrative could also stem from the messenger's own report, which is what Duhm's Abiathar hypothesis leads up to. The location would be noteworthy: Bahurim is Shimei's locality. 3. 18.24-28 is also styled in this way, almost with a certain sophistication.

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quent speaker (17.7-13)—a prize example right from his initial apology for having to contradict the 'oracle' for once, to his playing on fears (w. 8, 10) and on the attractiveness of procrastination and the reassuring hyperbole in v. 13; then there is the prince, retiring, uncertain, reserved; and finally the king, wretched, intimidating, terse, more forthcoming only towards trusted friends, still keeping to etiquette after losing his composure (19.1); and afterwards, Joab's quarrel with him using the curt address 'y°u'The changes of scene between the lovely peacefulness of the morning in the fortress of Jerusalem and the lively scenes on the march are excellently conveyed. The profusion of episodes on the way, pressing ahead and sending back, encounters of an embarrassing or a cheering nature—all these pass by in animated succession. One shares the impression of the way stretching out ahead of the column, and one feels the jolt with which thoughts have to be redirected to Jerusalem, to a city that has become totally altered in the meantime.1 The characters' motives are very simple; sometimes bad— ambition (Absalom), profiteering (Ziba?, the runners), intransigence (Joab; the field that was set on fire must have been a terrible threat) (14.30; Judg. 12.1), intrigue (Ahithophel); sometimes good—loyalty, piety; but always they are private and personal motives. The parties concerned proceed on the principle of meeting cunning with cunning; the reader regards the increase in this with a certain aesthetic, but not ethical, satisfaction. Individuals stand up to speak on behalf of the masses (16.7ff.). (Luther [below, p. 109] exaggeratedly speaks of a conflict between Israel and the king instead of one between Benjamin and David.) In the above work essential traits of that narrative technique that one may call 'novellistic' are specified: homogeneous action in connected stages, a small circle of actors, each 1. The narrator is altogether responsible for committing to paper action spread over various settings and often occurring simultaneously. In his ordering of the material he gives a low priority to topographical or chronological considerations, if the flow of the account, and thus the characters of the actors and the cohesion of the action, would otherwise be too fragmented.


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one of interest in his or her own right, each of the characters being distinguished from the others; and in addition, two principles between which there does not have to be unconditional harmony: on one hand local and situational colour in the interests of vividness, and on the other, simplification of the thinking of the participants to typical, universally human impulses and intentions. Luther sets the beginning of his Absalom novella as early as ch. 13.* It would then be a character novella (Charakternovelle): the connecting thread between the various sections would be simply the person of Absalom. He must then have moved to the fore, like Joseph in Gen. 37.3. But 13.1 hardly constitutes the pride of place that would be required for this. Luther has probably been misled by the verse. If it is deleted as a redactional heading helping to establish the pragmatic link of chs. 13f.2 with 15f.—and this is surely very likely—then Absalom first appears where he is needed, namely in the lull in the action (v. 20). Thus ch. 13 (whose relation to ch. 14 would also require examination) becomes an independent literary product,3 an action-novella (Handlungsnovelle). A careful delimitation of the Absalom revolt source will not allow us to go back beyond 15.1. 15.1-6 gives a brief introduction that is not yet story but background, not action but iteration, more dignified than Gen. 37.3, but comparable to it. In v. 7 we have the exciting moment, followed by the unremitting flow of the action up to 17.22. That a pause is introduced there is evidenced by the way an incidental circumstance is caught up on (v. 23), for which the break is just 1. For P. Jensen, too (Das Gilgamesch-Epos in der Weltliteratur [Strassburg, 1906-28], I, p. 501), who even more often shows a tendency to react against the literary divisions of the Old Testament into sources and fragments of sources, the Absalom story is 'unquestionably homogeneous'. 2. Renan (Histoire du peuple d'Israel, II, p. 76) correctly sees that already prior to the reconciliation in 14.33 internal politics had become mixed up in the affair. Absalom was thus expected to strengthen the dynasty. 3. As a rule (cf. also Bantsch, David, p. 143) the mythological features we get from the Amnon novella provide the basic supply of evidence that the account of the revolt is not historical.

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right.1 Some text is indeed required between w. 22 and 24; the two sentences do not fit directly together. Thus v. 23 cannot be laid at the door of the person who compiled, from the sources he had, the story of the reign of David; it can be better attributed to the author of the context. We cannot yet discuss to what extent Absalom's and Ahithophel's ends are thereby related, with a connection that might have to be called contrived. The second part of the source (as an aesthetic product it cannot close with v. 22 or v. 23), similarly to the first, has moved Absalom up to the fore as the driving factor. David is always on the defensive, allowing his duties to come to him, with a certain inclination to get out of their way if they lead into crisis areas. The historian must ask whether this picture of Absalom does not simply derive from the fact that he lent his name to the whole uprising, and the picture of David from the fact that all kings pursue similar political tactics as soon as they are old. Similarly to the march episodes mentioned earlier, now a succession of battle episodes is drawn up. Most ancient oriental battles, with the possible exception of the best-led Assyrian and Egyptian campaigns, must have degenerated very quickly into a wild confusion of man-to-man combat, with such difficulties of terrain and disorientation, that—and it does sound rather comical—not even the king can be sure of his life.2 And 1. The narrator, in dealing with Ahithophel when it suits him, here proceeds much the same way as the writer of Mt. 27.3ff. 2. In 18.3 the soldiers do not directly express the fear that the king's participation in the fighting might cost him his life, but are only saying that in this exceptional case it is of greater advantage to them if he stays behind the front line; they can then fight without needing to worry so much, feeling, 'We are not being watched'. Perhaps this means, in this context: The opposition do not have it in for us ordinary people. They will not be so determined to stop us fleeing; but if the worst comes to the worst, if our losses are too heavy and there is no mercy given, then it will be worse for us to have to do without your intelligence and so on, than if we are able at least to count on you.' So even if the soldiers are considering their own interests first rather than concern for the king, they still see his life in danger if he joins the front line. There is very little in the way of romantic chivalry involved in their utilitarian consideration; it thereby provides its own verification, and one is led to surmise that nyn in 18.3 may be used precisely in lieu of a formal council of war. So bold an abbreviation of the latter


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then a deaf ear can be turned to even the strictest of orders (IS.llff.).1 The final outcome of a battle often enough lay with the circumstance whether it was fatigue or the need for booty that was predominant. Such a battle can thus not be described otherwise than in individual typical scenes, as far as 18.32. To suit western tastes, the source could close here or with the Joab scene which follows it. For the author's taste, however, there still remain problems, whose solutions are unhurriedly divulged. Various characters known to us reappear, are commended, pardoned or reproved. In the midst of this are two remarkable scenes involving the people (19.10ff. and 19.42ff.), which will be discussed below. These make it likely

could be explained by the fact that one has already been presented in ch. 17. 1. The dialogue is 18.10-14 is very notable for the realism of the source. 'I saw Absalom hanging at the terebinth (or to read along with v. 9: in the terebinth)' is already a hint at a possibility that it would be dangerous to mention. The superior is informed of a state of affairs which suggests a particular line of action. If Joab takes responsibility by giving an order, the reporting soldier is capable of anything. Joab, however, is evasive: 'You should have killed him'. He can still go and do it, but on his own responsibility, not Joab's. The only thing Joab would be good for would be a premium which is supposed to facilitate the decision to dare to undertake the deed on his own responsibility. The man immediately sees, however, that he would then only be made the scapegoat, and refuses the ticklish request with characteristic words, cautiously steeped, moreover, in expressions of loyalty. It is not until Joab realizes that the man is of no use for his purposes but that the ideal opportunity on the other hand could be missed (v. 14a), that the latter consideration gains the upper hand and he takes the risk upon himself, for which he is better suited than others by virtue of his position. The narrator, with a breath-taking leap, now moves to the following scene, as if the reporting soldier had not had to direct or lead Joab to the spot. But it is necessary to imagine another change of location in v. 14. If Absalom were on the spot where the dialogue took place then there would have been no need for Joab to be informed of his accident. The only alternative would be to think of Joab as coming along subsequently in v. 10 and of Absalom as not having dared move up to that moment. This supplementation would, however, be more awkward than that suggested for v. 14, where it is easy in narrating the story to miss out 'and went there'.

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that ch. 20, for which they are a preparation, belongs to our source. 20.22 is then a definitive conclusion.1 In respect of the extension just discussed one cannot maintain that the document was written on account of Absalom; in that case it would have had to conclude with 18.18. This is therefore no character-novella. Nor is it an action-novella, however, for even before the catastrophe, from the climax onwards, the connecting thread becomes quite loose, and the narrative proceeds like a series of pictures, not progressing from act to act with any inner logic. Luther cannot exonerate the account of the tail end of the action from this assessment by lopping offch. 20 (below, p. 101) as an 'elaborate anecdote', whose sole purpose is 'to relate the anecdote of the clever woman who ended the war' (the woman? the occasion?). This would never be applicable to w. 8-12 (cf. below, p. 108), and it would still first have to be proved for the rest. It would be equally possible that once he has got going, the author cannot immediately make his conclusion, and his audience, whose interest he has awakened, is not pressing him to finish. So he keeps on narrating, with a series of events that are loosely related to the principal action. One should not object that the author could then not have been the master he showed himself to be in the mounting action, in his weaving of the plot and in his painting of detail. For then the master would be measured against a stylistic ideal that is not his own. A person can surely be a master qualitatively speaking, without being one in quantitative respects also. He skilfully composes everything he writes, but he does not have grand style; in one respect he is more active in his treatment of his material and in the other he is more passive. The cumbersome conclusions, moreover, have international analogies. Mastery of the material flags after the first-rate opening; finally the subject-matter is once again in control and the author an obedient copyist of the factual material. This type of conclusions, which are not conclusions at all, cannot be fully appreciated unless account is taken 1. If one agreed with H. Winckler's attempt to transfer the Sheba affair to the beginning of the joint kingdom of David (Geschichte Israels [Leipzig, 1895], I, p. 174), one would have to abandon precisely this valuable piece of the text.


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of the heightened sympathy with the material that has overcome the author and his readers. This sympathy means that an array of sequels are found interesting, which would not be so in their own right; but it is the broad back of the main plot that moves along and carries all these appendages; indeed the memory of the best scenes of the main plot is reawakened in the sequels; for this reason, too, the latter are still welcome and the author is not called upon to go straight into his conclusion. Our study has shown our document to have in some respects flaws, from the aesthetic point of view. So far it has been our concern to let the fault speak for itself as clearly as possible. In qualification of this it can be allowed that the author is certainly not invariably prone to the fault. Even as the action winds down the author does not proceed without a plan. Here, too, he has masterly scenes, such as the king at the gate; and he stops when the status quo is reached. But there is little point here in bringing up everything that might be said to defend him against the criticism of an aesthete of the novella. It will suffice if part of the criticism is valid. For it makes it a fact that a very extensive part of the document runs counter to the designation 'novella'. It may start off as a novella, but it grows out of the confines of the novella. Before this observation can be pursued further, attention should be given to those scenes and details that it develops with particular affection and understanding. For, if there is no getting away from the impression that it is not a popular work, we need to look into which classes among the people are closest to it First of all, the priest is noticeable. Just to make sure that everyone knows it: they were there too! They wanted to do something, but the king would not let them. Indeed, they made no great impact on the story of the revolt, neither then, nor by their tale-bearing (17.15), which someone else would have helped out with if they had been absent. Meanwhile, they have to be involved. Thus as much or as little is mentioned about them as could be researched. So it is strange how, suddenly, in the middle of the flow of the narrative, there is time to report where someone was born (17.25). The nation—as long as it does not refuse to be so, as in 19.42ff.—is a grey mass, 'the people' (18.3). 15.2 is no different;

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as if intentionally, a schematic note is struck there; petitioners and appellants are always a monotonous array for anyone who has to listen to them. Ziba alone is pinned down by name; the narrator does nothing towards his defence. The man has behaved disloyally; that will not be forgotten. But when one character is a royal runner, and when the stupid Cushite makes a faux pas, then everything is interesting—how they do it, and what they have to say, especially when all kinds of skills perfected at court are employed (18.29; cf. 16.16ff., and the dialogue in 18.10-14). Add to this the practised handling of courtly forms of address, as in yiny instead of the first person singular and »n» instead of the second person singular (18.27ff.). The diwan, or court council of war (17.1-14), deserves special attention. Particular importance is attached to the way the speeches develop. Ahithophel is the tireless, irreconcilable principle of the revolt; he speaks with courage and resoluteness, briefly and to the point. Astonishingly enough, an opponent takes issue with him, but he does so very cautiously, taking an ad hominem line: The slightest slip-up1 at this point would lose us our credibility', ^better safe than sorry', and so on. Finally, an appeal to national self-confidence, and a clever remark (v. 13) to answer a clever remark (v. 3).2 It proves to be effective. It is to the diwan that the author transfers the decisive turning-point, even though it was not tongues, but sword and spear that were the deciding factor. Provision is made for an occasional mention of the 'aristocrats', even if they are merely the chorus of the play. Shimei is also one of them (19.17). Certainly they and the courtiers were two parties (17.6); but they each have to take account of the other. The statement of the obvious in 15.15 seems successful; the matter is only obvious if the king had no thought of slipping through the gate alone. Then it is important whether

1. In 17.8 a description is given of those left behind with David which could easily have been swallowed by Joab. 2. In 17.3: n*>>3 instead offe—the bride has no one but her husband in mind.


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someone's court privileges are to remain (19.29), and whether new ones are to be granted (w. 32-39). All this speaks clearly for the milieu of the author: civil servants, aristocrats, top men among the spiritual1 and the worldly—the higher circles.2 It is to these that he belongs, and for them that he narrates; the revolt turns into a threat to and a re-establishment of the royal household.3 And in this class there would have been the best chance of the art of reading being at all widespread; here it is possible to narrate without being 'popular'. International relations are also always enjoyed in the upper classes, and these were especially close with Egypt in Solomon's reign. Egypt was already the land of the novella. This goes some way towards lifting the veil that lay over the origins of this singular narrative style, unless one would dare to assume that Israel must have produced it itself. Foreign parts offered this style to the narrator. What led him to heed the offer? Why did he not come to the conclusion that he would have no audience for this kind of thing at home? However, the question in this form does not need to be posed with particular reference to the Absalom source. In all probability this is not the first product in the style of the novella, but already has precedents.4 In this case the path was already cleared, marked out, in fact, for its author. This helps define more closely the period to which that narrative belongs. At some time it had its heyday. Demand for it was awakened and in evidence. Some kind of a cultured peak must be associated with it; so too, the national situation must create the right conditions. But not even all of this is sufficient to explain why precisely such material as this has been shaped in this style. Anyone who wanted to become a writer of novel1. If only the priests were given special mention, this could just about be interpreted as the kind of mention given in certain regions to the curate and the friar, who must always have some part. That would still be popular style. 2. The ceremony observed at an act of reconciliation is meticulously recorded (14.33). 3. Cf. J. Wellhausen, Israelitische und jiidische Geschichte (3rd edn; Berlin, 1897), p. 61 n. 1. 4. Including, indeed, such as we have before us.

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las could start with Ophir sea-adventures, with Rechabites or other such entertaining subjects, but how the writer comes to treat of such a bitterly real matter as Absalom's revolt and to fashion a novella out of it, out of a matter that was vital to the nation, is a question we must not lightly brush aside. It will not be solved if one keeps to the designation 'novella', no matter how great one imagines the time gap between the event and the report. At least one would have to assume that there was another Tendenz motivating the author. Perhaps, at a time when broad sections of the people were divided over the king, he wanted to recount a precedent as a lesson, in the interests of the throne. Thus he does not speak merely of ambition, intrigue and other common human matters. But perhaps the tendency could be expressed within the designation novella with a practical, political purpose. The term 'novella' could then be retained. By what means is this purpose to be served? By an accurate presentation of what happened, or, on the contrary, by using a perspective from which the facts begin to speak for the overall tendency? It seems that we have come back to the point of departure at which the investigation into the value of the sources began. But that only seems to be the case. It has been shown that the revolt was not artificially and subsequently placed into that social milieu in which the source is most at home. That milieu has already been confined to its true significance for the historical record, which thus has some prospect of appraising it according to the actual course of events and of illuminating the true significance of the lower classes, which has been placed in some obscurity. It has also been shown how a variety of embellishments in the novella style have gilded the surface of the action. If we forgo utilization of the embellishments, we are not left with nothing that can be utilized; on the contrary, the major incidents then assume the shape appropriate to their period, a shape still discernible in the depth of the report. The moment when the subject matter gains the ascendancy over its presenter does not actually signify the beginning of its credibility at all, for the very reason that this was not in any great danger beforehand, and, secondly, because the subject matter would be particularly likely to confuse its describer


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when it overcomes him. But instead of establishing general considerations let us picture the noteworthy attempt to describe mass movements in 19.10ff. and 19.42ff. Here the technique of the novella is pushed to one side. The procedure of placing on the lips of an individual things spoken on behalf of many (B. Luther, below, p. 109) is not employed. This can hardly be otherwise explained than by the impact of impression. Precisely this section must through mediation of some kind go back to contemporaries of the events, and the author, possibly born later, has incorporated it into his work of art, connecting it closely to his sources. A later master of literary forms would otherwise have had little difficulty in dressing these scenes also in the garb of the novella. One would imagine that the outbreak of popular feeling was most unwelcome to certain circles, but they had to put up with it. Any special hopes they had fostered were thereby buried. It was here that all the privileged cultic personnel, all those who were economically and legally superior had to give place to a voice that had previously lacked influence and which can be called loosely the voice of'the people'. At any rate it was a class that had wanted the monarchy and had itself become strong as a result. 19.10ff. and 19.42ff. provide the justification for regarding the Absalomic revolt as a people's movement1 with deep-lying basic feelings, sudden shifts of mood, uncertain waves of emotion and powerful explosions2—it cannot be seen as anything other 1. Not 'people' in contradistinction to the nobility, but including them. 2. Renan (II, p. 73): 'L'Spisode frappe par son unit6 et 1'artince savant de la narration, qui rappelle les historiens grecs'. Erbt (Die Hebraer, p. 35) gives an idea of what significance will yet be attached to this passage within the overall assessment of the Old Testament document: 'One is not in a position to describe cultural conditions. In order to describe incidents in popular life, one chooses, as the "phraseological formula" is lacking, the way out offered in the narration of the story of one case, and so on.' However apt this characterization may be, our passage shows that a very early age was already capable of other things too. When Jensen (Gilgamesch-Epos, I, pp. 542f.) draws a parallel to 20.Iff. from the Behistun inscription, he apparently does not shrink from maintaining that the report about Sheba was produced by a post-exilic Jew about the time of Ezra. Any dependence on the style of a common (Babylonian) archetype—a report about revolutions from

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than this, if only on account of the warlike events connected with it. For the armies in whose hands the decision is laid do not consist of first-rate mercenaries, as we learn from 15.19, correctly interpreted. This understanding of the revolt, which breaks through with elemental force in the second half of the source, is one which the historian must try to pursue in the first half also. With extreme caution B. Luther (below, pp. 11 Of.) has put forward his views on the credibility of the source. One can hardly improve on his assessment of some of its statements. This has now been confirmed in our discussion by a number of reasons that should not be underestimated. Now is the moment to draw tight a knot we tied above. For a long stretch the Absalom material is too serious for a novella. This obstacle does not persist interminably; but the closer the author stands to the time of the event, the less his authority to stir up and make use of this matter for entertainment or educational purposes. He and his audience are too close to the material for this; he cannot win that freedom of viewpoint towards it that is an absolute precondition for the writer of novellas. Nor has the age of self-analysis yet arrived. The only tendency that remains allowable is this: the author wanted to teach by means of narration; but the field he wished to influence by his teaching is that of internal politics, the national one. If, instead, it had been the educational field, concerned with the training of the mind and the imagination, then indeed one would have had to consider whether real events would have been as suitable for instruction as contrived ones. But in the realm of internal politics fictions about the past are hazardous. If the people still have an impression of those events through tradition, then fictions will do nothing to unhinge it.1 True, the author liked to present occurrences the official point of view and on the king's behalf—would have been talked about. 1. This should not be confused with the once popular references to the renowned powers of recall that orientals or primitive peoples have. We are not talking generally of memories presumed to have been kept alive out of piety or for fun or even out of stupidity, but of crises that are partially responsible for the present situation of the people. Such things are not forgotten until this present itself becomes past, and are


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whose nature was open to question in line with his view, but this does not amount to correcting the story. But can it be doubted that the form of account he selected, and which he initially handled with energy and skill, led him into such a temptation? He has, after all, committed himself to the style of the novella. Does he not thereby himself give the critic the right to consider him capable of deviating from the true course of events? This means setting the requirement that he should have done his narrating in another mode. Not in any new or arbitary one, but in an established one. For anyone who wants to instruct factually, not aesthetically, with his historical account must not come with a foreign mode to which readers will first have to accustom themselves; he will present the material in such a way that the reader immediately feels at home. So he has to look around among the current narrative modes—the official document, the song, the epic, the popular narrative. One might well sympathize with him that all of these were unsuitable to him. The Document was unsuitable, because it does not record life, but only the dead, not things in process but only completed things, not souls but objects; and thus it is not able to cope with the subject-matter and the educational purpose and it is as biased as anything else. The Song would suit Absalom down to the ground. That the author has not chosen the Song as a medium can only be taken to mean that the revolt was not totally absorbed within the person of Absalom as one might suppose; the prince is neither the soul nor the embodiment of the revolt; he provides a name for it. Consequently no song tailored to a single person could immortalize what was understood by Absalom's Revolt. The Epic was ruled out straightaway because Absalom was not victorious. Despite his curls and his monument, in him the people did not have what they had in Moses and Joshua, or in his father. If Absalom had been a greater figure than he was certainly not forgotten through the gradual dying-out of a particular generation. As against Jensen (Gilgamesch-Epos, I), who in the main regards the story of David and his followers as a construction of the dynasty designed to influence the people by suggestion, we would refer to Winckler's repeated remarks on methodology; and what is known of the apparatus of suggestion that would have been required?

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there was no room for him in the limelight of popularity. Who can now say for certain whether there was ever an Abraham epic or a Moses epic? But in the judgment of the Israelites, these men were more eligible candidates for epic glorification than Absalom. Anyway, they already figured in the Popular Narratives. Whatever precise meaning is attached to this fluctuating concept, for the Israelites of the earlier monarchy it was a selfexplanatory and fairly well-defined genre. The subjects of these popular narratives lay in the early period of the nation, as far back as the chaos of the first Canaanite centuries, illumined only by individual heroes ('judges') shining as firm stars amid the vicissitudes of particularism, fragmentation and foreign domination. Times were now quite different. The people had worked their way out. They were conscious of having lived through an epoch. Behind them lay a past with which they had lost close touch, politically and socially speaking, and whose culture was receding into the shadows in the face of a new and high-potential present. The concern was to heal the wounds of the past years and solve political and economic problems. The king carries on trade; it is now a period of practical capability and earthly tasks. The period of the founding of the religion and the conquest of the land was not like this; the popular narratives preserved it as a quite different period, one when miracle and curse, fanaticism and idealism held good. It was precisely for this reason that the other period, the one that had now arrived, was outside the scope of the popular narrative style. The style has its own period. When a certain series of subjects has been set down in this style, the series tends to determine the type, and the genre becomes delimited, to the exclusion of new developments. A narrator who was a sober person could hardly disregard this. If he did not live in a world of fantasy he could not attempt to tell of David and Absalom in the same way as he might of Abram and Lot, Jacob and Esau, Moses and Pharaoh or Moses and Abiram. The popular narrative had had its flowering period, and by its subject matter and its style it distinguished itself from the experiences of the present; it was a good thing not to try to modernize it artificially. Only the reverse occurred: popular narratives were remodelled as novellas and


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what was unpolished and rough and ready was made socially acceptable, so to speak. But to fit the new period into the old popular narrative would have marked a departure of quite different proportions. How this might have worked out in practice may possibly be indicated by those narrative texts, occurring primarily in Genesis, behind whose individuals collectives are sought. The author of the Absalom source, on the other hand, even just by narrating the still recent events in a more modern and, for his time, highly sophisticated form, stamped the subject matter as topical. That the author took the novella-style as his basis is not a fact that one just has to accept. I think it has now been shown what moved him to do this; our discussion has at a number of points indicated also what influence the novella-style exercises on the relationship of the document to the events. To recognize the novella-style of the document does not now give us a mandate to treat it eclectically, believing one thing and not another. Of course it cannot be disputed that in such a style as this an author can allow himself added ingredients. But these are such as leave the course of the events untouched, i.e. psychological colouring, speeches and so on. Even in respect of these, conservative caution is recommended: leitmotifs and famous sayings may be original.1 The author seems to sharpen up the context of the events, creating an exciting suspense for his audience. In so doing, he is led by the feeling that the people who experienced those events were also in great suspense as to what would happen. This original suspense is irretrievably lost; for the denouement it eventually received has made history, and author and reader alike are unable to remove its consequences, which reach into the present, from their consciousness. The narrator's only remaining possibility is, by means of a substitute suspense, to transport readers into a situation where they will relate to the material in a similarly lively way as contempo1. This would apply to sayings of David, as also in other David sources which are presented immediately beside one another, without interruption from another speaker, e.g. 15.37f. On 16.13f. see Theologische Studien... Theodor Zahn dargebracht (Leipzig, 1908), p. 27.

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raries did to the events. He can achieve suspense by clever anticipation or by the suppression of important data, by remarkable sayings of his heroes, by the ordering of the sequence of scenes and situations, by contrasting crises whose coincidence no one had noticed during the actual course of events, but above all by condensing the action even at the expense of all the connecting gradual developments and preparations. Could he be so far advanced in this as to neglect to date things and to alter locations and chronological sequences? Each case can only be considered on its merits. One observation would immediately speak against it: it seems that from 15.13 to 17.22 everything occurs in the space of one day. One might first suppose that the writer has compressed into twenty-four hours what occurred over a longer period. In that case, however, one would have expected that when using such a device he would have paused and ensured that it would not escape the reader's notice; perhaps with something like: T)avid said, "This morning I awoke in my palace without a care; but now where shall I lay my head?"' The author indulges in none of this. Should it appear that indeed such swiftness in the action is an essential precondition for its possibility, then we would have a positive indication for the historicity of the concentration of so many scenes on one day. The fact that here and towards the end of the source the influence of the style of the novella on the presentation of the events is questioned, is not to say that where the novella-style flags, complete confusion and lack of control begin. On the contrary, it can be claimed that the style of the novella has become the point where narrative literature passes through into real historiography, as far as the latter was possible on Israelite soil; one might think of the continuous historical works whose period is soon to begin, not the 'court journals' of the kings of Israel and Judah, but the older Saul-David source, the Elohist and the Yahwist, and such a clever, thoughtful redactor as that of Genesis 12-14 (for us, often all too clever). According to Meyer, It is astonishing that such historical literature was possible in Israel at that time. It stands far above everything we otherwise know of ancient oriental historiography, above the dry official annals and above the fairy-tale stories of Egyptian popular liter-


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ature. It really is neither the one thing nor the other. It is real, genuine history, rooted in a living interest in the actual events, which it endeavours to comprehend and to record. If these chapters had not been preserved for us, we would have considered it unthinkable that such a thing could ever have emerged on Israelite soil.1

These words of praise from the historian's lips, who unfortunately has a considerably lower estimation of the later, continuous historical works, have been expounded in our discussion with respect to the Absalom source. This document does not provide history in the sense that the historian has only to reiterate it. The style of the novella has ordered the account's relationship to the facts in such a way that one can speak of an abridgment. All the details of the novella type noted on pp. 72f. can be subsumed under this term. Abridged are the dimensions of the factors involved, the emotions, the intervals, the accompanying circumstances, the background history and the after-effects. Abridged; it is not so, then, that nothing of any value is left after novella-type additions have been stripped away. Rather the task consists in properly re-expanding and compensating for the areas where abridgment is recognized. Actual history has not disappeared as a result of the abridgment. It is still there. But no longer is everything there that we need and can establish from other sources. It became clear to the author of the Absalom source, as he described the revolt, that this was not novella material. And so with his greater purposes he grew. His product embodies the transition of the national literature from the novella to historiography.2 He draws the facts to a slightly reduced scale; but

1. Meyer, Die Israeliten, pp. 486f. The following, non-theological view is also worth mentioning: 'The Israelite tradition, despite its lamentable eclecticism in the requirements it made of itself, stands closest of all oriental accounts to historical sensitivity that is schooled in reality' (C. Niebuhr, Ex Oriente Lux, 1.4, p. 40). 2. By history he means the dealings of notable persons with his nation and with one another, always in a mutual relationship to Yahweh. Consequently it is not just the persons themselves that become his subject, and it is for this reason that in portraying them he already makes use of that highly esteemed artistic device, indirect characterization (cf. also Budde, Die Biicher der Richter und Samuel, p. 272).

