King David with the Wise Woman of Tekoa: The Resonance of Tradition in Parabolic Narrative (JSOT Supplement Series)

JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT SUPPLEMENT SERIES 255 Editors David J.A. Clines Philip R. Davies Executive ...

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JOURNAL FOR THE STUDY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT SUPPLEMENT SERIES

255 Editors David J.A. Clines Philip R. Davies Executive Editor John Jarick Editorial Board Robert P. Carroll, Richard J. Coggins, Alan Cooper, J. Cheryl Exum, John Goldingay, Robert P. Gordon, Norman K. Gottwald, Andrew D.H. Mayes, Carol Meyers, Patrick D. Miller

Sheffield Academic Press

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King David with the Wise Woman of Tekoa The Resonance of Tradition in Parabolic Narrative

Larry L. Lyke

Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 255

••m1? :"1Q1« -ITDV p "DT

n^QDn^ -iin TO -[TO TP nnâi "is^n pn«na ^m nnnm n« «a^2 nmiz? sim For my teachers, Yose ben Yoezer said: Let your house be a gathering place for the sages, Sit in the dust at their feet, Drink in with thirst their words. (m. Ab. 1.4)

Copyright © 1997 Sheffield Academic Press Published by Sheffield Academic Press Ltd Mansion House 19 Kingfield Road Sheffield SI 19AS England

Printed on acid-free paper in Great Britain by Bookcraft Ltd Midsomer Norton, Bath

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 1-85075-826-3

CONTENTS Acknowledgments Abbreviations

7 8

Introduction

11

Chapter 1

'YOUR MAIDSERVANT HAD Two SONS' 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

25

'Your Maidservant Had Two Sons' 'And the Two of Them Struggled in the Field' There Was No One to Separate Them' 'One Struck the Other and Killed Him' Summary

30 71 80 84 84

Chapter 2 'HELP, O KING!' 1. Levirate and the Tekoite 2. Women at Court and the Tekoite 3. 'Save Your Life and the Life of Your Son Solomon!' 4. Summary

90 92 100 119 124

Chapter 3

'LIKE WATER POURED OUT ON THE GROUND' 1. 'Guard This Man!' 2. 'And All the Trees Said to the Thorn Bush, "Come be King Over Us!"' 3. 'You Are the Man!' 4. Joab Sent to Tekoa and Brought From There a Wise Woman

127 130 136 145 158

6

King David with the Wise Woman of Tekoa

Conclusion

186

Bibliography Index of References Index of Authors

194 204 210

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This volume represents a slight revision of my dissertation submitted to the Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations at Harvard University in 1996. It is impossible to acknowledge all of those to whom I am in debt, but I wish in a brief way to have at least a start at it. My dissertation committee was peerless in its encouragement and perspicacity. My association with my advisor Professor Jon Levenson began at the University of Chicago and continued at Harvard. To him I am most deeply indebted for unselfishly teaching his perspective on the rich texture and nuance of the Hebrew Bible. His teaching and guidance I regard as priceless. I also wish to thank Professor Peter Machinist for his careful reading. To Professor Lawrence Sullivan I owe thanks, not only for agreeing to be on the committee, but for his encouragement and clear-headed and broadbased view of my project. I must also thank the editors of Sheffield Academic Press, especially Steve Barganski, for their diligence in making this a better volume. My student, Carolyn Sharp, has also performed editorial tasks that have improved this work. She too has my gratitude. My training for the PhD began at the University of Chicago Divinity School and much of my intellectual growth came under the tutelage of teachers there. I especially wish to thank Professors Arthur Droge, Lynn Poland, Dennis Pardee, and Norman Golb. I am also indebted to my teachers at Harvard and wish to single out Professor James Kugel whose classes and work have had an important influence on the way I understand the Hebrew Bible and its interpretation. Finally, I wish to thank my family, especially my wife Ann Shafer and mother Lucille Lyke (my first and best teacher) who have ceaselessly believed that my pursuit of the PhD was worthwhile, fitting, and proper. Without their support I would, no doubt, have had a much harder time of it.

ABBREVIATIONS

AB AnBib ANET BASOR

Bib BRev BTB BWANT BZ CBQ ComViat DD ETR EvQ ExpTim HAR HR HS HTR HUCA IBS ICC

IDB IDSk Int JAAR JBL JBQ JBR JETS

IPS JQR JSOT JSOTSup Mus NAC

Anchor Bible Analecta biblica J.B. Pritchard (ed.), Ancient Near Eastern Texts Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Biblica Bible Review Biblical Theology Bulletin Beitrage zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament Biblische Zeitschrift Catholic Biblical Quarterly Communio Viatorum Dor le Dor Etudes theologiques et religieuses Evangelical Quarterly Expository Times Hebrew Annual Review History of Religions Hebrew Studies Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual Irish Biblical Studies International Critical Commentary Interpreter's Dictionary of the Bible In die Skriflig Interpretation Journal of the American Academy of Religion Journal of Biblical Literature The Jewish Bible Quarterly Journal of Bible and Religion Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Jewish Publication Society Jewish Quarterly Review Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series Museon New American Commentary

Abbreviations NovT NTS NedTTs OTL Proof QUDCC RA RB RelS ResQ SBLDS SJT SSN SSR ST StMiss TBT ThStud 77 TZ VE VT VTSup ZAW

Novum Testamentum New Testament Studies Nederlands Theologisch Tijdschrift Old Testament Library Prooftexts Quaderni Urbinati Di Cultura Classica Revue d'assyriologie et d'archeologie orientate Revue biblique Religious Studies Restoration Quarterly SBL Dissertation Series Scottish Journal of Theology Studia Semitica Neerlandica Studi Storico Religiosi Studia theologica Studia Missionalia The Bible Today Theologische Studien Trinity Journal Theologische Zeitschrift Vox evangelica Vetus Testamentum Vetus Testamentum, Supplements Zeitschrift fur die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft

9


INTRODUCTION

•prm ^p nn 'roon TT b« pn« j-nm :rnin nma naifr "TO" DIN run '•pcnn -T ^wo The Rabbis say: 'Let the mashal not be lightly esteemed, for it is by means of the mashal that one is able to understand the words of the Torah!' (Cant. R. 1.8)

Immediately on the heels of one of the most compelling tales of palace intrigue in the Hebrew Bible, the story of Amnon's rape of Tamar, comes the narrative of the wise woman of Tekoa in 2 Sam. 14.1-20. The narrative begins with David's son Absalom in self-imposed exile after avenging the rape of his sister Tamar by murdering his halfbrother Amnon. For reasons not altogether clear, Joab, David's military leader, brings the Tekoite woman to Jerusalem and instructs her to tell David a parable, or what I shall call a narrative mashal.1 The woman tells the fabricated story of her two sons, one of whom, while out in a field, murdered the other (v. 6). Now, clan members anxious 1. In the following I shall refer to 2 Sam. 14.1-20 as the Tekoite mashal and shall use 'mashal proper' only in reference to v. 6. By narrative mashal I mean a pithy, fabricated story meant to provide perspective for the purpose of aiding interpretation of events in the narrative in which it is embedded. Narrative meshalim are often ambiguous to the degree that more than one interpretation of both the mashal and its surrounding narrative are possible. No text in the Hebrew Bible is explicitly labeled a 'narrative mashal' and our use stretches the meaning of 'mashal' (i.e. proverb) as it is found therein, but it has the advantage of placing our text within the context of Hebrew biblical idiom and genres and avoids the unseemly importation of New Testament assumptions about 'parables'. For more on this latter point see D. Stern, Parables in Midrash: Narrative and Exegesis in Rabbinic Literature (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991), pp. 9-13 and on the use of narrative meshalim, see B. Gerhardsson, 'The Narrative Meshalim in the Synoptic Gospels: A Comparison with the Narrative Meshalim in the OT', NTS 43.3 (1988), pp. 339-63. On the genre and use of 'mashal' in the Hebrew Bible, see T. Polk, 'Paradigms, Parables, and Meshalim: On Reading the Mashal in Scripture', CBQ 45 (1983), pp. 564-83.

12


for their own vengeance, not to mention inheritance, seek to kill her remaining son (v. 7). David responds by declaring that her murderous son must remain unharmed. Next, following a highly ambiguous dialogue in which the Tekoite apparently seeks to guide his interpretation of her mashal, David brings his estranged son Absalom back to Jerusalem. Apparently, David has interpreted the woman's mashal and her 'instructions' as a lesson that applies to his own circumstances, and has thus decided that the clemency extended to the Tekoite's fratricidal son must be applied to Absalom as well. Yet, other than in the incident of fratricide, the woman's mashal hardly corresponds to the events in David's biography or the Court Narrative of which it is a part.2 This lack of correspondence, combined with the ambiguity of the Tekoite's 'instructions' for interpreting the mashal, and the consistently ambiguous intent(s) and motive(s) of each person in the Tekoite narrative, make it difficult to determine the significance of 2 Sam. 14.1-20 for the larger narrative to which it belongs. Herein, I argue that a clearer understanding of the significance of the Tekoite narrative requires close attention to its verbal, motivic, and thematic particularities. In so doing, I shall demonstrate that the narrative represents, in highly condensed and idiomatic form, a complex accumulation of overlapping biblical topoi, each of which must be interpreted within its present as well as traditionary context.3 Beginning with the mashal proper (v. 6) and then continuing with successively larger narrative contexts, I argue that 2 Sam. 14.1-20 draws the machinations and sibling rivalries of the Davidic court into longstanding traditionary processes that are 2. This narrative includes 2 Sam. 9-20 and 1 Kgs 1 and 2 and was first isolated and identified as the Succession Narrative by L. Rost in The Succession to the Throne of David (trans. M. Rutter and D.M. Gunn; Sheffield: Almond Press, 1982), originally published as Die Uberlieferung von der Thronnachfolge Davids (ed. R. Kittel; BWANT, 42; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1926). The Court Narrative details the machinations of the royal household from shortly after the time that David secures the throne to the time when his son Solomon succeeds him. For an excellent review of the status of opinion on the Court History, see J.S. Ackerman, 'Knowing Good and Evil: A Literary Analysis of the Court History in 2 Samuel 9-20 and 1 Kings 12', JBL 109 (1990), pp. 41-64, esp. 54-60. 3. Scholes and Kellogg define topos as follows: 'insofar as a topos refers to the external world its meaning is a motif; insofar as it refers to the world of disembodied ideas and concepts its meaning is a theme' (The Nature of Narrative [London: Oxford University Press, 1966], p. 27). In the following discussion I shall refer both to topoi and to their constituent elements, motifs and themes.

Introduction

13

invaluable for understanding the mashal itself. Moreover, the mashal presents to David a number of interpretive trajectories by which he might understand his circumstances. Part of the goal herein is to elaborate those interpretive options represented by the mashal. Before detailing how I shall approach the Tekoite's mashal, we must consider how previous scholars have dealt with its disparities with the Court Narrative. Previous work has concentrated especially on the difficulties surrounding the difference between David's circumstances and those in the mashal. Interpretations of these difficulties fall into two camps. The first position assumes that the mashal was written by the author of the Court Narrative. Rost believes that the author of the Court Narrative has 'chosen' a familiar mashal to make his point, or in his words, to convey his 'basic idea'. Rost argues that 'it is not necessary for a [mashal] to be applicable to the actual situation in all its details', in fact 'the [mashal] chosen bears little resemblance to the actual conditions but clings fast to the basic idea, namely the necessity in certain circumstances of stopping a blood feud in order to preserve a line weakened by fratricide'.4 Dealing more directly with the disparity in details, Simon argues that the author wrote the mashal himself and purposely made it inconsistent with the surrounding narrative, reasoning that were the mashal made too obviously parallel to David's biography, he would recognize the ruse intended to force him to render a guilty verdict on himself.5 Rather than credit a single author, the second position holds that the mashal was added by a redactor and views the inconsistencies between the mashal and Court Narrative as the result of his rather inept attempt to integrate the mashal into its new surroundings. Wiirthwein views 2 Sam. 14.2-22 as an insertion meant to shield David and cast blame on Joab for Absalom's return and subsequent usurpation of the throne.6 4. Rost, Succession, pp. 74-75. 5. U. Simon, 'The Poor Man's Ewe-Lamb: An Example of a Juridical Parable', Bib 48.2 (1988), pp. 221-22. Slightly different approaches but essentially similar assumptions about the 'deceptive' quality of the mashal can be found in J. Hoftijzer, 'David and the Tekoite Woman', VT20 (1970), pp. 419-44, and G. Coats, 'Parable, Fable and Anecdote: Storytelling in the Succession Narrative', Int 35 (1981), pp. 368-82. Ackerman ('Knowing Good and Evil') and R. Polzin (David and the Deuteronomist: A Literary Study of the Deuteronomic History [Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1993]), while extending the discussion of the Court Narrative to questions of narrative artistry, presuppose a single author as well. 6. E. Wiirthwein, Die Erzahlung von der Thronfolge Davids—theologische

14


Bickert postulates a 'pre-Deuteronomistic' core of the mashal that he thinks underwent two separate revisions, both of which were intended to improve David's royal image.7 For both scholars the mashal's lack of correspondence with the narrative is to be expected given its independent life prior to becoming part of the Court Narrative. Furthermore, both believe that the mashal has been co-opted by the redactor to suit his own tendentious purpose. The above examples show that work on the inconsistencies between the mashal and David's biography shares in the search for the purpose of its present location and consistently reduces this to the question of the author's or redactor's Tendenz. In such a univocal reading, inconsistencies and textual irregularities are glossed over or ignored. In so doing, previous work has failed to recognize the significance of the verbal, motivic, and thematic particularities of the mashal which, in turn, have numerous parallels with other traditions found in the Hebrew Bible.8 In this volume I argue that the coalescence of the themes and oderpolitische Geschichtsschreibung? (ThStud, 115; Zurich: Theologischer Verlag, 1974), pp. 46-47. 7. R. Bickert, 'Die List Joabs und der Sinneswandel Davids', in J.A. Emerton (ed.), Studies in the Historical Books of the Old Testament (VTSup, 30; Leiden: Brill, 1979), pp. 30-51. 8. More recent trends in the study of the Hebrew Bible pay closer attention to these factors. See, for instance, Polzin, David and the Deuteronomist; J.P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: A Full Interpretation Based on Stylistic and Structural Analysis, I (SSN; Maastricht: Van Gorcum, 1990); J. Rosenberg, King and Kin (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986); M. Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985). A relatively persistent problem with the new types of 'literary' analysis is a concentration on the literary artistry of the Court History at the expense of its meaning. While Rosenberg, Sternberg, and Polzin, each in his own way, correct this trend, none of them treats the mashal of the wise woman of Tekoa in sufficient detail. Among the more attentive readers, one can cite David Gunn as one of the earliest to stress the 'story-telling' quality of the Court Narrative (The Story of King David: Genre and Interpretation [JSOTSup, 6; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1978]). For a thorough discussion of the treatment of the Court Narrative through 1978, see his second chapter, pp. 17-34. Gunn's critique of the problems induced by the presupposition that the Court Narrative is exclusively 'History' or 'Wisdom Literature' hits the mark. Unfortunately, Gunn then makes nearly the same kind of claims for reading the Court History as 'story'. For a sound critique of Gunn's presuppositions, see J. Van Seters, 'Problems in the Literary Analysis of the Court History of David', JSOT 1 (1976), pp. 22-29. For Gunn's response see The Story of King David, pp. 47-49. Their debate turns on the

Introduction

15

motifs in the wise woman's mashal lends to the narrative a dense and polysemous quality that earlier studies have failed adequately to address. In order to establish the value of other traditions in the Hebrew Bible for understanding our text, I first draw on Hebrew Bible folklore research. In his work, Hermann Gunkel, arguably the father of Hebrew Bible folklore studies, while skeptical about the presence of any original folklore, recognized the remnants of folkloric motifs and themes throughout the Hebrew Bible.9 Gunkel's work is significant in that he has shown that the Hebrew Bible topoi have an ongoing history, are encoded over time with a surplus of contexts and meanings, and bring with them their accumulated associations. In other words, narratives like the Tekoite's are a question 'not of the artistry of a single, consciously creative artist... [b]ut for the very reason that many hands have moulded them, these narratives have acquired the imprint of the whole group and have become the common property of the people'.10 This suggests that our mashal and the Tekoite narrative are not so much the product of an author as of a community. The communal nature of the production of our text goes far toward explaining its complex and variegated quality. The task at hand, then, is to develop problem of deciding whether one is working with oral or written tradition in the Court History. The presupposition herein is that the distinction can be pressed too far. Whether or not the traditions of which I speak are written or oral, they clearly have great cultural currency over an extended period of time. Rather than get caught in the trap of identifying the nature of the sources, my interest is in the intertextual clues that help to illumine the meaning of the Tekoite's speech as part of the traditionary literary/oral elements that form the idiomatic expressions of ancient Israel. 9. Although Gunkel fails to identify our mashal as folkloric, it clearly contains three of the motifs that he identifies as having folkloric origins, including the motifs of 'fratricide', the 'sending of a messenger', and 'being judged by one's own judgement'. His failure to identify the Tekoite's mashal is especially noteworthy given his classification of all the other narrative meshalim in the Hebrew Bible as folkloric in origin (The Folktale in the Old Testament [trans. M. Rutter; Sheffield: Almond Press, 1987], pp. 143-45). As Gunn notes (The Story of King David, pp. 40-42) our mashal fits Stith Thompson's motif index J80-99 (Motif-Index of Folk-Literature, IV [Copenhagen: Rosenkilde and Bagger, 1966], pp. 17-18). It is not my purpose herein to map the Tekoite's mashal against an external superstructure of types, but to use comparative data from within the Hebrew Bible. The presupposition is that it is within the idiom common to the tradent(s?) of our mashal that we are most likely to understand its significance for David and the narrative in which it is embedded. 10. Gunkel, Folktale, p. 23.

16

King David with the Wise Woman ofTekoa

a methodological model that can articulate and do justice to the pluriform and polysemous quality of the Tekoite's mashal and narrative. The work of two scholars in particular helps to construct a model capable of illumining the complex nature of the Tekoite narrative. In his work on the problem of ambiguity of the meshalim found in midrash, David Stern suggests that the mashal 'deliberately gives the impression of naming its meaning insufficiently'.11 Stern speaks of the inherent ambiguity of the mashal by asserting that 'the hermeneutical conundrum posed by [the] mashal lies not in deciding upon a univocal reading of [it]' but rather in reading more than one message.12 In other words, the mashal is polysemous, drawing on innumerable associations to resolve the differences between itself and the surrounding narrative.13 In order to resolve these ambiguities, readers must possess what Stern calls 'communal hermeneutical competence'.14 This type of competence must come from familiarity with traditional stories and their versions as well as various adaptations of familiar motifs. So, for Stern the ambiguity surrounding a mashal is intentional, the product of an individual who forces upon his audience the 'hermeneutical conundrum' of polysemy. Moreover, it is only in the reception of a mashal that Stern invokes the notion of community. In contrast, by emphasizing the traditional, communal, and ongoing nature of the production of our mashal, I view the ambiguity therein to be of diffuse origin and essentially irresoluble. Mikhail Bakhtin's work provides the means to extend the implications of Stern's discussion of the mashal from its reception to its production. While Bakhtin's theoretical work in The Dialogical Imagination is directed at understanding the novel, it has much to add, mutatis mutandis, to our understanding of biblical narrative. Bakhtin complains that most critical investigation of narrative concerns ' "private craftsmanship" and ignores the social life of discourse... [the discourse] of social groups, generations and epochs'.15 Furthermore, Bakhtin argues that the novel 11. Stern, Parables, p. 15. If Stern is correct in arguing that it is the nature of the mashal to be ambiguous, then the difficulty with the consistency of our mashal is not fundamentally a question of authorial vs. redactional intent. 12. Parables, p. 61. 13. Parables, pp. 74-77. 14. Parables, p. 205. 15. M.M. Bakhtin, The Dialogical Imagination (trans. C. Emerson and M. Holquist; Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981), p. 259.