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the bounds of recognizability are not crossed; it is an excerpt of history that he reports, but history it is.

THE NOVELLA OF JUDAH ANDTAMAR AND OTHER ISRAELITE NOVELLAS Bernhard

Luther

Judah and Tamar. The Qedeshes1 The story of Judah and Tamar in Genesis 38 introduces us, as few other accounts do, into the life of the tribes in Palestine. Consequently the story also presents us with puzzles, not all of which we are able to solve, given our present state of knowledge. Of the commentators, Gunkel certainly gets closest to the spirit of the story, but even he is unable to answer all the questions. The chapter falls into four parts: (I) the settlement of Judah, his marriage and sons; (II) Judah's sons and Tamar; (III) Judah and Tamar; (IV) the birth of Perez and Zerah. In purpose and style the third part is clearly distinguishable from the others. Parts I, II and IV are genealogical, briefly recounted, more fully so only at the birth of Perez and Zerah, because their names are to be explained—in just the same way as J recounts the birth of the sons of Jacob. Part III is a novella furnished with colourful detail. Our most important task is to separate this novella from its present context and to understand it on its own. Tamar craftily procures for herself sexual intercourse with Judah. Gunkel declares: 'The forceful woman takes the most extreme course open to an honourable lady; she puts herself on the level of a despised prostitute'. Here it should immediately be noted that although according to v. 15 Tamar has disguised herself as a whore (nnr), in v. 21 she is called a 'qedeshah'. 1. Translator's note: The term 'qedeshes' is retained from Luther's study to signify those generally referred to as 'cult prostitutes', both male and female.

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True, for the prophets and the Deuteronomist 'whore' and 'qedeshah' are identical; but we ought still to assume a distinction, even if this is not expressly attested by Hos. 4.13,14: They sacrifice on the tops of the mountains and make offerings upon the hills. Therefore your daughters play the harlot and your brides go astray (mawn DDTvto; *)W is not only 'commit adultery* but a synonym for rur; rfo is best translated TDride'). I will not punish your daughters when they play the harlot, nor your brides when they go astray.' Tor they (the priests) go aside with harlots, and sacrifice with the qedeshes (nitzhp).'1 The qedeshes are thus identical to rrto here, since both are said to *]t«. The qedesh-state here is still closely linked to the cult. This is clear from Amos 2.7 also: 'A man and his father go in to the same maiden, so that my holy name is profaned'. This is the state of affairs in Israel. According to 1 Kgs 14.24, 15.12 and 22.46, there were zrtfip, that is male qedeshes, in Judah. Indeed even in Jerusalem there were some who were allocated special rooms in or at the temple of Yahweh (2 Kgs 23.7). Otherwise we only hear of female qedeshes in Judah in Deut. 23.17, 18. Were there no female qedeshes in Judah, are they included in the Kings passages, or does the Deuteronomist mention them only because they exist in Israel (in the narrower sense)? These are questions which our material prompts us to ask, but which we cannot answer. The Deuteronomist is keen to do away with the institution of the qedesh(ah)-state (Deut. 23.17, 18): There shall be no cult prostitute of the daughters of Israel, neither shall there be a cult prostitute of the sons of Israel. You shall not bring the hire of a harlot (mir ]n») or the wages of a dog into the house of the Lord your God.' pnR is a technical term in Hos. 9.1: 'Rejoice not, O Israel! Exult not (bR for *?K; cf. Marti, following LXX) like the peoples; for you have played the harlot, forsaking your God. You have loved for a harlot's hire (]]n») on all threshing floors.' Mic. 1.7: 1. In his commentary, Marti refers to Exod. 32.6, in the story of the golden calf: first they sacrifice, then eat and drink, and then inp'i pnx1?—'they rose up to play'. This is without doubt to be understood sexually, as in Gen. 26.8. Wild dancing with singing and rowdiness would of course accompany this (cf. Exod. 32.17-19).

LUTHER The Novella ofJudah and Tamar

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'All her (Samaria's) images shall be beaten to pieces, and all her hires ()]n») shall be burned with fire;...for from the hire of a harlot (rmr )TIK) she gathered them, and to the hire of a harlot they shall return'. Hos. 2.12: 'And I will lay waste her vines and her fig trees, of which she said, "These are my pntt (for nriR), which my lovers have given me"'. From these passages the following picture emerges. Associated with the festivals celebrated at the sanctuaries (high places), e.g. the harvest festival, is prostitution in the service of the divinity. The presents which the qedeshes receive belong (at least in part) to the divinity. The most important question now is: were there professional female qedeshes, or are we to understand the situation as being similar to that described by Herodotus (1.199) in Babylonia and Cyprus? Here every woman must once in her life prostitute herself at the temple of Mylitta (Aphrodite) in honour of that goddess. Rich girls ride to the temple in a festive cortege, with numerous attendants. The money which the women receive from the men is consecrated money; and they themselves are consecrated to the goddess after the sacred prostitution. Herodotus did not fully understand this custom. Is it immaterial when this prostitution takes place, or is it linked to a particular time? The custom surely only has a deeper significance if by this act the girl presents her virginity as a sacrifice to the goddess. Perhaps there is some connection of the institution to circumcision, which was originally practised only on males who had reached adolescence.1 From the passages cited it seems out of the question that there were professional qedeshes in Israel. Probably here too the girls were prostituted once only, in order to be consecrated to the divinity. The custom seems to have been fairly widespread (in Israel and Judah). Whether the practice is a vestige of an earlier period or imported from outside (in 2 Kgs 23.7b it is linked with the Asherah), we do not know.

1. Is circumcision connected with the male qedesh-state? Or are we to assume that there were boys who were professional qedeshes? On this point we are considerably less well informed than concerning female qedeshes.

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Among certain peoples there was no dishonour involved in a girl's becoming a qedesh; on the contrary, it was considered to be her religious duty. The step taken by Tamar should thus be understood differently from the way Gunkel understands it. The qedesh wears clothing that distinguishes her from the harlot. She masks herself with a veil, which she afterwards removes. Girls do the same thing before their wedding (e.g. Rebekah and Leah). The words Tor she had covered her face' (v. 15), if they are not a gloss, are only intended to explain why Judah does not recognize her; he takes her for a harlot because she is sitting at the roadside. Qedeshes are dressed like brides. This supports our earlier supposition that only girls can be 'qedeshes'—which seems clear also from Hos. 4.13, 14. But Tamar is a woman, and she thus infringes the cultic customs. This leads to the question, which arises on other grounds too: Was Tamar perhaps originally more closely associated with Judah? Was she Judah's bride? Even in the present form of the narrative, the indications that Tamar was a widow and the daughter-in-law of Judah are easily removed. In v. 2 it is striking that the name of Judah's wife is not given—was it Tamar, perhaps? Perez and Zerah ought really to be the sons of Er; in fact they are regarded everywhere as sons of Judah. There remains one question-mark which admittedly I am not able to dispose of completely. In v. 15 Judah thinks Tamar is a whore (rmr); thus to him mir and ntfip must be identical. From this one might assume that the institution of the qedeshes has lost its religious sense, and that nehp has become simply a homonym of run—but for the fact that the cited texts tell against this too strongly! Or, alternatively—a delicate touch by the narrator here—Judah considers Tamar to be a whore, Hirah on the other hand sees her as a qedesh; that is, Judah (Israel) is not conversant with cult prostitution, while the old inhabitants of the land are. The active characters in the novella are Judah, Tamar and Hirah. Hirah now plays a very subordinate role, but was certainly more dominant at one stage in the underlying account. It is open to question whether Judah originally belongs here, or whether the author of Genesis 38 introduced Judah when he appropriated the novella. There is support for the latter view in that nothing is told us of the background (people or tribe) of

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Tamar and Hirah. In a narrative concerning Judah this is surely striking; when the author wants to relate the beginnings of the tribe of Judah, in speaking of Judah's wife in w. 2 and 12, her lineage and her people are far more important than her name, which he does not give at all. To give his narrative vitality, he has used the narrative of the qedesh Tamar. Thereby he has followed a prevailing habit in the literature of the period; for the historical narratives are mostly related with novellistic techniques and motifs. In order to demonstrate this it will be necessary to undertake a more extensive digression. The Introduction of the Novella into the David Literature Historical narratives and anecdotes 1. In the David literature we can observe the introduction of the novella more clearly than elsewhere. Just as the novella derives in content from myth, so in form it develops out of hero-songs. There seem to have been hero-songs about David too, for, as also in the narratives concerning him, not only are songs cited that are put into his mouth (2 Sam. 1.17ff.; 3.33f.; 23.1ff.) but also other poetic sayings (1 Sam. 18.7 = 21.12; 29.5; 2 Sam. 20.1). 2. At least the short notices at 2 Sam. 3.2-5; 5.13-15; 8.20, 2326; 21.15-22; 23.8-39 derive from a time when the hero-songs were still commonly known. We can differentiate three groups among them: (a) lists (i) of David's sons (3.2-5; 5.13-15), (ii) of David's officers (8.16-18; 20.23-26), (iii) of David's heroes (23.24-39). (b) heroic feats of David's loyal men (21.15-22; 23.8-12, 1317, 18-23). These four feats clearly have a different origin. All these deeds, with the exception of 23.18-23, are perpetrated against the Philistines; the war against the Philistines was evidently the most popular one. 21.15-22 contains only fights with giants1—showing the influence of legend on the narra1. They are called rain n'r. The Philistine battles of 5.17-25 take place in the valley of D'usn. It seems that some kind of connection must be assumed. The giants come from Gath just as Goliath does in 1 Sam. 17.4. Also from Gath comes Obed-Edom in 2 Sam. 6.10, who, if the assumption on p. 95 n. 2 is correct, lived on the plain of D'KEn. There is

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tive. 23.8-12 very briefly relates deeds of a non-legendary nature by David's three heroes and is little more than a list (similar to 23.18-23). 23.13-17 is a small, coherent narrative which is compiled from two motifs, namely: (1) penetration of the enemy camp, repeated in Judg. 7.9f.; 1 Sam. 14.6f.; 26.6f. and thus very popular; (2) David rejects the water, a motif which, as is well known, recurs with Alexander the Great. These two motifs are merely juxtaposed and are not inherently connected. No problem is posed and no knots tied; the suspense and resolution characteristic of the novella are still completely absent. Precisely these heroic feats will probably have formed the content of the hero-songs also. The short notes we have may possibly have served as an aid to a singer's memory. (c) A list of David's wars and conquests, with some detail (2 Sam. 8.1-6, 13, 14).1 Reports are given of David's wars against the Philistines, Moabites, Zobah, Aramaeans of Damascus, Edomites. To start with, it is striking that the Ammonites are missing, even though in chs. 10—12 the Ammonite war is narrated with relatively full detail. Saul has conquered the Ammonites (1 Sam. 11), who are thus subjects of David, and our list does not speak of David's wars against his subjects. It is noteworthy how exactly the political effects of the wars are detailed, an aspect for which later novellistic historiography often has no appreciation at all: Edom is made totally subject (DHUD) in v. 14; Moab also becomes DH3P but pays tribute (v. 2), thus apparently having a somewhat freer dependent relationship. Aram is made liable to tribute, and David a whole knot of traditions, some mutually contradictory, which we cannot unravel; proof of this lies in the few remains left to us from a rich mass of tradition. 1. -j^n -ffito *7D3 in n« nw MzKi>i occurs at the end of vv. 6 and 14. This indicates that behind v. 6 an interpolation has been made, namely w. 7-12 (11, 12 are actually already suspect, but also 7-10 do not fit with 1-6, 13, 14). I see no reason to contest the great antiquity of this list; its thoroughly original detail alone is evidence for this. For further evidence, see above. This list does not cntain everything that the author knows. It is only an excerpt—but not from the written but the oral tradition. It is superior in historical value to many other parts of the David story.


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appoints governors (v. 6); the Philistines are merely humiliated (v. 1). These few (about sixty) verses thus offer us a glimpse of a rich, multi-faceted narrative literature that is centred on famous kings and heroes. It is partly anecdotal, partly historical. Some of the anecdotal narratives are still quite legendary, others have become emancipated from legend and depict occurrences which are indeed out of the ordinary, but still within the realm of the possible (from the author's point of view, of course). Besides lists, the historical literature is represented by pieces which show political understanding for the historical events. These passages may have originated at the same time, but there is no question of their having come from the same author. It is possible that they were put together at quite an early stage by a collector.1 3. The detailed war narratives of 2 Sam. 5.17-25 (victories over the Philistines) and ch. 10, 11.1 and 12.26f. (war with Ammonites and Aramaeans) show an advanced technique. It should not be maintained that they are also therefore more recent—a younger technique never completely displaces an older one—or that they are more valuable on account of the advanced technique. At least the narrative of the Philistine war does not measure up to 2 Samuel 8. Apart from this, the two narratives differ so fundamentally that we must discuss them separately. (a) 2 Sam. 5.17-25 reports on two battles against the Philistines close to Jerusalem,2 near Baal Perazim and by the balsam wood. David is already king of Israel, but apparently not lord of Jerusalem, which may have been a Philistine stronghold (Budde). As king of Israel he has to continue the Philistine war. Like all the accounts of the hostilities against the Philistines this one is also 'epic-rhapsodic' (Budde). The narrator emphasizes the intervention of Yahweh. Yahweh is 1. Budde (Die Bucher der Richter und Samuel, p. 224) speaks of the 'dragnet of the great sources, J or E'. The collector of these passages discussed above has used a dragnet; for this reason his style differs fundamentally from the style of the Yahwist and the Elohist. 2. The plain of Rephaim lies, according to Josh. 15.8 and 18.16, close to the south of Jerusalem.

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consulted before both battles. The first time he answers simply Yes', and the other time he gives a fuller answer (w. 23, 24): David is to attack the Philistines not frontally but from behind, out of the balsam wood. 'And when you hear marching in the tops of the balsam trees then take heed: for then Yahweh will go forth before you to smite the Philistines.' This cannot be the Yahweh of the Ark; rather it is the God of the tribes of the south, who reveals himself in the weather. We are reminded of the song of Deborah, where the stars join in the fighting (Judg. 5.20). We can easily think of our narrative as a heroic poem. The heroic poem would describe and focus on Yahweh's marching in the tree-tops, similar to the way in which Judg. 5.4f. treats the appearance of Yahweh in the weather. The battle at Baal Perazim and that at the balsam wood are portrayed with strongly differing techniques. The former is described in a similar style to the Yahwist's (there is nothing but natural occurrences, which may really have happened as described, and name-giving), the latter strongly influenced by myth. It is most probably correct to suppose that the two descriptions have in mind the same battle, by means of which David became lord of Jerusalem,1 according to 8.1. If this is so, we can follow the growth of the tradition and at the same time the difference between realistic and legendary presentations. The underlying tradition is this: David asks Yahweh whether he should wage war on the Philistines, and Yahweh answers, yes. Thus v. 19 quite simply reports. Then a poet sings of the battle in traditional epic fashion. Yahweh himself appears in the song, fighting. Possibly, some event during the battle (a storm) gave him an opening. In the brief repetition (w. 22-25) the narrative is brought into line with the tradition: Yahweh promises his help in the oracle. And finally the two reports are put together, and the single battle becomes two. 1. Following Kittel's translation given in Kautzsch. Is Baal Perazim perhaps identical to Perez-uzzah (2 Sam. 6.8) and Baal in Judah (2 Sam. 6.2)? In that case in the last passage David would have had to bring in the Ark from the immediate vicinity of Jerusalem. MT would have changed rrnrr '"?w (at Baal) to 'Vian (from Baal) because in another tradition the Ark had been in Kiriath-jearim (1 Sam. 7.1). For the same reason, Kiriath-jearim is then repeatedly expressly identified with Baal (Josh. 15.9-11, 60; 18.14).


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(b) 2 Sam. 10; 11.1; 12.26-31. It seems clear to me that this account of the wars with Ammonites and Aramaeans once had a separate existence outside the context of the Bathsheba story. Admittedly we may not cite the Chronicler as evidence for this: the Chronicler has left this story out for well-known, tendentious reasons, because it mars his picture of David. If we extract the story of David and Bathsheba from chs. 10-12, we are left with an uninterrupted account of the war. And in the story of David and Bathsheba itself we find nothing that could complement the account of the war; for such details as the death of Uriah are totally excluded here. On the other hand the narrative of David and Bathsheba is quite unthinkable in isolation; it always stood connected with the account of the Ammonite and Aramaean war. The facts of the matter are then as follows. First came the account of the wars (10; 11.1; 12.26-31). A subsequent author wrote a narrative into which he transferred this war report word for word (probably using detail which he knew from elsewhere), linking it with his narrative of David and Bathsheba. The connection is not very close, but close enough to make it impossible for his own material to be separated from that which he appropriated. Two important results emerge from this: (1) the historical narrative of the Ammonite and Aramaean wars is older than the novella of David and Bathsheba; (2) we see how this novellist uses the historical narrative for his own ends. The war narrative proper begins at 10.6. It stands unique in the whole of the Old Testament by virtue of its understanding for the events of war (although Judg. 9 might also be considered). The war lasts for two years. In the first year two battles take place: one against the united Ammonites and Aramaeans from Beth-Rehob and Zobah, joined by the kings of Tob and Maacah; the other against the Aramaeans of Beth-Rehob and Zobah with the kings who joined forces with them, and against their allies, the Aramaeans beyond the river.1 The first battle, or rather Joab's battle plan, is described particularly fully. The Israelites are attacked on two flanks and must therefore split; 1. -inj in 10.16 and 8.3 is probably the Jordan [?E. Meyer]. The Aramaeans "inn -own are thus in 8.5 Aramaeans from Damascus [?E. Meyer].

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the part that is victorious first is to give support to the other. Joab's orders to his army conclude with the words, *May Yahweh do what seems good to him'. Yahweh is a God of war, but Joab does not expect his personal intervention; everything takes its natural course. The Aramaeans thereupon conclude peace with David.1 In the second year Kabbah, the Ammonite capital, is conquered and its population thoroughly subjugated. This war account takes a similar tack to 1 Samuel 8. It must represent a certainly richer literature which we are sorry to have lost. And even our possession of this remainder we perhaps owe to the happy chance that it was connected with the novella of David and Bathsheba. The most important technical advance on 2 Samuel 8 lies in 10.1-5. Here the author seeks to explain how the war comes about. He does not show the same expertise in this as in the war account; he wants to give the causes of the war but is only able to indicate that the princes (sarim) of the Ammonites have incited the king, who then gravely insults David. It is also possible of course that this account wishes to put the responsibility for the war on the Ammonites for tendentious reasons. Verses 1-5 are distinct from what follows; one could therefore conclude that they have been interpolated. However, this is unlikely to be the case. The author introduces a new element into the description of the war: an account of its underlying causes. This task is considerably more difficult than the depiction of military events and can only be achieved at a high level of historiography. The task is particularly difficult for a military person, for quite different intellectual abilities are necessary for it. The standing of our author is thus undamaged by the fact that he traces the war's origins to personal whims and thereby comes close to anecdotal narrative. 4. Many passages in the David story contain detailed narratives of an anecdotal type. To these belong everything that is reported of David in 1 Samuel, and in 2 Samuel all accounts which deal with the relationship of David to the Saulides. The anecdotes relate a particular event from the hero's life, mostly to his credit. Some of it may actually be genuine tradition, but 1. oratf"! is presumably an addition.

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alongside this the narrator's imagination has enjoyed plenty of scope. Only in very rare cases shall we be able to distinguish reality and imagination. In consequence of this a historical evaluation of the anecdotes is hardly feasible. The historian can consider only their underlying purpose and the basic political circumstances that are presupposed. In fact, these anecdotes treat of two themes only: (a) David's relationship to Saul and his family; (b) David's life as a bandit in the wilderness (and in association with this, his relationship to the Philistines). (a) David's relationship to Saul. These apparently coherent narratives report how an unknown young man comes to Saul. He is well received by Saul at first, and is then persecuted without cause even though he has previously made a Yahweh-covenant with Saul's son. David has to flee to the wilderness, and Saul follows him even there. David could have killed Saul at one time but magnanimously spares his life. Later he kills the men who have killed Saul and Ishbosheth and takes the only remaining survivor of Saul's household, Mephibosheth, into his house. As long as Saul lives, David is the innocently persecuted one, and after his death the magnanimous pardoner. The role he plays is strange. He never acts on his own initiative, merely defending himself against external attacks—except for those cases where he can prove his magnanimity. He is purely a private person, portrayed not without sentimentality; there is no sign of any political sense. Nonetheless we must not take these anecdotes too lightly. They are a necessary intermediate stage. At least it is an attempt not merely to regard people as representatives of their station but to explore the human, the individual in them. That is why all supernatural factors are absent here, too.1 Just how tendentious this account is, is shown by 2 Sam. 16.8, where Shimei curses David because he has spilt the blood of the house of Saul. Now we have a further narrative concerning David's relationship to the Saulides in 2 Sam. 21.1-14, 1. The supernatural is not reintroduced until later, under the influence of the David and Goliath tradition. This narrative relates to the anecdotes discussed above as J2 and E do to J1.

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which departs so markedly from the other accounts that it cannot possibly come from the same author. Because of a three-year famine David consults the oracle of Yahweh. The latter replies: bloodguiltiness rests on Saul and his household because he has put Gibeonites to death. In recompense the Gibeonites demand that seven men of the descendants of Saul be handed over to them to die on the mount of Yahweh near Gibeon (the means of death is unknown to us). David does as they demand.1 This narrative admits that the Saulides have been killed on David's orders but clears him of all guilt.2 (b) David's life as a bandit in the Negeb (1 Sam. 22.1-4,15, 30), and his sojourn with the Philistines (chs. 27, 29). In these highly perceptive narratives, David is depicted totally without sentimentality, though also without any political judgments. The true Bedouin point of view finds expression here. David's expeditions are nothing but pillaging and plundering raids. The local inhabitants have to be grateful when the horde leave them in peace and must give them rich presents on feast-days in return. Yahweh is firmly on David's side; David's enemies are his enemies. Chapters 30 and 25 are particularly good examples of the elaborate anecdote, especially ch. 25 (David and Nabal). David demands presents of Nabal, who refuses to give them. In his anger David wants to kill him and all his men. Abigail prevents him from doing this, giving David the presents on behalf of her husband. Nabal dies within a few days, smitten by Yahweh. David praises Yahweh for giving him revenge on Nabal and simultaneously keeping him from wrong. Thus even this narrative stops short of a bloody deed that might have been laid to David's account. There are obviously good reasons for the agreement on this point of accounts which in other respects are so different. David knew no personal desire for revenge, and only killed as and when it seemed politically necessary to him. His political genius, which made him lord over Israel, rests partly on this fact. 1. The scene in which Rizpah keeps vigil (v. 10) is presumably older and has been taken over by the author. 2. We may find in v. 14 (D'nS>«, elsewhere always nvr) the remains of yet another account. According to this Elohim has imposed a punishment which he does not lift until Saul and the Saulides are buried.


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We may also reckon Sheba's revolt (2 Sam. 20)1 among the elaborate anecdotes. The story of the rebellion is there simply in order to relate the anecdote of the clever woman who ended the war. Probably the author used an account of Sheba's revolt but did not treat it with the same respect as did the author of the Bathsheba story vis a vis the account of the war of the Ammonites and the Aramaeans. Whereas in v. 2 the whole of Israel rises against David, Joab is satisfied when Sheba is killed, and withdraws without re-establishing the rule of David. Thus here all understanding for the reasons for the revolt is also absent, the author being content to declare Sheba to be an tf'K ^^a (v. 1). The historical accounts are adapted for use as anecdotes. Novellas and Narratives with Novellistic Technique a. Just as detailed Narrative2 needs several motifs, so too does the novella; but the principal difference between the two genres is shown in the way in which they combine the motifs. In the Narrative it suffices if each motif is connected with the previous one and the following one. In the novella all the motifs have to be interconnected so that the whole narrative coheres internally. The whole novella develops out of one basic motif. This motif contains a conflict that must be resolved, or a complex situation that must be unravelled. The hero stands within this conflict or this situation, so that he is much more internally involved than in the Narratives. So it is that the novella looks for psychological detail and precise explanations and, with a developed technique, brings out a personality sketch of the characters corresponding to all they do and say. 1. The chapter is awkwardly composed. Verse 23 interrupts the context. The transfer of the high command to Amasa and then to Joab is striking. Verses 8-13 (Joab kills Amasa) certainly do not belong here; cf. the repetition of nD3~p JQB nnn fn1? (v. 7) in v. 13. See, further, p. 108. 2. Translator's note: For the sake of clarity, the word 'Narrative' has been capitalized in contexts where the author has used the word Erzahlung to denote a literary genre in contrast to the novella. Elsewhere Erzahlung has the more general sense of 'narrative' (occasionally rendered by 'account').

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The novella first creates suspense in the listener and later dissolves it. The story of David and Bathsheba, considered independently, of course, of the Ammonite wars, bears the most distinctive traits of the novella. The basic motif is the adultery. Already noticeable here is the retardative epic technique which marks this whole novella. The adultery has no immediate consequences, which occur only with the pregnancy. David has to step in at this point to spare Bathsheba from shame and an ignominious punishment (possibly death) and himself from, at the least, very embarrassing consequences. He summons Uriah from the besieging army in the hope that he will spend the night with his wife, so that the child can pass for his own. However, Uriah does not go home even though the king detains him for another day and then another and finally makes him drunk. Thereupon David dismisses him and decides on his death. He sends a letter to Joab who immediately carries out the order. The narrative now becomes retardative again. Uriah's death was related quite quickly, without details; now the author narrates slowly in order to keep the listener or the reader in suspense as to how David will behave. His concern is with the psychological dimension, the factual aspect is incidental to him. There is a lovely contrast between David's anger against Joab when he hears that the warriors have fallen during the attempt to storm the wall and the change of mood when he hears that Uriah is also dead. After the period of mourning he takes Bathsheba in, and she bears him a son. Yahweh sends Nathan1 to David, and David acknowledges his sin. Because of this, Yahweh does not kill 1. Since Nathan is a prophet, the report of his appearance has later been revised. What is old and what is additional material in 12.1-14 is certainly difficult to establish; but it is hardly acceptable to delete the whole passage with Schwally, Smith and Budde (Die Biicher der Richter und Samuel). The reason given, that in 1 Kings 1 Nathan plays a quite different role, is invalid; the most this can prove is that 1 Kings 1 has a different author. Nathan is a »OJ in 1 Kgs 1.8, 23, 24, 38, 44 and 45. To delete R':u (Schwally) is out of the question because of v. 34: Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet anoint Solomon king. The information concerning the K'03 Nathan is, on the contrary, extremely important for our understanding of the nature and the history of the prophets.

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David himself, but as punishment for the sin of the parents he just lets the child become sick and die. It is indicative of the author's penchant for psychological observations that the courtiers are amazed that David should have mourned during the child's sickness and taken food after its death. Then we have a quick conclusion: the birth of Solomon. The novella of David and Bathsheba belongs to the number of Old Testament passages whose interpretation is particularly difficult. David is depicted initially as a despot who permits himself the grossest acts of interference in the family life of his subjects, and who is not too particular about removing people who might be dangerous to him. That is in the way of despots and thus is hardly able to incriminate David in a personal way. He is also immediately able to find a servant to carry out the assassination order. What distinguishes David from the other despots lies in 11.6-13 and 12. If. He does not kill Uriah in order to win Bathsheba but lets himself be pushed into it by circumstances. Later he acknowledges his sin, humbles himself before Yahweh and accepts his verdict. His relationship to the prophet is quite different from that of later kings. David's character was problematic to his contemporaries and to those who came after him: he was often purely a despot, but had traits which totally contradicted the way of despots. The author of our novella, too, asks himself the question: how is this dichotomy in David's character to be understood? His answer is: because David is a worshipper of Yahweh he is no mere despot. Recognizing this, he writes the novella of David and Bathsheba. The historical problem he traces back to a purely human problem (conflict between passions and piety), in order to be able to make use of it poetically, thereby showing a high degree of poetic tact. His only reason for placing the novella in the narrative of the Ammonite war is in order to account for Uriah's absence and give reasons for his death. For the rest, the connection is quite careless, so that the conclusion of the war narrative is merely tagged on behind. This goes to prove that his concerns do not lie with the historical.

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Consequently, neither should the novella be used to gain historical information.1 The genesis of the novella is only to be understood in the context of the whole intellectual life of the period. The development of the literature cannot make it understandable. It could show us how technique perfects itself, how ever larger narratives are composed, with more careful attention to explanations, but it cannot show how the in principle quite different novella emerges from the Narrative. An example of how literature can stand still at the level of Narrative is provided, it seems to me, by mediaeval Nordic literature. Indeed it is quite striking here that a novella has not developed out of the fertile Sigurd—Brunhilde motif: it only needed a psychological explanation of how it arises that Sigurd forgets Brunhilde and marries another. The saga also poses this question but does not answer it by offering psychological reasons, explaining rather that a special potion makes Sigurd forget Brunhilde. This piece of information is just born of embarrassment. There is evidence here of a decline in the capacity to create artistic shape, a decline which the singers seek to hide by an increasingly arbitrary accumulation of motifs. The same is basically true of the Icelandic sagas, even if they distinguish themselves by realistic narrative and by attempting to portray the characters and to derive their deeds from their personality. At this point I turn briefly to a novella which does not belong to the David stories, namely the account of Sisera's murder by Jael (Judg. 4.17-22), because comparison with the Song of Deborah (5.24-27) makes clear a characteristic of the novella. The author gives explanations for the events in the tradition, and where he can offer no explanations for them he modifies them. The tradition is of no use to him at points where he is unable to comprehend it. The two questions he asks are: why? and how? Why does the hunted Sisera go into Jael's tent? Answer: because there was peace between Jabin and the house 1. I do not contest the notion that some actual occurrences have been used by the author; indeed I would find it odd if that were not the case. But I do think that even the shrewdest eyes will not be able to discern them. A priori arguments can decide nothing here.


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of Heber the Kenite (thus the poor nomad becomes a person of political standing), because Jael gives him a friendly reception, hides him in the tent and keeps watch for him. How was it possible that Jael could kill Sisera? Answer: she waited until he had fallen asleep—how could a woman have killed him while he was drinking? The desire for explanations adversely affects the poetic here since it is applied to a quite heterogeneous subject: the heroic saga. An alternative poetic form whose prime concern is with motives was therefore sought and thus the novella came into being. It can only emerge in a period of flourishing intellectual life, in a period when tradition is doubted and questions are asked about reasons for things. The awakening notion of causality and the emergence of the novella are themselves causally related. The alteration of the Song of Deborah discussed above shows us that Israel then stood in an age of rationalistic feeling, not the people as a whole, of course, but only the most enlightened. They sought to explain on reasoned grounds those things that excited their interest. Thus J explains the genesis of humanity from one human couple, that of the people of Israel from one family, thus balancing the two traditions of the origins of the Israelites. He makes the Dip '•a Aramaeans in order to be able to make Babylonia the primaeval homeland. Just as J derives the nation and the whole of humankind from individual human beings, so the historical narratives make everything that has happened dependent on the thoughts, decisions and moods of individuals. National history becomes a history of leaders, and historical research is primarily concerned with biographical detail. The psychological interest is connected with this. Whenever the narrator has found a psychological motive for a decision of his hero, he feels he has vindicated him historically. The wars and revolts occur as a result of the passions of the kings or ringleaders. The passions are unjust since they are unreasonable. As always, here again moral conclusions are drawn immediately from the basic theoretical perspective. The narratives take particular

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delight in reporting the cleverness of just judges,1 and justice becomes a principal demand of the prophets. Seldom is justice to be found in humans, but Yahweh is always just. He restores the world order that has been destroyed through human passions, by punishing the guilty. And those who recognize and acknowledge the rule of Yahweh (David; in J, Jacob) are exemplary despite their human weakness. It is a highly significant phenomenon that the emergence in Israel of rationalistic notions did not bring about an epoch of rationalism. Rationalism in its origins springs from an intensification and spiritualization of religious life; in its later development, however, it becomes emancipated from religion and thus among the Greeks and in the eighteenth century it brought about a dampening of religious fervour. In Israel, by contrast, the tense political situation stifled the rationalistic current but not before it had exerted a lasting influence on the nation's religion. It helped overcome the mythic elements of the religion and furthered monotheism (Yahweh's will rules the world) and the bond between religion and morality, while at the same time the struggle with the different cults lent religious ardour to the adherents of the Yahweh religion. These men who feel the essence of the new age within them see everything through new eyes. They seek to bring everything humanly closer to themselves and therefore reject the hero song because it does the opposite, artificially lifting people into a higher sphere. The time when the poet sings for the nobility is past. Rather he is attracted by everything that comes from the people. This gives them an opportunity to gain an eye for the poetic in everyday life. Estranged from the upper social circles, they subject them to a criticism which often manifests itself in quiet irony and is so much the more delightful in that its voice is heard only through the narrated facts. b. The conclusion of the development is formed by those narratives in which the novella is employed in the service of his1. E.g. 1 Kgs 3.16f., Solomon's judgment; 2 Sam. 14, the wise woman of Tekoa before David; also Nathan's parable in 2 Sam. 12 was certainly a self-contained narrative originally.


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toriography. The narrators have mastered the novellistic technique and endeavour to compose the material, as far as it permits of this, as a novella. These narratives are: (1) 2 Sam. 2.8-3.1, 6-39 (David and Abner); (2) 2 Sam. 13-19 (Absalom). (1) 2 Sam. 2.8-3.1, 6-39.l Abner makes Ishbosheth king in Mahanaim. In the battle at Gibeon the Judaeans defeat the Israelites. In the fighting Abner kills Joab's brother Asahel. Later a dispute arises between Ishbosheth and Abner, which causes the latter to join forces with David. He comes to Hebron and concludes a treaty with David, and then starts back to win over the Israelites to David's side. Joab, who was not present in Hebron, then has him recalled, and kills him in revenge for the death of his brother. David maintains his innocence in the murder, performs the lament for Abner, curses Joab and his family but does nothing against him since, as he says, the sons of Zeruiah are too strong for him by dint of their violence. I call this narrative novellistic because the revenge motif holds the individual parts together. I do think, however, that this motif is only a superficial addition to the original narrative. Probably there existed a narrative which did not have Asahel's death at the hand of Abner (perhaps 2.18-23). In these verses Joab is only one of the three sons of Zeruiah but in w. 13, 16f. he is commander of David's army. Despite his words in v. 22 Abner afterwards no longer thinks about revenge. Joab gives the king political reasons only (3.24, 25) for considering the negotiations with Abner to be wrong. Revenge is only mentioned at all in 3.27 and 30. 3.30 is an acknowledged gloss on other grounds also, and the brief words in v. 27 vnK ^KntDi? D~Q in such a detailed narrative give the impression that they did not originally belong. If we remove the death of Asahel we are left with a 'detailed narrative' which regards the relationship with the house of Saul in the same way as the narratives discussed above. Here David is equally as innocent of the death of Abner as he is there of the death of the Saulides. The guilt is entirely Joab's, who murders in a belligerent mood in order to fend off imaginary dangers and to eliminate a rival. All these narratives will probably have belonged together, for 1. On 3.2-5 see p. 93. 2.10a, 11 are interpolated, as also are w. 14-16.

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our narrative demands a sequel which reports about Ishbosheth; and this is what the report concerning Ishbosheth's death does (4.1-12), which follows directly on to ch. 3.1 Joab's revenge can hardly be historical. The author has used for his purpose a tradition which recounts a bloody deed in the nnsn np*?n (field of knives?) near Gibeon (2.16), which was associated here already with the war between David and the Saulides (cf. 2 Sam. 21). It reappears in three variations: 2 Sam. 2.14-16 (12 Benjaminites and 12 Judaeans engage each other in mock fights, but kill one another); in our passage; and 20.8-13 (Joab kills Amasa). The similarity with this variation is especially clear in that all the warriors stand still at the place where the murdered person lies, in 2.23b as in 20.12, even though this statement contributes nothing at all to the narrative. We cannot credit the author of the novellistic narrative of David and Abner with great skill. He is content to juxtapose the various motifs without balancing them out. But at least this procedure proves to us how great was the dominance of the novella at that time. (2) 2 Samuel 13-19. In the Absalom narrative (2 Sam. 1319), the greatest narrative composition among extant preexilic literature, novellistic historiography has created a masterpiece. The main section is Absalom's revolt (chs. 15—19). This historical event is preceded by a tone-setting preamble in chs. 13 and 14, the narrative of Absalom's murder of his brother Amnon. It is characteristic of the psychological inclination of the author that in ch. 13 he makes a mental abnormality an important component of the action: in 13.15, Amnon's love for Tamar gives way to a deep aversion after he 1. It is striking that in 3.14, 15 David calls on Ishbosheth to give up Michal to him, while in v. 13 he requires the same thing of Abner. Perhaps we have in 3.14, 15 a fragment of an older report—3.12-16 seems to me not to belong in the original context, as v. 17 follows on well from v. 11 and the handing over of Michal to David is not related. The insertion may be due to the same person who turned the narrative into a novella. He added as much personal detail as possible without bothering too much about precise explanations or balancing the various sources he had used.


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has dishonoured her. The narrative has the purpose of gaining sympathy for Absalom and painting his character. He locks up his resolves inside himself and carries them around with him for a long time, until all at once at a suitable moment he suddenly breaks loose. He shows this character again during the preparations for the revolt. He beguiles the Israelites by acting towards them in a quite unprincely way, and offering them enticing prospects. But he does this so secretly and so cleverly (he acts differently towards the Judaeans) that the king unsuspectingly lets him come to Hebron, where he gives the signal for rebellion. Ishbosheth and Abner lay buried here, and he may have won over the Calebites who lived there by having himself made king in the sanctity of their city. Doubtless there was discontent in the old residence of Hebron because David had made Jerusalem the capital. Our author does not, however, tell of this opposition, nor indeed of another much more important antagonism, that between Israel and Judah. The revolt is one of Israel's attempts to free itself from the rule of David. Absalom is used by the Israelites as a welcome ally and a suitable tool. In the narrative, however, Absalom's ambition is the only motive of the revolt. Thus, like here, in the course of the whole narrative all the historical events are traced back to personal motives—in genuinely novellistic fashion. The Shimei episode is particularly instructive in this. David is fleeing from Absalom, accompanied by his court and his warriors. Along comes Shimei, who belongs to Saul's family line, pelts David and his entourage with stones, and curses him for snatching the kingdom from the house of Saul, which kingdom Yahweh is now giving over to his son Absalom. Abishai wants to kill him, but David prevents him, and Shimei continues with his action. In the way in which it is told us, the event cannot possibly be historical. Stade therefore assumes that Shimei was accompanied by his clan. But it is incomprehensible why this should not then have been mentioned. The opposition of Israel to the kingdom of David is evident here only. According to 19.17, Shimei played an important part in the war. He was the organizer of the revolt—or at least that is what popular opinion considered him to be; for all eyes were on him as a relative of Saul. For this reason novellistic

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historiography also brings him to the fore; for it derives events not from the pressure of circumstances but from the decisions of the characters alone, who emerge as leaders, or from whom particular decisions are expected and who thus have typical significance. It does not seek the reason for his participation in Absalom's conspiracy in the conflict between Israel and Judah but in the enmity of the family of Saul towards the usurper David; Shimei is confronted with David in just the same way that the old sagas describe single combat. We have to forget completely that David is in the company of many warriors. Shimei, David, the sons of Zeruiah—these are the participants. In a very effective way, in a dramatically heightened scene the opposing parties confront one another. This kind of treatment offers the author another significant advantage. He wants to express the Israelite assessment of David, which he clearly largely shares, and uses Shimei to this end. This devastating criticism becomes all the more impressive in that David puts up with it and thus tacitly acknowledges it. The author puts his character completely in the background, and what is narrated becomes so much the more impressive. A sentimental trait runs through the narrative. Feelings are ascribed to David which an older study would certainly not have found in him. We are reminded how Jacob is transformed from a warrior into the cunning farmer, and then into the peaceable, pious man of the Yahwist. The author's overall opinion of David is not contained in the Shimei episode. We have to piece together the picture of the king from many individual characterizations. He is considered from the most varied angles. His behaviour against Shimei and Absalom and his piety prove that though Shimei's judgment was not unjustified it was imbued with a hatred that sees only evil. The misfortune is a punishment sent from Yahweh. Just as in the Yahwistic history of the patriarchs, so Yahweh directs everything here too; he is the Providence that stands behind the events. David reminds us of Jacob in many ways. But he is more human and more sinful than the ancestor. Yahweh uses even his mistakes in order to educate him until he sees that all things come from Yahweh's hand (2 Sam. 16.10-12; 1 Kgs 1.29; cf. Gen. 3.2, 11). What of the historical judgment of the author? It should certainly not be taken as read that he has no historical under-


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standing even if he shows more interest in the personal and the biographical. Let us consider the most important thing, the participation of the Israelites in the revolt. As we noted above, the author gives Absalom's ambition as his motive for the revolt. This motive does not, however, exclude others. In 15.10 Absalom sends secret messages to all the tribes of Israel to announce to them his intention to be made king. There is no need for negotiations; the Israelites know how matters stand. In Judah, on the other hand, nobody is thinking about rebellion; the 500 men whom Absalom takes with him from Jerusalem know nothing (15.II).1 Absalom must therefore earlier have negotiated with the Israelites; the negotiations have flourished to the extent that the Israelites are just waiting for Absalom's signal to get started. At various other points the significance of the Israelite part in the revolt emerges clearly also (e.g. 16.15; 17.4,14, 15; 18.16,17; 19.9). The author has every right to emphasize only this one motive in view of his special concern for human factors. He presupposes knowledge of the war and has certainly also used a historical treatment of the war in which the events were reported in the manner of the story of the Ammonite and Aramaean war; but he only wants to present his view of the war and to pass responsibility for it on to Absalom. Through chs. 13 and 14, however, he also makes Absalom's decision comprehensible. So the greater part of the narrative closes in the manner of a novella,2 the conclusion re-echoing the notes that have been sounded. It seems to me that Joab's dark heroic figure further speaks for historical understanding. Joab, who in the Bathsheba novella unquestioningly makes himself a servant of David's despotic moods, and who also puts up with quite a lot from Absalom (14.29f.), is the one who kills Absalom against David's express command and forces David to forget his mourning and show himself to the people. Here he is the representative 1. See ZAW 21, pp. 25-29. 2. One may also speak of the dramatic, tragic character of the narrative. Indeed novella and drama are closely related. It very much depends on external circumstances whether from similar intellectual life drama or novella emerges. In Greece, for example, the Dionysus cult was of fundamental significance for the emergence of drama.

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of state interests in opposition to David and he serves these interests without any personal consideration and without mercy. One cannot help comparing him with Hagan in the Nibelungenlied, who unnerves everyone but against whose logic no one is able to find an objection. As surely as historical judgment can be associated with novellistic technique, the literary genre as such is, however, not favourable to the development of historiography. The ability to see genuine historical events in a correct light (1 Sam. 8.11) is in decline; thus also the ability to recognize the political causes and motives does not improve further. This is shown very clearly in the prophetic historiography (in a large part of the book of Kings) and in the historical construction of the Deuteronomist. The development just described on the basis of the David literature can be traced in the Yahwist's work as well.1 The sagas of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob are in general 'detailed narratives'; here only the narrative2 of how in a foreign land the patriarch passes off his wife as his sister, is a novella. This narrative can therefore not be very old, at least not significantly older than the work of the Yahwist. J manifests novellistic technique in the way he connects these narratives. He brings suspense into the Jacob story by highlighting the relationship with Esau, adding chs. 32 and 33 for this purpose. The Joseph story created by him is a complete novella which grows out of the basic motif that Israel favours the son of his old age above his other sons. Conclusion of the Analysis of the Tamar Narrative The story of Judah and Tamar, Gen. 38.12b-30, was originally a detailed narrative. We must ask ourselves whether this narrative once existed independently of its present context. There is support for this in that Hirah here appears as Judah's messenger, while in v. 1 Judah joins up with him. If Tamar was 1. Discussed in E. Meyer, Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme, pp. 142ff. 2. Discussed in Meyer, Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme, pp. 122f.


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originally Judah's bride, the narrative could not have stood in its present context. On the other hand the fact that it connects well with what precedes it and what follows it speaks against the idea. If then the narrative of Judah and Tamar once had an independent existence, it must have been altered when it was placed in its present context. In its present form the story of Tamar bears the stamp of the novella. The basic motif is that Judah keeps his youngest son Shelah from her (even though he thereby transgresses the law of levirate marriage) (v. 11). In w. 6-10 Judah's extraordinary action is explained in brief strokes. Only at this point does the narrative become detailed; the preceding part was just introduction. With bold resolve Tamar cuts through the complex situation, but thereby she gets into a dangerous situation. The conclusion must contain two solutions: (1) a solution to the dangerous situation—Judah admits that her action was justified; (2) a solution to the complex situation—she bears two sons. The novella is constructed very artistically and must therefore derive from a period when the novellistic technique was already at its height. The question whether the narrative is associated with any particular purpose is especially difficult to answer in the case of the novella. The author's intention could lie in three areas: the nature of the qedeshah, levirate marriage, and tribal history. Tamar's being a qedeshah is most probably only a motif of the narrative. The same will be true of levirate marriage (Gunkel). The author had no interest in impressing on his readers the duty of levirate marriage; there is nothing to indicate such an intention in the detailed narrative section. This leaves us only with tribal history. At this point we must first discuss the question: Is what is told of Judah to be interpreted as tribal history? We are hardly likely to be given a really sure answer and we must be content with possibilities. Apparently the author wishes to show in novellistic fashion that the tribe (or perhaps rather, the kingdom) of Judah was threatened with downfall or some other catastrophe, which was avoided

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without the help of Judah.1 That there is no concern for the danger of too much mixing with the Canaanites is immediately plain in that nothing is said of the origins of Tamar and of Hirah. The author's position with regard to Judah is friendly. Judah has not acted rightly; but he is excused because he found himself in a predicament. He acted wrongly out of weakness and is thus at a disadvantage with respect to the forceful Tamar. He is good-naturedly ridiculed for it: Tamar knows how Judah will behave and bases her plan on this; he gives the order for Tamar to be burned and has to retract it straight away because he is doubly guilty himself, being obliged to admit that Tamar has led him up the garden path. He thus gets into a ridiculous situation (cf. v. 23, rob rrru )S). But mixed in with the laughter of the spectator is the joy that the catastrophe has been averted, and, in novellistic terms, that he now has three sons again. Blessing has finally come to him. So affection for Judah is linked with the laughter. The novella of Judah and Tamar has been taken over by the author of the whole of ch. 38 with the addition of w. 1-5. The disharmony between w. 1-5 and the novella is very clear. In v. 1 Judah enters the country as a single man and therefore has to join company with a country-dweller (Hirah). Afterwards he is a distinguished person: he has his flocks of sheep, is able with impunity to send Tamar back to her father's house and uses Hirah as his messenger. The introduction of Hirah in v. 1 is quite superfluous; it occurs only because Hirah appears again later. His background is not related, because nothing was said of it there either. In v. 2, however, the author is concerned with the nationality of Judah's father-in-law and wife, while nothing more is reported of Tamar's background. Nor does the mention in v. 5 of Shelah's being born in Chezib fit in the novella. One thing emerges clearly from these discrepancies: the author wants to give tribal history and uses the novella to this end. His intention is clear from w. 2-5. In order now to weld w. 2-5 as tightly as possible to the novella, the author found it 1. At that time two women in Judah played an important role: Athaliah and Jehosheba. Is there some link between this and the Tamar novella?


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necessary to mention Hirah of Adullam already in v. 1. He takes no account of the fact the the relationship between Judah and Hirah in v. 1 is precisely the other way round as compared with that in the novella. He could also have introduced Hirah at his first appearance in v. 12 by adding just a few words. Probably he shied away from such an alteration (for reasons of metre?); our confidence in his having passed on the novella intact is thereby strengthened. Not even in v. 1 does he say from which tribe Hirah comes, even though such information is to be expected at this point. Adullam thus has no significance for tribal history, unlike Chezib. What is the significance of the five or three sons of Judah for the tribal history? The general assumption is that the reference is to 'sub-tribes' (Unterstamme), 'clans' or 'Geschlechter' (mispahot), into which Judah was split.1 That Er and Onan die is explained by the fact that the parts of Judah that bear those names have disappeared. There remain, then, Shelah, Perez and Zerah. E. Meyer2 is of the opinion that even after the Exile Judah was split into these three parts. In Neh. 7.61 = Ezra 2.59, the sons of Delaiah, Tobiah and Nekoda are not received as equal members into the community; for 'they could not prove their family (Dnorrra) and their descent (Dinr), whether they belonged to Israel'. Now it does not follow from these words that the genealogies that had to be shown, according to this, were traced back to Shelah, Perez and Zerah. It will have sufficed to prove one's membership in one of the pre-exilic clans (Geschlechter). The clan names of the list in Ezra 2 = Nehemiah 7 are pre-exilic3 and the manner in which they are given proves that they were known. Families with the names Delaiah, Tobiah and Nekoda were not found among them. It is not to be doubted that the names Shelah, Perez and Zerah designate parts of Judah, as the Priestly Code, independently of Genesis 38, indicates in Gen. 46.12 and Num. 26.20. Zerah is the name of a miSpaha according to Josh. 7.1; nothing

1. Cf. ZAW 21, pp. 56f. 2. Meyer, Entstehung des Judentums, pp. 159f. 3. Meyer, Entstehung des Judentums, p. 158.

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definite can be said about Shelah and Perez.1 As to Shelah, v. 5 gives the important information that he was born in Chezib. This mention must have a very special purpose. If Chezib2 is located in Kussabe, south east of Lachish, we may perhaps assume that Shelah's home is mentioned here because it lay outside the main complex of the tribe of Judah. I do not feel that the death of Er and Onan should be interpreted in terms of tribal history because Onan reappears in the Jerahmeelite genealogy in 1 Chron. 2.26, 28.3 The borders between Judah and Jerahmeel probably fluctuated so much that the same clan is meant in both cases. Genesis 38 then doubtless names parts of Judah—but are these all the parts? We shall not be able to rely on the figures since they come from the novella. The author of the novella uses the motif of the twin birth. These twins become the replacement for two deceased sons. Then along comes the one son, whom Judah keeps from Tamar. Similarly, the motif that the firstborn very nearly did not become the first-born is to be seen in novellistic and not tribal history terms. This motif serves to create a dramatic tension by means of which one of the two is to be raised to particular prominence. The birth of Tamar's sons recalls the birth of Esau and Jacob. If Perez may be associated with Perez-uzzah and Baal Perazim, then those who belonged to the Perez part probably lived very close to Jerusalem,4 perhaps actually in Jerusalem. Since Perez-uzzah as well as Baal Perazim are derived from David, I should like at least to offer for discussion the conjecture that the king's household belongs to Perez, so that Perez is the name of David's miSpahain 1 Sam. 20.6. We cannot say how great the number of the mispahotof Judah was; the number probably fluctuated. We must now speak about the author. Neither the author of the novella nor the author of the whole narrative can be J1. In 1. Perez is found in Judah with the place-names ma pa (2 Sam. 6.8), abcdefghijk2 Sam. 5.20), D'X-ia "in (Isa. 28.21); Zerah is also the name of an Edomite tribe in Gen. 36.15, 17. 2. 2'D. In 1 Chron 4.22, the men of K3D are sons of Shelah. 3. DJIK = pR. Onam further occurs in the Horite genealogy in Gen. 36.23. In all three cases the same miSpahd is apparently meant. 4. See p. 96 n. 1.


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J1 Israel's sons are unmarried when they move to Egypt. A comparison of Gen. 42.37 (E) with 43.9 and 44.32 (J) teaches us this. In E, Reuben pledges that Benjamin will return to Jacob; if he breaks his word, Jacob is to kill his sons. In J, Judah makes the pledge, but only with himself. If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, then let me bear the blame forever.' In addition to this, both the novella and the Genesis 38 narrative as a whole imagine that Judah and his sons never leave the land; there is no room beside what is narrated for the emigration to Egypt. What has been said thus far applies both to the novella and to the entire narrative; the grounds multiply when we compare both separately with J1. The novella relates things (e.g. cult prostitution) whose mention is totally inconsistent with the style of J1. That the narrated material would not fit into the context of J1 is, in the case of such an eminent author, actually reason enough not to credit him with it. The novella is probably associated with the Judah saga, which J1 will purposely have ignored. Because of the disharmonies mentioned above the total narrative is not to be compared with the homogeneous work of the Yahwist. Nonetheless, the author of Genesis 38 will have stood under the influence of the Yahwist. J1 relates the genesis of the nation up to the birth of the eponyms of the individual tribes; he has no interest in relating the origins of the subdivisions of the tribes.1 The author of Genesis 38 now wants to relate, additionally, how the parts of the tribes came into being and how the tribal fathers settled in the land of Judah. In this respect Genesis 38 is a parallel to the Yahwist's report of the conquest. However, Judah is given here, as is Jacob in J, an absolutely peaceable character when a novella, whose hero is Judah, is quite artificially placed in a context which militates against its basic premise; for in the novella Judah is the long-acknowledged lord of the land. The author of the total narrative lacks the distinctive ability of J1 to regard the narrated material discerningly and thereby to avoid such contradictions. The narrative is irreconcilable with the Yahwist account of Israel and 1. Actually we have no right to call the miSpahdt parts of tribes. They are organisms which, to judge from the way they originated, have nothing to do with one another.