Introduction

17

orchestrates all its themes, the totality of the world of objects and ideas depicted and expressed in it, by means of the social diversity of speech types. .. and by the differing individual voices that flourish under such conditions. Authorial speech, the speeches of narrators, inserted genres, the speech of characters are merely those fundamental compositional unities with whose help heteroglossia. .. can enter the novel; each of them permits a multiplicity of social voices and a wide variety of their links and interrelationships (always more or less dialogized). These distinctive links and interrelationships between utterances and languages, this movement of the theme through different languages and speech types, its dispersion into the rivulets and droplets of social heteroglossia, its dialogization— this is the basic distinguishing feature of the stylistics of the novel.16

By invoking Bakhtin, I am not proposing that one ought to read the Hebrew Bible as a novel; for those familiar with Hebrew Bible narrative, however, his description seems quite familiar. Especially significant for our purposes is Bakhtin's notion of the inter-relationships and dialogue between various aspects of a composite narrative, which he terms dialogization. This model suggests that interpreting the Tekoite's mashal and narrative necessitates not only considering them in their immediate context but also in relation to manifestations of their constituent elements found elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible. It is the intertextual associations with other parts of the Hebrew Bible that form the lens with which we view the mashal of the wise woman of Tekoa. It is, therefore, important to locate the method employed in the following in the context of the discussion of intertextuality.17 This 16. Dialogical Imagination, p. 263. By the use of the term 'heteroglossia' Bakhtin refers to the divergent perspectives brought into a narrative by including different genres, motifs, speakers etc. 17. T.N.D. Mettinger provides an excellent summary of the discussion in 'Intertextuality: Allusion and Vertical Context Systems in Some Job Passages', in H.A. McKay and D.J.A. Clines (eds.), Of Prophets' Visions and the Wisdom of Sages (JSOTSup, 162; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993), pp. 257-80. Mettinger provides a very useful bibliography as well. For a discussion of intertextuality that touches on the function of our mashal see D. Boyarin, Intertextuality and the Reading ofMidrash (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990). Stuart Lasine has taken on the difficulty posed by intertextuality in 'The Ups and Downs of Monarchical Justice: Solomon and Jehoram in an Intertextual World', JSOT 59 (1993), pp. 3753. See also A. Berlin, 'Literary Exegesis of Biblical Narrative: Between Poetics and Hermeneutics', in J.P. Rosenblatt and J.C. Sitterson (eds.), Not in Heaven: Coherence and Complexity in Biblical Narrative (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991), pp. 120-28. Lasine and Berlin depend too heavily on notions of

18


discussion consistently revolves around the question of purposeful allusion vs. common origins in broadly available and well-known culturally idiomatic formulations. In other words, are the associations between texts intentional or merely the result of employing familiar literary forms such as motifs, genres and so on? Unfortunately, like the modern literature from which the discussion of intertextuality arose, the Hebrew Bible does not permit easy answers to such questions. Because I presume the authors of our texts to have been relatively immersed in idioms of their culture, the notions of dependence, priority, and borrowing must be carefully nuanced. In the following, I refer to the phenomenon of intertextuality, when it seems to be the product of simple common origins in the literary conventions of ancient Israel, as resonance or reverberation.1* This kind of resonance is important because, even though it does not represent a purposeful allusion to another text, we can use it to compare and contrast stories or episodes in order to clarify how they use their elements (vocabulary, topoi, genres). In turn, we can use the other stories/episodes, and their own peculiar constellation of elements, to triangulate on the significance of all of the stories/episodes. In employing such a method, the relative dating of various episodes is of little concern, the assumption herein being that they would have had currency over an extended period. Even when we deal with material that is clearly later than our mashal, its resonance with the mashal is of considerable value in clarifying the issues at stake in the type of story of which they are a part.19 In order to imply a stronger association between two traditions I use the word allusion. By allusion I do not necessarily imply the direct borrowing of one source from another, but that one text purposely alludes to a tradition very closely related to the other for the purpose of deepening and enriching its own message. In the following, I presume the value of the resonance between texts without implying a genetic relationship unless otherwise specified. The central goal of the following is to understand how the Tekoite's mashal's resonance with, priority, which are increasingly difficult to establish, and on the self-consciousness of the authors when depending on another tradition. Herein, I presume that most resonances within the Hebrew Bible must be understood in rather looser relationships. 18. By literary I mean both written and oral traditionary conventions. 19. This is particularly true with a text like Ruth that is almost universally considered later than the material in the Court History.

Introduction

19

and, less frequently, allusions to, other parts of the Hebrew Bible illumine David's situation. This brings us to a final problem that requires constant attention and nuancing. On the one hand, the Tekoite's mashal represents a message to David, put in the mouth of the Tekoite by Joab but ultimately by the narrator. Simultaneously, the mashal is intended for the audience of the narrative of which it is a part. It is not always clear how the narrator understands David's cultural competence in deciphering the resonance and allusion of the mashal to be different from that of the audience. In the following, I presume that the narrator requires the same degree of competence on the part of his audience as he does of David unless indicated otherwise. This work represents a self-conscious attempt to juxtapose postmodern reading sensibilities, and their emphasis on multiple readings, with the historical realities that produced the texts with which we shall deal. In particular, I suggest that the multiple readings brought to the fore by such an approach are, in large part, the analogue in the reception of the text to the diffuse origins of the text in its production. The 'social life of discourse; of social groups, generations and epochs' is a convenient way to describe the broadly social ways in which our mashal finally came to rest in its present location. As a result of this traditionary process, the mashal has innumerable lexical and motivic links with other texts in the Hebrew Bible. These various traditionary threads coalesce in the mashal in such a way that they bring to it, and the narrative in which it is embedded, echoes of their individual traditionary processes. The multiple readings of the mashal that we discuss below should be seen, at least in part, as the response to the diverse 'voices' that find expression in the numerous idioms of ancient Israel contained in the mashal. A corollary to the realization that the mashal is the result of a communal process is making problematic the notion that it, like most texts in the Hebrew Bible, has been crafted by the will of single authors or redactors. Taking seriously the multiple readings of our mashal suggests that the coalescence of meaning(s) in the text took place over generations and is, more often than not, a result of the dialogue between elements placed in the texts by several separate hands. On this understanding, meaning takes on an added dimension, one of time— the time during which the biblical culture strove to articulate its understanding of its history and relationship to its God. Furthermore, this

20


understanding helps to explain why our mashal is so polysemous. In order better to understand the notion of the multiple layers of meaning embedded in our mashal, it is useful to consider the work of Bernard Levinson.20 Levinson has taken Meir Sternberg to task for seeking univocal interpretations.21 The univocal interpretations, writes Levinson, stem from Sternberg's insistence on maintaining the notion of an omniscient narrator. According to Levinson, Steinberg's ignoring of the historical origins of repetition in the biblical text and his 'use of the synchronic method, poetics as a systematization of narrative rules, tends to underemphasize the extent to which the text's own claims of authority reflect an ongoing process of redactional reformulation'.22 My analysis herein shares with Levinson's critique of Sternberg the emphasis on the historical processes that produce the text in conversation with the reading of it. In Levinson's words, 'exegesis is part of the very literary—hermeneutical—dynamic that produces the text. The text itself is a product of what it engenders; its modern readers respond in kind to, and thereby sustain, the interpretive activity that gave it birth.'23 In emphasizing the multivocal and polysemous quality of the text, it becomes clear that a more nuanced understanding of the mashal is required than either standard historical-critical approaches or contemporary 'literary' approaches have displayed. In contrast to both the historical-critical and the 'literary' treatments considered above, I emphasize the ambiguity that results from the multiple voices that comprise the mashal. In contrast to most contemporary 'literary' treatments, I also take seriously the historical dynamic involved in the coalescence and the production of the mashal as well as in its placement in its current context. In the end, it will emerge that the multiple narrative threads that comprise the Tekoite's mashal present so many possible messages and interpretive options that not all of them are likely intended by any single author or redactor. The 'echoes' of the traditionary process are, at times, louder than the most recent tradent's voice. That not all these 20. B. Levinson, The Right Chorale: From the Poetics to the Hermeneutics of the Hebrew Bible', in Rosenblatt and Sitterson (eds.), Not in Heaven, pp. 129-53. 21. See Sternberg, Poetics. The same complaint can be directed at most of the other contemporary treatments of the mashal as well. 22. 'Chorale', p. 153. 23. 'Chorale', p. 141.

Introduction

21

messages were intended does not mean that they were unavailable to David: only that he, of necessity, passed over some of them. It is our task to consider the Tekoite's mashal in light of its rich, varied, and deep immersion in the idiom of ancient Israel. Following is a full translation of the Tekoite's mashal in 2 Sam. 14.1-20 along with notes addressing the major difficulties in translating and understanding it.24 !

Joab son of Zeruyah knew that the king's heart was on (Û) Absalom;25 so Joab sent to Tekoa and brought from there a wise woman.26 He said to her, 'Act as if you are in mourning (Kr^DNnn), put on mourning clothes (^DtTHn) and don't anoint yourself with oil. Act like a woman who, for many days, has been mourning (Pl'PDNnQ) the dead. 3Go to the king and speak to him like this (HTH ~CTD).'27 And Joab put the words in 2

24. Note that this same translation and notes appear in ch. 3. 25. The preposition 'on' (*?!?) is difficult here. It is not clear whether it means worrying about or angry at. On this see especially Polzin, David and the Deuteronomist, pp. 139-40. 26. The question of the label riDDf! ntEN and its significance is aptly addressed by Joel Rosenberg (King and Kin, p. 189) when he states, 'Much has been said about the "wisdom" influence in the court history, and I will not attempt here to assess this question in detail. My views on the matter can be summarized by the simple observation that products of a literate culture—indeed, efforts to sustain an oral or written culture together—are, by definition, "wisdom". To look for a "wisdom" genre, or for hallmarks of a "wisdom" style, is simply to add to the fund of fruitless abstractions of which—if I may be indulged this momentary fit of cantankerousness—PhD dissertations and publish-or-perish articles are made'. George Nicol has made the case that if Joab put all the words in the Tekoite's mouth she can hardly be considered the wise one; Nicol credits Joab with all the 'wisdom' displayed in this episode (The Wisdom of Joab and the Wise Woman of Tekoa', ST 36 [1982], pp. 97-104). Claudia Camp (The Wise Women of 2 Samuel: A Role Model for Women in Early Israel?', CBQ 43 [1981], pp. 14-29) argues that the wise women of 2 Samuel (including 2 Sam. 20) have a regularized institutional function in ancient Israel. This claim is difficult to sustain given the meager evidence in the two passages with which she deals. We more likely have in these women a familiar type. Whether they are restricted to merely 'literary' types or, perhaps, appeared on the historical scene now and again is impossible to tell. On the larger question of women in the wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible, see, by the same author, The Female Sage in Ancient Israel and in the Biblical Wisdom Literature', in J.G. Gammie and L.G. Perdue (eds.), The Sage in Israel and the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1990), pp. 185-203. 27. The difficulty of reported speech is treated in G.W. Savran, Telling and

22

King David with the Wise Woman of Tekoa her mouth. 4The Tekoite woman said to the king 2 8 ... she fell to the ground face down and bowed and then said 'Help, O king.' 5The king said to her, 'What bothers you?', to which she replied 'truly (^38), I am a widow and my husband is dead. 6Your maidservant had two sons and the two of them struggled in the field. There was no one to separate them and one struck the other and killed him. 7Now the whole family has arisen against your maidservant and said, "Hand over the one who struck (HDD) his brother so that we may kill him for his brother's life (TTTK 27DD3) that he took Cnn) and so that we might also destroy the heir." They would extinguish my ember that remains in order to (Tta'7) leave my husband without name or remnant on the face of the earth.'29 8The king said to the woman, 'Go home and I will give a command concerning you.' 9The Tekoite woman said to the king, 'Upon me, O king, is the guilt (]1U), and upon the house of my father; the king and his throne are innocent.' 10The king said, 'Let anyone who speaks to you be brought to me and he will not so much as touch you again.' HShe replied, 'Please be mindful, O King, of Yhwh your God who prevents those who would excessively avenge blood by destroying and let them not destroy my son.'30 The king replied, 'As Yhwh lives, not one of your son's hairs will fall to the earth'. 12 The woman said, 'May your maidservant speak to my lord the king of one more matter?' He said, 'Speak!' 13The woman said, 'Why have you made plans like this with regard to the people of God? In speaking of this matter the king is guilty, in that the king has not returned his banished.31 14 For truly we all must die and are like water poured out on the ground which cannot be gathered. God will not take life, but will make plans in

Retelling: Quotation in Biblical Narrative (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988). 28. Many versions (LXX, Syr, Vg, TgMSS, MTMSS) have 'The Tekoite woman went to the king'. On accepting the MT see below Ch. 2 §2.d. See also Radaq who thinks the first "iQKm is addressed to the gatekeepers. On his reading, she speaks to them in order to gain an audience with the king. 29. This verse admits of no easy translation. Another possibility for translating "•Br^TTE? Tta1? is 'With the result that my husband be left without. .. '. In the present context the translation above (in the main text) seems closest to what the woman must mean. 30. This verse is very difficult as well. On TI^D1? see previous note. The other major difficulty reads as follows: rTO1? Din "783 rfTinQ, which is translated above, '. .. who prevents those who would excessively avenge blood by destroying. .. '. For other options see P.K. McCarter, I and II Samuel: A New Translation with Introduction, Notes and Commentary (AB; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1984), pp. 338-39. 31. This is among the most difficult verses of the mashal. The Hebrew, which can be translated in a number of ways (discussed gjkjuk.below Ch. 3 §4.c), reads: "f^Qi!

ytfjuyhgftrggtjuh..7nhyuljlvjsflvfjnjlnmljj;kk

Introduction

23

order that the banished one shall not remain banished from him.32 15Now, the reason I have come to speak to the king, my lord, of this matter is that the people frighten me. Your maidservant said to herself, "Let me speak to the king; perhaps the king will do this thing for his handmaid!" 16For the king would listen to a plea to save his handmaid from the hand of the one who would remove me and my son, together, from the heritage of God. 17 And your maidservant said, "Let my lord the king's word provide respite, for my lord the king is like one of God's angels hearing the good and the bad." May Yhwh your God be with you.'33 18The king answered and said to the woman, 'Do not hide anything from me that I am about to ask you!' The woman said, 'Speak, my lord, king!' 19The king said, 'Is the hand of Joab with you in all this?' The woman answered, 'As you live, my lord, O king, nothing diverges to the right or left of what you have said, for your servant, Joab, did order me and placed in your maidservant's mouth all these words. 20It was in order to conceal the matter that your servant Joab did this thing. My lord is as wise as the wisdom of God's angels to know all that is (happening) in the land.'34

32. Especially ambiguous here is the last sentence, Dttfm 2JS] DTT^N Ntfr'tf'?! n~I] 13QQ FIT Tl^D1? ITQtonQ. For discussion of options for translation see below Ch. 3 §4.c. 33. On the possible dislocation of vv. 15-17 see discussion below Ch. 3 §4.c. 34. On the role of David's 'wisdom' see Ackerman ('Knowing Good and Evil', pp. 41-60) who argues that the Court History can be understood as a persistent test of David's knowledge and ability to interpret current events. To some degree, my analysis agrees with Ackerman's, although I am more interested in the specific cultural competence required of David to understand the Tekoite's mashal. Moreover, as will become clear below, I am more skeptical than Ackerman about David's wisdom as depicted by the narrator.


Chapter 1 'YOUR MAIDSERVANT HAD Two SONS' At the heart of the mashal of the wise woman of Tekoa is v. 6. Here, in a single statement, the Tekoite concisely sums up her situation:

•in«rm« Trwr im nrrra "rsa -pro mfen Dmo tan ma *JD •jmsBfri :in» rm 'Your maidservant had two sons and the two of them struggled in the field. There was no one to separate them and one struck the other and killed him.'

The question, of course, for David as well as the reader, is how this statement illumines David's current situation. Clearly enough, David has lost one son to fratricide, as has the Tekoite, but he has many more sons.1 Further, the woman says nothing about what led to her sons' altercation. Again, in contrast to the Tekoite's sons, Amnon and Absalom hardly came to blows in a field. Moreover, Absalom turned his henchmen on Amnon rather than kill him himself.2 Furthermore, it seems that there were others present who might have prevented Amnon's murder.3 What is one to make of the rough correspondence between the Tekoite's story and David's biography? What is this single verse at the heart of the mashal supposed to imply? One way to begin to understand the significance of the mashal is to pay serious attention to another text with which it has considerable resonance. Gen. 4.8 reads as follows: 1. See for example 2 Sam. 3.2-5 where we learn of the following born in Hebron: Amnon, Chileab, Absalom, Adonijah, Shephatiah, Ithream. In Jerusalem were born Shammua, Shobab, Nathan, Solomon, Ibahar, Nepheg, Japhia, Elishama, Eliada, and Eliphet. Note that these lists display some disagreement with the lists in 1 Chron. 3.1-8 and 1 Chron. 14.4-7. 2. 2 Sam. 13.23-29 tells of the sheep-shearing at Baal-hazor where Absalom orders his men to wait until Amnon is drunk and then strike him down. 3. 2 Sam. 13.27 relates that all the princes of David's household were present.

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nnrim TTN nrr

fp np'i mfen onrm vn. . . vn«OT-TK]p -on

Cain said to Abel. . . And when they were in the field Cain rose up against his brother and killed him.

While the vocabulary and specific circumstances are different, the similarities between Gen. 4.8 and 2 Sam. 14.6 are remarkable. In each, two sons come to blows in a field and one kills the other. But the similarities between 2 Sam. 14.6, at the heart of our mashal, and Gen. 4.8 are merely part of a more general correspondence between the narratives of which they are a part. In particular, 2 Sam. 14.1-20 has a number of analogues with the Cain and Abel episode.4 In each, one 4. The similarity between 2 Sam. 14 and the Cain and Abel episode has been noted, but its significance remains unaddressed. Joseph Blenkinsopp has pointed to a number of verbal similarities in Theme and Motif in the Succession History', in G.W. Anderson et al. (eds.), Volume du Congres Geneve (VTSup, 15; Leiden: Brill, 1966), p. 51, and in 'Jonathan's Sacrilege', CBQ 26 (1964), p. 449. See also Gunn, The Story of King David, p. 43. The similarities between the two accounts are as follows. In the account of Cain's murder of Abel the word 'ground' (HOIK) is repeated four times. The first occurrence of HOIK comes in Gen. 4.10 where God tells Cain that Abel's blood cries out from ground. The second comes in v. 11 where God tells Cain, 'You are more cursed than the ground'. In v. 12 God tells Cain that his punishment will be associated with his crime when he says, 'You will tend ground without benefit'. Finally, in the fourth occurrence of HOIK, Cain says, 'You have chased me from the face of the earth' (HOT^n ^D ^S3ti). Notably, in v. 7 the Tekoite says that her family would leave her husband without name or remnant on the face of the earth (HQl^n ""DD"^). Like Cain, the Tekoite wants to preserve the only remaining heir and his connection to land and life. On first reading, Cain's plea for clemency seems more self-interested, but in Israelite society, were her story true, the Tekoite would be seeking her own well-being as much as her son's (cf. Bathsheba and 1 Kgs 1). That the Tekoite' s mashal and Gen. 4 contain the same phrase (HQlKn "DS *?!?) hardly signals a strong association between the two. In light of a number of other similarities between the two narratives, however, this phrase is important. The second important association between Gen. 4 and the Tekoite 's mashal can be seen when Cain, in Gen. 4.13, says 'my guilt (or punishment) is too great to bear (N2?]Q ''DU 'TTD)'. The key word here is 11U which can legitimately be translated either as guilt or punishment. The same word is used by Tekoite in v. 9 where she says that the guilt/punishment will fall on her house and not on the king (on other interpretations of v. 9 see below, Chapter 3). In both cases, the word describes what seems to be the appropriate result of fratricide. Moreover, if we are to understand Cain to be asking for forgiveness, then both acknowledge wrongdoing and are rewarded with clemency. The third and final connection between the mashal and the Cain and Abel episode

1. 'Your Maidservant Had Two Sons'

27

brother kills another in the field and is granted clemency after his case is pleaded before the authority. The analogues between these larger narrative segments are taken up in detail in Chapters 2 and 3 below; the focus of this chapter is on the value of Gen. 4.8 alone, with the goal of illumining how the Tekoite's brief statement in v. 6 is meant to inform David. For two reasons Gen. 4.8 provides a unique opportunity for understanding the Tekoite's speech. On the one hand, it represents a similarly condensed formulation of the key elements of 2 Sam. 14.6. These elements are represented by the four main clauses of the latter: 1) 2) 3) 4)

'Your maidservant had two sons and the two of them struggled in the field. There was no one to separate them one struck the other and killed him.'

comes in 2 Sam. 14.10 where the Tekoite associates David's clemency and prevention of excessive vengeance with God's. This appeal may well represent a reference to Gen. 4.15 where God promises that any who would seek vengeance against Cain will pay excessively (sevenfold). Significantly, in each case special pleading saves the life of Cain and the Tekoite's son, both of whom are guilty of fratricide. Each of the preceding similarities taken separately makes for a weak connection between the Tekoite's mashal and Genesis 4, but taken together and especially with the associations outlined in the rest of this chapter between 2 Sam. 14.6 and Gen. 4.8, these associations take on added significance. All this suggests that the mashal purposely alludes to the events contained in the Cain and Abel traditions. Furthermore, as we will see below in Chapter 3, the associations between 2 Sam. 14.14 and Genesis 4 reinforce the notion that our mashal 'alludes' to the Cain and Abel tradition(s). Others have noted the associations of the Court History with Genesis. Joel Rosenberg argues that the role of Jonadab in the Court History (ch. 13) is patterned after the role of the serpent in Genesis 3 (King and Kin, pp. 141-42 and pp. 189210). McCarter, like Blenkinsopp and Gunn, acknowledges the broader similarities and says 'we cannot be sure that this old story was in the mind of the author of the story of Absalom's rebellion, but the correspondences are striking' (II Samuel, p. 351). The days in which a consensus that Genesis might be known by the Court Historian (tenth century) or even the Deuteronomistic Historian (c. seventh-sixth century) are long gone. For our purposes, McCarter's suggestion that Gen. 4 might be known by the author of the Tekoite's mashal simply reinforces the realization that they have considerable resonance. While the dating and sequence of the texts involved is becoming less sure, most would still accept that J is responsible for the material in Gen. 4.1-16.

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Indeed, these four elements have an integral part in each of the episodes of sibling rivalry that comprise Genesis.5 This brings us to the other important way that Gen. 4.8 helps to illumine 2 Sam. 14.6.6 Genesis 4 can be understood as an introduction to the book of Genesis viewed as a case-study in sibling rivalry. For example, each of the major episodes in Genesis, including those of Isaac/Ishmael, Jacob/Esau, and Joseph and his brothers, revolves around the tensions between sons or their parents. Moreover, as will become clear in the following discussion, most of the issues at stake in these episodes are first introduced by the narrative of the struggle between Cain and Abel. Gen. 4.8 can, therefore, be used as a lens by which to view the episodes of sibling rivalry in Genesis. In the following, the four clauses listed above provide the structure and focus of my investigation of Genesis. For each clause of the Tekoite's speech, I first consider the corresponding element in Gen. 4.8 with the purpose of revealing its significance in the Cain and Abel episode. I shall then turn to each successive episode of sibling rivalry in Genesis to expose the significance of each of the four elements therein. The goal of this chapter is to use Gen. 4.8 as a guide to understanding the Cain and Abel episode, as well as the other episodes of sibling rivalry in Genesis, with the intention of determining the significance of the topos of sibling rivalry. In particular, I seek to reveal how the sibling rivalry topos informs the way in which the Tekoite's speech illumines David's circumstances. At the outset it is important to note that the four elements that focus my discussion are not entirely separable. While they represent discrete phrases in 2 Sam. 14.6 and Gen. 4.8, in many of the episodes they are so intertwined they must be considered simultaneously. To the degree it is possible, however, discussion will center on each element separately. Finally, in defining the cultural competence required of the mashal's tradent(s) and the 'literary' competence of its audience (including David!), the history of early Jewish interpretation is invaluable.7 5. It should be noted, however, that the elements come in various combinations, permutations, and degrees. 6. As will become clear in the course of discussion, the consistent associations between Gen. 4 and our mashal suggest that they are genetically related. As for the remainder of the episodes of sibling rivalry in Genesis, it seems we should simply view their association with the mashal as part of the larger topos of sibling rivalry. 7. I use the word 'tradent' to avoid 'composer(s)' and the presumption that one's familiarity with this type of material is only textual. Meshalim, in particular, are likely to have been familiar via the spoken word as much if not more than through the


29

Because the early interpreters were immersed in the Hebrew idiom and spent the better part of their lives studying the Hebrew Bible, they are peerless as careful readers of the text. Making the early Jewish material even more valuable is the interpreters' particular penchant for being attentive to the intertextual and literary resonances throughout their Bible. Moreover, they consistently reveal, through their literary competence, the recognition of the literary remnants of the culturally idiomatic formulations that are the building blocks of the biblical texts.8 Because the interpretive traditions considered here work with the whole of the biblical corpus, their understanding of the topos of sibling rivalry is much more complete than that of the tradents. In other words, the interpreters understand a full set of associations that define the topos whereas each episode includes only some of the elements that comprise it. As we proceed, it is important to recognize that the interpreter's 'fuller' understanding of the topos is of value in defining the various issues at stake in the topos and, in particular, the Tekoite's mashal. In the end, it appears that some of the associations implied by her mashal are much subtler than others and may be part of a set of subconscious assumptions rather than part of her purposely intended message. As such, these subtler textual associations, often unintended, suggest that the Tekoite's mashal represents an early stage in the emergence of the interpretive traditions that appear in full blossom in some of the interpreters we will consider below. Her challenge to David to interpret her mashal suggests that he must follow the 'textual trail' that later interpreters, mutatis mutandis, in fact do follow. As it turns out, the biblical material in Genesis, the Court History and related materials can be understood as the early and somewhat tentative stages in the process of articulating the religious and cultural values that are most clearly elaborated in the reception of the texts. This is not to say that the understanding of the biblical texts written (see discussion in Chapter 3 below). Likewise, by 'literary' competence I refer to any topos, genre, or other traditional form of story-telling, either written or spoken. My assumption is that this type of competence is the equivalent, on the reception side of the traditionary process, to the cultural competence it took to produce and transmit the traditions. 8. Because the texts in Genesis are in the Torah, they have attracted the attention of commentators for millennia. As a result, the interpretive material on Genesis can sustain concentrated consideration. In Chapters 2 and 3 below discussion of interpretive material will be much more restricted due to the relative dearth of commentary outside of the Torah.

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in the interpretive traditions is exhaustive. It is merely to claim that their hermeneutical and literary competence elaborates much of the deep structure of the religio-cultural idioms that are represented in rather inchoate form in the biblical material. l.n-n "JD •jnnaefri 'Your Maidservant Had Two Sons' The significance of the Tekoite's claim that she had only two sons becomes clearer in the context of Genesis. Most of the major episodes in Genesis are structured around two brothers.9 From the stories of Cain and Abel, Isaac and Ishmael, to Jacob and Esau, the tension between two brothers or their parents fuels the plot. As will become evident in the following discussion, even stories not ostensibly about two brothers are often influenced by this elemental formulation of story-telling in Genesis. At the center of this basic element of sibling rivalry is the question of how distinctions between siblings are made. In each episode in Genesis, there seems to be a more or less conscious attempt to grapple with the reasons for, and consequences of, favoritism. This favoritism takes two forms in Genesis. On the one hand, in a number of episodes it is parental favoritism that provides the central tension in the story. This is especially the case with the episodes of Isaac and Ishmael, Jacob and Esau, and Jacob's sons. The second, more important (and not altogether separable) form of favoritism in these 9. J.D. Levenson has discussed the phenomenon of the favored son in Genesis in The Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son: The Transformation of Child Sacrifice in Judaism and Christianity (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1993), esp. pp. 55-81. He draws attention to the difficulties in distinguishing between firstborn and favorite sons as well as between the first-born of fathers and mothers. While Levenson has traversed much of the same material treated herein, his focus is the recurrent topos of the loss and/or death of the favored son. Other treatments of a similar theme include R. Syren, The Forsaken Firstborn: A Study of a Recurrent Motif in the Patriarchal Narratives (JSOTSup, 133; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1993); and F.E. Greenspahn, When Brothers Dwell Together: The Preeminence of Younger Siblings in the Hebrew Bible (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994). C. Westermann discusses the phenomenon of sibling rivalry and fratricide between sons of a primeval couple in the ancient world in Genesis 1-11 (trans J.J. Scullion; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984), pp. 315-17. My focus remains only on the reverberations the Genesis texts have with the Tekoite's mashal and how these texts in Genesis illumine 2 Sam. 14.6.


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episodes is God's. Indeed, much of the drama of the stories in Genesis is a result of the difference between parental and divine favorites. While these stories record the sure ascent of the divinely favored sons in Genesis, they also portray the human consequences thereof. The tensions and anxieties raised by the working out of divine favor are at the core of the notion of 'two sons', a proper grasp of the dynamics of which is crucial to understanding 2 Sam. 14.6. a. Cain and Abel The first clause of Gen. 4.8 signals the problems that arise from the extension of favor to one of two siblings. The verse records, 'Cain said to Abel... ', and then skips to 'when they were in the field'. This is among the most fascinating lacunae in literature. What did Cain say to Abel? It is likely that we should understand that he said something like, 'Let us go out into the field!'. Indeed the Vg has 'egrediamur foras', 'Let us go outside'. The LXX has 8ieX0co|iev eiq TO rceSiov, 'Let us go out to the plain'. The Peshitta has them going out to the 'open country', and the Targumim have, 'Let us go out into the field'. These translations, because they differ, appear to be providing a solution to the gap that is preserved in the MT. These solutions make a logical transition from 'Cain said to his brother Abel' to 'and while in the field'. In other words, from a translator's perspective this is the minimal amount required to smooth over a difficult textual lacuna.10 So, it appears that the lacuna in the MT motivates these 'gap-filling' measures. Ironically, even thought the lacuna is likely the result of poor transmission of the text, it marks what is a common element of the topos: siblings at loggerheads often have little to say to one another. A quick glance at the other episodes of sibling rivalry in Genesis confirms the prevalence of the 'silence' between brothers. While the interpretive tradition records an argument between Isaac and Ishmael, the biblical text has them say nothing to one another. Jacob and Esau interact before the former tricks the latter out of his birthright but, once Jacob fully usurps Esau's position, we only know of Esau's bitterness and not of words between the brothers. In the case of Joseph, once he tells his brothers of his dreams, they say nothing to him until 10. Cassuto makes essentially the same point (A Commentary on the Book of Genesis [trans. I. Abrahams; Jerusalem: Magnes, 1961], p. 215). See also Westermann who is not sure whether these represent the 'original' text or an attempt to fill the gap in the MT (Genesis 1-11, p. 302).

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they throw him in the pit. Notably, even his father, Jacob, who knows of the tensions between his sons, remains silent in the realization that Joseph is likely in danger. The prevalence of the 'silence between brothers' suggests that the lacuna in Gen. 4.8 may have been preserved because, for the transmitters of the story, Cain and Abel's silence was to be expected.11 Whether or not this is the case, the present form of Gen. 4.8 raises the question of how these two brothers came to this juncture. What went so wrong that Cain now prepares to kill his brother? The first two verses of ch. 4 tell of the birth of Cain and Abel and their respective occupations. Next, the text tells of offerings brought to Yhwh by Abel and Cain (vv. 3-4a). Because Yhwh accepts only Abel's, Cain grows angry and is warned by Yhwh that he must master his bitterness (vv. 4b-7). Yhwh's warning proves useless when in v. 8, Cain proceeds to kill his brother. Cain's murderous intent clearly springs from his jealousy over the extension of Yhwh's favor to Abel. This is likely supposed to be all the more insulting since Cain is the oldest son. He apparently cannot restrain himself when he recognizes that his brother has usurped his position. The texts are essentially silent about why the younger is favored over his older sibling.12 This is the case with Cain and Abel as well. Perhaps, because the text reverses the order of the brothers when it tells of their occupations and Yhwh's reaction to their offerings, we may presume that the distinction was based on them. Yet the text is not explicit about the motives. More than anything, the events of Gen. 4.8 suggest the jealousies and subsequent complications that arise from the bestowal of divine favor. 11. Auerbach, in his classic analysis of biblical prose, recognized this kind of silence, the absence of description of internal states of mind, of motive and emotion, as the primary characteristic of Hebrew biblical narrative (Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature [trans. W.R. Trask; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1957]). Sternberg has applied the term 'gapping' to this quality of the Hebrew Bible (Poetics). 12. The issue of primogeniture is very difficult in the Hebrew Bible. Greenspahn (When Brothers Dwell Together, pp. 60-69) argues that it is essentially non-existent in the texts with which we deal in this chapter. He convincingly claims that TO3 means not 'first-born' in any literal way but rather merely designates the 'chief heir' without regard to birth order (p. 60). However we are to understand the relation between TDD and the notion of primogeniture, our texts persistently go about explaining how younger siblings become the 'chief heir' in markedly self-conscious ways.


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Modern interpreters have fixed on a relatively limited number of issues raised by the Cain and Abel episode. Claus Westermann provides an excellent summary of what he calls the two main lines of interpretation of the episode. The first, more traditional interpretation he calls the individual-primeval, which sees in Cain the prototype of the murderer; his story is intended to teach that all humans are brothers and no one should kill another human. The second line of interpretation Westermann calls collective. Here, the concern is with providing an etiology of the Kenites.13 While these represent answers to the question of its overall purpose, they fail to address the problem of what seems to be God's arbitrary choice. Notably, like their earlier counterparts, most modern scholars with theological interests seek to justify God's choice.14 Jon Levenson has reviewed the common approaches to the rather embarrassing question of God's seeming capaciousness.15 He argues, correctly, that the point of the Cain and Abel story is how one handles not being chosen rather than the principle of selection. Ancient Interpreters and Cain and Abel. Significantly, the ancient interpreters of the Cain and Abel episode attempt to elaborate the key issues that brought these first two brothers to their fateful encounter in v. 8. The insights generated by the interpreters in their effort to grapple with this problem reveal much about what lies at the core of the 'two sons' element of the Tekoite's mashal. Over and over, the interpretive tradition reveals discomfort with the seemingly arbitrary nature of God's choice and the consequent fratricide. Because of this discomfort, many turn to the first two verses of ch. 4 to explain why Yhwh favored Abel. While they seek to justify God's choice, the interpreters also look to cast blame for this first murder anywhere other than on God. Moreover, the early interpreters reveal an intuitive notion of the topos of sibling rivalry that highlights the key elements that are our focus. In addition, they often address issues associated 13. Genesis 1-11, pp. 282-84. 14. Cassuto argues that '[o]ur passage reflects the view that sacrifices are acceptable only if an acceptable spirit inspires them' (Genesis, p. 207). According to Nahum Sarna, 'Abel appears to have demonstrated a quality of heart and mind that Cain did not possess' (Genesis [Philadelphia: IPS, 1989], p. 32). Likewise Skinner, who says 'The distinction must lie either in the disposition of the brothers... or in the material of the sacrifice' (Genesis: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary, I [ICC; Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1980], p. 105). 15. The Death and Resurrection of the Beloved Son, pp. 71-75.

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with the topos but not present in the biblical text itself. The assumption guiding their interpretations, as noted above, is that God's choice of Abel was just; they need only find the principle of selection employed.16 Indeed, the translator of Tar gum Pseudo-Jonathan finds the reason for God's choice in v. 1, which he translates as follows: Adam knew that his wife Eve had conceived from Sammael, the angel of the Lord.

This translation stems from two textual irregularities.17 The first is the strange locution at the end of v. 1 where Eve says that she has acquired a man 'with' Yhwh (miTTIR ETN TP3p). Tar gum PseudoJonathan takes this to mean that Eve conceived from a divine being who was none other than Sammael. Furthermore, this translation explains the absence of a phrase that is included in the birth story of Seth in 5.3 where the narrator relates that Seth is born in Adam's image and likeness 00*720 imD"n). For Targum Pseudo-Jonathan the absence of this phrase plus the awkwardness of the phraseology at the end of 4.1 implied that Cain was not Adam's but Sammael's son. This, in turn, explains why God did not favor Cain.18 16. This is no less true of most modern interpreters; see n. 14. 17. Note that Targum Pseudo-Jonathan plays with the idiomatic use of the verb 'to know' and changes 'Adam knew Eve his wife and she conceived. .. ' to 'Adam knew that Eve his wife had conceived. .. '. 18. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan is only one among many traditions that believed that Cain was the son of Sammael. In PRE 21 the serpent of Gen. 3 seduces Eve by means of a complex and sophisticated allegorical understanding of the forbidden tree and the garden in which it resided. Rabbi Ze'era explains by citing as prooftexts Deut. 20.19 'For the man is the tree of the field' (TTTlZTn fl> D1KH "D) and Cant. 4.12 'A closed garden is my sister, and bride' (rto Tint* 'Til)] p). The passage from Deut. 20.19 Rabbi Ze'era reads as a double entendre. On the first reading he implies it means that any man (for certain obvious reasons) should be thought of as a tree. On the second reading he implies that Adam (Q"7Nn) in particular ought to be so understood. In other words, the tree in the midst of the garden is none other than Adam. According to Rabbi Ze'era, the serpent is telling Eve that only the tree is forbidden, not its 'fruit'. Rabbi Ze'era next cites Cant. 4.12 to establish that the garden is none other than Eve. He cites these passages in order to show that the passage in Gen. 3.3 'of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden you may not eat' was interpreted by the Serpent to mean that while Eve could not enjoy the fruit(fulness) of Adam, who is, after all, the tree in the midst of the garden, she might enjoy someone else's. With hope lost of having a child with Adam, Eve was seduced into relations with the serpent. All of this is the long way of explaining Cain's suspect origins and


35

While Cain's origins are suspect and, for some interpreters, explain his lack of favor, others view his occupation as key to his differentiation from Abel. In the Life of Adam and Eve 23, we are told of Eve's dream that foreshadows the impending trouble between Cain and Abel. In response Adam assigns to his sons occupations that he hopes will keep them separated and out of trouble. This elaboration of the biblical text assumes that it was their occupations that determined Cain's and Abel's relative favor in God's eyes. The author of Life of Adam and Eve presumes that God's choice was just and based on occupations given to the boys by their father. Therefore, the trouble that arose between Cain and Abel was ultimately (and ironically) the result of the attempt on the part of their parents to avoid that very trouble and not the result of an arbitrary divine choice!19 Interpreters' turning to the occupations of Cain and Abel to explain the distinction made between them is based, in part, on the wording of v. 2b where we read: :na"TN ~asj rrn j'pi ]rc* run âmm Abel was a tender of the flock and Cain a tiller of the ground. The word order is crucial in what seems to become a rather standard interpretation of the significance of their occupations. Even though Cain was born first, when the text identifies their occupations, it names Abel and his first. This the interpreters take as a signal that Abel's occupation made him 'first' and more favorable to God. This reading is reinforced when the interpreters turn to Gen. 4.4b-5a, the passage that tells of God's reception of the offerings brought by the two brothers: rro vb 'l "j^TTD). This is identical to the phrase found in 2 Sam. 14.5. The phrase also occurs in Est. 5.3, in identical form, and in 1 Kgs 1.16 (minus 'to

29. Montgomery makes a similar observation (Kings, p. 385). See also M. Cogan and H. Tadmor, II Kings (AB; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1988), p. 79.