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his sons leaving the land once again and moving to Egypt.1 We may not, however, declare it impossible that this is the point of view of the author of Genesis 38. But he did not have the Yahwist's sensitivity for what was reconcilable with his account and what was not. The author of Genesis 38 is therefore probably dependent on J1. We may call him J2, but we must not forget that by far the greater part of the narrative, which differs in all respects from the manner of the Yahwist, namely the novella of Judah and Tamar, has been taken over by him from quite another source. No firm judgment can be made as to the background of the author of the total narrative, but probably he was a Judaean. By contrast, the author of the novella seems not to have been a Judaean. His attitude towards Judah is not that of a member of the tribe but that of a non-Judaean who is well disposed towards Judah but who also feels justified in giving him some fatherly reproof. Whether he was thus an Israelite or maybe a member of one of the tribes swallowed up by Judah cannot of course be determined. Judah's relationship to Hirah, Shua and Tamar has repeatedly been read genealogically. But such an understanding is out of the question in respect of Hirah and Tamar, since they belong to the novella, which has so little thought for genealogical purposes that it does not even mention the background of either of them. There remains only the point that Judah marries the daughter of the Canaanite Shua, and this indeed is meant genealogically. The Judaeans are the descendants of Judah and his Canaanite wife.2 According to this, the author knows of no conflict between Judah (and Israel) and the Canaanites; perhaps he worked from the general premise that all inhabitants of Judah were Judaeans and all inhabitants of Israel were Israelites.

1. If there was a Judah saga, like the Jacob saga it doubtless did not have the forefather leave the land again once he had occupied it. 2. On the attempt to show the genealogical significance of Shua's daughter and Tamar, see ZAW 21, pp. 56f. Genealogical narrative cannot do without personal features such as marriages; such features should therefore not be translated into tribal history.

NARRATIVE ART IN THE BOOKS OF SAMUEL Alfons Schulz

Hebrew poetry has been the subject of a great many investigations; the prose sections of the OT, however, are more extensive than the poetic pieces, and yet little work has thus far been done on the form of OT prose. Though this kind of research might at first sight seem superfluous, it is likely to prove rewarding. Such seems already to have been the view of St Augustine. Matthias Meier has drawn my attention to a passage in the Confessions (3.5): For then it was quite different from what I now feel. When I then turned toward the Scriptures, they appeared to me to be quite unworthy to be compared with the dignity of Tully. For my inflated pride was repelled by their style, nor could the sharpness of my wit penetrate their inner meaning.

Naturally, partial investigations of individual books must first be made before general rules or laws can be established in this field. Notable in this respect is the section 'Kunstform der Sagen der Genesis' in Gunkel's Genesis (3rd edn [1910], pp. xxviiiff.), where Gunkel has made skilful use of an essay entitled 'Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung' by the Danish scholar Axel Olrik (in Zeitschrift fur deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 51 [1909], pp. 1-12).1 I touched only briefly on this point in my commentary on the books of Samuel, which I contributed to theExegetisches Handbuch zum Alien Testament2 for the master to whom the 1. In the Internationale Monatsschrift 14, pp. 73ff., 155ff., Gunkel treats the passage 2 Kgs 6.24-20 under the heading 'Eine hebraische Meistererzahlung'. 2. Vol. 8, Parts I and II (1919/20)—referred to henceforward as Schulz, I and II.

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volume of Biblische Zeitfragen in which this article first appeared is dedicated. May I now be permitted to place on Johannes Nikel's gift table the late fruits I have gleaned. I need hardly offer proof that in the books of Samuel we have almost nothing but prose. E. Sievers, it is true, attempted to demonstrate its poetic form (Metrische Studien. II Samuel metrisch herausgegeben von E. S. I. Text [1907]). But his work seems not to have been well received and he has not followed it up with a Part II. The poetic components must first be removed. These are of course the songs in 1 Sam. 2.1-10; 18.6 (cf. 21.11; 29.5); 2 Sam. 1.19-27; 3.33f.; 20.1; 22; 23.1-7, which stand out clearly from the surrounding text as distinct, poetic products. At times, however, even in the middle of a prose narrative the language reaches poetic heights (cf. Gunkel, Genesis, p. xxvii), such as when Samuel pronounces his verdict, in God's name, on Saul and Agag (1 Sam. 15.22f., 33). One might ask, just incidentally, whether Shimei's curse does not also have poetic form (2 Sam. 16.7, 8). One could perhaps translate thus: Out, out, You man of blood, You man of the devil! Upon you Yahweh will bring All the blood of the House of Saul, In whose place you have become king. And Yahweh will give your kingdom Into the hand of Absalom, your son. See, now you are ruined, For a man of blood are you!

That elsewhere also there are echoes of poetic speech is not to be wondered at, since the content frequently shows some relation to the Epic. Thus Samuel's question in 1 Sam. 15.14 contains a parallelism. Occasionally metaphors and similes occur. The narrator himself, however, makes little use of them, such as when he employs the expression 'lamp of God' for soul (1 Sam. 3.3), when he speaks of the 'opening of the ear* for 'reveal' (1 Sam. 9.15), or when he says that the runner Asahel is as fleet as a gazelle in the field (2 Sam. 2.18). The term 'lions of God' for two Moabite warriors (2 Sam. 23.20)

SCHULZ Narrative Art in the Books of Samuel

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will not have been his invention: the people may have given them this name. More often the author has the characters he presents use similes. David compares himself, in relation to Saul, to a dead dog, to a flea (1 Sam. 24.14), and to a partridge hunted in the mountains (26.20). For the Philistine king Achish, David is like an angel of God (29.9). For Mephibosheth also, David is like an angel of God: 2 Sam. 19.28. Abner asks indignantly whether he is a dog's head (2 Sam. 3.8). Abishai calls the scoffer Shimei a dead dog (16.9). Hushai uses no fewer than five similes in his high-flown speech to Absalom (17.8-13). According to him, David and his men have the fury1 of a bear in the wild which has been robbed of its young. He credits the courageous warrior with the heart of a lion. Israel is as numerous as the sand by the sea. He suggests coming upon David 'as the dew falls upon the ground'. In a bold metaphor he depicts the siege and capture of a city thus: it is as if ropes will be laid around the city and it will be dragged into the stream. The images are intentionally piled up here: the idea is to influence the king's impressionable son. Women, too, make use of imagery. Abigail wishes for David that his soul may be bound up in the bundle of those who live with Yahweh, whereas Yahweh should sling out the life of his enemies as from the hollow of a sling (1 Sam. 25.29). The woman of Tekoa calls the apparently intended killing of her only son the quenching of the coal left to her (2 Sam. 14.7). She compares human death with the spilling of water (v. 14). Finally she, like Achish, calls David an angel of God (w. 17, 20). We now turn to the book2 itself. A sure, self-contained plan underlies it. This is all the more remarkable in that it is compiled from source documents. The author knew how to arrange the individual narratives in accordance with one unifying aspect. The intention is to describe the beginnings of 1. Translator's note: 'Mut' (courage) appears to be a misprint for 'Wut' (fury). 2. The two books originally formed a single work (cf. Schulz, II, p. 312).

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the monarchy in Israel up to David's last years. The action revolves around the three men, Samuel, Saul and David. Now one cannot, of course, divide the book up into three sharply differentiated parts according to these main characters. The three men are active not only one after the other but also alongside one another. As a result they are drawn the more clearly into the author's unifying scheme. However evident the unity of the whole is, the book can be divided up into smaller parts, all of which pursue a particular purpose and strive towards a particular goal. 1 Sam. 1.1—4. la describes Samuel's youth. The purpose of the story of the Ark (4.1b—7.1) is to show how the superiority of Yahweh is revealed in his Ark. It has, however, nothing to do with the Samuel story itself, within which it is set. Though we might be able to do without it here, it does form the significant background story for 2 Samuel 6, where the further fates of the Ark are related in the context of the story of David. The author has thus inserted it for a purpose. In the following section, which is externally connected to the story of the Ark by 7.2, Samuel again is in the foreground. From this point on, two sources clearly run in parallel, or rather in combination with one another, which the author has artificially worked together. In chs. 7-12, Saul's elevation to the kingship is narrated. The two sources adopt different attitudes to the monarchy. But the idea common to both is that Samuel helped Saul to become king. The author alternately takes pieces from one source or the other and links them together with occasional remarks.1 The principal characters are Samuel and Saul. Chapters 13-15 deal with King Saul's golden period and his rejection—again using the two sources. Since both of them contain a story of rejection in Gilgal, the author places one of them in an earlier position (13.7b-15a), in the middle of the Philistine hostilities. This need not surprise us, since, as is well known, many sections in the Gospels are not placed in chronological order but are arranged according to aspects of the contents. In chs. 16-31, again from the two sources, we then learn of David's rise and Saul's fall, up to his death. (The two reports are most artistically interwoven at the point 1. Cf. Schulz, I, pp. 174ff.


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where David comes to Saul's court.) Here, then, Saul and David are the principal characters. The second book deals with David as king and thus pursues a quite uniform aim. Here the two main sources of the first book reappear, inasmuch as chs. 1-8 belongs to one of them and 9-20 to the other.1 In the first part it is more David the statesman that we encounter; in the second, David the man. 21.1-14 belongs to the beginning of the second part and has been dislodged for some as yet unknown reason, and this is followed by a number of later additions up to the end of ch. 24. Nor does the series of postscripts that in course of time have found their way in bear any relation to the tightness of the original. I should like to take a few smaller sections and use them to show how a particular aim is pursued and the action is held tightly together, and how everything revolves around the principal characters. These sections will be ones that are not joined together. In 1 Samuel 1 the principal character is Hannah, around whom the following revolve: her lovingly concerned husband Elkanah, her satiated and spiteful rival Peninnah, the heavyhanded but kind-hearted priest Eli, and finally her son Samuel, who from this point on is to be the principal character. 1 Samuel 25 describes how David gains a rich, clever and beautiful wife. Abigail is then principal character along with David. This is why she is also described with particular care. 2 Samuel 13-20 forms a longer, continuous narrative chain where one thing always results from the previous thing. Amnon dishonours his half-sister Tamar. In revenge, Tamar's full brother Absalom murders him. According to the law of blood revenge Absalom must die. David should have seen to this. In weakness he spares him, and so the wrongly handled son prepares the revolt. What David has neglected to do, Joab performs: he kills the traitor. The appendix concerning Sheba's revolt (ch. 20) corresponds with the law of conclusion (cf. below): the section closes with a revolt of lesser significance. 1. Cf. Schulz, II, pp. 330f.

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The following are among the sub-sections in this section. 13.1-22: the violation of Tamar by Amnon; secondary characters are Jonadab, David and the servant. Absalom does not appear until the end. But since he is the main character in the larger section, he is named at the head of the passage in v. 1. 13.23-39: how Absalom plots and executes revenge against Amnon. The following section, ch. 14, seems to me to be constructed with particular artistry. The climax is David's reconciliation with Absalom, described quite briefly in v. 33. The background to the reconciliation is prepared in two acts. In each of these there are always three characters figuring prominently: in the first, Joab, the woman of Tekoa and David; in the second, Joab, Absalom and David. The woman appears only in the first, Absalom only in the second. Each act is split into three scenes, in each of which two characters appear: 1. Joab summons the woman. 2. The woman goes to David. 3. David summons Joab. 4. Joab goes to Absalom. 5. Absalom summons Joab. 6. Joab goes to David. The second character in each of the six scenes becomes the first in the following one. The seventh (final) scene also follows the rule: David summons Absalom. Thus the two characters are at last united, having avoided each other up to this point. The regular construction of the narrative is also evident in the fact that in the odd scenes the more highly placed character sends for the lesser, while in the even ones the lesser character visits the higher. If we arrange the four characters according to their rank, we have the order: a. David, b. Absalom, c. Joab, d. the woman. They appear as follows in the seven scenes: 1. cd, 2. da, 3. ac, 4. cb, 5. be, 6. ca, 7. ab. The framework is dominated by the numbers 2, 3 and 7. There is no regularity in the number of times the characters appear. The woman appears twice, Absalom three times, David four times, Joab five times.


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In the passages we have discussed one can find what Olrik calls 'one-strandedness'.1 It might appear that 1 Sam. 14.3235 runs counter to this, with its detailed description of the ritual slaughter in a section in which Jonathan is at the fore. But perhaps the author wants to use this to mark Saul's religious conscientiousness, which later announces itself in his conduct towards Jonathan. The concern of 2 Samuel 20 is the suppression of Sheba's revolt by Joab. The murder of Amasa by Joab might be thought out of place here. But this information is necessary. For if Amasa, the new commander-in-chief appointed by David, had survived, Joab would not have been able to take over the high command, and Amasa would hardly have mastered the revolt. Can we still speak of 'one-strandedness' when the action takes place in different locations? It is certainly there whenever the same character appears consecutively in different places. In 1 Samuel 9, Saul and his servant travel along crisscrossing paths before they reach Ramah. The plot consists of a single thread. But the situation is different when various characters appear on several stages. Let us take as an example the Bathsheba-Uriah story (2 Sam. 11, 12) and Absalom's revolt (chs. 15-19). The first story indicates right at the beginning that it will be set in two locations. In 11.1 we are told that David sends Joab out to lay siege to Kabbah while he himself remains in Jerusalem. The notice that David sends Joab out indicates that David is really the principal character in both places, and indeed at the end he goes to Kabbah himself in order to take the stronghold. Up to this point the action takes place on two stages. It diverges, in two strands. The connection between the two is established first by Uriah, who spends time both in Kabbah and in Jerusalem, and then by the messenger whom Joab sends to David. But it should be noted that never are events related that have occurred on both stages at the same time. When David is negotiating with Uriah in Jerusalem we learn not a word of what Joab is doing in Kabbah, and conversely we 1. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 8: 'Modern poetry loves to interweave the various threads of the plot. Popular poetry holds tightly to a single strand, it is always one-stranded.'

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hear nothing of Jerusalem when it is related that in Kabbah Uriah is sent to storm the stronghold. Narrating simultaneous events, or even catching up on them later, is strictly avoided. As for the revolt of Absalom, I now translate 2 Sam. 16.14, 15 differently than in my commentary: 'And the king and all the people arrived, weary, and he rested there. And Absalom and all the Israelites came to Jerusalem.'1 The author wants to narrate after this what happened in Jerusalem afterDavid's arrival in Bahurim. Likewise, I translate 17.24 differently than before: 'And David came to Mahanaim and Absalom crossed over the Jordan'. In other words, there is no catchingup on events; rather, what transpired in the other place after David's arrival in Mahanaim is related. Thereby the chronological sequence is maintained in the whole piece on Absalom's insurrection. True, we have two strands, two plots, being played out in different locations: David's flight and Absalom's pursuit. The author repeatedly jumps from one location to the other. But when he occupies us with one of them, we never learn what is happening at the same time in the other. The connection is established by the people who are in David's 1. In the commentary I translated v. 15: 'Meanwhile Absalom had arrived in Jerusalem with all the Israelites'. I had presupposed that at the time of the events described in the previous verses Absalom had already entered Jerusalem. I was led to do this by Lucian's version of v. 14: 'And the king and all the people that were with him came to the Jordan'. The geographical detail 'to the Jordan' is missing in the Hebrew and in all the witnesses other than Lucian. It is generally held that a place name has dropped out. I no longer believe that Lucian is right. For at the end of v. 14 it says 'he rested there' (actually, 'he got his breath back'). This can only mean a temporary, shorter stay, while David in fact intended to make a longer stay at the Jordan (17.16). If v. 14a were speaking of the arrival at the Jordan, 14b would use another expression, such as 'he camped there'. And I no longer believe that anything at all has dropped out. I take bo' in the sense of 'arrive' (cf. Gen. 15.12, 17; 2 Sam. 2.24) and link the expression with v. 5, where it said that David had come as far as the region of Bahurim. I say 'as far as the region'; for Shimei comes out of the city to meet him, and the whole event of w. 5b-13 takes place outside the city. Thus v. 15 should not be taken as a pluperfect: Absalom was not in Jerusalem as early as this. 2 Sam. 15.37b is to be translated as follows: 'and Absalom was about to enter Jerusalem' (note the imperfect tense).


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secret service. Finally the two series of narratives come together in the battle in the forest of Ephraim. Our author is obviously not yet capable of presenting events that happen simultaneously in different places. At best, he shows how two strands come together; cf. 1 Sam. 9.14; 25.20. We have a kind of counterpart to this in the oldest forms of painting, where objects are not represented behind one another ('in perspective'), but next to one another.1 In connection with this we shall discuss a few further cases, which could be instances of resumption ('catching-up on events', German Nachholung). Unlike Gressmann,2 I see 'resumption' as a fault rather than a skill, except when one of the characters appearing relates the earlier event (resumption 'in conversation').3 Again I must now alter the translation I gave for 1 Sam. 1.22, 23. There I had presupposed the pluperfect tense and rendered: 'Hannah however had not gone up; rather she had said to her husband... Elkanah her husband had answered her.' We would then have a true case of 'catching up' on the part of the writer. But the question is whether it is likely that three consecutive verbs are being used in this sense. Rather, what is related in w. 21 and 22f. can be seen as simultaneous, and we can translate unforcedly: 'When Elkanah...went up...then Hannah did not go up, rather she said...But her husband answered her.' In 1 Sam. 9.12 we learn what Samuel has done previously, but we learn it from the lips of the maidens who tell Saul about 1. 'In its one-strandedness, popular poetry has no knowledge at all of the perspective of painting; it knows only the progressive sequence of bas-relief (Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 8). According to E. Drerup (Das Homerproblem in der Gegenwart [Wiirzburg, 1921], p. 465), Homer also shows 'on the whole no knowledge of the stylistic means of expressing the simultaneity of two events. In place of an overall picture in perspective we thus find in Homer a thread-like, "onestranded" presentation, in which the individual events are arranged one after another without any special labels, and in particular without any temporal particles, even when in reality they run directly alongside one another.' Drerup admittedly sees this only as 'a fault in the Homeric style, not—as has been maintained—in the Homeric outlook'. 2. H. Gressmann and A. Ungnad, Das Gilgamesch-Epos (Gb'ttingen,1911),pp. 179, 203. 3. Cf. the beginning of Goethe's Iphigenie.

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it. In 9.15-17 the writer catches up on something that happened the day before, a revelation of Yahweh to Samuel. The sentence sounds a little longwinded. Verse 17 states that Samuel caught sight of Saul, and then v. 18 again that Saul met Samuel. This seems a little excessive for the otherwise brief narrator. Moreover, v. 18a is actually the same as v. 14b. Might not w. 15-18a be an addition, then? Verse 18b would follow on quite smoothly from v. 14. But still, as in ch. 16, it was probably necessary to mention a divine commission to Samuel to anoint Saul. We shall thus hardly be able to do without this case of resumption. In 17.34ff. David tells of his earlier heroic deeds against lions and bears: resumption in conversation. 28.3 catches up on two earlier events in order to explain what follows: (a) the death of Samuel, (b) the removal of the mediums by Saul. The first is to serve to reinforce the statement made later that Samuel's spirit has appeared. The second is to characterize Saul: this same Saul now visits a medium! And yet this is not really a case of catching up on events; for the two sentences stand at the head of the narrative, and the narrator does not deviate from the chronological sequence in it. 2 Sam. 1.13-16 would be a case of resumption with respect to v. 12. However, w. 13-16 are a later addition. In 3.7 we learn from Ishbosheth's question that Abner has gone to Rizpah; this, then, is resumption in conversation. 17.14b is chronologically earlier than v. 14a: a true case of resumption. 18.18 catches up, after Absalom's death, on something from his life. It is an aside which contributes nothing to the explanation of the section. It is possibly a postscript. 19.26: Mephibosheth recounts his fate to the king: resumption in conversation. 19.31 catches up on the information that Barzillai has gone with the king. 24.lib need not be taken as in the pluperfect tense. It is possible that Yahweh's word to Gad was given after David had got up. Matters are made that much easier if we follow Kittel's suggestion to place v. Ha after v. 12. Thus we are left with just three certain cases of resumption proper. But such a small number of exceptions is scarcely worth mentioning. Actually, we can speak of a law of presentation in chronological order.


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Associated with the narrative's one-strandedness and tightness is the fact that the narrator does not give unnecessary descriptions. More recent narrative art attaches importance to the depiction of the background, often elaborating on circumstantial details which have little or no relation to the plot.1 Does this not distract our thoughts somewhat from the plot? The ancient narrator has no need of such things.2 For him the plot is the main thing.3 In the books of Samuel descriptions and depictions are generally given only when they are intended to explain something in the plot. Where descriptions bear no relation to the plot, we may suspect that they have been added. 1 Sam. 1.3, 4: the description of the sacrificial meal in Shiloh has the purpose of depicting Hannah's sorrow, who is grieved not to be able to take part in it. 1.9: the remark that Eli sits on a seat by the doorpost of the sanctuary would for a more recent writer form part of the portrayal of the background. Here we learn from it how it was that he was able to observe Hannah praying. 1.13 describes the unusual way that Hannah prays: this is to give Eli cause for a malicious remark. 4.12: the messenger comes with torn clothes and his head covered in dust: this is to identify him as a bearer of ill tidings (cf. 2 Sam. 1.2; 15.32). In 4.13 Eli is again seated on his chair. It is related here in order to be able to describe the manner of his death later (v. 18). 6.13: when the Ark comes to Beth-shemesh, the 1. We need only observe, for instance, how a more recent poet deals with a biblical subject. Borries Freiherr von Miinchhausen in his song collection entitledJudatreats the murder of Amasa by Joab (2 Sam. 20) as the main subject, while in the narrative it constitutes no more than an incidental detail. In so doing he attaches importance to the description of nature. He has the pursuit run 'through fields red with poppies'. He plays with this idea through the whole poem. By this means a background is created for the reader. He sees the red poppy fields constantly fluttering. According to S. Killermann (Die Blumen des Heiligen Landes, II [1915], p. 9), in Palestine there are extensive fields full of purple poppies. 2. In Homer also, descriptions and depictions are not an end in themselves. Of the three landscape descriptions in the Odyssey, 'that of the Calypso island is intended to make clear Odysseus's longing for his homeland, that of the Alkinoos garden the fairy-tale fertility of the land, that of the island of goats the lack of culture of the Cyclops' (Fr. Sturmer, Die Rhapsodien der Odyssee [1921], p. 598). 3. Cf. Gunkel, Genesis, p. xlv.

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inhabitants are harvesting the wheat. This explains how it is that they immediately see the Ark. 9.2: Saul's good looks serve to draw attention to the future king. The observation in v. 2b that he is a head taller than any of the people does not fit here. For the time being, apart from him, mention is made only of the servant. The observation derives from 10.23, which is where it belongs. Saul really does tower over all the people. He is supposed to stand out. 16.7: there is a purpose to the emphasis on Eliab's physical height. One should not look on the outward appearance but on the inner man. Saul, who failed in spite of his height, is surely in mind here. Nevertheless, physical beauty can be linked with beauty of the soul, and so in the description of David in v. 12 one can clearly observe the enjoyment of the narrator. David too stands out by virtue of his physical characteristics, and attention is drawn to them. Only the point is not his physical height as in the case of Saul. The same description in 17.42 is superfluous. It has come from our passage and found its way in there. 17.1-3: the place where the armies are drawn up is described because it is later to be the location for the fight between David and Goliath. The fairly detailed description of the Philistine (17.4-7) has the purpose of presenting him as an extremely terrifying opponent. David's deed is thereby magnified. The fact that Saul is repeatedly mentioned with a spear in his hand1 has led some to the conclusion that the spear belongs to Saul as the javelin does to Woden. But in 1 Sam. 18.10 the mention of the spear is necessary because this is what Saul throws at David (so also 19.9). 20.33 says only that he throws the spear. 22.6 is noteworthy. Saul sits 'at Gibeah, under the tamarisk tree on the height, with his spear in his hand, and all his servants were standing about him'. Three things are emphasized. The servants are mentioned because they are needed later. The tamarisk is used as a way of indicating the well-known place of judgment: Saul wants to hold a court session. But why the spear? It has nothing to do with what follows. Could it be an addition taken over from 19.9 (as the description of David in 17.42 is, from 16.12? Cf. also 24.16 with 26.17)? Perhaps for a later scribe the 1. 1 Sam. 13.22 tells us that only Saul and Jonathan had a sword and a spear—an indication of Israel's impotence.


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spear belonged with David. In 26.7 the spear sticking in the ground next to the sleeping Saul is mentioned, but only because David later removes it. The statement in 2 Sam. 1.6 that Saul supports himself on the spear will belong to the description of his helpless condition. Moreover, from the song of lament for him and Jonathan (2 Sam. 1.19-27) it follows that Saul could also be pictured without a spear. For there only Saul's shield and sword are mentioned, but not his spear. 1 Sam. 21.9 describes exactly where Goliath's sword is kept. The description is presumably for the benefit of David, who is to look for it. In 24.3 a very human activity on the part of the king is described: this is to explain why Saul1 went into the cave alone. In 26.7 we have some extra detail, but with good reason. The mention of the encampment is to show how difficult David's enterprise is. The spear is mentioned for the reasons given above. The sleep of Saul and his people is mentioned because according to v. 12 it is only by reason of this that it is possible for David to get through, and because the sleepers are to be woken up afterwards. In 25.3 Abigail's beauty is pointed out: this explains the impression she makes on David. From 26.11 we learn that not only was the spear beside the sleeping Saul but also the water jug. The mention of this could have the same purpose as the mention of the spear (cf. above). But it is conceivable that the jug is the work of a copyist. It seems to be 'tagged on' behind. The last words in v. 16 have clearly been added. In v. 12, then, the jug will likewise be an addition. A scribe wished to magnify the trick that David played on Saul. In fact, in v. 22 David asks for the spear to be fetched, not the jar. Three times there is mention of fatal wounds in the belly. Abner sticks the blunt end of the spear into Asahel's abdomen (2 Sam. 2.23), Joab kills Abner by a blow to the abdomen (3.27) and runs his hidden sword into Amasa's abdomen while kissing him (20.9, 10). In the first case it was probably necessary to mention the abdomen. Abner wants to spare Asahel and thus hits out at him with the blunt end of the spear. Had he caught him in any other part of the anatomy he would only have 1. Translator's note: The German original reads 'David' at this point.

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knocked him over, putting him out of contention for a while. In the event, the blow hits the abdomen and its effect is fatal. The second time, there is an intended allusion to the law of revenge: Abner receives his death-blow in the same place as he dealt the one to Joab's brother. In the third passage, it is natural that the blow should be aimed there. Joab takes hold of Amasa's beard with his right hand, carrying the hidden sword in his left. To do the deed covertly, he can only run the sword into the abdomen. 2 Sam. 2.18: that Asahel is fleet of foot explains his desire to go on pursuing his opponent. 2.24: 'the sun had just gone down'. This is not a description of nature; rather the purpose is to indicate that the fighting has lasted so long. Verses 26ff. prepare for the final cessation of hostilities. 3.22: the mention of the spoil, whose function, for a more recent writer, would add vividness to the narrative, might seem surprising since it bears no apparent relation to what follows. But perhaps it is a means of describing Joab's powerful position and, at the same time, of explaining why David could not properly stand up to him (v. 39), or the reference is to Joab's indispensability. 4.6: the female doorkeeper who falls asleep while cleaning wheat is not meant as an 'impressionistic picture', but is intended to characterize the insignificant 'king5, whose court consists of one single woman whose duties include wheat-cleaning, and to explain how it was that the murderers could get in unhindered. 9.3, 13: the double notice that Mephibosheth was lame in both feet has the purpose of showing that he was not dangerous. 11.2: the mention of Bathsheba's beauty is not so much to acquaint the reader with her as to explain why David has his eye on her. Similarly, in 13.1, the beauty of Tamar, with whom Amnon falls in love. 14.25ff. describes the beauty of Absalom, without a discernible reason. But w. 25-28 are an addition. In 19.24 Mephibosheth's unkempt appearance is described: this is to show how he has lamented for the king. The resolute singlemindedness just described, which avoids everything that does not directly or indirectly belong to the plot, can go so far as to omit some things that actually do belong to the plot. Biblical instruction at the lower-school level now is required to provide 'a narrative which, by means of skilful and moderate embroidering, makes the biblical text


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more vivid and more comprehensible'.1 This requirement presupposes that the biblical story has a form which is brief and difficult for young children to understand. The author of the books of Samuel certainly is at pains to include nothing that is superfluous; indeed he often gives the reader the job of thinking things over, filling in at many points and reading between the lines. A few examples may demonstrate this. 1 Sam. 1.17: from Eli's kindly words to Hannah the reader has to conclude that Eli has withdrawn his accusation that she is drunk. In 9.3 Kish gives Saul the task of taking the servant and looking for the asses. In v. 4, without further clarification, we find them on their journey. 11.1: from the offer of the men of Jabesh we must conclude that they can no longer hold out. 14.6-10 contains two speeches to his armour-bearer. The first is answered with an expression of readiness, while the second is not; all the necessary information is contained in the first answer. 14.43: when Jonathan is convinced he will have to die, he does not speak a superfluous word. He first briefly relates the fact that he has transgressed Saul's decree, not even hinting that he has done so unknowingly, and he does not presume to point out the glorious consequences of his deed. Hereupon (using precisely two words in the Hebrew!) he declares himself prepared to go to his death. One can imagine what a more recent writer would have made of this! Behind 16.18 we can easily fill in Saul's consent to his servants' suggestion. (In 17.37 Saul's consent to David's plan is indeed recorded, but this is explained by the fact that in v. 33 Saul has raised a serious objection which David has first to refute, and by the fact that David's plan is quite outrageous.) At 16.19 a more recent narrator would have told of Jesse's joy over the honour of the royal commission. His consent, too, is taken for granted. Similarly, v. 22. At 18.19 a modern author would surely describe David's military successes; our writer does not even mention this fact, cloaking it in the sentence that the time has come for him to be given Merab. 19.11: of Michal's speech to David, only the final sentence is given—that he should flee this very night; the rest we already know. Not a word do we read of David's 1. K. Massierer, Methodik des katholischen Religionsunterrichts (1913), p. 20.

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being in agreement, no speaking ill of Saul, and no moving words of farewell. The implied words of Michal are necessary, however: we have to learn why it is that brave David was to escape so ignominiously through the window. Verse 14 takes for granted that the messengers have obediently returned and reported to Saul. Verse 16 says nothing of how the messengers behave when they discover the deception, of their return to Saul and of what they tell him: readers can fill in the details for themselves. 20.4: in Jonathan's answer we have to fill in such a phrase as 1 am convinced'. Similarly, in v. 7 we have to imagine for ourselves Jonathan's acceptance that David is right. According to E. Konig,1 in 21.4 'Ahimelech's answer is taken for granted and passed over'. But here I think there is no missing answer from the priest; he is satisfied by David's (untrue) information and says nothing. In addition, David has every reason to pass over this unpleasant matter quickly. He therefore gives the priest no time to come back to it; rather, by his request he directs the thoughts of the priest to something else. 25.13: it is obvious to the reader that David is very upset by the failure of his embassy. But we read nothing of this, only his brief instruction to prepare for battle. Similarly, v. 17 says nothing of Abigail's being taken aback by her servant's disclosure. Only what she does is related. The servants and the readers know for whom the food is being packed. In v. 35 readers can fill in for themselves that David and Abigail turn back. Verse 37: if Nabal said anything about his wife's revelations, what he said is passed over as being immaterial. 26.22 omits to say that a servant comes from the camp and collects Saul's spear. 29.10 really lacks a declaration from David that he is ready to set off. It is only from his actions (v. 11) that we see what he has decided to do. 30.15 omits to mention that David swears to the slave the oath demanded of him, and 31.1 Iff. omits to give a reason for the burial of the desecrated bodies by the men of Jabesh, because the reader knows why from ch. 11. 2 Sam. 2.16 does not elaborate on how the contest suddenly turns deadly serious. In 3.7 the reader has to supply the 1. E. Konig, Stilistik, Rhetorik, Poetik in bezug auf die biblische Litteratur (Leipzig, 1900), p. 222.


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information that Abner has gone to Rizpah, and in 10.3 that Hanun gives credence to the insinuations of his advisers. 11.24: in the narration of David's intercourse with Bathsheba we have no lustful detail, no ardent dialogue, such as would be popular today, but only what is necessary to the understanding.1 13.22: the ill-treated Tamar leaves the stage. A more recent author might have described how she plotted revenge and incited Absalom to it. In 13.29 the murder of Amnon, which is to have such grave consequences, is only alluded to. 14.30 does not say how Joab learns of the burning of his barley field. The LXX, however, has an addition in the lamenting servants who bring him the news. This could have dropped out in the Hebrew. But even without the notice we can find our way into the surrounding circumstances. Before 15.3 we have to fill in for ourselves that Absalom enquired what the claimant had on his mind. What a delightful description such an author as Peter Dorfler might have given of the man from the country clumsily telling it all to the handsome prince! Not a word of that here. In 15.34 David does not explicitly tell Hushai to spy on Absalom; this follows from the task he gives him. In 16.19 a more recent author would emphasize how Absalom allows Hushai to pull the wool over his eyes and places his trust in him; this is left to our imagination. 16.21 passes over Absalom's acceptance of the counsel of Ahithophel, and 18.14 omits to say that Joab and his company go to find Absalom hanging in the oak tree. One has to read between the lines in 18.27 that Ahimaaz is coming closer and closer, until at last he stands before David; and similarly, in 21.9, 10, that the Saulides are gradually starving and their corpses are not being buried. What we have observed here as the product of the East, we also find in the cold North, as in the Icelandic saga. 'Conciseness in style and composition is the hallmark of the saga.

1. On narratives of this kind in present-day Palestine, cf. H. Schmidt and P. Kahle, Volkserzahlungen aus Palastina (Gottingen, 1918), p. 42: 'Also contrary to our sensitivities is the blunt way in which sexual matters are spoken of. But it must be said that when listening to the narratives, one practically never had an impression of lasciviousness, but rather one of naturalness and matter-of-factness in these matters.'

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Unimportant matters are never reported in detail and are often barely alluded to.'1 The conciseness of the style means that much that is superfluous may be recognized as a postscript. We have already referred to a few cases of this type. The following may also be mentioned. 1 Sam. 1.3b has nothing to do with the section: it is an addition from 4.4. 1.24: 'when she had weaned him' is superfluous, since it follows from v. 23. It is omitted in the LXX and should be deleted. 9.27: 'he went on ahead' is also omitted in the LXX and interrupts the context. There are internal grounds for deleting it also, because the reader will be aware of the fact anyway. On the addition 14.1b-5, cf. Schulz, I, pp. 195f. Similarly, w. 29-31 are a postscript. The original narrator has not let Jonathan respond to the soldier's message (cf. Schulz, I, p. 208). The sentimental description of emotion in 20.40-42 does not accord with the style of the initial writer. It is a postscript (Schulz, I, p. 317). 25.13: the note that David and his men gird on their swords goes without saying. It is missing in B and does not fit the context and should therefore be deleted. (On the other hand behind 28.11 something necessary to the understanding has dropped out, namely the calling up of Samuel. This could not be omitted on the ground that it was self-evident. We can, however, think of a reason why a later scribe should have omitted it; cf. Schulz, I, p. 388.) 2 Sam. 12.6 is an addition, which has only an attenuating effect. 13.34bff. is a later elaboration which is not kept in the style of the initial writer. Further elaborations are found in the LXX. 15.15: the servants' consent might appear superfluous in view of what is said. But probably the reader is supposed to learn from this that there are still people who are loyal to David. 21.7: the stilted means of expression gives this addition away. It may be connected with the conciseness in the presentation and the effort to include nothing superfluous, that the names of subordinate characters are not given, and women's names are not given even when they radically influence the plot 1. A. Bugge, in Zeitschrift fur deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 51 (1909), p. 23.


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(2 Sam. 14.2; 20.16); this is quite unlike the works of Homer, in which even the humblest incidental character is named.1 The general brevity of the speeches is also in accord with the practice of saying nothing superfluous. Thus Michal puts a very short speech in the mouth of David (1 Sam. 19.17), consisting of only three words in the Hebrew. This limitation in reported speeches is intentional, for longer speeches are recorded here and there too, but we can also find a reason for such cases. Thus Elkanah is already somewhat verbose towards Hannah (1 Sam. 1.8). He addresses no fewer than four questions to her, of which probably none is answered. His concern is to speak comfort to his unhappy, deeply hurt wife. In 1 Samuel 12 we have a long discourse by the ageing Samuel who is about to give up his position and wants to tell the people once more everything that is on his mind. It is understandable that such a speech has to be wordy. 16.15f.: the speech of the servants to Saul is rather long, but it is addressed to a sick man, whom they want to induce to do something. Longer still is the young David's speech to Saul in 17.34-37. Here it is a matter of begging his permission to fight against the giant. It is not surprising that words flow fast and furiously from the lips of the courageous youth; this is what the narrator wishes to record. And David's lengthy address to the Philistines before the duel in w. 45-47 is to characterize David's piety; it sounds like a confession of faith. David's longer speech in 24.9-15 and 26.17-24 is designed to impress Saul. 25.6-8: the speech which David's servant is to make in his name to Nabal is perhaps somewhat verbose. But it is intended for a stupid person who has to be told something clearly or he will not understand it! In the servant's longer speech to his mistress in vv. 14-17 we see his anxious bustling, perhaps some gossipping, too. Abigail's awfully long chatter (w. 24-31) is supposed to be genuine female calculating. What she says is thoroughly disordered, unlogical, sheer flattery. But she intentionally overwhelms David with her gushing torrent of words, leaving him no time to consider. It is not so much the 1. Drerup, Das Homer-problem, p. 310.

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content that is supposed to have an effect as the whole performance. More recent writers would not have missed the opportunity to note her beseeching, upcast eyes. And the speech works, despite its empty content! This is shown by the enthusiastic-sounding answer that David gives (vv. 32-34). The author is a master craftsman in this. We have a similar case in 2 Samuel 14. The woman of Tekoa is clever, but garrulous. Not everything she says is logical, but she makes straight for her goal. Now and then David is able to get a word in, a brief remark or question—then the torrent of words immediately floods over him again. In its own way this is a masterpiece too. 17.5-13: Hushai presents his battle plan to Absalom in a long, florid speech with exuberant imagery. It sounds quite different from the experienced Ahithopel's sober speech (w. 1-3). Hushai, however, wants to make an impression on the fanciful young man. And his assessment of him is correct: Absalom accepts his foolish advice. In 19.34-37 we have the words of a garrulous old man. Later additions contain longer speeches. For example, in 1 Sam. 20.12-17 a scribe has Jonathan make an extremely long-winded, fulsome speech to David. We have a particularly instructive case of later loquacity in 2 Samuel 11. After Uriah has fallen, the original, quite brief statement in v. 18 is: 'Then Joab sent and told David all the news about the fighting5. This is perfectly adequate. But it is not enough for the scribe, who in w. 19-21 has Joab give this further instruction to the messenger: When you have finished telling all the news about the fighting to the king, then if the king's anger rises, and if he says to you, 'Why did you go so near the city to fight? Did you not know that they would shoot from the wall? Who killed Ahimelech, the son of Jerubbaal? Did not a woman cast an upper millstone upon him from the wall, so that he died at Thebez? Why did you go so near the wall?', then you shall say, 'Your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also'.

The scribe not only has Joab make a speech here, but in this speech Joab has the angry David ask no fewer than six questions of the messenger. Such affectedness is alien to the original narrator: he loves short speeches.


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We may also observe a limitation in the number of characters appearing, especially those that speak. Perhaps one has to assume a certain incapacity here, which has erected a barrier, made a law.1 In the book a large number of characters pass before our eyes, but only a few appear at any one time. The conversations are almost exclusively dialogues, whereby a group of persons (e.g. 'people' or 'servants') can be treated as a single person.2 Similarly, two characters appearing in accordance with the 'law of twins' may count as one. The conversation normally consists of a speech and a reply, though the reply may be absent on occasion. If a third person is present, he or she remains silent. We may now consider some cases where the author appears to limit himself to two characters. In 1 Sam. l.lfF. four characters appear, Elkanah, Hannah, Peninnah and Eli. But at no point are more than two engaged in conversation: (a) Peninnah to Hannah, (b) Elkanah to Hannah, (c) Eli and Hannah. The main character, Hannah, is represented every time. In w. 19ff. three characters are named: Eli, Hannah, Samuel. But only Hannah and Eli speak, Samuel is silent. Chapter 8 contains five conversations, alternately between Samuel and the people and Samuel and Yahweh. In 9.3 Kish speaks to Saul, and in w. 4-10 Saul speaks to the servant. In w. 11-13 the maidens appear as a collective person, whose counterpart consists in the two strangers, who constitute a single person. The question addressed to the maidens is not asked by Saul, nor yet by the servant, but by 'them' (v. 11). Any three-way conversation, such as one between the maidens, Saul and the servant, seems to be excluded. Then the girls disappear, and Samuel appears. From this point on, the servant is the silent character. Samuel converses only with Saul. 14.1-14 has three characters: Jonathan, the armour-bearer and the Philistine (collective person). First Jonathan speaks to the armour-bearer, then the Philistines to both of them (twins!), finally Jonathan again to the armour-bearer. Here 1. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 5: 'The simultaneous interaction of three or more characters, which our own drama loves, is not permitted in popular poetry'. 2. Cf. Gunkel, Genesis, p. xxxv.

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again no three-way conversation occurs. 17.28f.: Only David's oldest brother Eliab converses with him. Neither the other two brothers who have gone to the front, nor the other soldiers whom David questioned earlier, join in the conversation. In 17.55—18.4 we have a succession of four short scenes, in which there are always only two characters in conversation: (a) Saul and Abner, (b) Abner and David, (c) Saul and David, (d) Jonathan and David. A more recent writer would quite probably have had the four characters, who, after all, appear at the same point, joining in conversation. This is clearly too difficult for our author. In 20.24ff. there are three people at the king's table: Saul, Jonathan and Abner. Only Saul and Jonathan engage in conversation. 20.35-38: the two people speaking to one another are Jonathan and the lad. David is a silent witness. Conversely, in the addition, w. 40-42, it is David and Jonathan who speak, while the lad is sent away. 24.7ff.: first David speaks with his companions, then with Saul. 26.6f.: David calls on Ahimelech and Abishai ('twins') to go with him, but only takes the second. After he has spoken with him, he begins a conversation with Abner, from which Abishai withdraws. And when, in v. 17, Saul intervenes, Abner also falls silent. 28.15ff.: at the moment when Saul speaks with the spirit, the woman, with whom he has been speaking up to this point, withdraws. 2 Samuel 9 falls into three short sections, in which the following appear: (a) David and Ziba, (b) David and Mephibosheth, (c) David and Ziba. The speakers in 13.1-24 are (a) Amnon and Abinadab, (b) Amnon and David, (c) David and Tamar, (d) Amnon and Tamar, (e) Amnon and the servant (Tamar is silent), (f) Absalom and Tamar. On ch. 14, cf. pp. 124f. In 16.5-12 it looks as if three characters are appearing together: David, Shimei and Abishai. But in fact only David and Abishai converse—Shimei is not brought into the conversation, or rather no one gives him an answer. He curses for his own benefit. His cursing forms the backdrop against which the dialogue between David and Abishai develops. True, Shimei is not a silent character, but a speaking one who is given no answer. In the counterpart to this in 19.17-24 the same three characters are represented, apparently speaking alternately. Shimei addresses David. Abishai intervenes. David first


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answers Abishai and then Shimei. But might not w. 22f. be modelled on the above scene? Verse 24 would follow on readily from v. 21. We should then not have a single exception to the rule we have observed. 18.19-21: of the three characters appearing, Ahimaaz, Joab and the Cushite, the last mentioned is the silent character; and it is this role that Ahimaaz plays in v. 32 in relation to David and the Cushite. We may therefore state that as a matter of principle the author does not let more than two characters engage in spoken conversation. The one exception we have found can be of little real consequence, especially as it may be a revision. Now a word about the 'law of twins' mentioned above.1 Occasionally there appear two characters who are treated as a unit; such are Elkanah's two wives (1 Sam. 1.2), Eli's two sons (ch. 2), Samuel's two sons (8.2), Saul's two companions at Endor (28.8), the murderous pair Rechab and Baanah (2 Sam. 4.2ff.), the two men accompanying the Ark (6.3), Zadok and Abiathar the priests (15.24ff.; 17.15), Ahimaaz and Jonathan the sons of the priests (15.27; 17.17). The law of twins can also be waived from time to time, with one of the two characters proceeding to act alone. Thus Hannah is soon acting for herself in 1 Samuel 1. In 2 Sam. 15.24ff., now both priests are addressed, now one of them. In 18.19 Ahimaaz, too, acts on his own. A special role is played by the 'sons of Zeruiah', Joab and Abishai, who make a pair on the death of their brother Asahel (2 Sam. 2.23). It is odd that sometimes the sons of Zeruiah are spoken of or to, after only one of them has previously appeared. 2 Sam. 3.30 says that Joab and Abishai have killed Asahel, although previously only Joab is named as the responsible party. The remark is in fact an addition, but immediately afterwards David complains about the sons of Zeruiah. In 16.10 David turns to the sons of Zeruiah, even though only Abishai has just spoken; similarly, 19.22. In 20.6 David gives Abishai the task of following Sheba. But already in v. 7 we see Joab right behind Abishai, and v. 10 clearly states that Joab and his brother Abishai pursue the insurrectionist. Apart from the law of two speaking characters and the laws of twins, the number 'two' does not have a large part to play. 1. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 6.

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Two daughters are born in 1 Sam. 2.21 and 14.49. Amnon is murdered two years after his shameful deed (2 Sam. 13.23). Of the seven Saulides, two are mentioned by name (2 Sam. 21.8). A disproportionately large part is played by the number three. It shows the truth of Olrik's statement: The law of the number three extends like a broad stripe through the world of the saga, through centuries and millennia of human culture. Semitic culture, and Aryan culture even more so, is subject to this mighty ruler.'1 The entire book stands under the law of threes: the action centres on three main characters. In 1 Sam. l.lff. three characters go to Shiloh: Elkanah, Peninnah and Hannah. In the subsequent journey (w. 19-28), three characters are named also: Hannah, Samuel and Eli.2 Verse 24: three objects are taken along for the sacrificial meal: a three-year-old bull, flour and wine. 2.13: the portions of the sacrifice are brought out with a three-pronged fork. In v. 14 the Massoretic Text names four vessels in which the meat of the sacrifice boils, while the LXX names three. This will be the original number. In 2.21 Hannah has three sons as well as two daughters (the same portion as Saul's family in 14.49). 3.8: three times Yahweh calls Samuel in vain. Chapter 5: of the five Philistine cities, three are named as places the Ark comes to. It looks as though the reader is not to be wearied by more names. 7.16: Samuel goes every year to Bethel, Gilgal and Mizpah to sit in judgment. 8.13: the daughters' professions are given as those of perfumers, cooks and bakers. According to v. 14 the king is going to take from his subjects fields, vineyards and olive orchards. 9.20: the asses were lost three days previously. 10.3: Saul will meet three men carrying three objects for sacrifice: a kid, bread and wine. In 11.11 Saul divides his army into three companies; cf. the three plundering Philistine hosts in 13.17 and the division of David's army into three in 2 Sam. 18.2. In 12.9, Sisera, the Philistines and Moab are named as oppressors of Israel. Verse 11 names four judges as deliverers, but if 1. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 4. 2. The LXX also introduces Elkanah here; but this is not original.


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'Samuel' is an interpolation, and there is much that speaks for this, then there are only three. 14.32: the soldiers slaughter sheep, oxen and calves. 16.6ff.: no more than three of Jesse's sons are named (cf. on ch. 5). 16.20: Jesse sends Saul bread, wine and a kid. 17.5-7: the Philistine's armour and weapons are listed as helmet, coat of mail, leg greaves, javelin, spear, shield—two threes. 17.13: Jesse's three eldest sons have gone to the front. In 17.17fF. David takes parched grain, bread and cheese as a love-gift. According to v. 25, whoever defeats the Philistine will receive riches, the king's daughter and exemption from taxes. In vv. 38f. Saul dresses David with his armour, helmet and sword. The coat of mail is an addition. In v. 45 David names as the Philistine's weapons: sword, spear and javelin. In 18.6 the women come to meet the victors 'with timbrels, songs of joy and harps'. Chapters 18 and 19 tell of David's relations with three of Saul's children: Jonathan, Merab and Michal. In 19.12, to deceive the king's messengers Michal uses the teraphim, the net and the blanket. In w. 20f., three times messengers are sent out to catch David. 20.19: David is to hide for three days. In 20.24f. there are three people at the king's table. Verse 41: David bows down three times before the parting. In chs. 23 and 24 there are descriptions of three attempts by Saul to apprehend David, at Keilah, Maon and Engedi. 25.11: Nabal is afraid of having to supply David with bread, wine and meat. In v. 18, however, Abigail packs not only bread, wine and meat, but also parched corn, grapes and fig cakes—2 x 3 items. 27.8: David attacks the Geshurites, Perizzites and Amalekites. These are the inhabitants of the area from Telam to Shur and Egypt (designation by three geographical terms). In v. 10 David claims to have made incursions into the Negeb of Judah, that of the Jerahmeelites and that of the Kenites. In 28.6 Saul receives no answer from Yahweh, not through dreams, nor by lots, nor by prophets. 30.1: David's journey takes three days. In v. 3, wives, sons and daughters are taken captive. Verse 12: the slave has eaten nothing for three days and three nights, because he was left behind sick three days ago (v. 13). In v. 14 he says that his company have made a raid on the Negeb of the Kenites, that of Judah and that of Caleb. Verse 16: the bandits are busy eating,

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drinking and dancing. 31.Iff.: the Philistines slay three sons of Saul. 2 Sam. 1.2: the messenger comes to Saul on the third day. 2.15: in the contests there are twelve ( = 4 x 3 ) warriors on each side. 2.18: the three sons of Zeruiah. 3.2-5: in Hebron six sons (2 x 3) are born to David. In 2 Sam. 5.13ff. the names of eleven children are listed as being born to David in Jerusalem. According to 1 Chron. 3.5ff. and 14.4ff. there were thirteen. In the two Chronicles passages Eliphelet is mentioned twice. There were assuredly twelve names originally in Chronicles, and thus also in Samuel, where one has dropped out. 4 x 3 children were born to David in Jerusalem, then, twice as many as in Hebron (2 Sam. 3.2ff.—a case of heightening, too). 6.19: David gives each participant in the feast a loaf, a...(?) and a cake of raisins. 8.2: the captured Moabites are laid on the ground and measured—always two lines for death and one for life! One out of each group of three survives. 8.16-18 (as also 20.23-25) speaks of three offices at David's court, to which three more have later been added. Chapter 11: Uriah is on leave for three days. 13.19: Tamar shows three signs of suffering—she puts ashes on her head, rends her clothes and lays her hand on her head. Verse 38: Absalom remains in exile for three years. In 14.29ff. Absalom makes three attempts to speak with Joab. In 16.1 Ziba brings on his asses bread, raisins, figs and wine, four kinds of food. He tells the king (v. 2) that the asses are for riding, the bread and figs for eating, the wine for drinking. He thus uses a three-fold structure. Since he includes the asses, he brackets bread and figs together. But why does he not mention the raisins, which according to v. 1 he should have had with him? It is to be presumed that Ziba should want to draw the king's attention to everything he has brought. Could not the raisins in v. 1 owe their existence to the sympathy of a scribe (cf. Schulz, I, pp. 13, 406)? We should then have the number three in the original there also. 17.27: Shobi, Machir and Barzillai attend to the fleeing David. Verse 29: the people are hungry, tired and thirsty. 18.2: the army is entrusted to three commanders. Verse 14: Joab thrusts three darts into Absalom's chest. 19.24: as a sign of


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mourning Mephibosheth has not dressed his feet, nor trimmed his beard nor washed his clothes. 21.1: a famine rages in Israel for three years. 23.8: David's three heroes. 23.24: the 'thirty' (10 x 3). 23.13: three of the 'thirty' fight their way through and fetch water. 24.13: David is presented with a choice between three punishments. The number three figures in each of them: three1 years of famine, or three months fleeing from the enemy, or three days of pestilence: In v. 22 Araunah gives David oxen, sledges and yokes. The number of occasions where the number three predominates is extremely great. The number is applied to people, things and events. Occasionally even different kinds of concepts are grouped together into threes; cf. 1 Sam. 17.25; 18.6.2 Other numbers are not so frequently represented. We have the number four in 1 Sam. 10.5 (four kinds of instruments throw the prophets into ecstasies); 2 Sam. 15.7 (Absalom spends four years preparing the revolt); 21.15-22 (four fights with giants). The number five: 1 Sam. 6.4 (five golden mice corresponding to the number of the lords of the Philistines); 13.6 (five hiding-places to which the Israelites flee); 14.47 (Saul defeats five peoples); 17.40 (David puts five stones in his pouch); 25.42 (Abigail's five maids); 27.9 (in the course of his campaigns David carries off sheep, oxen, asses, camels and clothes); 2 Sam. 6.5 (five instruments are played as the Ark is transported). The numbers six and twelve are mentioned with the number three. The number seven: 1 Sam. 13.8 (Saul waits seven days; cf. 10.8); 16.10 (seven sons of Jesse); 31.13 (seven days of fasting); 2 Sam. 12.18 (David's child becomes sick for 1. Seven should be emended to three; cf. Schulz, II, p. 288. 2. For suggestions for an explanation of this phenomenon cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', pp. 4, 11; Konig, op. cit., p. 52; Sturmer, op. cit., pp. 569ff. With Olrik and Konig I should like to express my opposition to any derivation of this from religious considerations: the paradigm could, amongst other things, be the way nature is frequently structured in threes (morning, noon, evening—earth, sky, sea—heaven, earth, underworld—animals, fish, birds). E. Norden (Vergils Aeneis VI [1903], p. 109) finds in classical works the construction and structuring of material in accordance with the law of threes. Besides the Aeneid he cites the Hymns of Pindar, the wreath-speech of Demosthenes, the Odes of Horace. This is no longer nature, but art.