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her', n^).30 All four stories are about women coming to the king in order to save the life of loved one(s). Moreover, we likely have what comprises a pun in this phrase. We should probably understand the consonants for 'king' h-m-l-k and for 'what bothers you' m-h-l-k to imply that what bothers the woman ("J^TTD) only the king ("f^Qil) can fix. The persistent presence of this clause signals its centrality to the topos of women with a cause and, in turn, comprises an important diagnostic in identifying stories that fit the topos. The fourth, and last, element of interest in 2 Kings 6 is the reaction of Joram when the woman confronts him. The king provides no judgment but, rather, continues to pace upon the city wall in mourning. An analogous reaction is found in Est. 7.7, where the foolishness of the King of Persia is a consistent theme. This lack of royal decisiveness reinforces the notion that this story in 2 Kings 6 inverts the expectations generated by the topos as narrated elsewhere.31 The stories we have considered above, from 1 and 2 Kings, are not identical, nor do they match Tekoite's mashal exactly. Significantly, however, all three share a broad outline of their basic theme and elements. These include the following: 1. 2.

3.

4.

A woman comes to the king expecting judgment/justice. Note that 2 Kings 6 merely inverts the expectations. In each story one of two sons remains and the woman seeks a decision about his life. Again, 2 Samuel 6 inverts the topos so that the woman seeks the remaining son's life! Related to this is the suggestive reversal of the meaning of the root #2T. The effect of each of these stories is generated by the assumption that the mother (and the king) should save her son's life. 2 Kings 6 merely inverts this expectation again. 1 Kings 3 provides the model of the ideal wise and judicious king while 2 Kings 6, Est. 7.7, and 2 Samuel 14 appear to depict their royal figures in contrast to this ideal.32

30. Essentially the same phrase occurs in Gen. 21.17 where it is addressed to Hagar just before Ishmael's life is saved. 3 1 . Note that David's three-part, and not entirely clear, response to the Tekoite in 2 Sam. 14.8-1 1 may signal a similar lack of will and clear-headedness. 32. This fourth thematic element requires nuancing. In the Hebrew Bible, and especially the Deuteronomistic History, there is displayed a persistent ambivalence toward kingship. Given this ambivalence, one cannot be sure whether the dim view of the king's wisdom in certain episodes inverts an ideal notion of wise kingship or

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The associations between the Tekoite's mashal and these narratives imply, like the levirate texts above, that David ought to spare his own son. It is important to note, however, the implication of 2 Kings 6 that represents the obverse of the same coin: the root UET can imply vengeance as much as salvation. In fact, the texts to which we next turn reinforce this notion. c. The King Said to Her, 'What Bothers You?' Esther's encounter with Ahasuerus in his court, while clearly quite a variation on the topos at hand, evinces numerous elements central to it.33 After we make allowance for the action taking place in a foreign, rather than Israelite court, the story's place in the topos is obvious. It should be noted, however, that the element of 'foreignness' is not entirely absent from other examples of the topos. In particular, one thinks of Genesis 38 where Tamar tricks Judah into proclaiming her righteousness and his lack thereof. Scholars have long noted that Esther's experience in a foreign court is much like (the foreigner) Joseph's in Genesis 37-50. It is possible that the story we find in the book of Esther is an amalgam of these and other stories, but for our interest we seek to understand its relation to the mashal and to the Court History. For that reason we concentrate on its place in the topos of women with a cause. It is in chs. 5 and 7 that we are told of Esther's petition before Ahasuerus. The book of Esther tells of her being brought to the Persian court after King Ahasuerus banished Vashti, his former wife and queen. Apparently, because of her outstanding charm and beauty, Esther is chosen to replace Vashti. At nearly the same time that Esther is brought to the court two events, crucial to the plot of the story, occur: two of Ahasuerus's eunuchs plot to kill him, and the king's 'prime minister' hatches a plot to kill all the Jews of the land. Notably, the episodes recounting these events come one after the other (2.21-23 and 3.1-6). In fact, the proximity of these events seems to be reflected in the Greek version of Esther which records in A. 11, 'Haman, the whether examples of wise kings are viewed as great exceptions to the rule that one can expect little wisdom from a king. 33. A reliable and readable commentary on Esther is J.D. Levenson, Esther: A Commentary (OTL; Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1997). See also M. Fox, Character and Ideology in the Book of Esther (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina, 1991).

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son of Hammedatha, a Bougaean, was in great honor with the king, and he sought to injure Mordecai and his people because of the two eunuchs of the king'. The conflation of the two events likely reflects an implicit identification of the enemy of the Jews with the enemy of the Persian king. In this regard, it is interesting to note the language in Est. 7.6 where Haman is identified as 'the enemy' and treated as the enemy of state and king as much as of the Jews. This suggests that the Jews in Esther are so used to the notion of Persian royal authority that the topos of a woman entering the court to save life has been adapted to a Persian context.34 At any rate, it is clear that the book of Esther represents a variation, however drastic, on the topos of women who bring their case before the king.35 In 5.1-8 Esther comes to Ahasuerus, at the risk of her life, in order to plead for her people.36 Verses 1 and 2 set the scene for Esther's audience with the king, depicting her standing in the courtyard in front of the entrance to the king's palace. In v. 2 Ahasuerus notices Esther and invites her into his throne room. Verse 3 records: 'The king said to her "what bothers you, queen Esther? Whatever your request, up to half the kingdom will be given to you"'. This king is anxious to please! Most important in this verse are its first five words, ""[^ftn rb IQ^H "]^~riQ, 'The king said, what bothers you?' Significantly, we find identical phrases in our mashal (2 Sam. 14.5), and 2 Kgs 6.28, and in 1 Kgs 1.16.37 Remarkably, all of these texts are representatives of the 'woman at court' topos that is our focus herein. In each instance the phrase comes just before the woman details her request. It is hardly coincidence that this phrase is present in this scene between Esther and Ahasuerus. It is likely that this is one of many signals that this text is self-consciously part of our topos. At the end of v. 3 Ahasuerus makes his offer of up to half of the kingdom but, despite his generosity, Esther, in v. 4, refrains from specifying what she wants other than to give a banquet for Ahasuerus and Haman. In v. 5, the king commands that Haman hurry to the 34. This will become clearer in our discussion of 1 Sam. 25 and its associations with the Tekoite's mashal. These two texts suggest that the 'elimination' of an enemy is central to at least some of these 'woman at court' stories. 35. In this regard Judith presents an equally interesting variation. 36. Fox also recognizes this as a discrete unit that he labels 'Esther goes to the king; her first banquet' (Esther, p. 155). 37. Again, a similar phrase is also found at Gen. 21.17.

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banquet that Esther has made. At the banquet Ahasuerus repeats his offer of up to half of the kingdom (v. 6), to which Esther replies that she seeks only to have the king and Hainan come to another banquet the next day (vv. 7 and 8). It is not entirely clear why Esther should stall in presenting her petition to the king, but at the larger narrative level it becomes clear that at this point Ahasuerus lacks the motivation to see Esther's enemy (Haman) as his own. Moreover, the stalling implies Esther's ignorance of what to do and her dependence on divine providence to save the day. The chapter that intervenes between the episode(s) of the 'woman at court' provides the necessary motivation for Esther to reveal her request in ch. 7. In ch. 6 Ahasuerus learns that his life has been saved by Mordecai. As a result of his discovery, the king rewards Mordecai at the expense of Haman. Implicit in this scene is the reversal of fortunes of Haman and Mordecai and a reinforcing of the inference that Haman, enemy of Mordecai and the Jews, is also the enemy of the king, since he seeks to kill Mordecai and his people. The scene in ch. 6 serves to set the stage for the banquet the following day. Now, Ahasuerus knows that Mordecai, and presumably his people, are on his side. In 7.1-10 we learn of the second banquet given by Esther for Ahasuerus and Haman.38 In v. 2, the king, for the third time, offers to Esther up to half the kingdom. In v. 3 Esther finally articulates her request: she wishes to save the lives of her people.39 She continues (v. 4) by telling Ahasuerus of the suffering of her people and their true need for his help. On hearing her report, the king asks Esther who it is that has threatened her people (v. 5). Esther responds by identifying Haman as the enemy (v. 6). Ahasuerus, apparently lost for words, walks out of the feast to the garden and Haman hastily pleads with Esther for his life (v. 7). On his return from the garden the king discovers Haman on the couch (pleading) with Esther and declares, 'Does he even take advantage of the queen while I am in the palace?' At this, Harbonah, one of the king's eunuchs, suggests that Haman be impaled on the stake that the latter had made for Mordecai. 38. Fox labels this unit 'Esther's second banquet; Raman's defeat' (Esther, p. 156). 39. Given David's threefold answer to the Tekoite' s request, one wonders whether Esther's threefold stalling technique is meant to show how much the tables are turned in the Persian Court. Now it is the woman, a Jew to boot, who puts the king off three times rather than the king putting off the woman at court.

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In making the suggestion, Harbonah draws attention to the fact that it was Mordecai who had saved the king's life. By so doing, the text acknowledges that the enemy of Esther and Mordecai and all the Jews was likewise the enemy of the king. Several details in ch. 7 deserve comment. Once again we have the familiar scene in which a woman comes to court to save the lives of loved ones. Much like Joram in 2 Kings 6, Ahasuerus, in v. 7, once presented with the woman's dilemma, walks away without providing any resolution. It seems likely we are to recognize the kings' failure to live up to their responsibilities in these stories. To this extent, we should view these failures as variations on the expectations generated by the topos. Rather than solving the problem presented by Esther, Ahasuerus walks away and only as a reaction to personal insult does he decide to eliminate Haman. Another important issue in our text is Ahasuerus's interpretation of Raman's presence on the couch with Esther. While it does not appear in any of the stories on which we focus in this chapter, the motif of a man sleeping with another man's wife in order to usurp his position has a significant role in the Court History. One of Absalom's first acts, on taking Jerusalem, is to sleep with ten of David's concubines (2 Sam. 16.20-23). In 1 Kgs 2.13-25 Adonijah, having been denied the throne, seeks Abishag, a former bedmate of David's, as wife. Solomon, when told of Adonijah's request, says that he may as well have asked for the throne itself.40 With this kind of palace intrigue as a background to the events in Esther, it is no wonder that Ahasuerus thought that Haman was attempting to sleep with the queen.41 Moreover, this is the ultimate confirmation that Haman is indeed the gravest threat to Ahasuerus and his throne. As strong as the associations are between Esther and the Tekoite's 40. See Levenson and Halpern, The Political Import of David's Marriages', pp. 507-18. 41. One need only consider David's taking of Bathsheba and Abigail, both of whom belong in the 'woman with a cause' topos as well. It seems likely that Esther is playing within/off this constellation of imagery. Moreover, it appears that Esther comprises the application of the elements of the woman with a cause to the international context of the exile. In other words, Esther saves not her son but the entire people. One hears echoes of the woman at court motif, but it is now expanded to an international scale. Moreover, the problem of the woman at court has moved from an internal, albeit national, dilemma to one of international and nearly cosmic proportions; Israel must no longer look out for its enemy from within but rather from the outside.

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mashal, the next text with which we deal is even more closely associated and more fully illumines the Tekoite's message for David. Moreover, it, like the mashal itself, is part of the Davidic history. d. 'On Me, My Lord, Be the Guilt' The story of Abigail, David and Nabal comes between what many consider variants of a single story of David's encounter with Saul.42 Most agree that ch. 25 represents a single integrated story with the exception of the last two verses.43 The Nabal story begins by recording the death of Samuel followed by the description of Nabal, of whom we are given a rather grim characterization, especially in contrast to his wife. At any rate, David, having heard that Nabal was shearing sheep, sent ten of his men to Nabal to seek provisions. The men remind Nabal of the kindness that David had shown to him and his men, but it is to no avail; Nabal sends David's men away empty-handed. As a result of Nabal's insult, David instructs his men to prepare for an attack on Nabal and his men. One of Nabal's men comes to Abigail and tells her of Nabal's insult and the impending danger. Abigail immediately readies gifts and provisions for David and goes off to intercept him. Upon meeting David, Abigail prostrates herself, apologizes for her husband's behavior, and persuades David that he is above taking vengeance on such an insignificant man as Nabal. In response, David thanks Abigail and God for keeping him from shedding Nabal's blood. After saving her husband's life Abigail returns home to find Nabal in the middle of a feast fit for a king. The next morning she tells Nabal of the events of the previous day and he seems to go into shock, only to die ten days later. When David hears of Nabal's death, he sends for Abigail in order to marry her. Within this truly riveting story, we are particularly interested in 42. So J.D. Levenson, '1 Samuel 25 as Literature and as History', in K. Gros Louis (ed.), Literary Interpretation of Biblical Narratives, II (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1982), pp. 220-42. M. Garsiel stresses the commonalities between chs. 2426 (The First Book of Samuel: A Literary Study of Comparative Structures, Analogies and Parallels [Ramat-Gan: Revivim, 1985], esp. pp. 122-33), as does R. Polzin (Samuel and the Deuteronomist [San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1989], pp. 205-15. McCarter (77 Samuel, p. 400) points out that in all three chapters David is saved from deeds potentially disastrous to his own interests. 43. See Levenson, '1 Samuel 25', p. 220. On the political and sexual implications of the story in ch. 25 see '1 Samuel 25', and Levenson and Halpern, 'The Political Import of David's Marriages', pp. 507-18.

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vv. 23-35. In these verses we have the familiar situation of a woman coming before the (future) king to plead her case, this time to save the life of her husband. Abigail's pleading of her case comes right after David has repeated the tale of his kindness to Nabal, which has been repaid with an insult. At the end of v. 22, before Abigail has reached his party, David says he will wipe out all the males of Nabal's city. The account of Abigail's audience with David follows: 23

Abigail saw David and quickly dismounted from her ass and fell in front of David face down and bowed low to the ground. 24She fell at his feet and said, 'On me, alone, is the guilt/punishment my lord (pun TIN ^tT'D)— may your maidservant speak further ("jriQK Nr~O~im) and will you listen to your maidservant? 25Let my lord not set his heart on this worthless man, on Nabal, for he is just like his name: his name is Nabal and he is dead foolish. Moreover, I, your maidservant, did not see my lord's young men whom you sent. 26Now, my lord, as Yhwh lives and as you live— Yhwh who prevented you from taking blood vengeance into your own hands ("f1? "JT UtDim D'QID K13Q)—may all your enemies and all who seek evil (run. .. D'Bpnon) for my lord be like Nabal. 27Now this is the blessing that your maidservant has brought to you, my lord. Let it be given to the men who are travelling with my lord. 28Forgive your maidservant's boldness, for truly Yhwh will establish for my lord a secure and enduring house (]GK3 rV3), since my lord has fought Yhwh's battles and evil is not found in you. 29If any man arises to pursue you and seeks your life, my lord's soul will be bound in the bundle of life with Yhwh your God; the soul of your enemy he will fling away as if from a sling. 30 When Yhwh does for my lord all the good that he has promised for you, he will make you the leader of Israel. 31Do not let this be discouraging or disheartening for my lord, shedding blood needlessly in taking vengeance, my lord ("b "3TK irtZJirftl). May Yhwh do well by my lord and may you remember your maidservant.' 32David replied to Abigail, 'Blessed be Yhwh the God of Israel who sent you this day to meet me! 33 And blessed be your sense and blessed be you who prevented me this very day from taking blood vengeance into my own hands ("^ *T INJJm). 34 Indeed, as Yhwh the God of Israel lives—who prevented me from harming you—had you not hastened in coming to meet me, not one of Nabal's men would have remained till morning.' 35David took from her hand that which she had brought for him and said to her, 'Go up to your house in peace and note that I have listened to you and have granted your request (q«S N2JN1 "f7lp3 TUOB TO -]H^b n"bvh '^l?).'

Even a casual reading of this passage reveals that it is associated with the 'woman with a cause' topos that is our subject. Again, we have a woman coming to the (future) king in order to make the case to save

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someone's life. We find here familiar vocabulary and imagery throughout. To clearly articulate how this passage relates to the topos and to the mashal requires detailed commentary. In v. 23, the beginning of Abigail's petition to David, we find that fully one third of the words in the verse are verbs. Abigail sees, hurries, dismounts, falls, and bows down to David. This commotion is reminiscent of the Tekoite's just prior to her petition to David in our mashal. Indeed, as one might expect, the last two verbs describing the Tekoite's subservience are identical to the last two describing Abigail who falls upon her face (ITIS"1?!) .. .^Dfll) and bows down (inn^m). Abigail's flurry of activity suggests a degree of nervousness and deference that may explain a peculiarity in the Tekoite account. As noted above, in 2 Sam. 14.4 the Tekoite is depicted as starting to say something to David then falling to her face and bowing before actually speaking. Again, this first occurrence of the verb 'to speak' in 2 Sam. 14.4 is possibly a scribal error, but when we note that v. 24 here in 1 Samuel 25 begins with the recurrence of ^DHl, 'and she fell (at his feet)', we might infer that the narrator uses such repetition to suggest the excitement and confusion that arises in such cases.44 Whatever the verdict on this possible narrative device, clearly the account of Abigail's encounter with David depicts the nervousness with which one approaches such an event. It is worth noting that in the book of Esther this kind of nervousness is made much more explicit when Esther claims that anyone who comes to the king uninvited stands to lose her life (4.11-17). Verse 24, as noted, begins with Abigail falling at the feet of David and immediately professing her culpability. Notably, the way she approaches David is much like the way the Tekoite approaches him. In 1 Sam. 25.24 Abigail says, 'On me alone, my lord, is the guilt!' (•pun S]1K S3K"O) whereas the Tekoite, in 2 Sam. 14.9, says n]lK "Û "pun "['PQn, 'Upon me, my lord O king, is the guilt!' Just what Abigail refers to with the pl?n is unclear, but is likely the insult and lack of hospitality shown to David by her husband Nabal as well as her impertinence in daring to speak with the king. That it is impertinence that is implied is reinforced by another text associated with the 44. Radaq thinks that the first "IQ»m ('she said') in 2 Sam. 14.4 is addressed to the gatekeepers who, in turn, frighten her (cf. 2 Sam. 14.15 where the Tekoite says that 'the people' have frightened her). Radaq understands this first act of speaking as the means by which the Tekoite sought access to the king.