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seven days); 21.6 (the Gibeonites despatch seven men to their deaths). The number ten: 1 Sam. 1.8 ('ten sons'); 17.17 (David takes ten loaves with him); 25.5 (ten messengers sent to Nabal); 25.38 (Nabal sick for ten days); 2 Sam. 18.11 (Joab would have given ten pieces of silver for Absalom's death); 18.15 (Joab takes ten attendants with him). One cannot say that the tight, concise and formalized aspects with which we have been concerned have made the narrative dull. On the contrary. Moreover, the author has at his disposal rich means of making it lively and attractive. Chiasm might be reckoned among these means although it does not occur very frequently. It occurs in 1 Sam. 1.2: 'the name of one was Hannah, and the name of the other Penninah. And Penninah had children, but Hannah had no children.' It seems to be used in w. 4-6 also. There it is said that Elkanah gives Penninah and Hannah portions from the sacrificial meat. Then something is related concerning Hannah, and finally concerning Penninah. In the added section 15.24-31 the speakers are Saul to Samuel and then, after a pause, Samuel to Saul. Due regard is also paid to chiasm in dialogues: in 22.10 Doeg relates of Ahitub, 'he enquired of the Lord for him, and gave him provisions'. In v. 13 Saul makes use of this information in his interrogation thus: 'in that you have given him bread..., and have enquired of God for him'. Apart from the reversal of the order, there are changes in the expression (cf. below). This is a further means of averting monotony. 1 Sam. 25.3: 'the name of the man was Nabal, and the name of his wife Abigail. The woman was of good understanding and beautiful, but the man was churlish and illbehaved.' 2 Sam. 3.1: 'There was a long war between the house of Saul and the house of David; and David grew stronger and stronger, while the house of Saul became weaker and weaker'. (Note the small change in the phrasing.) Verse 8: the first of the two sentences which Abner speaks to Ishbosheth begins with 'today', and the second finishes with it. 10.1, 2: 'After this the king of the Ammonites died, and Hanun his son reigned in his stead. And David said, "I will deal loyally with Hanun the son of Nahash, as his father dealt loyally with me".' The logical order in the second sentence would be: 'The


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father has been loyal to me; therefore I too will be loyal to his son'. It would then correspond to the order in the first sentence. But the sequence is the other way round (notice the change in the phrasing again here). 19.6: 'y°u l°ve these who

hate you and hate those who love you'. Here the chiasm does not relate to the structure of the sentence but to the expressions. There is a further chiasm in 2 Sam. 19.25.l A simple but effective device in lending vividness to the narrative is contrast. As if as a matter of course, frequently persons (also 'twins' and collective persons) appear in opposition to one another and illumine one another by their distinctive characteristics. A few such pairs may be mentioned. 1 Sam. 1.2ff.: the childless, oppressed Hannah, and the well-blessed, scornful Penninah. Chapters 1-3: the wayward sons of Eli and the pious Samuel. 8.3: the good father (Samuel) and the bad sons. Chapter 8: the progressive Israelites and the stubbornly conservative Samuel. 11.4-7: the men of Gibeah who behave like women, and the fierce Saul. Chapter 14: the inflexible Saul and the courageously resolute Jonathan. Chapter 17: the loudmouthed Goliath and the cowardly Israelites. Also, the experienced warrior-giant and the weak shepherd-boy. 18.12ff.: the jealous, suspicious Saul and a David whose good fortune practically pursues him. Chapters 18-20: Saul full of hatred; Jonathan and Michal full of love for David. Chapters 24, 26: the vengeful Saul and the magnanimous David. Chapter 25: the stupid, coarse, miserly Nabal, and the clever, beautiful and generous Abigail. Chapter 27: the imprudent Philistines and the cunning David. 2 Samuel 2: the feeble Ishbosheth and a David bursting with vigour. Chapters 2, 3: the shadow king 1. Elsewhere too chiasm seems to be popular. I might mention, at random, such passages as Gen. 4.1, 2, 3-5; 12.3a; Exod. 6.26 ('these are the Aaron and Moses...'), v. 27 ('this Moses and this Aaron'); 1 Kgs 3.12, 23; Est. 6.13 (emendation following LXX!). In the NT 1 Cor. 13.1, 4. Perhaps it lies in the nature of the Hebrew language. Might one think of the waw consecutive or inversive, as J. Hehn calls it? The imperfect joins up with the perfect and vice versa. The perfect consists of verb and pronoun, the imperfect of pronoun and verb. In one case, then, we have the chiasm verb + pronoun: pronoun + verb; in the other pronoun + verb: verb + pronoun.

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Ishbosheth and his tyrannical minister. Chapter 3: the trusting Abner and the sly Joab. 6.20: the haughty, mocking Michal and the pious, humble David. Chapter 11: the adulterous, sly king and the harmless, abstemious warrior. Chapter 13: Amnon is consumed with sinful love for his step-sister, and after misusing her, he drives her out shamefully. 13.3If.: the excitable David and the cool Jonadab. Chapter 14: the garrulous woman and the patiently attentive king. Chapter 15: the treacherous son of the king and the loyal vassal from the land of the Philistines. Chapter 16: the chiding, stone-thro wing Benjaminite and the devout, soothing David. Chapter 18: the lamenting David and the energetic Joab. Chapter 21: the cowardly, resentful Gibeonites and the self-sacrificing Rizpah. A further device which might be mentioned is variation. It is commonly known that Homer repeats what has been said, word for word, when a task is being carried out or a piece of information is being repeated. In the long run this is monotonous, to the point of tedium. In such cases one already knows what is coming and the reader is tempted to skip over the passage. Naturally, the haste and restlessness that characterize the present day have something to do with this feeling. These word-for-word repetitions may have had a different effect on the simple folk who listened to the singer. We can observe the same thing in the Gilgamesh Epic. In the tenth column, for example, we read the description of the grieving Gilgamesh six times in the same words (33ff., 40ff., 102ff., 107ff., 193ff., 200ff.), the same thing having been said in relation to Enkidu in 8.38ff. In such and similar cases our author makes variations. In 1 Sam. 6.7, 8 the priests of the Philistines specify in which way the Ark is to be brought out of the land: in the execution of this in vv. lOf. other expressions are used. This would be unthinkable in Homer. In 1 Sam. 14.10 Jonathan suggests the Philistines might say, 'Come up to us'. This is to be a proof that Yahweh has given the Philistines into their hands. In v. 12 it is then said that the Philistines call: 'Come up to us, and we will show you a thing*. The same sense, but different wording. According to 14.24, before the battle with the Philistines Saul has sworn: 'Cursed be the man who eats food until it is evening


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and I am avenged on my enemies'. The soldier who tells Jonathan of this (v. 28), however, presents the oath in the abbreviated form: 'Cursed be the man who eats food this day'. What in 15.18 Samuel tells Saul is Yahweh's mission differs in form from what Yahweh has said to Samuel according to v. 3. In 20.6 David asks Jonathan, if Saul should miss him, to say: 'David earnestly asked leave of me to run to Bethlehem his city; for there is a yearly sacrifice there for all the family*. In v. 29 Jonathan gives the following as David's words: 'Let me go; for our family hold a sacrifice in the city, and my brother has commanded me to be there. So now, if I have found favour in your eyes, let me get away, and see my brothers.' In 23.2 David asks the oracle: 'Shall I go and attack these Philistines?' The answer will be 'yes' or 'no', according to whether the stone named 'Urim' or 'Thummim' is chosen. But here it says that Yahweh answered: 'Go and attack the Philistines and save Keilah'.l When David enquires of the oracle for the second time on the same matter, he receives the same answer, but in the form: 'Arise, go down to Keilah; for I will give the Philistines into your hand' (v. 4). The writer says in 28.6 that Yahweh did not answer Saul 'either by dreams, or by Urim, or by prophets'. In v. 15 Saul tells the spirit that God does not answer him 'either by prophets or by dreams'. There are no fewer than four changes to be noted: (a) Saul omits the 'Urim'; (b) he uses a different order; (c) he uses Elohim for Yahweh; (d) before 'prophets' we have beyad here, as opposed to be in v. 6. In 29.3 Achish declares to the commanders concerning David: 'Since he deserted to me I have found no fault in him to this day5. In v. 6 he says to David: 'for I have found nothing wrong in you from the day of your coming to me to this day*. In 2 Sam. 13.5 Jonadab advises Amnon to pretend to be ill and to say to David: 'Let my sister Tamar come and give me bread to eat, and prepare the food in my sight, that I may see it, and eat it from her hand'. However, in v. 6 Amnon says: 'Pray 1. The answer is elaborated and expanded by the writer in line with the sense. The added phrase 'and save Keilah' is to be seen in the same light as Eve's addition to the divine command: 'neither shall you touch it' (Gen. 3.3).

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let my sister Tamar come and make a couple of cakes in my sight, that I may eat from her hand'. That the second sentence is worded differently, in particular that it is constructed in a briefer form than the first, cannot be due to the forgetfulness of the narrator, since it follows immediately from the other. This is therefore a case of intentional alteration. In 15.34 David instructs his friend Hushai to address Absalom thus: 'I will be your servant, O king; (let me live!) as I have been your father's servant in time past, so now I will be your servant'. By contrast, according to 16.16 Hushai greets Absalom thus: 'Long live the king! Long live the king!' And in response to Absalom's derisive question (v. 17) he declares (w. 18f.): 'No; for whom the Lord and his people and all the men of Israel have chosen, his I will be, and with him I will remain. And again, whom should I serve? Should it not be his son? As I have served your father, so I will serve you.' What Hushai says is perfectly in accord with David's aims; but he uses quite different words. He speaks as the moment dictates. Should we put this down to the considered judgment and artistry of the author? I think it is more a natural sensitivity which does not allow itself to be tied. In 17.16 Hushai asks that David be told: 'Do not lodge tonight at the fords of the wilderness, but by all means pass over'. The sons of the priests, however, say to David: 'Arise, and go quickly over the water' (v. 21). According to 18.5 David orders his generals: 'Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom'. An eyewitness, however, claims to have heard: 'For my sake protect the young man Absalom' (v. 12). Occasionally in such cases nothing at all is repeated, but what was said earlier is simply alluded to. 1 Sam. 3.18: 'so Samuel told him everything'. The reader knows what he told him from what has gone before. 8.10: 'So Samuel told all the words of the Lord to the people'. The words are given in w. 79. According to 17.23 Goliath speaks 'the same words as before'. According to v. 27 the people answer David 'in the same way'. According to v. 30 David asks 'in the same way'. 18.24: 'Thus and so did David speak'. In 25.9 David's men report 'all this' to Nabal, namely the instructions in w. 5-8. In 2 Sam. 17.6, Absalom says to Hushai: 'Thus has Ahithopel spoken'. According to v. 15 Hushai reports to the priests: 'Thus and so did Ahithophel counsel Absalom and the elders of Israel;


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and thus and so have I counselled'. Verse 21: Tor thus and so has Ahithophel counselled'. In 14.3 we have the reverse. Joab says to the woman of Tekoa: 'Go to the king, and speak thus to him.' It continues, 'So Joab put the words in her mouth'. But what words he puts in her mouth we do not learn until the woman's conversation with David. This is intentional. The reader is not supposed to hear Joab's assuredly concise instructions but the woman's torrent of words. On other occasions, too, we find variation. 1 Samuel 5 relates how the Ark wreaks havoc in three Philistine cities. The same misfortune occurs each time; but the individual descriptions vary. In 16.6ff. the presentation of Jesse's individual sons is related in different ways. The practice we have discussed makes a definite contribution to the vividness of the presentation. We have nothing rigid or ossified in the narratives, but spirit and life.1 Related to this variation is heightening, found especially in repetitions. 1 Sam. 4.1-11 tells of two Israelite defeats. The account of the second contains a heightening. 30,000 Israelites fall, compared with 4000 in the first defeat; furthermore, the second time the Ark is lost. The ill tidings to Eli consist of four sentences: (a) the Israelites are defeated; (b) the defeat is great; (c) Eli's two sons have fallen; (d) the Ark of God is taken. Each 1. This variation is also found in Genesis. Cf. 14.14 with vv. 17, 18; 24.3-8 with w. 37-41; 27.3, 4 with v. 7; 31.24 with v. 29; 41.2ff. with w. 17ff. That in this area, too, there is no linear development, we can see from the later book of Esther, where we find a kind of Homeric repetition. In 6.9 and 6.11 the suggestion and its execution agree almost word for word. 5.6 and 7.2: on both days, the king asks the same question of the queen, with the same promise. Gressmann (op. cit., p. 174) derives the stylistic rule of word-for-word repetition in the Gilgamesh Epic from an ancient time 'when the capability for expression and presentation was not so highly developed as at a later stage with whose intellectual powers verbosity is most consistent and to whose skills the variation form would be best suited'. But in the books of Samuel there are particular reasons for any 'verbosity' to be found; cf. pp. 137f. above. Does Gressmann wish to explain the word-for-word repetitions in the truly artistic Homeric poems as a relic from ancient times also? And is word-for-word repetition of what has already been said not precisely a sign of verbosity?

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successive piece of news is worse than the one before. The worst news is saved till the end. We have the same heightening, with the main point at the end, in the account of the battle of Gilboah given to David in 2 Sam. 1.4: The people have fled from the battle, and many of the people also have fallen and are dead, and Saul and his son Jonathan are also dead'. Further, in Joab's report in 2 Sam. 11.24: 'Some of the king's servants are dead; and your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also'. 1 Sam. 5.3, 4: on two consecutive days, in the temple in Ashdod the idol has fallen to the ground before the Ark of Yahweh. The second time, its head and hands have broken off. 17.26, 30: David twice asks the soldiers what the victor over the Philistine is to receive. The heightening consists in the fact that he asks a second time even though his eldest brother has scolded him precisely for his forwardness. 19.23: Saul raves in the presence of the prophets just as his soldiers have just done; but his raving is described in detail. 20.26ff.: on two consecutive days, Saul misses David at table. The first time he keeps his thoughts to himself; the second time he says something. In chs. 23 and 24 we have three accounts of how David escapes from his pursuer Saul. They are connected to each other and contain a heightening (cf. Schulz, I, p. 352). 2 Sam. Il.TfF.: David twice tries to get Uriah to go into his house. The heightening consists in his previously inviting him to dine for the second time and attempting to get him drunk (v. 13). 14.29ff.: Absalom makes two vain attempts to summon Joab. The third time he uses violent means. He has Joab's barley field set on fire. Occasionally the narrator does not make straight for his goal but makes a detour, introducing a delay. By this means, too, he adds vividness to the accounts. In 1 Sam. 4.12ff. the bearer of ill tidings arrives at Shiloh. The blind Eli waits in suspense, above all on account of the Ark of God. The reader, who already knows of its loss, wonders how the priest will take the news. The anticipated outcome is then held up by Eli's questions as to what is the meaning of the tumult. At last the messenger arrives. But he does not immediately report on what is the main concern for Eli, but after a few words of introduction he comes out with one piece of


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grievous news after another, ending with the loss of the Ark. The reader is able to share in some of the old man's agonies. In the election of the king by lots in 10.17ff. it is only little by little that the turn of the intended one approaches. And when finally the lot falls on the son of Kish, he is not there; his whereabouts have to be ascertained by means of further casting of lots. 12.18f.: the people are apparently firm in their demands for a king. All Samuel's arguments and warnings have fallen on deaf ears. Then Yahweh sends thunder and rain. The people are so intimidated by this that they feel regret and regard the demand for a king as wickedness. It looks as though Israel will not be getting a king, so that Samuel himself now has to encourage them. 15.12: Samuel wants to take the shortest route to Saul. On the way, he learns that he has taken a roundabout route to Gilgal. The meeting is thus put off. 16.Iff.: it takes some time for the future king to appear for his anointing. 17.33ff.: Saul wants to restrain David from fighting against the Philistines. In w. 43ff. the dialogue between Goliath and David holds up the action. 18.20ff.: David is to receive Michal from Saul as his wife. The wedding is postponed because of the difficulty in raising the dowry. 19.12ff.: Saul's minions do not immediately notice the deception, not until the next morning, after a second inspection. 21.2ff.: before David can present his petition to the priest, the latter holds him up with an awkward question, which David answers with a lie. Only then can he ask for provisions. Compliance with the request is delayed by a second question from the priest. 22.17: the execution of Saul's assassination order is postponed a little when his men refuse to kill the priests. 23.3: the anxiety of his men causes David, after the clear decision of the oracle, to enquire once more of the oracle before he goes to Keilah. 28.9: the woman of Endor at first refuses to perform the exorcism. Similarly, in v. 23 Saul initially refuses to eat. 29.8: David at first contradicts Achish's demand that he should withdraw from the battle. 30.15: the slave is only prepared to act as David's guide on condition that David gives him a sworn promise. 31.4: the armour-bearer refuses to give Saul the coup de grace. 2 Sam. 6.10: the Ark is not transported to Jerusalem for the time being but kept in the house of Obed-edom. 12.5: by means

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of his remark David briefly holds up Nathan's sentence. But the judgment is all the more shattering as a result. 13.12f.: Amnon's shameful deed is delayed a little by his sister's moving request. 13.25: on Absalom's invitation to the sheepshearing festival David raises objections. 14.24: Absalom, on his return home from exile, is not permitted to see the king for the time being. 14.29ff.: Joab at first refuses to come to Absalom. 17.18ff.: the sons of the priests are held up on their way to David and have to hide. 18.20: Joab wants to restrain Ahimaaz from taking the message to the king. Verse 29: the giving of the news of Absalom's death to David is put off by Ahimaaz's veiled statement. 20.8ff.: the pursuit of the insurgent is delayed a little by the incident with Amasa. 21.4: the Gibeonites, full of hatred, first explain what they do not require. 24.3: to begin with, Joab raises doubts about David's plan. One gets the impression that the author also applies the device of retardation, which is quite effective, more unconsciously than consciously. Heightening and retardation serve more or less the same end: they are intended to stimulate suspense. But this suspense is not carried to extremes. Conversely, the author also has at his disposal ways of relieving suspense. Prominent among these is the law of the conclusion.1 To understand this we may think of certain recent novels. Just let the conclusion of HandelMazetti's Jesse and Maria have its effect! Of the two main characters, Jesse dies on the scaffold, while Maria is in deadly despair, because she realizes that her good intentions alone have brought this about. Nothing further follows. Readers cannot rid themselves of their impression of the bloody head held aloft by the executioner and of the woman writhing in torment. Nerve-tingling suspense in the extreme! Is this nec1. On this, cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', pp. 2f.: 'Hundreds of folksongs end, not with the death of the lovers, but with the two roses that spring up from their graves and intertwine their branches with one another. Thousands of sagas add the revenge of the dead person or the punishment of the culprit; or they give a locally fixed description of the burial mound, of the descendants or the like. The constant recurrence of this fact shows that it is not merely a matter of the narrator's congeniality coming to expression, but a dictate of form.'


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essary? Every pilgrim on the Via Dolorosa can be grateful to the Church that it shows fourteen stations and does not end with the twelfth. The thirteenth and fourteenth have a calming and relaxing effect. This is how our author proceeds too. True, there are shattering events. But the narrator is at pains not to finish on the climax but to dim the lights and calm the mood. This law of conclusions seems to apply even when the climax has nothing like a shattering effect. We have an example of this already in 1 Sam. 1.18b. The climax consists in Hannah's gaining the priest's understanding. The passage concludes with Hannah's departure and the fact that she no longer looks so unhappy. 2.17: after the sacrilege perpetrated by the sons of Eli has been described, the passage concludes with a general remark about the enormity of their sin. 3.18b: after the terrible threat which Samuel has brought to Eli on Yahweh's behalf, Eli's assurance that Yahweh may do what seems good to him has a calming effect on the reader. 4.1-11: the unhappy battle at Ebenezer climaxes in the loss of the Ark of God. The sad news in v. lla, however, does not form the conclusion of the section, which comes with the death of the wayward sons of Eli, apparently seen as a kind of divine judgment. The last piece of grievous news thus tempers the first. 4.18ff.: following the shattering death of Eli comes the sober remark that he was judge in Israel for forty years, and after this the less impressive death of his daughterin-law, who as a wholly subordinate person is not even named. But the section does not even conclude with her death but with the announcement of the name of her son. 10.25: the climax of the passage is the jubilation of the people over the newly chosen King Saul. Then follows the quite business-like remark that Samuel wrote down the laws of the kingship. And if this sentence be considered a postscript, there then follows the certainly original dismissal of the people to their own homes. The reader notes that the jubilation dies down and that everything returns to its normal course. 14.46: what precedes is a quite exciting incident which is a matter of life and death for Jonathan. On tenterhooks, the reader learns that Jonathan is saved, and there then follows the sober concluding remark that Saul has stopped pursuing the Philistines and they have returned to their country. 15.34: a more recent

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writer would have concluded with the killing of Agag by Saul. Here we are further told where Saul and Samuel go to. 16.13: the climax of the section is the anointing of David. It concludes with Samuel's return home to Ramah. 17.51: it is not the killing of the Philistine that is at the end, but the flight of his comrades. 19.15-20. la: the climax is Saul's raving. The conclusion is formed by the proverb and the flight of Saul. 20.34: the section ends, not with Saul's remonstration against Jonathan but with the remark that Jonathan went away and ate nothing. 22.6-23: the conclusion is not formed by the murder of the priests but the rescue of one of them. 23.13: the section breaks off not upon David's escape, which settles the main concern, but upon Saul's calling the pursuit to a halt. 23.28: the news of David's salvation is followed by the business-like remark explaining the name given to the place. Chapter 25 does not close with the death of Nabal but with his wife's wedding. 28.21-25: the woman of Endor's concern for Saul would hardly have been mentioned by a more recent writer, who would have closed with the fit that Saul has in his despair (v. 20). Just as the sympathetic woman's hospitality strengthens the king, so the account of it calms the reader. Chapter 30: the conclusion is not formed by the punishment of the Amalekites but the use made of the booty. Chapter 31 closes, not with the desecration of the corpses, but with the labour of love by the men of Jabesh, who bury the corpses. 2 Samuel 2: after the bloody contest we read of burial and returning home. 3.35ff.: the tragic report of Abner's death and burial is followed by more business-like remarks about David's behaviour. 4.12: at the end we do not have the execution of Ishbaal's murderers but the honorable interment of Ishbosheth's head. 11.27: after Uriah is dead and Bathsheba's period of mourning is over, David takes her to wife. This is also a wicked deed, it is true; but a wedding has a more pacifying effect than a death. 12.24: the death of one child is followed by the birth of the second. 12.3 Ib: it is not the cruel treatment of the Ammonites that forms the conclusion but David's home-coming. 13.22: the section does not end with the dishonouring and discarding of Tamar by Amnon, but goes on to tell of the tension that comes between Amnon and Absalom, which is less disturbing. In 14.33, the climax (David's reconciliation with


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Absalom) does in fact come at the end: 'the king kissed Absalom'; but there is nothing disturbing about this conclusion. 16.14 relates that, after his exhausting flight, David rested: this is a resting-point for the reader too. 17.23 ends not with the death of Ahithophel but with his burial. Similarly, 18.16f.: Absalom's death is followed by a cessation of hostilities and Absalom's funeral. 20.22: after the killing of Sheba there follows an account of the home-coming of the warriors. One need not suppose that in this 'calmative conclusion' the narrator is pursuing a particular intention or that he thought anything of it at all. It simply comes naturally, whereas the conclusions that are popular nowadays aim to whip up the emotions. Relief is further brought about by means of a number of scenes and expressions that produce a comic effect. One is reminded of the fool in Shakespeare. It may well have seemed comical to an Israelite, with his spiritual view of God, that to atone for the dishonoured Ark the Philistines have to give five golden mice (1 Sam. 6.4). According to the additions in w. 4, 5, 11, golden tumours were also part of the donation: images of the tumours associated with the plague, which had formed on the bodies of the afflicted Philistines. A scribe has added this in order to increase the mockery of the Philistines. The comic aspect is taken a step further by the LXX which translates the word for tumours with e8pcci, 'rumps' (the Vulgate, following this, has ani)\ In 12.19 it might almost seem comical that the people, who have been very vigorously clamouring for a king, now suddenly withdraw their demand when at Samuel's request Yahweh sends thunder and rain, and that Samuel, who is having reluctantly to retire, now has to pacify the people himself. It is amusing, how little David takes a few clumsy steps in King Saul's heavy armour and has to take it off (17.39), how Michal dupes her own father in David's escape (19.12ff.), how Saul raves and lies naked before Samuel for a day and a night (20.23f.), how David outwits the stupid Philistines, and how Achish speaks of his entourage: 'Do I lack madmen, that you have brought this fellow to play the madman in my presence?' (21.14ff.), how Saul thinks at last he has caught his prey, when he suddenly has to turn back (23.26ff.), how David cuts a piece

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off Saul's coat while Saul is relieving himself in the cave (24.4f.). Nabal, stupid, miserly and a drunkard, is a really comic figure (ch. 25). David relieves the sleeping Saul of his spear and afterwards before the whole company he ridicules the commander who has kept watch so badly (26.1 Iff.). Goodnatured Achish has the wool pulled over his eyes by David (27.12). One has to smile when one reads how the Ammonite king has the beards of David's envoys half shaved off and their clothes cut off at the hips and sends them home like this (2 Sam. 10.4), how David makes one unsuccessful attempt after another to get Uriah to go into his house in order to wriggle out of the consequences of his adultery (11.6ff.), how Absalom only manages to entice the fox Joab out of his kennel by having his ripe barley set on fire (14.30ff.), how Absalom gives Hushai's babble a hearing (17.5ff.), how the Judaeans and the Israelites almost come to blows over the honour of being permitted to accompany the king home (19.41ff.). The author shows extreme reticence in his judgments. When Eli's sons do not heed their father's warning voice, he explains this by saying that Yahweh has decided to kill them (1 Sam. 2.25). Yahweh is with Samuel: this judgment provides the explanation for the fact that none of his words remains unfulfilled (3.19). When seventy men die in Beth-shemesh, his explanation is that Yahweh is angry with them (6.19: textual emendation; cf. Schulz, I, pp. 108f.). An evil spirit from Yahweh torments Saul: this is the cause of his distractedness (16.14). Saul's fear of David is explained by the statement that Yahweh was with David, whereas he had departed from Saul (18.12). 'David had success in all his undertakings; for Yahweh was with him' (18.14). In 2 Sam. 8.6, 14, the accounts of David's successful wars, it says: 'And Yahweh gave victory to David wherever he went'. The writer's judgment of David's adultery and murder is given in 2 Sam. 11.27. However, it is quite cautiously presented as the judgment of Yahweh: *but the thing that David had done displeased Yahweh'. In 2 Sam. 16.23 he indicates what he thinks of Absalom's dreadful deed in going to his fleeing father's concubines. He abhors it. But he avoids giving his own judgment on it, saying only that Ahithophel's counsel was as valid as a word from God. Since


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Ahithophel had given Absalom this advice (v. 21)—some such reasoning has to be assumed—then he had to carry it out. 2 Sam. 17.14: *Yahweh had ordained to defeat the good counsel of Ahithophel, so that Yahweh might bring evil upon Absalom'. 2 Sam. 23.10, 12: Tahweh wrought a great victory5. In most of the cases cited it is a matter of something extraordinary and unexpected, for which the narrator can find no other explanation than special divine intervention. But in the two remaining passages also, the deity is taken into consideration. On one occasion a terrible deed has evoked Yahweh's displeasure (2 Sam. 11.27); on the other, a heinous misdeed might be explicable if the miscreant was under the mistaken impression that this was the will of God (16.23). It is important for the reader of a narrative to get to know the characters presented, from the inside, to look into their minds. How do we achieve this in the books of Samuel? Spiritual qualities and thoughts are less frequently mentioned or described than signalled externally by means of actions and facial expressions, by speeches by the characters themselves or speeches of others about them, and by means of contrast. Usually we have to infer the inner from the outer, just as after the rape of Tamar Jonadab draws his own conclusions from Absalom's facial expressions (2 Sam. 13.32). Readers are thus forced to work things out for themselves. The thoughts of characters presented are mentioned extremely rarely, as when in 1 Sam. 18.25 Saul thinks to let David fall into the hands of the Philistines. In w. 17b and 2 la the same thought is described as a speech, presumably a monologue. In 27.1 David talks to himself.1 In 25.21, 39 and 27.11, David in any case speaks to those around him, and therefore aloud. On the exceptional occasions when a person's qualities are mentioned, the statement is generally supported by an action.2 In 1 Sam. 1.7 it is not said that Hannah is hurt by the spitefulness of her rival, but that she weeps and does not eat. It does say in v. 10 that she is distressed, but immediately afterwards 1. The same expression does occur in relation to Hannah in 1 Sam. 1.13; but there it is her prayer that she is making silently, while the movement of her lips is visible. 2. Cf. Olrik, 'Epische Gesetze', p. 8: 'Every quality of persons and things must be expressed in actions, or it is nothing'.