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'woman with a cause' topos. Namely, in Est. 4.11, Esther reminds Mordecai that approaching the king without having been summoned is punishable by death. In view of the dual implication of the word ]1U, the Tekoite likely both apologizes for her boldness and accepts the guilt associated with her son. The associations between Abigail's and the Tekoite's approach to David are reinforced in the second half of 1 Sam. 25.24 where Abigail follows her addmission of guilt and apology for impertinence with a request to continue speaking with David. The language of this request, 'May your handmaid continue to speak?' (~[nQN tf]~~Q~im), is much like the Tekoite's 'May your maidservant continue to speak?' (-[nnDtf tfrnmn) found in 2 Sam. 14.12. Clearly the 'claim to guilt'/ 'apology' and the 'request to continue' are found in the Tekoite's mashal in different locations and contexts from where they are in Abigail's petition, but this should not distract us from the similarity in their formulations. In v. 25 Abigail tells David not to think too much about Nabal. Her exact words are:

"Tjrtjj nin îr^nn BTN^TK 13*77** TN D-izr NT*** Do not let my lord place his heart on this worthless man, on Nabal.

This locution is much like the one found in 2 Sam. 14.1 where we are told that Joab knew that David's heart was 'on' Absalom ("f^QH IlV^D Dl'PCZnfcr^). We noted that in the mashal, especially based on its context, it is unclear whether David was pining away for Absalom or dreaming of revenge. The similarities between 1 Samuel 25 and the mashal suggest that David had intentions toward Absalom that matched his intentions for Nabal. If this is, indeed, the case, then we have two instances in which a woman comes to dissuade David from revenge. Of course, in the case of the mashal, the presentation is considerably more subtle and ambiguous. Beyond this verbal association between the mashal and Abigail's narrative there is, in Abigail's speech, a subtle play on Nabal's name that has significance for understanding the mashal and the larger Court Narrative. Abigail says that Nabal is just like his name, he is dead foolish (1QI? n^QJl). My translation reflects what I suspect is the pun intended in this locution. The root *73] in biblical Hebrew can mean not only senseless or foolish, but is also associated with the notion of

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death, and the consonants n^D] can represent the word 'corpse'.45 This means that Abigail is essentially saying 'Do not worry about Nabal because he is a no-good and is as good as dead'. Skepticism about this reading can be mollified with what must be understood as another pun on Nabal' s name earlier in the chapter. In v. 18, where Abigail prepares the provisions that she will take to David, we are told that among her goods is a skin of wine Q^'^H]). This effectively foreshadows the end of the story where Nabal, after a big party, is drunk. Of interest is that, after his party, when the wine has gone out of Nabal (^2]Q "pYI) he dies and in effect becomes a corpse (n^H]). Levenson notes that the name Nabal has been selected in this story for the effect of its associations with foolishness, in particular in contrast to Abigail's good common sense.46 It appears that the story has also been written to play off against the other meanings of the root ^Hl Given the awareness of, and punning on, the meaning of the name of David's 'contender' in 1 Samuel 25, what should we make of the name Absalom? Clearly, unlike Nabal, Absalom is not 'like his name'! Absalom (DIÊQN) means 'father of peace'. In the context of the Davidic court, the irony of this name can hardly pass the attention of the reader. Absalom kills his brother and usurps his father' s throne, hardly the behavior of the sire of peace! That 1 Samuel 25 and the Court Narrative assign to David's 'contender' names filled with irony must be viewed as the result of shared competence in narrative composition rather than as purposeful borrowing or allusion. What this common narrative device signals is that the associations between the mashal (as a cipher for the events in David's court) and 1 Samuel 25 are, indeed, significant and substantive. Reinforcing this contention is that the name of David's eventual successor, Solomon, comes from the same root as does the name of David's failed successor, Absalom. Another lexical peculiarity, in v. 26, is significant. We noted above that the root I?2T has a dual valence in the 'woman at court' episodes. While the root is used in 2 Sam. 14.4 to suggest that David ought to save the Tekoite's (and by extension his own) son, in 2 Kgs 6.26 the woman uses it to suggest that the remaining son ought to be eliminated. Again, the fact that the root U& means not only 'help' but also 'save' makes the use in 2 Kgs 6.26 highly ironic. Notably the root 45. See for example 1 Kgs 13.22, 24; Isa. 26.19; Deut. 28.26 etc. Note too that the root is associated with sexual misconduct in Gen. 34.7. 46. '1 Samuel 25', pp. 222-24.

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appears in 1 Sam. 25.26, 31, and 33 and each time it is used to describe the act that Abigail convinces David not to commit: taking vengeance on Nabal. Much as it is used in 2 Kgs 6.26, the root is employed here to refer to the elimination of life rather than the preservation thereof. All of this suggests that when the Tekoite addresses David with "[^QH niîn, 'Help, O King!' she may be seeking help for herself or, like Abigail, warning David to 'save' himself by eliminating Absalom his enemy. Given the prevailing message of the 'woman with a cause' topos, we are likely supposed to think of the former option first, but as with most things in the Tekoite's mashal, we are equally likely supposed to catch the subtle undertow suggested by the latter. There is one more element, in the second half of v. 26, that requires comment. Verse 26b reads as follows: 'May all your enemies and those who seek evil for my lord be like Nabal'. This locution is especially interesting when considered in view of the Court Narrative. If we take seriously the notion that Nabal is associated with death, and this is clearly the case by the end of this chapter, Abigail is essentially declaring her wish that all who pursue David, or wish him harm, shall wind up dead (like Nabal) for their effort. This wish has a long life in view of the events of the Court Narrative. There, in chs. 17 and 18 it is Absalom who pursues David and in the end dies for his rebellion. Moreover, like Abigail who seeks to preserve the life of the man who has challenged the king and who will die (apparently) because of his challenge, the Tekoite also apparently seeks to preserve the life of David's future challenger, Absalom who dies because of his challenge. This call for a quid pro quo punishment for David's challenger is nicely reinforced in v. 29, where Abigail expresses the hope that anyone who seeks David's life shall be punished by God. In v. 28, Abigail tells David that Yhwh will establish for him a secure house, }QN] ITQ. This phrase has particular relevance for our discussion. In the first place, it resonates with a crucial text relating to the founding of the Davidic dynasty. In 2 Samuel 7, after David has proposed building a temple for Yhwh, Nathan comes to David and tells him that Yhwh will build for David a house (ITU = dynasty) rather than David's building a temple (ITD) for him. In particular, vv. 11-16 are significant for our purposes. Here Yhwh promises (through Nathan) to provide David with offspring and to establish the kingship for that son.47 Further, Yhwh promises to establish a permanently secure 47. McCarter suggests that this reference to a 'secure house' is an insertion meant

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dynasty ("[fTQ ]QKJ1) in that lineage (v. 16). Abigail's use of a nearly identical locution (v. 28) is so interesting because it occurs in the context of her cursing of anyone who would challenge David and his throne. The irony in the Court Narrative is that it is from his own 'house' that the challenger arises. Indeed, it is from one of those offspring to whom Nathan's promise in 2 Sam. 7.11-16 is addressed. The secure house that Abigail predicts is, ironically, the source of the challenger. It is even more ironic that Nathan himself predicts the rise of this challenger from within David's ranks (2 Sam. 12.11). None of this is likely in the mind of the narrator of 2 Samuel 12-14, but the record of David's usurper emerging from his 'secure house' is especially intriguing because it is associated with these two episodes of 'women with a cause' in 1 Samuel 25 and 2 Samuel 14. In vv. 32-33 David praises Abigail and blesses her for her good sense (DUtD) in preventing him from taking vengeance into his own hands. In acknowledging the woman's foresight and intelligence, the story of Abigail takes up another of the key elements of the topos of women with a cause. In each of the stories of women who come to the king, either she or the king is identified with wisdom or judiciousness. In 2 Samuel 14, the Tekoite is identified as wise or clever (nODn) from the outset. This marking of women as wise and judicious occurs in 2 Sam. 20.16-22, where the 'wise' (HQDn) woman of the city of Abel devises the plan by which Sheba ben-Bichri, someone who has rebelled against ("IT K2J]) David, is beheaded.48 This story has the woman coming not to the king but, rather, to his advisor Joab. In so doing, it represents a reversal of 2 Samuel 14 in which Joab brings a wise woman to Jerusalem to instruct her in the plan to trick David. As we have seen, Esther, too, represents a similarly judicious woman who comes to a (foreign) king with a clever plan. Though the details need not detain us at present, we need to note that all four of the stories I have just mentioned depict a woman who judiciously advises the king (or his representative) how to respond to a difficult and sensitive situation. But what should one make of David's praise for Abigail's good sense, especially against the backdrop of the topos of women at court who praise the king's wisdom? Among the variations of the topos that emphasize the judiciousness of the king, 1 Kings 3 is the most clear in to make reference to the events in 2 Sam. 7 (I Samuel, pp. 401-402). 48. Polzin has pointed out the strong association between 1 Sam. 25 and 2 Sam. 20 (David and the Deuteronomist, pp. 199-200).

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its praise of Solomon. In fact, the story there about the two prostitutes who come to the king is clearly intended to give proof of the wisdom of Solomon, surrounded as it is by the text's claim that he was so wise. As noted above, 2 Kings 6 and Esther seem to parody the lack of judiciousness and wisdom of the kings therein. 1 Samuel 25 remains neutral with regard to David's wisdom but implies that his temper here may have interfered with his judgment. The mashal in 2 Sam. 14.1-20 presents a unique variation on the theme of judiciousness. While the woman is identified as wise at the outset of the narrative, in the last verse the Tekoite tells David that he is wiser than God's angels in knowing all that goes on in his realm: Din4? DTTîl ~\V&fo DQDriD DDFT JHND "itotr^DTIK. This locution is much like the praise of Solomon's wisdom in 1 Kings 3, but with some important differences. As noted above, the Tekoite's praise of David's wisdom rings hollow on several accounts. In contrast to Solomon's, it comes before his decision rather than after. Further, David's decision, while apparently following expectations generated by the woman with a cause topos (by saving the remaining son), ironically sews the seeds of Absalom's rebellion against him. Finally, it is of note that David's judiciousness does not win a ringing endorsement in 1 Samuel 25, 1 Kings 1, nor in 2 Samuel 14. Verse 35 contains the last element in Abigail's narrative that we need to consider closely. Of concern here is David's instruction to Abigail to 'go up to your house in peace, note that I have heeded your voice and have granted your request' (R&M "plpl Tltfntf 'fcTl -[ira1? ut>tih ^ :~ps). In 2 Sam. 14.8, David tells the Tekoite to 'go to your house and I will give a command concerning you' ('-~\^ m^K ^Kl ""[fPD'? "O1?). In both stories David's response is remarkably similar: once asked to render a decision he tells the woman to go home and he will take care of everything. Notably, David tells Abigail to go home after articulating his decision, whereas in 2 Sam. 14.8 David has not really made any clear statement about the Tekoite's remaining son. Most significant is the added evidence David's responses provide for the case that Abigail's story is profitably understood in the same topos as the narrative of the Tekoite's visit with David. Let us now summarize our discussion. Thus far we can conclude that the associations between our mashal and the two groups of texts we have considered above, the levirate and 'woman at court' texts, define what we can call the 'proximate' message of the mashal. This message,

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again, can be summed up as follows: David should follow the Tekoite's example and the one implied by the mashal's association with Deut. 25.5-10, Genesis 38, Ruth, 1 Kings 3, 2 Kings 6, 1 Samuel 25, and Esther by saving the life of his son.49 Moreover, with our mashal, 1 Kgs 3.16-28 and 2 Kgs 6.24-31 share much in the way of language and circumstance. Each is the story of a woman who comes to the king to argue over the life of one of two sons.50 We have noted the ways that each of the stories varies the elements of the topos, but they all seem to presuppose, like the levirate texts, the obligation of the woman to save her progeny and of the king to accede to her request. The texts found in 1 Samuel 25 and Esther share with the mashal the presence of one woman who comes to the king to save the life of loved one(s) and, ostensibly, to convince him to alter his course of action. In each of these stories the woman's judiciousness clearly outstrips and influences the king's. The crucial additional element in the stories of Abigail and Esther is the call for the death of the enemy of the king and people. In the case of Nabal and Absalom this is especially ironic because it is his enemy that the king is called upon to save. The two groups of texts we have considered thus far illumine what the mashal could mean to David, in part, by shedding light on other parts of the Court History. In fact, it is in the larger context of the Court History that the significance of the associations with which we have been dealing becomes most clear. In particular, the mashal, in numerous ways, adumbrates the crucial events described in the Bathsheba episode in 1 Kings 1. It is to this text, the third case of a woman who comes to the Davidic court to save a loved one, that we next turn. 3. 'Save Your Life and the Life of Your Son Solomon!' Most of the examples of 'women with a cause' with which we have dealt so far are related to the Tekoite's mashal through the resonance they all share due to the topos of which they are a part. Notably, the last story with which we have dealt, the episode of Abigail and David, takes place within the Davidic history and, as the narrative line would 49. By this I do not mean to imply that David was capable of knowing all these texts, simply that the topos as represented by these texts establishes the expectations that guide David's choices and the author's likely message. 50. Again, recall that Bathsheba is doing much the same thing in 1 Kgs 1.

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now have it, is part of David's experience when he encounters the Tekoite. One would think that the Tekoite's message should seem at least a little familiar to David. Indeed, the integration of the Tekoite's mashal into the larger Court narrative is not only signaled by its strong associations with the Abigail episode but also by its clear adumbration (at the motivic, verbal, and thematic levels among others) of the episode of Bathsheba in 1 Kings I.51 Before detailing the close association between the mashal and the Bathsheba episode, it is important to locate Bathsheba's story within the larger topos of 'woman with a cause'. The story of Bathsheba shares with the 'levirate' texts and certain of the 'woman at court' texts the concern over securing her son's destiny. In contrast to the cases of levirate, where the woman tries to secure progeny after the death of a husband, Bathsheba secures her son's future before David's death. Among the woman at court texts, Bathsheba's story is closest to Esther's. Just as Esther secures the future of her people and Mordecai and, as a result, ensures the demise of Haman, Bathsheba secures the future of her son, Solomon, and ensures the demise of Adonijah. Notably, Bathsheba's actions are analogous to those of two famous mothers of Genesis: Sarah and Rebekah. In all three of these stories a wife apparently convinces her husband to support her favorite, and God's chosen son, as his heir. The case in Genesis 21 is well known and has been treated above in Chapter 1. There, Sarah not only secures her son's future, but manages, apparently against Abraham's wishes, to have Ishmael, her son's only rival, expelled from the household. This tension with Hagar suggests a loose subcategory we might label 'two women and two sons'.52 At any rate, the story of Sarah and Hagar represents a scenario much like 1 Kings 1, where, as a result of Bathsheba's reminding David of his promise to Solomon, Adonijah is removed from the throne and eventually killed by one of Solomon's servants. Genesis 27, the account of Rebekah's championing of Jacob's cause, is more complex and perhaps less directly analogous to the Bathsheba story. Here Rebekah joins with Jacob in tricking Isaac into making her favorite son his heir, rather than convincing him to do so, 51. On the associations between Abigail and Bathsheba see A. Berlin, 'Characterization in Biblical Narrative: David's Wives', JSOT23 (1982), pp. 69-85. 52. If we are correct in identifying such a subcategory, then the stories in 1 Kgs 3 and 2 Kgs 6 may well be (slightly altered) representatives as well.

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but, near the end of the account, just before Jacob leaves his mother and father, one of the two sources (P) records that Isaac has apparently been won over to Rebekah's (Jacob's) side and blesses him as he sends him off to Paddan-aram. This blessing comes as a surprise, since most of the previous chapter describes Isaac's love for Esau and his unwillingness to support Rebekah's favorite son Jacob. Perhaps this text records the remnant of a tradition in which Isaac, like Abraham before him, and David after, was convinced by his wife to support her favorite and God's chosen.53 As interesting as the connections are between the Bathsheba episode and the mothers of Genesis, its associations with the Tekoite's mashal are even more revealing, especially considering the following three analogues: Joab:Tekoite::Nathan:Bathsheba, Tekoite:David::Bathsheba: David, and Joab:David::Nathan:David. We will consider the textual evidence for each of these equations, in turn, as we consider the Bathsheba episode in detail. The episode begins by telling of David's dotage and and goes on to say that he requires an 'attendant' (n]DO) to keep warm (vv. 1-4). This report sets the stage for the events of 1 Kings 1 in which the succession to David's throne is decided.54 Next, we are told that Adonijah, apparently David's oldest living son, begins to boast that he will be the next king. The narrator informs the reader that David had never properly disciplined his son (vv. 5-6). Adonijah has on his side Joab, and the priest Abiathar, but not the priest Zadok, Benaiah, the prophet Nathan, Shimei, Rei, and David's warriors (vv. 7 53. Rebekah's account shares with the Tekoite's and Bathsheba's the more or less underhanded attempt to champion her son's cause. It is clear that elements of trickery are central to many of these episodes. On this understanding one wonders about the story of Saul and the woman of Endor in 1 Sam. 28. Here it appears that the tables are at least partially turned. In other words, Saul comes to this woman, who, if not called a 'wise woman', is depicted as able to discern what others cannot. In this instance Saul tricks the woman into giving him access to the dead Samuel, hoping to get word on how to save his own life. In the end, Samuel tells Saul that he is as good as a dead man, but the woman of Endor feeds him before he goes on. Clearly this story does not belong to our topos of woman with a cause, but may well presuppose it. By so doing it depicts Saul in rather farcical and unkind ways. As one last reversal of the 'woman with a cause' topos, Saul goes out from this encounter where he seeks to save his life and is almost immediately killed (ch. 31). See also n. 2 above. 54. Note that the episode's crucial moments turn on the relationship of Abishag with the men of David's court.

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and 8). Adonijah prepares a celebratory feast, inviting his brothers (fôn ']3 vntf-^DTIN trip'"!) and David's court officials, but neither those who fail to support him nor his brother Solomon (vv. 9 and 10). This last element makes for an interesting contrast with the party Absalom throws during sheep-shearing in 2 Sam. 13.23-27. To his sheep- shearing Absalom also invites his brothers ('D'^D'? D'ftEDN Klpl fôn) and, especially, his brother Amnon.55 Whereas Absalom's goal is to eliminate Amnon, Adonijah wishes to ignore his rival brother and leave him out of the picture. In vv. 11-14 Nathan comes to Bathsheba to get her to secure Solomon's claim to the throne. The way Nathan relates to Bathsheba is quite analogous to the way Joab relates to the Tekoite woman. The analogue lies at a number of levels. After telling Bathsheba that Adonijah has assumed the throne in David's ignorance (v. 11), Nathan tells her that she must save her life and her son's (v. 12). He advises that Bathsheba go to David and say, 'My lord, the king, did you not promise your maidservant "Solomon your son will reign after me and he will sit on my throne"? Why has Adonijah become king?' (v. 13) Nathan concludes his advice by telling Bathsheba that while she is still talking he will enter and confirm her words (v. 14). Notably, just as Joab calls on the Tekoite to go to David with the purpose of securing (Joab's favorite) Absalom's position, so Nathan calls on Bathsheba to go to David to secure (Nathan's favorite) Solomon's position. But the similarity does not stop there! 2 Sam. 14.3 reads: JTS3 D-QTTTTK 3»T DfeTI HTH "DID T^N 0131)

'You will go to the king and you will tell him like this' and Joab put the words in her mouth.