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that she sheds tears. In v. 18 the sudden reversal of her mood is indicated by her changed facial expression. Verse 8 tells of Elkanah's kind words to Hannah. We see from this that he loves her. The same follows from his consent to his wife's suggestion in v. 23. 2.12: the sons of Eli are 'sons of malice'. To prove this, the author relates how they sin against Yahweh and the people. 2.20: the blessing that Eli speaks over Hannah proves how pleased he is with Samuel. Chapter 3: the character of the young Samuel is marked by the eagerness with which he three times responds to the supposed call of Eli. Verse 28: Eli's words—It is Yahweh; let him do what seems good to him'—prove his submission to the will of God. 4.5: the joy of the Israelites over the arrival of the Ark is expressed by their loud jubilation. Verse 7 says that the Philistines are afraid; but their fear is soon manifested by their words. Verse 12: the messenger proves his grief by his torn clothing and the soil on his head (similarly, 2 Sam. 1.2). Verse 13 says 'Eli's heart was alarmed'—this alarm is shown in his keeping a look-out. Verse 18 expresses his horror at the loss of the Ark by means of his fall from the chair, and v. 19 expresses his daughter-inlaw's horror by her giving birth prematurely. In ch. 5 the Philistines' anxiety about the Ark is shown in their words. 6.19f.: 'the people mourned'. The grief is expressed in words. Similarly, in 7.8 the Israelites' fear is shown in their words to Samuel. 8.3: it is not said of Samuel's sons that they were unjust, but that they sought their own gain, that they accepted bribes and perverted justice. It is from Saul's behaviour and his words that we learn, in 9.34, that he is keen in his concern for household affairs, that he is well-disposed towards the servants, that he has a great love for his father, and from the answers to his uncle, in 10.14ff. that he is reticent and modest. 11.4: all the people of Gibeah weep in sorrow. According to v. 6, Saul's anger is kindled; but we are immediately told what he does in his anger. 12.18f.: the people are afraid and make a corresponding petition. 15.11: 'And Samuel was angry; and he cried to Yahweh all night'. The anger is expressed in his cries. According to v. 32, 'Agag came trembling before Samuel'. The fear is evident in his bearing. 17.11: 'When Saul and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid'. No external sign is mentioned here. 18.Iff.:


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Jonathan exchanges clothing and armour with David—a sign that he loves him. In v. 5, David's qualities are not described but it is related that he was always successful and popular with the people. According to w. 8f. Saul becomes furious and eyes David enviously—something external. Verses 12f.: Saul becomes angry with David. The anger is expressed in his removing him from his presence. According to v. 15, Saul stands in awe of David, and according to v. 29 he is still more afraid of him—two more cases where no external sign is mentioned. Verse 30 does not say that David is cleverer than Saul's other servants but that he acts more cleverly. 20.30ff.: Saul's anger is expressed in his chidings, and Jonathan's in his rising and eating nothing. 21.13: David fears Achish, and therefore pretends to be mad. 23.3: David's men say that they are filled with fear. 23.15: David is afraid (no external sign!). 24.5: David's heart smites him (similarly 2 Sam. 24.10— something purely internal!). 24.16: Saul weeps with emotion. 25.3: Abigail is outstandingly intelligent, and she gives significant proofs of this intelligence. In v. 13 David gives his men the curt command to make ready for combat—a sign of his indignation. 28.5: at the sight of the Philistine army Saul is afraid, and his heart trembles greatly. (Nothing external mentioned!) In v. 12 the woman of Endor cries out when she sees Samuel. Verse 20: Saul is afraid on account of the words of Samuel. But immediately before this it says that he fell full length on the ground. 30.4: David and his men weep until they can weep no more. 31.4: the armour-bearer's fear is shown in the fact that he does not dare to kill Saul despite his order. 2 Sam. 3.11: Ishbosheth's fear of Abner can be seen in the fact that he cannot answer him a word. 3.16: weeping aloud, Paltiel follows behind Michal, who has been snatched from him. 3.32, 34: the weeping king and the weeping men! We are not told that they are sorrowful but how they express their sorrow. Verse 36 does not list David's outstanding qualities but relates that everything he did pleased the people. 4.1: Ishbosheth's 'hands dropped', and Israel 'trembled' (external signs of fear!). 5.8: because David hates the blind and the lame, he says, 'The blind and the lame shall not enter my house!' 6.9f.: because David is afraid of the Ark, he has it taken to Jerusalem. Verses 16, 21: David's joy before Yahweh is

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expressed in leaping and dancing. 10.2: he reveals his friendly disposition towards the Ammonite king by sending his servants. 12.5: David becomes angry and declares that the 'rich man' described by Nathan deserves to die. Verse 16: in sorrow over his child's sickness he fasts and sleeps on the ground. 13.2: Amnon is lovesick; this expresses itself in illness. Verse 3: Jonadab's cleverness is revealed in his advice. In v. 16 Amnon has taken a dislike to his sister, and immediately throws her out. Verse 19 describes the marks of Tamar's despair. Verse 31: on hearing the news of Amnon's murder, the king tears his clothes and throws himself on the ground. The servants, too, tear their clothes. Verse 37: David mourns for Absalom; according to v. 39a his spirit wastes away (textual emendation)—external signs are not mentioned here. 14.2: Joab has a wise woman come; her wisdom is evident in her speeches. 15.23: the weeping people. Verse 30: the weeping king (similarly, 19.1). 18.5 does not say that David is concerned for Absalom, but his orders on behalf of Absalom are repeated. 21.10 relates what Rizpah does out of motherly love. Among the large number of cases cited there are very few in which there is no external manifestation of an inner emotion. These would seem to be confined to the following passages: 1 Sam. 17.11; 18.15, 29; 23.15; 24.5; 2 Sam. 13.37, 39; 24.10. These passages deal exclusively with the emotions of fear and grief. But fear and grief always appear to be an external matter at the same time. Note such passages as 1 Sam. 4.12; 11.4; 16.4; 28.20; 30.4; 2 Sam. 4.1; 3.31f.; 13.19, 31, 36; 15.23, 30, 32; 19.1.1 The former passages will thus hardly form an exception to the rule, namely that the internal is always characterized by the external.2 1. Similarly in the Epic of Gilgamesh. Cf. the externally perceivable fear of the hunter before Enkidu in 1.95-100. In 9.45f. the face of Gilgamesh darkens with fear and horror. 2. We must also bear in mind that originally these narratives were probably presentedorally, and that this involved the use of the devices still employed by Arab storytellers, according to Schmidt and Kahle, Volkserzahlungen,p. 37: 'Listeningto the tales was facilitated by the vividness of the presentation and by the narrator's hand-movements and facial expressions, which painted every mood'. Anyone who has been with orientals knows 'speaking with the hands'.


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Nevertheless, a certain 'incapacity for the abstract' would seem to prevail here, 'as apparently in all popular narrative art'.1 This incapacity does not, however, prevent the reader from getting to know very well the characters of the persons presented.2 This may be briefly shown from a few examples. Samuel's outstanding quality is his uprightness and concern for justice. This is evident firstly from the contrast with the sons of Eli and his own sons, and then in his becoming judge in Eli's place and performing this office until his death (1 Sam. 7.15). He has the people confirm that he has taken nothing from anyone, accepted no bribes, and cheated no one (12.3-5). Although it is extremely painful for him he announces Saul's rejection to him (15.11, 35). Even after his death he declares to Saul the justice of Yahweh. Saul's most striking quality is his bravery. Cf. the relief of Jabesh (1 Sam. 11); the victorious campaigns against the Philistines (chs. 13; 14); 'Wherever he turned, he had success' (14.47); his concern for a strong army (14.52). His love of fighting even drives him to act against Yahweh's commandment and to sacrifice before Samuel's arrival (13.8ff.). His suicide (31.4) must necessarily, from the point of view of the time, be seen as a sign of courage. Cf. also the praiseworthy record that David accords him in his song about his bravery (2 Sam. 1.2Iff.). David far exceeds Saul in bravery, as it says in the wellknown song, Saul has slain a thousand, David ten thousand (1 Sam. 18.7). He relates to Saul proofs of his courage (17.34ff.). In addition, there is the killing of the giant (17.41ff.), and further, his great successes in the service of Saul (18.14, 27). A list of victorious campaigns is given in 2 Samuel 8. Even in advanced years he wants to participate personally in the fighting: only his warriors' concerns keep him from doing so (18.2f.). The Philistine chief Achish appreciates his military efficiency (1 Sam. 27; 29).

1. Schmidt and Kahle, loc. cit. 2. Cf. Schmidt and Kahle, Volkserzahlungen, p. 39: 'It is not to be wondered at, then, that our narrators know how to draw characters, despite their sticking to the visible'.

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Jonathan's courage is marked by his bold raid (1 Sam. 14.114) and his willingness to die (14.43). The soldiers attribute to him alone the successful outcome of the battle of Michmash (14.45). He dies a hero's death (31.2). His brother Ishbosheth is as much a weakling as Jonathan is courageous. This is evident in his being appointed king by Abner (2 Sam. 2.8f.), in that he dares not answer a word to Abner's effrontery (3.11), in that upon David's demand he immediately lets Michal be taken from her husband (3.15), in that he does nothing against Abner's treacherous intrigues (3.17ff.), and in that he lets himself be murdered without defending himself (4.7). These samples should suffice. We learn everything from very few details. But the characters are by no means always 'simple' ones. Note the contradiction in David's character: he has unprecedented success as a man of war and a politician, but he does not know how to behave in his family, and makes one mistake after another in this domain.1 True enough, nothing is said of an actual character development.2 Samuel is Yahweh's favourite from his youngest days. The sons of Eli are always going to be wicked—from beginning to end. Saul's case is similar to Samuel's. He is popular with the people. Everything turns out well for him. If there are a few odd people who do not like him, they are sons of the 1. We find this already in Genesis, too. Cf. Abraham's weakness towards Sarah (16.6). It will hardly do here, with Gunkel (Genesis, p. xxxviii), to say there is a contrast between the narrative form in Genesis and that in the books of Samuel. 2. 1 Sam. 2.2b might be cited against the correctness of this statement. Once again I must correct what I said before (Schulz, I, p. 46). The passage reads: 'Now the boy Samuel continued to grow in stature and in favour with Yahweh and with men'. For 'with' we have 'im, i.e. something like 'in the eyes of (cf. Ps. 73.22; 1 Chron. 19.6). It is not said that Samuel grows better internally in the same measure as he grows outwardly. In the second part of his statement the author is only repeating what is outwardly noticeable. First the assessment of him by other people: people come to love him more and more. Then the assessment by Yahweh, his favour: Yahweh lets success after success come his way (cf. 3.19; Ps. 1.3). Chapters 1—3 thus describe only the outward part of Samuel's development. We of course draw our own conclusions from this in relation to his inner growth: but the narrator does not describe this.


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devil (10.27). Quite suddenly things change, and that without a trace of any development. As soon as the spirit of Yahweh has left him (1 Sam. 16.14), everything affects him the opposite way. Now nothing goes right for him any more. His affection for David changes overnight ('since that day', 18.9) into dislike and hatred. We can perceive no abating of this hatred: Saul remains constant. (The apparently conciliatory tone of the speeches in 1 Sam. 24.17ff. and 26.21 is not to be taken seriously; cf. Schulz, I, pp. 351, 377.) David, too, from the start succeeds in everything he undertakes. Jonathan is immediately David's friend after having only just met him (18.Iff.). Abigail is on David's side the moment she hears of him (25.18). As for Abner, we are not told how he gradually conceives the idea of treachery towards Ishbosheth, but we are immediately informed of the corresponding actions (2 Sam. 3.7ff.). In Amnon's case, his sinful love for Tamar is immediately presupposed (13.1). This of course has not come about all at once; but we do not learn how it came to this. This love turns instantaneously into hatred (v. 15). Joab immediately assumes an outstanding, imposing position at his first appearance (2 Sam. 2). Already in 3.24f. his great self-reliance is evident, which he maintains to the end of the book. We may observe this same incapacity in respect of the development of the action. There are pointers, it is true—from 1 Sam. 8.5, for example, we learn the reasons that led the people to wish for a king. But for the most part the action starts up quite suddenly. All at once the Ammonite stands before Jabesh (1 Sam. 11.1); all at once Saul goes out against the Philistines (13.2). Then it is the Philistines who suddenly make incursions into Israel (17.1; 28.1). Not a word about shifts in foreign policy! Saul one day is given the task, by Yahweh, of banishing the Amalekites, and he immediately assembles his army (15.Iff.). David attacks the Philistines and kills a hundred men (18.27). He has no trouble winning the confidence of Achish: he is received right away with open arms (17.Iff.). No sooner has he settled in Hebron, than he is anointed king over Judah (2 Sam. 2.4a). Abner's open offer to David (3.12) has naturally been preceded by exploratory enquires, but we hear nothing of these. 15.1-6 does tell us how Absalom courts popularity with the people, but we learn nothing of the actual preparation for

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the revolt. Quite suddenly the news rings out: 'Absalom is king at Hebron' (v. 10), and we are in the middle of the revolt. After Absalom's death, his supporters' attitude has suddenly been reversed (19.10f.). Sheba's revolt breaks out just as suddenly as Absalom's (20.1ff.). 2 Sam. 3.1, where the external development of David's power is hinted at, does little to alter the picture: in general the author is not yet up to tasks of this kind. The economy in the battle descriptions can be explained similarly. In 1 Sam. 4.2, concerning the battle of Ebenezer, it says only that Israel was defeated by the Philistines and that about 4000 men fell. Concerning the second battle we are told the same, with the difference that the loss consists of 30,000 men (v. 10), and with the added comment that they fled, and that the defeat was very great. This is insufficient for us to form a picture of the battle. 7.11 says only that the Israelites went out of Mizpah, pursued the Philistines and smote them as far as below Bethcar. From 11.1 we do learn that the besieged in Jabesh are having a bad time, but not how the siege is going. Verse 11: concerning the battle that Saul takes to the Ammonites, it says only that he divides his army into three companies, invades the camp during the morning watch and smites the Ammonites until the heat of the day, and that all the survivors are scattered. 14.12ff. describes in more detail how Jonathan and the armour-bearer climb up a steep mountain and wipe out the twenty-man-strong Philistine outpost. But this concerns a piece of fighting by two men. In 14.19ff. it looks as though we are going to be given a rather more detailed military account. But in fact we still only have general data concerning a tumult and finally the notice that the Israelites pursue the Philistines. 15.7 only says briefly that Saul defeats the Amalekites. In 17.45ff. we have the detailed description of the single combat between David and the Philistine.1 31.1: con1. As early as the nineteenth century, the Egyptian Sinuhe gives a similar description of his fight with a 'strong man of Netenu' (Palestine). He shoots an arrow at the opponent, who then falls on his face. Then he stabs him with the man's own dagger. Finally, standing on the man's back he raises the victor's shout. Cf. Gressmann, Altorientalische Texte, I, p. 214.


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cerning the battle of Gilboa, we are told only that the Philistines fought with the Israelites, that the Israelites fled and the slain lay on the mountains—that is, only the end result. We learn a little more from w. 2 and 3. But there the information relates to a few persons, Saul and his sons. 2 Sam. 2.17 says of the battle of Gibeon that the fighting was extremely fierce and that Abner and the Israelites were beaten. On the other hand, in w. 18ff. we have more details about the pursuit of Abner by Asahel and the killing of Asahel by Abner. 5.7 does not even give a hint as to the means whereby David took the stronghold of Zion, which, to go by v. 6, must have been extremely strong. 10.13f.: regarding the battle before the walls of Rabbah it is related only that the Aramaeans first flee from the approaching Joab, and that when the Ammonites see this, they too flee from Abishai. The preparations, on the other hand, are described in relatively great detail. The same applies to 11.16f. At the siege of Rabbah Joab sends Uriah to a spot where there are brave defenders. They make a sortie, and stage an attack on the approaching forces during which some men, including Uriah, fall. The fate of an individual is being depicted. We read the colonel-in-chief's letter to David in its original version in 23a, 24a(3: 'The men gained an advantage over us, and came out against us in the field. Some of the king's servants are dead; and your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also.' This, according to v. 18, was 'the whole course of the fighting5. I do not know whether such a report would suffice in the twentieth century AD. 12.29 gives the bare fact that Rabbah was taken by David. From 16.15 it seems as though Absalom enters a Jerusalem stripped of its defenders wthout striking a blow. Of the battle in the forest of Ephraim, 18.7f. says only that Absalom's men were beaten, that it was a great defeat for them, that the fighting was widely spread, and that the forest devoured more than the sword. It is impossible to form a picture from this. Verses 9ff. give a more detailed description of the killing of Absalom; but there again we are dealing with an individual person. 20.15: Joab besieges the insurgent Sheba in Abel Bethmaacah. A mound is constructed and an attempt is made to tear down the city wall. The siege is called off when the besieged throw the head of the ringleader over the wall (v. 22).

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Previously (w. 8ff.) the murder of Amasa by Joab (two people!) has been described in great detail. 21.15-22 gives us no precise data about the four fights with giants either, even though they are instances of single combat. 23.10: one of David's heroes strikes the Philistines for such a long time that his hand sticks to his sword. Verse 12: another successfully defends a lentil field against the Philistines. 23.16 then reports a piece of individual heroism, telling how on one occasion three warriors fight their way through the Philistine camp and fetch water from the well before Bethlehem. If the most that can be attempted is the depiction of single combat, and if on the contrary we really learn nothing at all of the course of a battle, then this must surely be due to a shortcoming in the narrator's abilities. He is not yet capable of taking in all at once, much less recounting, the great array of pieces of action that go on in a battle. In a number of ways we have now pointed out and demonstrated that, despite many imperfections, and despite its great conciseness and brevity, the narrative in the books of Samuel still gives a vivid impression. The various means that enable the author to evoke such effects have also been indicated. In so doing, we have the impression that he takes the devices at his disposal for granted, as if he is using them unconsciously. His artistry must be rated so much the more highly for this. In conclusion we may assemble a few more cases in which vividness and suspense are achieved with limited means. 1 Sam. 1.1-8 describes in a few broad strokes the hustle and bustle of a place of pilgrimage. A man has gone up with his two wives, one with many children, the other childless. We see clearly what the relationship is between the individual members of the family. We see how the priest of the pilgrimage keeps an eye on everything, that he can be tactless on occasion, but that he is concerned, with some success, to be held in esteem by the pilgrims. Everything is documented by facts. 2.11-17 shows the other side of the coin, the disgraceful circumstances at the place of pilgrimage that are brought about by the greed and pleasure-seeking of the priest's sons. 2.19 delightfully relates how at the pilgrimage each year Hannah,


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the mother, brings her son, who serves in the sanctuary, a new robe—obviously because in the meantime he has 'grown out of the old one: a splendid, childlike touch in a brief remark. It is moving to read (14.12-22) how Eli receives the grievous news and how he and his daughter-in-law die as a result of it. We see quite clearly the calamity brought about by the Ark in the land of the Philistines (5.1-12). In chs. 8 and 12 we hear the moaning of an old man who is about to be compelled to give up his position and make way for someone younger. 9.1-14 tells us in a few lines of Saul's good looks, his concern for his father's estate, his kindliness towards the servants and his love for his father. In 9.22-24 we see how a sacrificial meal is held and how the guest of honour is treated there, and in 11.5ff., how the farmer's son, returning from his peaceful work in the fields, is led to perform an outstanding deed. 13.7b-15a depicts Saul's struggle between consideration for the welfare of the state and obedience towards the prophet. He has waited painfully for seven days. At last he performs the sacrifice against Samuel's instructions. No sooner has he begun than Samuel appears. An almost dramatic effect is provoked. How graphically Jonathan's bold coup de main is narrated, in 14.614! In 14.32-34 we observe the wild eating of the ravenous soldiers and Saul's meticulous anxiety over cultic matters. In 14.36-45 we read, almost with bated breath, how the decision of the oracle is a matter of life and death for Jonathan, and how the soldiers save their favourite from the pedantically correct king. The rejection of Saul is vividly and movingly narrated in 15.10-23. The added verses 24-31 have a similar effect. In 17.11, suspense is created: The Israelites have heard the impertinent words of the Philistine and are afraid—what is going to happen? And then David's fight with the giant (17.43ff.)! In 21.14 we see how David successfully 'plays the madman'. At 23.26 we are bound to ask, 'Will Saul manage to seize David?'; at 29.2, 'Will David betray his fatherland?'1 The report of Saul's death given by the messenger in 2 Sam. 1.6-10 is also very vivid. In great suspense, we follow, in 2.18-23, the 1. The suspense remains even when the reader knows from the start that things turned out well in the end. Cf. Drerup, Das Homerproblem, pp. 463f.

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struggle between Abner and Asahel; in 3.3Iff., the report of Abner's funeral; in 4.5-7, the report of the intrusion of the murderers into the house of peace and sleep. 10.1-4 says a great deal in a few words: how the friendly relations between the Israelites and the Ammonites wither away, so that deadly enmity suddenly ensues, how the young Ammonite king takes faulty advice and outrageously insults David's envoys. The Uriah—Bathsheba story (ch. 11) is almost unsurpassable in its exciting scenes and features. The masterfully constructed Nathan narrative (12.1-4) is fit to inflame the anger of any right-thinking person. In 12.15-23 we almost experience the sickness and death of the child, and David's grief. The whole of ch. 13 is extremely graphic. One might single out w. 8ff.— how Tamar prepares her brother something to eat; w. llff.— her touching request; v. 15—the reversal in the mood of the dissolute young man; vv. 30ff.—how the ever-increasing rumour about the murder gets through to David. 15.2-5 gives a splendid depiction of the prince's kindness towards the lowliest of the people. Other masterpieces are the individual encounters David has during his flight (15.19ff.). We witness how the two priests' sons bring news to David in spite of great difficulties (17.17-21), how the two messengers of victory race against each other (18.19ff.). We tremble for the fate of the brave Ahimaaz, who may be his own messenger of death. Could a shorter description have been made than we have in 19.4, of how the conduct of the king influences the morale of the whole army? And just read the murder of Amasa in 20.810! But in 21.10-14 we have proof that love is stronger than hatred, in the moving description of Rizpah's motherly love and David's magnanimity. In actual fact, however, it is superfluous to refer to individual passages: when one allows the whole book to have its effect, one has to admit that masterly hands have been at work on it.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Bantsch, B., David und sein Zeitalter (Leipzig: Quelle & Meyer, 1907). Bruce, J., Reise zur Entdeckung der Quellen des Nils (Leipzig: Weidermann, 1790-91); translation of Travels to Discover the Source of the Nile (5 vols.; Edinburgh: C.G.J. & J. Robinson, 1790). Budde, K., Die Biicher der Richter und Samuel (Giessen: J. Ricker, 1890). —Die Bucher Samuel (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [P. Siebeck], 1902). Drerup, E., Das Homer-problem in der Gegenwart (Wiirzburg: C.J. Becker, 1921). Erbt, W., Die Hebraer. Kanaan im Zeitalter der hebraischen Wanderung und hebraischer Staatenbildungen(Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1906). Erman, A., Die agyptische Religion (2nd edn; Berlin: G. Reimer, 1909). Ewald, H., Geschichte des Volkes Israel (8 vols.; 3rd edn; Gottingen: Dieterich, 1864-68). Gressmann, H., Altorientalische Texte und Bilder zum Alien Testament (2 vols.; 2nd edn; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1926-27). Gressmann, H., and A. Ungnad, Das Gilgamesch-Epos (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1911). Gunkel, H., 'Geschichtsschreibung*, in Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart. —'Kunstform der Sagen der Genesis', in H. Gunkel, Genesis (3rd edn; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1910), pp. xxviiiff. —Das Marchen im Alien Testament (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [P. Siebeck], 1921). Harari, H., Litte'rature et tradition (Paris: E. Leroux, 1919). Hirzel, R., Die Strafe der Steinigung (Leipzig: E.G. Teubner, 1909). Jensen, P., Das Gilgamesch-Epos in der Weltliteratur (2 vols.; Strassburg: K.J. Triibner, 1906-28). Konig, E., Stilistik, Rhetorik, Poetik in bezug auf die biblische Litteratur (Leipzig: Weicher, 1900). Littmann, E., Arabische Beduinen-Erzahlungen (Strassburg: K.J. Triibner, 1908). Massierer, K., Methodik des katholischen Religionsunterrichts (1913). Merz, E., Die Blutrache bei den Israeliten (Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1916). —Die Entstehung des Judentums (Halle: M. Niemeyer, 1896). Meyer, E., Die Israeliten und ihre Nachbarstamme (Halle: M. Niemeyer, 1906). —Geschichte des Altertums (2nd edn; Stuttgart & Berlin: J.G. Cotta, 1907). Meyer, R.M. Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte (Leipzig: Quelle & Meyer, 1910).

Norden, E., Vergils Aeneis im Lichte ihrer Zeit (n.p., 1903). Ottli, S., Geschichte Israels bis auf Alexander den Grossen (2nd edn; Stuttgart: Calwer, 1925).

172


Olrik, A., 'Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung', Zeitschrift fur deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 51 (1909), pp. 1-12. Renan, J.E., Histoire du peuple d'Israel (5 vols.; Paris: Calmann LeVy, 189993). Schmidt, H., Die Geschichtsschreibung im Alien Testament (Tubingen: J.C.B. Mohr [P. Siebeck], 1911). Schmidt, H., & P. Kahle, Volkserzdhlungen aus Palastina (2 vols.; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1918). Schulz, A., Die Backer Samuel (Munster: Aschendorff, 1919-20). Sievers, E., Metrische Studien, II Samuel metrisch herausgegeben von E.S., I. Text (Leipzig: Teubner, 1907). Stunner, F., Die Rhapsodien der Odyssee (Wiirzburg: C.J. Becker, 1921). Thenius, O., and M. Lohr, Die Backer Samuels (3rd edn; Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1898). Wellhausen, J., Israelitische und jiidische Geschichte (3rd edn; Berlin: G. Reimer, 1897). Wendland, P., De fabellis antiquis (Gottingen: Dieterich, 1911). Wildeboer, G., Die Litteratur des Alien Testament (German edn; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1895). Winckler, H., Geschichte Israels in Einzeldarstellungen (2 vols.; Leipzig: E. Pfeiffer, 1895-1900).