In a very similar scene, Nathan tells Bathsheba exactly what to say. Confirmation of this comes in vv. 17-18 where Nathan's words are repeated nearly verbatim. Verses 15-21 reveal that Bathsheba' s relationship to David has its analogue in the Tekoite' s relationship to David. In v. 16 Bathsheba approaches the king and prostrates herself and bows (iOferra 1pm "fâ^ inntZHTl) much as the Tekoite approaches David and falls and bows before him Onntfm. . . 'PSm v. 4).56 In response to Bathsheba' s acts, the 55. Note the frequent association of sheep-shearing with men who engage in questionable sexual behavior. Along with these two cases, see also Gen. 38. 56. Note the similarity as well with Abigail's actions in 1 Sam. 25.23.

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text records, 'Theking said, "Whatbothers you?"' tfrna "[^Qn IQ^l). This is nearly identical to David's response to the Tekoite woman in 2 Sam. 14.5, 'The king said to her, "What bothers you?'". Next Bathsheba retells the words of Nathan almost verbatim: 'My lord, did you not promise your maidservant, by Yhwh your God: "Solomon your son will rule after me and he will sit on my throne"? Now take note that Adonijah has become king!' (vv. 17-18).

After this, Bathsheba tells David that Adonijah has had a party to celebrate his succession and that Solomon and his supporters have been left out (v. 19). This part of her discussion with David was not in her instructions from Nathan but, notably, when he comes to talk with David he uses nearly the same language and phraseology. We are probably supposed to presume that this part of Bathsheba's speech was also given to her by Nathan. Bathsheba finishes her soliloquy by urging David to honor his promise to Solomon because all of Israel is watching and waiting for his word. Moreover, she adds, once the king has died, she and Solomon will be as good as dead. All of Bathsheba's interaction with David is reminiscent of the Tekoite's, from the language that describes her attitude to David's response to her request to save her son (and, by implication, herself) from impending doom. In vv. 22-31 Nathan, as he had planned, enters to talk with the king while Bathsheba is still talking. He tells David that Adonijah has taken the throne and has prepared a feast (again using much the same language that Bathsheba used in v. 19) and that all Adonijah's supporters are celebrating his assumption of the kingship. David now responds by calling for Bathsheba (either she has left without the narrator telling us or he is unaware that she has been in his presence the whole time Nathan was speaking), and he promises to honor his oath to her that Solomon would succeed him. Much as David accedes to the Tekoite's wish to save her son, David accedes to Bathsheba's. Moreover, by acceding to the Tekoite, David, in essence, saves his own son's life, just as by acceding to Bathsheba he saves his own son's life.57 At another 57. It is hard to know what to do with the analogy that emerges here between Absalom and Solomon. On the one hand, we can simply consider it the result of different stories, one with a 'good' son, the other with a 'bad' son, following the logic of the topos of which they are a part. This, however, is unsatisfactory for the careful reader. What is implied by this analogy? On the one hand it could be that it is meant to cast a long shadow over Solomon from the inception of his kingship. On the other it may imply, for want of a better term, the unfairness of the process of divine

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level, however, David is actually being manipulated by the men who sent these female messengers. In 2 Samuel 14 David is coerced to do what Joab wishes (at least on one reading) quite like the way he is coerced here in 1 Kings 1 to do Nathan's bidding. In fact, when the decision is final, David calls for Nathan (et al.) to fulfil the promise he has made to Bathsheba (vv. 32-40). Again, this is much like 2 Samuel 14, where David calls on Joab to bring Absalom back to Jerusalem, an act David imagines is the intent of the promise elicited from him by the Tekoite. While many of the similarities between the Tekoite and Bathsheba episodes can be attributed to their place within the 'woman at court' topos, it is hard to imagine that their relationship is defined only by that connection. The similarities are so numerous and close that the mashal must be seen as a purposeful adumbration of the events in 1 Kings 1. This is representative of a number of ways the mashal seems to be integrated into the court history. Because it is the goal of Chapter 3 to consider the ways in which the mashal of the wise woman of Tekoa is integrated into the Court History, we must leave a full discussion of this issue until then. For now we summarize the significance of the topos of 'woman with a cause' for understanding the Tekoite's mashal. 4. Summary We can begin by noting that the associations between the mashal in 2 Sam. 14.1-11 and the levirate texts we have considered suggest that the salvation and/or perpetuation of lineage is key to its message. Not only is David supposed to see the necessity of preserving the Tekoite's dead husband's lineage, but also that he ought to save and protect his own. 58 Of course, the irony in extending this message to his own selection. Perhaps both of these alternatives are equally likely and one should not opt for one to the exclusion of the other. It is of note, however, that Solomon, by the end of our account of his life, has intermarried with innumerable other women and has apostatized in ways that, at first blush, look far worse than Absalom. 58. W. Propp ('Kinship in 2 Samuel 13', pp. 50-53) argues that aside from the 'surface' message that David should bring Absalom home is a deeper and subtler message that David should actually kill his son. Based on our analysis, especially in relation to the 'woman with a cause' topos and its associations with levirate, this option is highly unlikely, unless one presumes that David is to do the opposite of what all the evidence seems to indicate is his only option. Of course, the great irony in Propp's reading of the Tekoite's mashal is that had David killed Absalom, he would have

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situation is that by saving Absalom, David makes possible his return and ultimate usurpation, not to mention the threat to God's chosen heir. The irony of David's requirement to save his future usurper is a consistent implication of the mashal's association with many of the 'woman with a cause' episodes. It would appear that the associations of the mashal with the levirate texts also serves as a reminder of the significance of courageous women, like Tamar and Ruth, who had central roles in perpetuating and defending the Davidic lineage. This added reminder must be intended to give David extra incentive to save Absalom and to foreshadow Bathsheba who plays an equally central role in saving Solomon and ensuring his succession to David. With the subcategory of 'women at court', we have texts that share with the levirate texts the assumption that the lives of sons and loved ones ought to be saved. The variation in these texts suggests the latitude with which the form could be treated. A theme that persists in these texts is the judiciousness (or lack thereof) of the king. 1 Kings 3 goes furthest in establishing the judiciousness of the king. 2 Kings 6 and Esther appear to use the image of the judicious king as a foil to the royal figures in each. Esther in particular shifts the emphasis of judiciousness from the royal figure to Mordecai and Esther as representatives of a righteous people. 1 Samuel 25, likewise, seems to emphasize the prudence and judiciousness of Abigail in dissuading David from his murderous intentions. This emphasis on the judiciousness of the woman at court has direct implications for the 'wise' woman of Tekoa. She and Bathsheba clearly fit into this continuum of clever women who guide David to a correct choice. David's passions and loyalties and, yes, indecisiveness, require that these women force the issue on him. A second, and familiar issue, associated with the 'woman at court' subcategory is the persistent marking of the enemy of the king and state. This is especially true in the narrative treatment of Nabal, Haman, and Adonijah and suggests that part of the Tekoite's message to David (especially like Abigail's) is that the man he saves (her son as cipher for Absalom) is also a threat to his authority. As the Tekoite speaks, David may well have thought to himself, The last time I heard a plea like this was when Abigail convinced me to save that worthless Nabal'. Much like the irony implied by the association of the mashal with the avoided most of the troubles narrated in the remainder of the Court Narrative. As we will see, however, killing Absalom was not the only alternative that would have gotten him out of the way.

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levirate texts, its association with these 'woman at court' texts implies that David is obliged to save his enemy. Finally, in its relationship to the Bathsheba story, and by association the episodes involving Sarah and Rebekah, the mashal marks how difficult and unclear are David's choices. His affections and desires seldom match God's intentions and, like Abraham and Isaac, he apparently wants for his son Absalom what cannot be his. Given the presumption that David ought to save Absalom, the question seems to arise, in particular through the mashal's association with the story of Sarah and Abraham, but also with the Cain and Abel episode, whether Absalom should be brought back to Jerusalem or left in exile. The mashal displays an awareness of strictures generated from, or at least witnessed in, legal and narrative material that constrain David's choice so that doing what is right puts his very kingdom at risk. Finally, as an adumbration of the Bathsheba episode, the mashal makes for a fascinating contrast between Absalom and Solomon. The Tekoite in 2 Samuel 14 goes to all the same efforts, apparently to save Absalom, as does Bathsheba to save Solomon. The irony is that despite their similar stories, and even their etymologically similar names, Absalom is doomed precisely because Solomon was chosen! Furthermore, in the constellation formed by the Nabal, Absalom, and Solomon episodes, despite the similarity between his name and Solomon's, Absalom's fate is much more like Nabal's. Moreover, with the sibling rivalry topos in view, much as Abraham's rehearsal and loss of his son in Genesis 21 adumbrate the events in ch. 22, where Isaac, the chosen son, is eventually spared, so too David rehearses the events leading to the loss of his son (chs. 13-20) before very similar events with Bathsheba secure the destiny of the divinely chosen son. Clearly, there are a number of narrative analogues here that reflect the ambivalence with which David must have approached these fateful decisions. So far we have considered the topoi of 'sibling rivalry' and 'woman with a cause' in isolation. The results of our investigation point to the conclusion that 2 Sam. 14.1-11 represent the intersection of these two topoi. This 'combination' of topoi suggests the phenomenon that is central to the discussion in the next chapter: the agglutinative quality of the narrative meshalim in general and of the Tekoite's in particular. Only in the context of the other narrative meshalim does the significance of this agglutinative quality emerge. It is to a consideration of the genre of the narrative mashal that we next turn.

Chapter 3 'LIKE WATER POURED OUT ON THE GROUND' In the two preceding chapters we have considered the relevant topoi by which to understand increasingly larger parts of the wise woman of Tekoa's mashal. In this chapter, we consider the whole of the Tekoite's mashal (2 Sam. 14.1-20). As has been frequently noted in the preceding chapters, numerous questions arise because of the imperfect analogue between the mashal and the narrative to which it is supposed to apply. It is these questions and many more that are generated by vv. 1-20 that I wish to address in this chapter. Fortunately our mashal is one of several examples of narrative meshalim found in the Hebrew Bible.1 We begin by considering the genre of narrative meshalim in general.2 Many of our questions about the mashal of the wise woman 1. Gerhardsson (The Narrative Meshalim in the Synoptic Gospels', pp. 33963) also uses the term 'narrative meshalim' in his discussion of the literary form under consideration. Gerhardsson applies the term to the New Testament parables as well. Again, by applying the same term to these literary forms in the two testaments, one runs the risk of obfuscating as much as one seeks to clarify. It is not my purpose to challenge Gerhardsson's typology, rather to note that his use of the term is slightly different from mine. This is made clearest by his identification of a slightly different set of narrative meshalim from mine (see p. 343). 2. Coats ('Parable, Fable, and Anecdote', pp. 368-82) has addressed a similar question with regard to 2 Sam. 12.1-4. His interest is in the genre 'parable' and he identifies 2 Sam. 12 as a fable, 2 Sam. 14, 1 Kgs 3, and 2 Kgs 6 as anecdotes. Clearly, his approach to much of the same material that is the focus here takes a different tack. I begin by noting that I have included the passages from 1 and 2 Kings in the last chapter under the discussion of women with a cause. To call these two stories anecdotes of the same kind as the Tekoite's, again, obscures as much as it reveals. In particular, Coats's recognition that there is resemblance between these texts and 2 Sam. 14 is correct. I simply think he traced the less productive of the associations between them. That is to say that the 'woman with a cause' topos reveals more associations and commonalities between these three texts than does viewing them as anecdotes. See also Simon ('Poor Man's Ewe-Lamb', pp. 207-42)

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of Tekoa are best answered in light of its genre. Three phenomena associated with the narrative meshalim are especially useful in illumining the Tekoite's mashal. The first is the way that the meshalim are 'stitched' into their local narrative surroundings. The second is the way that the narrative meshalim develop larger, more universal themes. Finally, the third important characteristic of the meshalim is their consistently agglutinative quality. All three of these qualities we need briefly discuss as they emerge from three other narrative meshalim found in the Hebrew Bible. Only after considering these three meshalim and the three central characteristics related to them can we move on to elaborate the significance of the Tekoite's mashal. In the following we shall consider not only the three other examples of narrative meshalim but also other literary material related to each of them. First, we shall consider 1 Kgs 20.35-43 and how this mashal is integrated into its narrative surroundings. In particular, the mashal not only relates to the events involving Ahab and Ben-Hadad that immediately precede it, but also to the narrative of Naboth's vineyard that immediately follows in 1 Kings 21. The mashal appears to be intended to comment on Ahab's relationship with both Ben-Hadad and Naboth. Much like the mashal in 1 Kings 20, the second mashal that we shall consider, Jotham's in Judg. 9.6-20, is carefully integrated into its surrounding narrative. Again, the mashal not only picks up the immediately preceding narrative (in Judg. 8) in which Gideon is offered the chance to become king, but it also develops, in very subtle ways, the arboreal imagery that is so central to the rest of Judges 9. Further, as it turns out, the record of Abimelech's death in Judges 9 proves to have significance in the Court History as well when it is referred to in 2 Sam. 11.21. The third mashal that we shall consider is found in 2 Sam. 12.1-12. Known as 'Nathan's mashal', this text proves to be intricately woven into the fabric of the Court History. In particular, it provides the who calls 1 Kgs 20, 2 Sam. 12 and 14, Isa. 5, and Jer. 3 'juridical' parables. Herein I leave out the two prophetic 'parables' and add Jotham's mashal in Judg. 9. The reason I delete the two prophetic passages is that they do not inform our understanding of our mashal as a narrative mashal. They are not integrated into a larger narrative in the same way that the meshalim under consideration are. As will be noted below, the inclusion of Jotham's mashal is due to its usefulness in illumining the function of 2 Sam. 14.

3. 'Like Water Poured Out on the Ground'

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wellspring for most of the important themes that run through this narrative, such as the question of sexual propriety and the prediction that David's son will eventually usurp him. Beyond these associations with the Court History, Nathan's mashal also proves to be closely associated with the story of Naboth's vineyard. The way that each of these meshalim is integrated into its narrative proves invaluable for understanding how the Tekoite's mashal is integrated into its narrative surroundings. But these narrative meshalim also pick up on more universal themes found throughout the biblical narrative. Indeed, the meshalim are best understood both in the narrow and in the wide angle 'lens' of their narrative associations. That the meshalim are closely associated with more distant texts suggests that they likely have origins that are independent of the narratives in which they are now found. In fact, they can best be understood as pithy parabolic formulations of the values and morals embedded in related texts, both local and distant. Their independent origins help to explain the irregular fit they often have with their present narratives. This irregular fit is exaggerated by the third phenomenon that we need to address before diving into the texts: the agglutinative nature of the meshalim. All the meshalim, with the possible exception of Nathan's, appear to be made up of distinct and independent elements. The composite nature of the meshalim helps to account for the multiple interpretive trajectories implied by them. Despite their careful integration into the surrounding narratives, the disparate parts of the meshalim continually point toward their separate textual associations outside of their present context. The goal in the following is to use these three meshalim as a means of defining the genre and gaining a clearer understanding of its character. With this understanding as a background, we shall then consider the Tekoite's mashal, in light of how it is integrated into its narrative. In particular, I am interested in how her mashal picks up and utilizes larger biblical themes and literary motifs, especially the 'sibling rivalry' and 'woman with a cause' topoi. Finally, I am interested in revealing how this complex weave of traditionary threads forms and conveys its message(s) to David.

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1. er«rrn« inti 'Guard This Man!' We turn to 1 Kings 20 for our first example of a narrative mashal. The chapter, as a whole, tells of Ben-Hadad, king of Aram, attacking Samaria and making what seem to Ahab, king of Israel, unreasonable demands. As a result, Ahab gets the advice from an unnamed prophet to go on the offensive. This ends in a rather telling defeat of Aram, but not a final one, since Aram regroups and plans a second attack. Once again, Ahab is told by 'the man of God' that Israel will prevail and, indeed, this time Israel exacts considerable tribute from the captive king of Aram (Ben-Hadad) who eventually bargains for his life and release. The messages to Ahab from the unknown prophet seem to imply, though this is never explicitly stated, that he is to show no mercy to King Ben-Hadad. At least this is the implication of the brief prophetic mashal that follows the narrative, a translation of which follows. 35

A certain man, one of the disciples of the prophets, said to his fellow, 'by the word of Yhwh, strike me'; but the man refused to strike him. 36 He said to him, 'Because you did not heed Yhwh, you are going to depart from me and be struck by a lion.' He departed from his presence and a lion found him and struck him down. 37The man found another and said, 'Strike me'. The man struck him and wounded him. 38The prophet went and waited for the king by the road and disguised himself with a bandage over his eyes. 39When the king passed by, he cried out to the king, 'Your servant went into the midst of the battle and suddenly a man turned, came over to me, and said, "Guard this man! If he should escape, it will be your life for his or you will pay a talent of silver." 40Your servant was doing this and that and all of a sudden the man was gone.' The king of Israel responded to him, This is your judgement, you yourself have declared it.' 41He quickly removed the bandage from his eyes and the king of Israel recognized him as one of the prophets. 42He said to him, Thus says Yhwh: because you have let go the man that I condemned, it will be your life for his and your people for his.' 43The king went to his house in Samaria depressed and in despair.

The second part of this passage (vv. 39-43) is familiar to anyone acquainted with the genre of narrative meshalim. Like the mashal in 2 Samuel 14, the king is told a fabricated story in order to elicit a judgment that reflects on his own situation. Yet, while this second part of the mashal is familiar, the first part seems strange indeed. In fact, vv. 35-37 are closer to a prophetic 'sign-act' that implies that because


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he failed to strike down Ben-Hadad, Ahab will be struck down. In v. 39 we expect to find the lesson to be drawn from this sign-act but, instead, get a second 'veiled' message, this time in the form of a mashal proper.3 The relationship between the motifs of 'sign-act' and 'mashal' in the Hebrew Bible in general is fascinating. In a sign-act, a prophet's acts represent a dramatization and performance of the kind of story that is the basis of a mashal. In fact, it is likely that the linkage of the two halves of the passage above is based on the intuitive recognition that the two forms are closely associated. While the 'signact' here indicts Ahab for not killing Ben-Hadad, the mashal informs him that he should not have set him free. It appears that the 'double' message of the 'sign-act' and of the mashal has been collapsed into a kind of hybrid form of 'sign-act/mashal' in this passage. Both essentially say, 'You should not have been so easy on Ben-Hadad!'4 The recognition of this mixing of two separate genres is key to understanding how narrative meshalim coalesce. Far from following an abstract and fixed formula in its composition, this passage comes together as a pastiche of elements, each vaguely reminiscent of the other and each, to a certain degree, following a similar trajectory but maintaining its own peculiar set of concerns and lessons. For instance, in the 'sign-act' the prophet, as the one who ought to be struck, apparently represents Ben-Hadad, while in the mashal the prophet, as the one who failed to keep his prisoner, represents Ahab. The resulting complementary but 'loose' fit makes precise, univocal interpretation quite impossible, since the materials of which the passage is composed themselves take different paths and imply different messages. While the sign-act and mashal here convey roughly the same message (failure properly to punish Ben-Hadad will eventuate in Ahab's death), the overlap of the forms and their separate trajectories make ambiguous the 'point(s)' the passage is able to convey. This combination of two different but associated forms and messages is important for understanding other examples of the narrative meshalim considered below. The result of the mixing of literary types here is to incorporate the 3. This secondary and slightly conflicting message is an important element not only for understanding this mashal, but especially for understanding vv. 13-14 of the Tekoite's mashal. See below discussion of these verses in Ch. 3 §4.c. 4. Neither Montgomery (The Books of Kings, p. 323) nor Gray (1 and 2 Kings [OTL; Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 2nd edn, 1970], pp. 431-33) notes the problem of the mixing of forms here; rather, they read vv. 35-43 as a whole.

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sign-act into a larger mashal. In the following, I refer to the whole passage (vv. 35-43) as the larger mashal and to vv. 39-43 as the short mashal. First, it is necessary to concentrate on the short mashal in vv. 39-43 and to determine the basic outline of the genre. The short mashal begins in v. 39 with the set up or fabricated problem. As the king goes by, the prophet tells his fabricated story of failing to keep his captive under his control and even announces the predetermined judgment due in the case. In v. 40a, the prophet admits that he has failed in his duty. Verses 39-40a comprise the first element of the mashal genre, the setting of the problem, which I will call the mashal proper. In v. 40b, the king responds by saying, essentially, 'you have pronounced your own verdict'. This response is typical of the genre of meshalim and comprises its second main element, the (king's) reaction or proclamation. Verses 41-43 detail the means by which the prophet reveals to the king that the mashal proper applies to him. The three constituent elements of the narrative mashal, then, are 1) the mashal proper, 2) the reaction and proclamation of the one to whom it is addressed, and 3) the application of the mashal to its 'target'.5 The short mashal in 1 Kgs 20.39-43 is so useful because of its brevity and relatively straightforward application. It is especially good for establishing the outline of the genre of narrative meshalim.6 Moreover, 5. Note that this outline works for all of the meshalim as well and that for the larger mashal in vv. 35-43 we merely need to expand the first element to include vv. 35-40a. 6. Furthermore, it contains many elements with significant associations with other narrative meshalim. First, like all the other meshalim, the mashal is presented (almost always to the king) by a second party. Like the mashal in 2 Sam. 12, here the short mashal is presented by a prophet. Second, and especially intriguing, is the way the king responds to the mashal proper. The king essentially says that the prophet has pronounced judgment on himself (v. 40). Keeping in mind that the prophet is a cipher for the king, this response is remarkable. In telling the prophet that he has pronounced judgment on himself, the king also refers to himself. Indeed, this is essentially what the prophet tells the king in the 'application' of the short mashal in the last half of the passage. This is of special interest in comparison with 2 Sam. 12, where the prophet Nathan tells King David that the king has pronounced judgment on himself. Montgomery (The Books of Kings, p. 327) calls the prophet's response in 1 Kgs 20.42 a replica of Nathan's Thou art the man' in 2 Sam. 12.7 but, as the discussion here implies, the relationship between these responses is much more complicated than he suggests. For now it is simply important to note the variation and manipulation of this element of the genre.


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while the situation of the short mashal is much like the circumstances in which Ahab finds himself, there are important differences. Notably, in the narrative that precedes, Ahab makes a deal with Ben-Hadad for his release rather than inadvertently letting him go. Another difference is the warning of the consequences for letting the prisoner escape. The previous narrative provides no such warning to Ahab. Furthermore, while the events of the mashal are supposed to have taken place during the heat of battle, Ahab's deal with Ben-Hadad was made in the relative calm following the defeat of Aram. It is unclear what we are to make of these differences between the mashal and narrative, but, as will become clear in the following investigation, they are of the sort that are rather standard with this genre. One last element worth mentioning is the punishment prescribed in the 'sign-act' in vv. 35-38. There, the prophet says that the one who failed to strike him will be killed by a lion. Apparently, the lesson of the sign-act is much like that of the short mashal that follows, yet, again, there is not a one-to-one correspondence between the lesson of the sign-act and the consequences for Ahab. Despite these differences between the larger mashal and the surrounding narrative, there are signs that the former has been integrated into the latter. The short mashal implies that Ben-Hadad came into Ahab's possession as a result of God's action and, given the promises that precede Ben-Hadad's capture, it is likely that the narrative implies the same. Just as in the narrative, in the sign-act and short mashal the man who represents Ben-Hadad is not harmed and finds his freedom. Finally, one last element is of interest. In v. 42 the prophet quotes Yhwh saying, 'Because you let the man I had doomed get away, it will be your life for his and your people for his'. At this Ahab walks away dejected and saddened. One wonders why Ahab does not mention the payment option suggested in the mashal proper (v. 39), where the alternative to being killed was the payment of a talent of silver. It is unclear why Ahab fails to suggest this alternative, but it is of note that the notion of optional 'payment' for the wrong done has an analogue in the events surrounding Nathan's mashal in 2 Sam. 12. There, David pronounces that the rich man, who has stolen the poor man's lamb, is a dead man (niQ~p) and must pay back fourfold for the lamb he took. In this passage the punishments are understood in combination rather than as options but, notably, the two punishments are quite similar to those in 1 Kgs 20.41. While the short mashal here in 1 Kgs 20.39-43 has important associations with all of the narrative meshalim, it displays especially strong associations with Nathan's mashal in 2 Sam. 12. These associations will be taken up again below in discussing the latter passage.

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In the larger context of the surrounding narrative, it is significant that Ahab is killed in battle with the Arameans (ch. 22). The larger mashal and greater narrative imply that Ahab's failure to deal appropriately with Ben-Hadad leads to his own death. More evidence that the mashal is integrated into its narrative is found in 1 Kgs 21.4 where, in reaction to Naboth's refusal to sell his vineyard to Ahab, the latter returns home dejected and saddened (NT! *]I?n ID 1JT3'1PN DKntf ). The language here is nearly identical to that in the last verse of the mashal which reads, The king of Israel went to his house dejected and saddened' (*]I?n 10 irrn'1?!? 'wicr'I^D "p^}.1 This similarity cannot be coincidence. The phrase at the end of the mashal most likely represents an editorial attempt to provide a transition from the mashal to the following narrative.8 But is the presence of the same description in these two verses merely an editor's attempt to associate two otherwise unassociated texts, or does it signal a deeper association between them? It is notable that the 'lesson' of the short mashal in 20.38-43 seems to be that Ahab should not have let BenHadad go and the 'lesson' of the sign-act and mashal together is that, indeed, Ahab should have killed Ben-Hadad. This 'dual' mashal is followed immediately by the Naboth episode which indicts Ahab for almost the opposite misconduct: here he kills when he should not! The phrase 'Have you both murdered and dispossessed?' in 21.14 reinforces this lesson. That the first case is 'international' in scope and the second domestic may provide the key to understanding these seemingly disparate messages for Ahab. That is, perhaps the real message is that one needs to come to know one's true enemies: Ben-Hadad deserves to be killed while Naboth does not. Whatever one makes of the tension between the mashal in 1 Kings 20 and the 'lesson' of the Naboth episode, that they are meant to be in tension and read 'against' each other seems likely.9 7. Cf. Est. 6.12 where Haman returns home in mourning and seeking the solace of his wife. 8. Montgomery (The Books of Kings, p. 330) and Gray (1 and 2 Kings, p. 385) both note the similarity of this language but do not address its significance. 9. In fact the first words of ch. 21 are, 'After these things. . . ' (D'HUTT "in» TH n^Nn). While this phrase likely represents a standard editorial device to smooth over the transition between stories, ancient interpreters often take it to signal some relationship between the narratives that immediately precede and follow it. More specifically, they often understand Q'Hinn to mean 'words' rather than 'things' and assume that the following narrative is related to the words most recently spoken (e.g. Gen. R.


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Finally, we consider the wider thematic associations of the larger mashal. It is clear that it is meant to relate, however imprecisely, to its narrative surroundings in 1 Samuel 20 and 21, but the mashal has an important association with a text considerably further afield. 1 Samuel 15 tells the story of Saul's attack on Agag. Prior to the attack Samuel comes to Saul with a message from Yhwh telling him to spare none of Agag's people or animals. In the subsequent attack, Saul captures, rather than kills, Agag. All of Agag's best cattle Saul saves in order to sacrifice to Yhwh. After the battle Samuel comes to Saul and points out his error in the famous passage that follows: 22

Samuel said: 'Does Yhwh take delight in burnt offerings or sacrifices As much as listening to his voice? To obey is better than sacrifice, To listen than the fat of rams. 23 For rebellion is like the sin of divination, Willfulness like the wickedness of the teraphim. Because you have rejected the word of Yhwh, He has rejected you as king!'

The full implications of this passage cannot detain us now, but its significance for our larger mashal and narrative in 1 Kings 20 should be clear. In fact, the short mashal and its preceding companion 'signact' seem more accurately to reflect the circumstances surrounding Saul's failure with Agag than Ahab's with Ben-Hadad.10 The specificity of the commands and the admonishments in 1 Samuel 15 matches that of the warnings in the 'sign-act/mashal'. Indeed, the larger mashal in 1 Kings 20 represents a pithy parabolic formulation of the lesson that these two associated stories in 1 Kings 20 and 1 Samuel 15 narrativize. All three texts, in their separate formulations, warn that retribution on enemies must be swift and thorough. The mashal teaches that Ahab's fate, like Saul's, is sealed when he fails to follow through on this basic lesson. Like all the other meshalim that I shall discuss below, this one comprises an attempt to integrate a larger lesson into a more local narrative. 55.1, 4). The discussion above suggests that there are a number of reasons to accept this presumption. In fact, on one reading, it appears that Ahab has failed to learn his lesson, since he is unable, by himself, to rid himself of his new antagonist, Naboth. 10. Radaq implies a similar point when he associates v. 35 with the Saul/Agag conflict.

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It seems likely that the two basic elements of the mashal, the signact and short mashal, had some sort of independent life before being placed in their current narrative context. But even in combination as the larger mashal, they may well have functioned relatively independently of their present narrative locus. It is, perhaps, most likely that the larger mashal has been placed where it is by the Deuteronomistic Historian (or associated editor), but why here? Was it always associated with Ahab or could it have been applied (with the proper name changes) to Saul as well? Given its closer correspondence to the events in Saul's experience, it would seem that the mashal may have been better placed in 1 Samuel 15. It is impossible to solve this dilemma without entering into entirely circular argumentation, but for our purposes it is simply important to note the fact that the mashal has associations beyond its own more narrow narrative context that are crucial to understanding its message and, thus, the other passages with which it is associated.11 This is a phenomenon that we also witness in our next example of a narrative mashal, Jotham's in Judg. 9.6-20.

2. ir^jr-f'pn nnN -p itDKrr^K Dîrr^D TiDtri 'And All the Trees Said to the Thorn Bush, "Come Be King Over Us!" ' The second narrative mashal with which we must deal is found in Judg. 9.6-20. This passage is usually labeled a fable, defined as a story about personified plants or animals meant to teach a lesson.12 While Jotham's is distinct at several points from the other narrative meshalim, there are a number of reasons to include it in our discussion. As will become clear, the text functions within its present literary context in much the same way as the other narrative meshalim. Moreover, its complex composition and resonance with both local and distant texts

11. It is interesting that Nathan's mashal in 2 Sam. 12, addressed below, shares with this mashal the characteristic of being more applicable to a narrative other than the one to which it is attached. As will become clearer during the course of discussion, this broader applicability of the mashal, or at least many parts of it, is important for understanding the Tekoite's message for David. 12. See for instance R. Stewart, 'Parable Form in the Old Testament and Rabbinic Literature', EvQ 36 (1964), pp. 133-47. Note that, like the term 'parable', 'fable' derives from the western, Greek canon and therefore threatens to obscure as much as it can reveal in its application to Hebrew biblical material.


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are quite informative for understanding the same phenomena as they relate to the other narrative meshalim. The narrative in which Jotham's mashal is embedded tells the story of Gideon's son Abimelech who seeks to become king of Shechem (Judg. 9.1-8). In order to secure his claim, Abimelech kills his seventy brothers. Only the youngest son of Gideon, Jotham, escapes Abimelech's mass fratricide. The people of Shechem gather at the terebinth Cp^K) of Shechem and declare Abimelech king.13 In response, Jotham comes and pronounces this mashal to the Shechemites: 8

The trees went to anoint a king over them. They said to the olive tree, 'Be king over us!' 9 The olive said to them, 'Have I, in whom God and men are honored, stopped yielding my oil, that I should come and wave over the trees?' 10 The trees said to the fig tree, 'Come, be king over us!' 1 ^he fig tree said to them, 'Have I stopped yielding my sweetness, my good fruit, that I should come and wave over the trees?' 12 The trees said to the vine, 'Come, be king over us!' 13 The vine said to them, 'Have I stopped yielding my new wine which gladdens God and men, that I should come and wave over the trees?' 14 The trees said to the thorn bush, 'Come, be king over us!' 13. Given the arboreal imagery in the following, it seems likely that we are to see some irony in the Shechemites' declaration of Abimelech as king at the terebinth of Shechem. Especially ironic is the fact that no real tree will accept the offer of kingship and that Abimelech, nothing more than a thorn bush, does accept. Perhaps we are to envisage Abimelech, as a thorn bush, at the base of the terebinth of Shechem and recognize from the outset of this narrative his presumption. Note too the arboreal imagery in vv. 46-49 where Abimelech lops off tree branches to get even with the Shechemites as if to deny them the 'shade' of any tree/king (cf. v. 15) if they refuse his authority. This arboreal/royal imagery is consistent with other texts in the Hebrew Bible. See, for instance, Jer. 23.5; 33.15; Ps. 132.17; and Zech. 3.8 among others. B. Halpern (The Constitution of the Monarchy in Israel [Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981], p. 143) argues that Abimelech is depicted as a bramble to emphasize his humility. This, argues Halpern, fits in with 'Near Eastern ideology of kingship. . . the candidate eventually selected is of humble origin'. While this 'ideology' fits well the narratives of the selection of David and Saul, the message of the mashal in Judges implies that the emphasis is on the unworthiness of the 'bramble' and not on its humble origins.

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King David with the Wise Woman of Tekoa 15

The thorn bush said to the trees, 'If in honesty you anoint me to be king over you, Come, seek refuge in my shadow. But if not, may fire come from the bush and consume the cedars of Lebanon'.

16

Now, if it is in honesty and purity that you have acted in making Abimelech king, if you have done right by Jerubbaal and his house, and if you have repaid him in kind—17it was my father who fought for you and risked his life and saved you from Midian, 18and now you have turned against my father's house today and killed his seventy sons, each on a single stone and have made Abimelech, son of his handmaid, king over the Shechemites because he is your kinsman14—19if in honesty and purity you have acted with Jerubbaal and with his house this day, then take joy in Abimelech and may he also take joy in you. 20If not, may fire come from Abimelech and consume the Shechemites and Beth Millo, and may fire come from the Shechemites and Beth Millo and consume Abimelech.

There is much to be gained by careful analysis of this passage. Verses 8-15 constitute the 'mashal' proper. The trees in the mashal represent the Shechemites and the thorn bush, Abimelech. The message of the mashal, on first blush, seems relatively clear: only the thorn bush, of no real use otherwise, is willing to be anointed king.15 The problem is that this does not accurately reflect the relationship between Shechem and Abimelech. The mashal implies that the Shechemites, seeking a king, eventually turn to Abimelech who reluctantly accepts. But in reality Abimelech actively seeks to become king and even pleads his case in Judg. 9.1-2. So how does the mashal fit the circumstances of the narrative in which it is embedded? The answer to this question lies in the larger narrative context of Judges. In fact, the

14. Note that as the 'handmaid's son', Abimelech is depicted in ways similar to Ishmael (Gen. 16 and 21) and Jephthah in Judg. 11. In fact, the way that Jotham points out his brother's 'unseemly' origins is much like the way Sarah points out Ishmael's (Gen. 21.10) and the way Jephthah's brothers point out his in Judg. 11.2. 15. Most see this part of the mashal as containing an essentially anti-monarchical message. See, for instance, J.A. Soggin, Judges (trans. J. Bowden; OTL; London: SCM Press, 1987), p. 174. In contrast, E.H. Maly (The Jotham Fable— Antimonarchical?', CBQ 22 [1960], p. 303) argues that the point of the mashal is to indict those who refuse the burden of kingship. See also Halpern, Constitution, pp. 142-44. Rather than debate the merits of these positions, it is more important to note that the mashal contains such a mixed message that either of these positions represents a reasonable and internally consistent reading.


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mashal must be understood as a device by which Abimelech is contrasted with his father Gideon.16 In the story leading to this mashal, Gideon is asked by the Israelites to rule over them (Judg. 8.22). Gideon's response is that neither he nor his son or grandson, but only Yhwh, should rule over Israel. It is Gideon's circumstances that are reflected in the mashal when the trees actively seek a king. The appropriate response is represented not only by Gideon but by the olive, fig, and vine in the mashal. Notably Gideon's refusal was threefold ('neither I, my son, nor grandson'), just as the trees' refusals are threefold.17 The mashal makes for a striking contrast between Gideon, who refused to accept kingship even when sought out, and his son, who went to great effort to gain it. All of this is made doubly ironic when one considers that Abimelech's name means 'my father is king'.18 The point of the mashal is that, as much as he deserved it, Abimelech's father was not king. How much more should Abimelech be denied the role.19 While the first part of the mashal, through v. 14, actually applies to Gideon, v. 15 tells of the acceptance of the kingship by the thorn bush, or Abimelech.20 The description of the fire that goes out from the 16. Notably, the Tekoite's mashal can be understood to incorporate a similar function. This is especially true when David's wisdom is seemingly compared to Solomon's or when associations with the sibling rivalry topos cast that rather long, dark shadow over David's sexual liaisons. Notable as well is that David comes out the worse for these kinds of comparisons whereas Jotham's mashal seems to indict only Abimelech. 17. Radaq makes a similar point when he notes that the trees' threefold attempt to attain a king are like the threefold attempt of the Israelites to persuade Gideon to become king in Judg. 8.22. 18. R. Boling (Judges [AB; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1975], pp. 162-63) insists that Abimelech is a pagan name (understanding 'father' to refer to a god other than Yhwh) and doubts that the devout Yahwist Gideon would have thus named his son. While his logic is open to question, more significantly, he misses the irony gained in so naming Gideon's son and, moreover, presumes historical veracity that is difficult to maintain with this text. L.R. Klein (The Triumph of Irony in the Book of Judges [Sheffield: Almond Press, 1988], p. 71 and pp. 78-79) also stresses the irony implied by Abimelech's name. 19. Notable is that Abimelech's ascent to the kingship falsifies the middle claim of Gideon, that his son would not become king. Halpern argues that Gideon's refusal of the kingship was merely a smokescreen to hide the fact that he had already founded a priestly dynasty (Constitution, p. 184). 20. Many have stressed the transitional role played by v. 15. They see v. 15 as the

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thorn bush serves as an allusion to the events that follow in the narrative where Abimelech, in getting even with Shechem, attempts to burn it down.21 So while the first part of the mashal looks backward and makes reference to Gideon, the second part points forward to Abimelech and the consequences of kingship. Verse 15, on close reading, is not without its own difficulties for the interpreter. Does it reflect positively or negatively on the institution of kingship? On the one hand, v. 15b can be read as highlighting the natural and highly negative consequences of seeking a king: he will only make your life miserable and possibly seek your life. But the first part of the verse interjects language that makes the conclusion to the mashal hard to interpret. Verse 15a simply says that if the trees are acting in sincerity they will find refuge in the shadow of the thorn bush. But how much shadow does this bush provide, especially to the olive or fig tree? It is quite difficult to gauge the nuance of the first half of v. 15. It might mean that the trees had better accept the thorn bush's offer or nothing at all. Or it could mean that the bush (like many who would be king) has a very overblown notion of what it can provide for the other trees and that the trees themselves also overestimate what it can provide. As a consequence, the chances that 'fire will come forth from the bush' are very great, since all parties enter this agreement with unreasonable expectations. On the other hand, perhaps the plea for loyalty does not represent an overblown self-image of the thorn bush, but simply a straightforward proposition that if loyal, the subjects can expect similar treatment from the king, no matter how inadequate he is. This difficulty in reading v. 15 is made no easier by its 'application' that follows in vv. 16-20 nor by the narrative that tells of the consequences for picking Abimelech as king. The 'split personality' of v. 15 is difficult to understand, but is likely the result of a high degree of ambivalence about kingship.22 However one answers the question about the message of v. 15, it is crucial to note that it, means by which the mashal is integrated with the larger narrative. See, for example, Soggin (Judges, p. 176). Boling (Judges, p. 174) notes that many view v. 15 as a redactional attempt to join a pre-existing fable to our narrative. It is clear that v. 15 serves as a transition between what comes before and after it but it seems arbitrary to presume it is redactional rather than the product of the 'author'. 21. See Judg. 9.43-46. 22. This kind of ambivalence is witnessed throughout the Deuteronomistic History and is especially in evidence in texts like 1 Sam. 8-15 that seem so closely associated with Jotham's mashal.