INDEXES

INDEX OF BIBLICAL REFERENCES OLD TESTAMENT

38.1

Genesis 3.2 3.3

110 149 3.11 110 4.1 147 4.2 147 147 4.3-5 12-14 86 147 12.3 26 12.15 14.14 151 14.17 151 14.18 151 15.12 126 126 15.17 164 16.6 151 24.3-8 24.37-41 151 90 26.8 151 27.3 27.4 151 27.7 151 31.24 151 151 31.29 31.44ff. 51 112 32 112 33 35.14 51 36.15 116 36.17 116 36.23 116 37.3 73 89, 92, 38

114-18 38.1-5

114

38.2-5 38.2

112, 114, 115 114

92, 93, 114

38.5 38.6-10 38.11 38.12 38.12b30

38.15 38.21 38.23 41.2ff. 41.17ff. 42.37 43.9 43.34 44.32 46.12 Exodus 6.26 6.27 20-23 21.12ff. 21.14 24.4 32.6 32.17-19

Numbers 26.20 115 27.11 37

114, 116 113 113

93, 115

112-18 89, 92

Deuteronomy 19.4ff. 36 23.17 90 23.18 90 27.22 31 Joshua

89 114 151 151 117 117 47 117 115

7.1

7.26 8.29 15.8 15.9-11 15.60 16.2 18.14 18.16

115 45 45 95 96 96 41 96 95

147 147 10 36 55 51 90 90

Judges 4.17-22 5.4-5 5.20 5.24-27 5.24ff. 7. 9- 10 8.26

104 96 96 104 35 94 25

Leviticus 18.9 31 20.17 31, 34

9

66, 97

9. 50 ff. 11.3 12.1

28 24 72

174


1 Samuel 1.14. la 122 1-3 1

1. Iff. 1.1-8 1.2ff. 1.2 1.3

1.4-6 1.4 1.7 1.8 1.9

1.10 1.13 1.17 1.18 1.19-28 1.20 1.21 1.22 1.22-23 1.23

17, 18, 147, 164 123, 141 139, 142 168 147 141, 146 129, 136 146 129 159

137, 148, 160 129 159

129, 159 133

155, 160 142 18 127 127 127

127, 136, 160

1.24

136, 142

2

141 120 164 168 160 142 142 155 168 160 142 158 160 120 142 70

2.1-10 2.2

2.11-17 2.12 2.13 2.14 2.17 2.19 2.20 2.21 2.25 3 3.3 3.8

3.13-14 3.18 3.19 3.28

150, 155 158, 164 160

4. 1- 7. 1 17, 122 151, 155 4.1-11 4.2 4.4 4.5 4.7

166 136 160 160 4.11 155 4.12 129, 160, 162 4. 12ff. 152 4.13 129 , 160 4. 18ff. 155 4.18 129, 160 4.19 160 4.21-22 18 142 , 143, 5 151, 160 5.1-12 169 152 5.3, 4 6.4 145, 157 6.5 157 6.7 148 6.8 148 6.10-11 148 6.11 157 6.13 129 6.18 17 6. 19-20 160 158 6.19 7.1 96 7. 2- 8. 22 19 160 7.8 7.11 166 7.12 51 7.15 163 142 7.16 98, 139, 8 147, 169 141 8.2 8.3 147, 160 8.5 165 8.7-9 150 8.10 150 112 8.11 142 8.13 142 8.14 9-10 18 125 9

9.1-14 9.2 9.3

9.4-10 9.4

9.11-13 9.11 9.12 9.14 9. 15-18a 9.15-17 9.15 9.17 9.18 9.20 9.22-24 9.27 9.34 10.3 10.5 10.8 10.14ff. 10.17ff. 10.17-27 10.23 10.25 10.27 11

11.1 11.4-7 11.4 ll.Sff. 11.6 11.11 12

12.1-25 12.3-5 12.9 12.11 12.18-19 12.19 13

13.2 13.6 13. 7b15a

169 130

133, 139 139 133 139 139 127

127, 128 128 128 120 128 128 142 169 136 160 142 145 145 160 153 19 130 155 165

15, 94, 134, 163 133, 165 166 147

160, 162 169 160

142, 166 137, 169 19 163 142 142

153, 160 157 163 165 145 169

Index of Biblical References 13. 8ff. 13. 8 13. 14 13. 17 13. 22 14 14. 1-14 14. 1-5 14. 4 14. 6-14 14. 6-10 14. 6-7 14. 10 14. 12ff. 14. 12-22 14. 12 14. 19ff. 14. 24 14. 28 14. 29-31 14. 32-35 14. 32-34 14. 32 14. 33 14. 36-45 14. 43 14. 45 14. 47 14. 49 14. 52 15. Iff. 15. 3 15. 7 15. 10-23 15. 11 15. 12 15. 14 15. 18 15. 22-23 15. 24-31 15. 32 15. 33 15. 34 15. 35

16-18 16 16. 1-13 16. Iff.

163 145 16 142 130

147, 163 139, 164 136 17 169 133 94 148 166 169 148 166 148 149 136 125 169 143 17 169

16. 4 16. 6ff. 16. 7 16. 9 16. 12 16. 13 16. 14 16. 15-16 16. 18 16. 19 16. 20 16. 22 17

17-18

17. 1-3 17. 1 17. 4-7 17. 4 17. 5-7 17. 11

164

17. 13 17. 17ff. 17. 17

145, 163

17.23

142 163 165 149 166 169

17. 25 17. 26 17. 27 17. 28f. 17. 30 17. 33ff. 17. 33 17. 34ff. 17. 34-37 17. 37 17. 38-39 17. 39 17. 40 17. 4 Iff. 17. 42 17. 43ff. 17. 45ff. 17. 45-47 17. 45 17. 51

133, 164

160, 163 153 120 149 120

146, 169 160 120 155 163 18 128 18 153

162

17. 55-

143, 151

18.4 18-20

130 32 130 156

158, 165 137 133 133 143 133 147 18

18 18. Iff. 18. 5 18. 6

128, 163 137 133 143 157 145 163 130

19..16 19..17 19.,18ff. 19..20-21 19..23 20.,1-

22 165 130 165 130 93 143

160, 162, 169 143 143 146 150

143, 145 152 150 140

150, 152 153 133

153, 169 166 137 143 156

140 147 143

160, 165 161

120, 143, 145

18. 7 18. 8-9 18. 9 18. 10 18. 12ff. 18. 1213 18. 12 18. 14 18. 15 18. 17 18. 19 18. 20 18. 21 18. 24 18. 25 18. 27 18. 29 18. 30 19 19. 9ff. 19. 9-17 19. 9 19. 11 19.,12ff. 19. 12 19,.14 19..15-

17. 1-

18.5 17. Iff.

175

20.1

21.1 20,.4 20 .6 20 .7

93, 163 161 165 130 147 161 158

158, 163 161, 162 159 133 153 159 150 159

163, 165 161, 162 161 143 18 17 130 133

153, 157 143 134 156 134 137 18 143 152 22 134

116, 149 134

20.12-17 138

176 20.19 20. 23-24 20. 24ff. 20. 24-25 20. 26ff.


143 157 140 143 152 149 20. 29 20. 3 Off. 161 130 20. 33 156 20. 34 20. 35-38 140 20. 40-42 136, 140 143 20. 41 153 21. 2ff. 134 21. 4 21. 6 146 21. 9 131 21. llff. 18 21. 11 120 21. 12 93 21. 13 161 21. 14ff. 157 21. 14 169 22. 1-4 100, 101 22. 6-23 156 22. 6 130 22. 7 47 22. 10 146 22. 13 146 22. 15 100, 101 22. 17 153 22. 30 100, 101 23-24 17, 143, 152 23. 2 149 153, 161 23. 3 149 23. 4 23. 13 156 161, 162 23. 15 27 23. 22 23. 26ff. 157 169 23. 26 23. 28 17, 156 24 147 24,3 131 24. 4-5 158 24. 5 161, 162 24. 7ff. 140 24. 9-15 137

24 .14 24 .16 24 .17ff. 25

25 .3 25 .5-8 25 .5 25 .6-8 25 .9 25 .11 25 .13 25 .14-17 25 .17 25 .18 25 .20 25 .21 25 .24-31 25 .25 25 .29 25 .32-34 25,.35 25 .37 25 .38 25 .39 25 .42 26 26 .6-7 26 .7 26,.llff. 26 .11 26..12 26,.16 26,.17-24 26 .17 26..20 26 .21 26..22 27 27. 1 27.,8 27. 9 27. 10 27. 11

121 130, 161 165 26, 100, 123, 147, 156, 158 131, 146, 161 150 146 137 150 143 134, 136, 161 137 134 143, 165 127 159 137 18 121 138 134 134 146 159 145 17, 147 94, 140 131 158 131 131 131 137 130, 140 121 165 131, 134 100, 101, 147, 163 159 143 145 143 159

27.12 28 28 .1 28 .3 28 .5 28 .6 28,.8 28..9 28,.11 28..12 28,.13 28..15ff. 28,.15 28..20

158 17, 48 165 128 161 143, 149 141 153 136 161 51 140 149 156, 161, 162 28..21-25 156 28,.23 153 29 100, 101, 163 29..2 169 29,.3 149 93, 120 29.5 149 29 .6 153 29..8 121 29. 9 134 29..10 134 29. 11 100, 156 30 30. 1 143 30..3 143 161, 162 30.,4 143 30..12 30. 13 143 143 30.,14 134, 153 30. 15 143 30.,16 31 156 144 31.,lff. 166 31. 1 164, 167 31. 2 167 31. 3 31. 4 153, 161, 163 31. llff. 134 31. 13 145

2 Samuel 1- 8 123

Index of Biblical References

1

22

1.2

129, 144,

1.4

1.6-10 1.12 1.13-16 1. 17ff. 1.19-27 1.21ff.

160 152 169 128 128 93

120, 131 163

2

147, 156,

2.4 2.5

165 165 15

2. 8- 3. 1 2.8-9 2. lOa 2.11 2.13 2.14-16 2.15 2.16

2.16-17 2.17 2. 18 ff. 2.18-23 2.18

2.22 2.23

107, 108 164 107 107 107

107, 108 144

17, 48, 108, 134 107 167 167

107, 169 120, 132, 144 107

108, 131,

3.12-16 3.12 3.13 3.14 3.15 3.16 3. 17ff. 3.17 3.22 3.24-25 3.24 3.25 3.27

108 165 108 108

108, 164 161 164 108 132 165 107 107

93, 120

8.9

156

8.10 8.11 8.12 8.13 8.14 8.16-18

49, 132 108 141 170 132 164 156 167 167 161 144 10 93

6.2 6.3 6.5 6.8

96 141 145

3.8

165 55, 128, 134 121, 146

3.11

108, 161,

6.9-10 6.10

161

126, 132

3

108, 147,

132 148

3.1

146, 166

3. 2ff . 3.2-5

144

3.2-3 3.6-39 3. 7f f .

31

3.7

10, 93, 107, 144

164

163 10 94

94 94 24 24 94 94 94

107, 108

2.24 2.26ff.

8.1-15 8.1-6

8. 7- 12 8.7-10

5. 13ff. 5.13-16 5.13-15 5.17-25 95, 96 5.17-21 17 5.19 96 17, 116 5.20 5.22-25 96 96 5.23 5.24 96 17, 122 6

141

95, 98,

107, 141

4. 2ff . 4.5-7

5.6 5.7 5.8

7.2 8

170 162 161

52, 107,

161, 162

4.12

161 144 148 161 122 122

95, 96

4.1

4.6 4.7

6.16 6.19 6.20 6.21 7-12

8.1 8.2 8.3 8.5 8.6

131

3.30 3.31ff. 3.31-32 3.32, 34 3.33-34 3. 35 ff. 3.39 4.1-12

111

96, 116 93, 153

8.18 8.20 8.23-26

144 97 97

25, 94, 95, 158

94, 158 10, 52, 93, 144 40 93 93

9-1

Kgs 2 9-20

59

9 9.3

140 132 132

9.13 10-12 10

10.112.31 10.111.1 10.1-5 10.1-4 10.1 10.2 10.3 10.4 10.6-14

65, 123

94, 97 95, 97

23-31 23-25 23, 98 170 146

146, 162 135 158 24


178 10.6 10.13-14 10.15-19 10.16 10.19 11

97 167 24 97 24 23, 70, 125, 138, 144, 148, 170

11.1

25, 95, 97, 125 26-29 26, 135 132 39 27 158 103 152 152 27 28 167 138, 167 138 167 152, 167

11.2-27a 11.2-4 11.2 11.3 11.5-13 11.6ff. 11.6-13 11.7ff. 11.13 11.14-25 11.15 11.16-17 11.18 11.19-21 11.23 11.24 11.2627a 28 11.27 29, 156, 158, 159 11.27b12.25 29-31 12 106, 125 12.1-14 102 12.1-4 170 12.1-2 103 12.5 153, 162 12.6 136 12.8 55 12.1 Off. 35 12.10 30 12.11-12 30 12.15-23 30, 170 12.16 162 12.18 44, 145 12.24-25 31 12.24 29, 156

12.25 12.26-31 12.26-27 12.29 12.31 13-20

54 25, 97 95 167 156 60, 66,

13-19 13-15 13-14

107-12 122 65, 73, 108, 111

123

13.114.33 13

31-37 63, 64, 70, 73, 108, 148, 170

13.1-24 140 13.1-22 31-33,

13.25 13.28 13.29 13.30-38 13.30ff. 13.30 13.31-32 13.31 13.32 13.33 13.34ff. 13.34 13.36 13.37 13.38 13.3914.33 13.39 14

14.2

34 162 29, 63, 73, 106, 108, 111, 124, 138, 140, 148 48, 137,

14.3 14.7 14.14 14.15 14.17 14.20 14.21 14.24 14.25ff. 14.25-28 14.25-27 14.25-26 14.25 14.26 14.27 14.28 14.29ff.

151 121 121 36 36, 121 121 64 61, 154 132 132 34, 61 61 59, 62 59, 60 52, 59-63 61 144, 152,

124

13.1-5 13.1

31, 32 65, 73, 124, 132,

13.2 13.3 13.5 13.6-10 13.6 13. 7b15a 13.8ff. 13.1 Iff. 13.11-17 13.11 13.12-13 13.14 13.15

162 162 149 32 149

13.20 13.22 13.23-39 13.23-27 13.23

73 135, 156 124 33 61, 142

165

122 170 170 32, 33 64 154 15 64, 108, 165, 170 13.16 162 13.18-22 33 13.19 64, 144, 162

64, 154 33 33, 135 34 170 64 148 64, 162 159 63 136 33 64, 162 60, 162 60, 144

162

154

14.29-30 111 14. 3 Off. 158 14.30 64, 72, 135

Index of Biblical References 14.33 15ff. 15-20 15.120.22 15-19 15-16 15 15. Iff. 15.1-12 15.1-6

15.1 15.2ff. 15.2-5 15.2 15.3 15.6 15.7

15.9 15.10 15.11 15.1317.29 15.1317a 15.13

64, 79, 124, 156 63 59-88

38-52 108, 125 73 63, 148 63 38-40 70, 73, 165 63, 65, 73 69 170 77 70, 135 70 61, 63, 70, 73, 145 70 111, 166 68, 70, 111 38, 40-44

38, 40 64, 69, 86 15.14 68 15.15ff. 70 70, 78, 15.15 136 15.17-25 93 15.17b23 38, 40, 41 40 15.18 15.19ff. 170 15.19 70, 82 15 15.20 15.21 70, 71 15.23ff. 60 70, 162 15.23

15. 23b29 15. 24ff. 15. 25 15. 27ff. 15. 27 15. 30-37 15. 30 15. 32 15. 34 15. 37-38 15. 37 15. 37b 16-31 16 16. Iff. 16. 1-4 16. 1 16. 2ff. 16. 2 16.A 16. 5ff. 16. 5-14 16. 5-12 16. 5 16. 5b-13 16.,7ff. 16..7 16. 8 16.,9ff. 16.,9 16. 10-12 16..10 16..13-14 16..14 16,.15-19 16 .15 16 ,16ff. 16 .16 16 .17 16 .18-19 16 .19

38, 41 60, 141 41, 70 55 70, 141 38, 41, 42 162 64, 70, 129, 162 135, 150 85 43 126 122 148 47 38, 42 144 70 70, 144 71 47, 53, 56, 70 38, 42 140 126 126 72 120 99, 120 70 70, 71, 121 110 141 85 42, 70, 126, 157 38, 42, 43 111, 126 78 150 150 150 135

179 16. 20ff. 16..20-23 16. 21 16. 22 16. 23 17 17. 1-14 17. 1-3 17. 3 17. 4 17. 5ff. 17. 5-13 17. 6 17. 7-13 17. 8-13 17.,8 17. 10 17. 13 17. 14 17. 15-22 17. 15

17. 16 17.,17ff. 17. 17-21 17..17 17..18ff. 17..21 17..22 17..23-26 17,.23 17 .24 17 .25 17 ,27ff. 17 .27-29 17 .27 17 .29 18

55 38, 43 135, 159 30, 64, 70 61, 158, 159 75 38, 43, 78 138 60, 78 111 158 138 78, 150 72 121 72, 78 72 72, 78 61, 111, 128, 159 38, 43, 44 69, 77, 111, 141, 150 70, 126, 150 55 170 41, 141 154 64, 69, 150 , 151 73, 74, 86 38, 44 61, 73, 74, 157 74, 126 77 53 38, 44 144 64, 144 60, 148


180 18 .1-

19.9a 18 .l-6a 18 .2-3 18 .2 18 .3 18 .4-5 18 .5 18 .6b18 18 .7-8 18 .9ff. 18 .9 18 .10-14 18 .10 18 . 1 Iff. 18 .11 18 .12ff. 18 .12-13 18 .12 18 .14 18 .15 18 .16-17 18 .16 18 .17 18 .18

18 .19ff. 18 .19-32 18 .19-23 18 .19-21 18 .19 18 .20 18 .21 18 .22 18,.24-

19.1

38, 44-46 38, 44 163

142, 144 70, 74, 77 70 64, 150, 162 38, 44, 45 167 167 75 75, 78 75 75 71, 146 60 70 150 75, 135, 144 146 157 111 60, 111 17, 34, 51, 52, 60, 61, 63, 70, 76, 128 170 71 38, 45 70, 141 141 154 68 71

38, 45, 46 18,.24-28 71 18,.25 70 18,,27ff. 78

18,.27 18 .28 18 .29 18 .31-32 18 .32 19 19 ,1 19,,2-9a 19 .2 19 .3 19 .4 19 .5-6 19 .6ff. 19 .6 19 .9-20 19 .9 19 ,9b41 19 ,9b16

19. 9b 19 .lOff. 19 .10-11 19 .10 19 .12b 19 .14 19 .17ff. 19 .17-24 19 .17 19 .20-22 19 .21 19 .22-23 19 .22 19 .24-26 19 .24 19 .25-31 19 .25 19..26 19..27-29 19..28 19. 29 19..30 19..31

135 70 78, 154 70 75, 141 15, 60, 69 64, 72, 162 38, 46 64 70 170 70 50 147 70 111 38, 46-48 38, 46, 47 60 75, 81 166 60 60 48 53, 56 38, 47, 140 78, 109 70 141 141 141 70 132 , 141, 144 38, 47 147 128 70 121 79 70 70, 128

19.,32ff. 19..32-41 19..32-39 19..32-35 19..34-37 19..35-38 19..36 19..39-44 19..4 Iff. 19..42-

53 38, 47 79 70 138 70 64 70 158

20.22

38, 47, 48

19,.42-

20.2

38, 47 75, 77, 81 69, 76, 20 123, 125: 129 81, 166 20..Iff. 20..1 93, 101, 120 101 20,.2 38, 48 20.3-7 20..3b 61 20..4 70 141 20..6 20..7 40, 141 154 , 168 20 ,8ff. 20..8-13 38, 48, 101, 108 20..8-12 76 20..8-10 170 17 20.,8 131 20..9 52, 131, 20..10 141 20..12 108 20..13 101 20. 14-22 38, 48 20..15-16 60 20. 15 167 137 20. 16 20. 19 17 20. 21-22 70 20. 22 76, 157, 167 19..42ff.

Index of Biblical References 20.23-26 10, 52, 93 20.23-25 144

40, 101 20.23 20.28-29 60 21-24 59 21 108, 148 21. Iff. 42 145 21.1 21.2-14 99, 123 154 21.4 136 21.7 142 21.8 135 21.9 21.10-14 170 100, 135, 21.10 162 100

21.14 21.15-22 18, 93, 145, 168 22

23. Iff. 23.1-7 23.8-39 23.8-23 23.8-12 23.8 23.10 23.12 23.13-17 23.13 23.16 23.18-23 23.20 23.24-39 23.24-38 23.24 23.34

120 93 120 93 18

93, 94 145

159, 168 159, 168 93, 94 145 168

93, 94 120 93 10 145 39

24

17, 123

24.3 24.10 24.11 24.12 24.13

154

161, 162 128 128 145

1 Kings 1-2

1.1-

15

2.46 1.1-53 1.1-4 1.5-10 1.5

52-58 53-55 53

53, 54 39, 53, 57

1.8

56, 102

1.11-14 1.15-40 1.23 1.24 1.29 1.34 1.38 1.41-49 1.44 1.45 1.47 1.50-53 2.1-12 2. 10-46 2. 10-25 2.15 2.26-27 2.26 2.28-35 2.31b-

54

33

52

13 14

17, 18

14.21 14.24 14.27 15.2 15.8 15.10 15.12 17-18

18 62 90 39

34, 62

55

18.19 20.40 21.10

40, 102

22

102 53 55 52

22.46 2 Kings 2.19-22 4.8-37 6.24-20 8.1-6 9-11 9-10 11.1-20 12.1-17 16.10-18 17.10 22-23 23.7 23. 7b

17 18 119 18 15 15 11 11 11 51 11 90 91

102 102 110 102

40, 102

55, 56 55, 56 57 56 70 56 52

52 18 23 52 11 25 7.9 7.21 51 9.10-28 10 10.1-13 18 10.11-29 10 11.14-43 22 11.29ff. 18 55 12.8

5.9-14 5.15 5.28 6. 1- 7. 50

12.18

63 63 90 18 17 47 29 28 18 90

54, 55

2.36-46 53, 56 2.44-45 52 53 2.45 147 3.12 3. 16-28 18 3.16-17 106 147 3.23 4.6

181

18

1 Chronicles 2.26 116 2.28 116 144 3. 5f f . 4.22 116 14.4ff. 144 18.16 52 18.17 40 164 19.6 Ezra 2

2.59

115 115


182 Nehemiah 7 115 115 7.61

Psalms 1.3 73.22

164 164

Esther 2.33 5.6 6.1 6.9 6.11 6.13 7.2

Isaiah 5 20.4 28.21

29 24 116

Ezekiel 22.11

31

9 151 9 151 151 147 151

NEW TESTAMENT

Matthew 27.3ff. 74

1 Corinthians 13.1 147 13.4 147

Hosea 2.12 4.13 4.14 9.1

91 90, 92 90, 92 90

Amos 1.1 2.7

10 90

Micah 1.7

INDEX OF AUTHORS

Bantsch, B. 73 Bruce, J. 45 Budde, K. 59, 60, 87, 95, 102

Meyer, E. 26, 71, 86, 87, 97, 112, 115 Meyer, R.M. 2 6

Drerup.E. 127, 137, 169

Niebuhr, C. 70, 87 Norden, E. 145

Erbt,W.70, 81 Ermon, A. 3 0 Ewald, H. 66 Gressmann, H. 9, 30, 151, 166 Gressmann, H. and A. Ungnad 127 Gunkel, H. 28, 119, 120, 129, 139, 164

Ottli, S. 63 Olrik, A. 119, 125, 127, 139, 141, 142, 145, 154, 159 Renan, R.E. 66, 73, 81

Jensen, P. 73, 81, 83

Schmidt, H. and P. Kahle 135, 162, 163 Schulz, A. 119, 121-23, 136, 145, 152, 164 Sievers, E. 6 7, 69, 120 Sturmer, F. 129, 145

Konig, E. 134, 145

Thenius, O. and M. Lohr 59

Littmann, E. 4 5 Luther, B. 71-73, 81, 82

Wellhausen, J. 7 9 Wendland, P. 32 Wildeboer, G. 69 Winckler, H. 76, 83

Hirzel, R. 45

Massierer, K. 133 Merz, E. 3 7

Narrative and Novella in Samuel: Studies by Hugo Gressmann and Other Scholars 1906-1923 (JSOT Supplement)

Joshua 24 as Poetic Narrative (JSOT supplement)

Time and Place in Deuteronomy (JSOT Supplement)

Biblical Hebrew: Studies in Chronology and Typology (JSOT Supplement)

Selves and Identities in Narrative and Discourse (Studies in Narrative)

Second Temple Studies (JSOT Supplement) (v. 2)

No Other Gods: Emergent Monotheism in Israel (JSOT Supplement Series)

Qohelet and His Contradictions (JSOT Supplement Series)

Studies in the Semiotics of Biblical Law (JSOT Supplement)

Implied Law in the Abraham Narrative: A Literary and Theological Analysis (JSOT Supplement Series)

1 Samuel: A Narrative Commentary

Priesthood and Cult in Ancient Israel (JSOT Supplement Series)

Canon and Exegesis: Canonical Praxis and the Sodom Narrative (JSOT Supplement)

Property and Family in Biblical Law (JSOT Supplement Series)

Creation in Jewish and Christian Tradition (JSOT Supplement Series)

Art and Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature (JSOT Supplement)

Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition (JSOT Supplement Series)

Reading Hosea in Achaemenid Yehud (JSOT Supplement)

Images of Empire (JSOT Supplement)

Law and Liminality in the Bible (JSOT Supplement)

The Chronicler in His Age (JSOT supplement)

Retribution and Eschatology in Chronicles (JSOT Supplement Series)

Law and Ideology in Monarchic Israel (JSOT Supplement Series)

The Nathan Narratives (JSOT Supplement)

Shiloh: A Biblical City in Tradition and History (JSOT Supplement)

Understanding the Word (JSOT supplement)

Ay, and Gomorra by Samuel Delany

Beyond Narrative Coherence (Studies in Narrative)

Narrative Art, Political Rhetoric: The Case of Athalia and Joash (JSOT Supplement)

Divine Prerogative and Royal Pretension: Pragmatics, Poetics and Polemics in a Narrative Sequence about David (2 Samuel 5.17-7.29) (JSOT Supplement Series)

David in Love and War: The Pursuit of Power in 2 Samuel 10-12 (JSOT Supplement Series)

Narrative and Novella in Samuel: Studies by Hugo Gressmann and Other Scholars 1906-1923 (JSOT Supplement)

Joshua 24 as Poetic Narrative (JSOT supplement)

Time and Place in Deuteronomy (JSOT Supplement)

Biblical Hebrew: Studies in Chronology and Typology (JSOT Supplement)

Selves and Identities in Narrative and Discourse (Studies in Narrative)

Second Temple Studies (JSOT Supplement) (v. 2)

No Other Gods: Emergent Monotheism in Israel (JSOT Supplement Series)

Qohelet and His Contradictions (JSOT Supplement Series)

Studies in the Semiotics of Biblical Law (JSOT Supplement)

Implied Law in the Abraham Narrative: A Literary and Theological Analysis (JSOT Supplement Series)

1 Samuel: A Narrative Commentary

Priesthood and Cult in Ancient Israel (JSOT Supplement Series)

Canon and Exegesis: Canonical Praxis and the Sodom Narrative (JSOT Supplement)

Property and Family in Biblical Law (JSOT Supplement Series)

Creation in Jewish and Christian Tradition (JSOT Supplement Series)

Art and Meaning: Rhetoric in Biblical Literature (JSOT Supplement)

Jerusalem in Ancient History and Tradition (JSOT Supplement Series)

Reading Hosea in Achaemenid Yehud (JSOT Supplement)

Images of Empire (JSOT Supplement)

Law and Liminality in the Bible (JSOT Supplement)

The Chronicler in His Age (JSOT supplement)

Retribution and Eschatology in Chronicles (JSOT Supplement Series)

Law and Ideology in Monarchic Israel (JSOT Supplement Series)

The Nathan Narratives (JSOT Supplement)

Shiloh: A Biblical City in Tradition and History (JSOT Supplement)

Understanding the Word (JSOT supplement)

Ay, and Gomorra by Samuel Delany

Beyond Narrative Coherence (Studies in Narrative)

Narrative Art, Political Rhetoric: The Case of Athalia and Joash (JSOT Supplement)

Divine Prerogative and Royal Pretension: Pragmatics, Poetics and Polemics in a Narrative Sequence about David (2 Samuel 5.17-7.29) (JSOT Supplement Series)

David in Love and War: The Pursuit of Power in 2 Samuel 10-12 (JSOT Supplement Series)

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