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like the rest of the mashal proper in vv. 8-15, cannot be read as univocal. At the same time that v. 15 conveys the ambivalence about kingship that prevails in so much biblical literature, the mashal proper, as a whole, points backward and forward in the narrative and, like the 'sign-act/mashal' of 1 Kgs 20.35-43, in the process conveys distinct and not altogether compatible messages. These multiple narrative and thematic trajectories are brought to the narrative by way of the complex composition of the meshalim. As a consequence, it is no wonder that they require careful and thoughtful unpacking. Next, we consider the last part of Jotham's mashal, vv. 16-20. As noted above, the passage represents the application. This application picks up on the mixed message of v. 15 and makes it even more ambiguous.23 In particular, vv. 16 and 19 continue the message that if the Shechemites are acting honorably, then they will be able to delight in their king and he in them. The application makes an important addition to the query about the motive for selecting a king. Here the Shechemites are to act not just on an abstract notion of honor but out of loyalty to Gideon (Jerubbaal). In other words, Jotham interprets the mashal's requirement for loyalty to apply to Abimelech's father, not to Abimelech himself. In fact, in v. 17 Jotham reminds the Shechemites that Gideon risked his life in order to save them from the Midianites and in v. 18 reminds them, in the same breath, that they killed Gideon's seventy sons and selected Abimelech as king. There is considerable irony in this plea for loyalty within which is a reminder of the Shechemites' disloyalty to Gideon. In other words, Jotham's application of the mashal interprets v. 15 to say that loyalty to their new king is impossible. Furthermore, there is even deeper irony in his plea for loyalty to Gideon (who refused to be king) in selecting a king. So, Jotham's application picks up and makes more complicated the message of the mashal. At the same time, it reflects the recognition that the mashal does indeed point both to Gideon and to Abimelech. As a result, while Jotham's application appears to represent the way in which the mashal has been 'stitched' into its narrative, it does so by maintaining the multiple trajectories through that narrative that are suggested by the mashal proper. While the mashal appears to have been incorporated into its narrative, this has not been done at the expense of 23. B. Webb (The Book of Judges: An Integrated Reading [JSOTSup, 46; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1987], p. 155) argues that the main thrust of Jotham's speech lies in vv. 16-20.

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multivocality; there are no easy interpretations here! Finally, we turn to the last verse of the application where Jotham repeats the warning that if the Shechemites are not acting out of loyalty they will be 'burned' by their new king. It is important to remember that in Jotham's formulation, the loyalty of which he speaks is to Gideon, and that vv. 17 and 18 have reminded the Shechemites of their disloyalty to him. In other words, this last verse says that this attempt to select a king is doomed. Most importantly, Jotham adds to the warning that the selection of a king will result in his demise as well. This warning proves true in the following narrative in which the Shechemites withdraw their support for Abimelech who returns to Shechem and burns the citizens to death. Verses 48-49 describe Abimelech cutting the branches from trees (DÛ fDlto) for fuel to burn the Shechemites. This imagery is fascinating because the 'trees', as ciphers for the Shechemites, supply the fuel for their own demise. Furthermore, with their branches cut off, no trees can supply the shade promised by the bush that would be king.24 Finally, Abimelech is killed while attempting to burn down the tower of Tebez, as he had burned the tower of Shechem. Abimelech's death comes about when a woman throws an upper millstone on his head and crushes his skull. In order to avoid having it said that a woman killed him, Abimelech has one of his retainers run him through with a sword. The preceding provides ample evidence of the ways in which Jotham's mashal has been stitched, however roughly, into its surrounding narrative while, at the same time, maintaining the disparate messages that are implied by its constituent elements.25 However, it is important to note that the mashal can be read against other texts as well. In particular, the text with which it has most resonance outside of Judges is in the story of Saul. In 1 Samuel 8 the elders of Israel come to Samuel to request that a king be appointed over them. The message in 1 Samuel 8 is like the message of the mashal: kingship is undesirable and only men of questionable motives would accept (or seek) kingship. One could simply attribute both texts, with such similar sentiments, to the Deuteronomistic Historian but that fails to 24. See also n. 11 above. 25. For a summary of the solutions proposed for explaining the relationship between the mashal and surrounding narrative see Soggin, Judges, pp. 173-75. I essentially agree with him that the mashal is likely of independent origin (pp. 175 and 178).


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account for how the mashal functions in its present context. Like the prophet's mashal in 1 Kgs 20.35-43, Jotham's mashal must be understood within the narrow context of the narrative in which it is found as well as the larger history of which it is a part and within which it forms an integral idiomatic expression. Another way that Jotham's mashal and its related material in Judges 9 are associated with other texts can be seen in the description of Abimelech's death. Interestingly enough, the accounts of Saul's death in 1 Samuel 31 and 2 Samuel 1 tell a story very similar to that of the death of Abimelech.26 In the first account, Saul, when he realizes the Philistines will capture him at Gilboa, calls on his arms bearer to kill him but when the retainer refuses, Saul falls on his sword. The language of the account is important; 1 Sam. 31.4 reads as follows: ."ripTi n^n o-'rujn mrâ TO "npn "pin *pn T^D sgtf? "TIWZJ noun Saul said to his arms bearer, 'Draw your sword and run me through right here lest these uncircumcised men run me through.'

Compare this with Abimelech's command to his retainer: nm -1? riaN'-ja ^nmai "pin *pti ib -on r^p vsm IOT-^R mna mp-i .TIU] mp-n nnnn He called quickly to his retainer, the arms bearer, and said to him, 'Draw your sword and kill me lest it be said about me that a woman killed me.' And so his retainer ran him through.

The second account of Saul's death relates a slightly different story but one with equally important parallels with Abimelech's. In 2 Sam. 1.6-10, David learns from an Amalekite retainer of Saul's death. The retainer relates that Saul fell on his spear and while still alive requested that the boy finish him off, which he did. It is impossible to determine the exact relationship between the two accounts of Saul's death and the single account of Abimelech's, but all three are clearly associated. 1 Samuel 31 shares identical language with much of Judges 9, but 2 Samuel 1 shares the scenario in which the injured king is finished off by an associate. Whatever the source of this similarity, it is of note

26. D. Jobling (The Sense of Biblical Narrative: Structural Analysis in the Hebrew Bible, II [Sheffield: Almond Press, 1986], pp. 44-87), and Polzin (Samuel and the Deuteronomist, pp. 223-24) both point out the verbal similarities between these texts but fail to elaborate on the significance thereof.

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that Jotham's mashal, whose narrative ends with Abimelech's death, applies equally well to Saul, whose death is so much like Abimelech's. In other words, Saul's unseemly death, like Abimelech's, seems to be, at least in part, the result of his selection as king in spite of the warnings to the people against so doing. Perhaps more important than the association between these stories of royal deaths, the account of Abimelech's is retold in 2 Sam. 11.21, just before Nathan's narrative mashal. Discussion of the full significance of this citation must await consideration of the latter passage. To summarize, Jotham's mashal reflects a complex mixture of material. Much like the larger mashal in 1 Kgs 20.3-43, the messages of its first half are clearly distinct from those of its second half. Moreover, this combination of messages makes for multiple interpretive trajectories, not only within its more local narrative, but even within more distant ones. Jotham's mashal, whatever its origins, has been carefully interlaced with its narrative. It looks both forward to Abimelech's failed reign and backward to Gideon's example of the man who, though worthy, refused the role of king. Consider, too, the prevalence of arboreal imagery throughout the Abimelech narrative that is so nicely tapped by the mashal.27 Moreover, the mashal reflects a broader anxiety about kingship and would fit equally well somewhere between 1 Samuel 8 and 15, where the Israelites' desire for and success in attaining their first king ends in a similarly bad choice. Further, the similarities in the stories of the deaths of Abimelech and Saul reinforce the associations between them and the broad applicability of the mashal in Judges 9. Again, Jotham's mashal appears to be a pithy parabolic formulation of the lessons(s) embedded in its associated narratives. This implies a relatively independent origin of the mashal, at least its first half. All this goes far, as we shall see, toward elaborating the complex and dense message of the Tekoite. Finally we simply note, again, that the Court History makes a conscious reference to the account of Abimelech's death (Judg. 9.53-55) just before Nathan's narrative mashal in 2 Sam. 12.1-12. It is to this latter text that we now turn our attention.

27. See n. 13 and discussion at n. 20.


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3. trrKn nnK 'You Are the Man!'

The final text we consider in order better to understand the mashal of the wise woman of Tekoa is Nathan's mashal in 2 Sam. 12.1-12, the translation of which follows: 1

Yhwh sent Nathan to David. He came and said to him: 'There were two men in a single city, one rich and one poor. 2 The rich man had many flocks and herds 3 But the poor man had only a single little ewe-lamb that he had bought. He raised it and it grew up with him together with his children and it ate from his bread and drank from his cup. It would lie in his bosom and was like a daughter to him. 4 A traveler came to the rich man but he hesitated to take from his own flocks and herds to prepare for the guest who had come to him. He took the poor man's lamb and prepared it for the man who had come to him.' 5

David became angry about the man and said to Nathan, 'As Yhwh lives, the man who did this is a dead man. 6And the lamb he shall repay fourfold because of this thing that he has done and because he showed no mercy.' 28 7Nathan said to David, 'You are the man! Thus says Yhwh God of Israel, "It was I who anointed you king over Israel, who saved you from the hand of Saul.29 8I gave to you your master's house; your master's wives I placed in your bosom and I gave to you Israel and Judah; in just a little bit I would have given twice as much. 9Why did you spurn the word of Yhwh by doing what is evil to him? Uriah the Hittite you have struck down by the sword, his wife you have taken as your wife, and him you killed by the sword of the Ammonites. 10Now the sword will never turn away from your house because you have spurned me and taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife." ] lrThus says Yhwh, "I am about to raise evil against you from your own house and I will take

28. The LXX has 'sevenfold', but note that 'fourfold' agrees with Exod. 21.37. Many wish to emend to agree with the LXX, presuming the MT has been altered to agree with Exodus. The logic here is a bit fuzzy. The number 7 could represent an attempt to bring the text in line with an auspicious number as much as the number 4 might represent the attempt to harmonize our text with Exodus. I, for reasons that will become clear below, would leave the MT as is. 29. As McCarter (2 Samuel, p. 300) points out, many believe vv. 7b-12 are secondary, coming from the hand of the Deuteronomistic Historian. McCarter accepts this passage as original, as do I, the reasons for which will become clear below.

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King David with the Wise Woman of Tekoa away your wives right in front of you and give them to your fellow, and he will lie with your wives in the sight of this very sun. 12For you have acted in secret, but I will do this thing before all of Israel and before the sun.'"

Even in a cursory reading of this passage one could hardly miss its threefold structure: 1) mashal proper in vv. 1-4; 2) reaction and pronouncement in vv. 5-6; and 3) the application in vv. 7-12. Clearly there are slight variations here from the other examples of the genre, but its main outline is obvious enough.30 Like the other meshalim, Nathan's makes for a rather awkward fit with its surrounding narrative.31 It is meant to inform the immediately preceding narrative of David's liaison with Bathsheba.32 In that story, David invites Bathsheba to his palace after seeing her bathing from his rooftop. After her visit, she becomes pregnant and David arranges for her husband Uriah to come home so that he might sleep with Bathsheba and cover David's paternity. When Uriah refuses to go home, David arranges to have him killed and in the end marries Bathsheba. But how do the details of the mashal relate to that story? Apparently David is the rich man and Uriah the poor. This means that Bathsheba is represented by the lamb. If this much is relatively clear, the remaining details of the mashal are less so. Whom does the traveler represent? How does Bathsheba correspond to the lamb that is raised by the man? If the mashal matched the details of the narrative more closely, David would have taken Bathsheba for someone other than himself. Much of this disparity between mashal and narrative, as we have noted before, is due to the agglutinative nature of the meshalim as well as their independent origins. The result of these factors is the fact that the meshalim can have numerous thematic and verbal associations that multiply and make ambiguous its message. In the following we consider each of the three parts of the mashal and how they function to weave the mashal into the larger Court History. 30. V.H. Matthews ('The King's Call to Justice', BZ 35 [1991], pp. 204-16) has treated 2 Sam. 12 as part of a body of texts that includes 1 Kgs 11.11-12, 30; 14.714; and 1 Kgs 21.21-29. His goal is to uncover a literary framework imposed on the Deuteronomistic History and is far from my focus here. Notably he views 2 Sam. 12.1-12 in considerably different light. 31. Polzin (David and the Deuteronomist, pp. 120-30) goes into considerable detail on the problem. 32. The David and Bathsheba episode has drawn considerable interest of late. For a thorough bibliography on this text see Polzin, David and the Deuteronomist, p. 223, n. 7.


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The mashal proper begins with the notice that there were two men in a certain city, one poor and one rich. Notably the language itself reflects the image of the difference between these two men. The most significant passage is the last half of v. 1, which reads: Vil D^DK *yfi :tftn in«1 T5DI? in« DON Tin. This clause contains two chiastic structures that reinforce its message and allude to the events of David's recent past. In the pairing of the words, TCJI? iriN nntf Tin, the second phrase reverses the order of the noun and numeral. Of more interest still is the adjective for the poor man (E>N~l) which reverses the last two consonants of the adjective for the rich man.33 Could this linguistic phenomenon be simply an accident of composition? Perhaps, but the fact that it mimics the reversal of David's role with Uriah's in the preceding narrative makes the word-play in the first verse of the mashal suspect, indeed!34 The second and third verse make for a striking contrast. The second verse relates, with remarkable economy, that the rich man had a lot of cattle and sheep. In contrast, the third verse tells, in more than four times as many words, of the poor man's single ewe-lamb. In the extended description of v. 3 a number of curious details are related. That the lamb is his only possession reinforces the notion that he is poor. It is less clear why the text stipulates that he had bought the lamb. Perhaps it is because of the nice alliteration of i~f]p "ICJN i"I]Qp or, perhaps, it implies that because he had purchased it, it was of special value. Further, the text says that he raised it and that it grew up along with his children. Adding to the familial language, the end of v. 3 says that the lamb was like a daughter to him. Perhaps the most intimate descriptions are that the lamb ate and drank from his own provisions and even slept in his 'bosom'. We are likely supposed to take all this description simply to indicate the tremendous value he put on the lamb and to understand that Uriah shared the same affection for Bathsheba. Furthermore, Nathan may subtly be signalling to David that he has 33. Notably, the consonants 2JK~) can also mean 'head'. This latter noun is consistently associated with the men who stand in the way of David (Naboth, Absalom, Sheba ben Bichri etc.). One wonders whether the application of 2JK"1 to the man who is the cipher for Uriah, who now stands in David's way, is related. 34. Note that the application of T2JI? andttJNHare reversed in the story in 1 Sam. 25. There, Nabal is the rich (T2J!?) and David the poor (2JK~l) man. This suggests a rather persistent and intentional (or at least traditional) application of these two similar-sounding words to David and his adversaries, not to mention the purposeful variation implied by their reversal.

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pulled the wool over no one's eyes. Especially ironic in this message is David's relationship to the lamb. As the 'shepherd' of his people he is supposed to watch out for such lambs, not take and devour them.35 Finally, some of the language of this part of Nathan's mashal is illumined by its application in vv. 7-12 and will be considered in later discussion. It is v. 4 that introduces the element most difficult to square with the David and Bathsheba episode. How does the traveler of the mashal relate to the preceding narrative?36 Here, in the first half of v. 4, the rich man hesitates to take from any of his own sheep to prepare for the traveler who had come to him. The italicized phrase represents the last three words of the clause which read, in Hebrew, l^'fcOn mtf'?. Notably, the word for 'traveler' here sounds much like the name Uriah. That is, the phrase in question sounds much like, for Uriah who had come to him. This admittedly speculative understanding gains credence when one considers 11.10 where David uses the same verb when he asks Uriah, KH HDK "|~11Q Nl^n, 'Have you not just come from the road?' This understanding of I'non nitfb is made more interesting by the second half of the verse where the rich man takes the poor man's lamb and offers it to the man who had come to him (V^N Nnn). If there is an analogue between the traveler and Uriah, as 11.10 might suggest, then the last half of v. 4 may allude to David's offering of Bathsheba to Uriah. Strangely enough, this represents, more or less, David's actions in the preceding narrative where David tries to get Uriah to go home and sleep with Bathsheba. That is, David offers to

35. Cf. Ezek. 34.3 where Ezekiel charges that the shepherds of Israel have slaughtered rather than protected their sheep. 36. David 'takes' Bathsheba for himself, not in order to give her to another! Perhaps we are to understand that this is merely an inexact device to point out David's guilt, but there are a number of analogues between this part of the mashal and the David and Bathsheba episode that make their relationship intriguing, indeed. To begin, while we know little about Uriah's personal life, the mashal implies that he is married to Bathsheba alone. The mashal implies that, while Uriah has but one wife, David has many. Of course, the latter fact is well known. The implication is that David's taking of Bathsheba is wrong on two counts. First, David has so many wives he could hardly benefit from adding another, and, second, by taking Bathsheba he would leave Uriah with no wife. The irony, of course, is that by taking Bathsheba David adds greatly to his family, for Bathsheba is the mother of his successor Solomon.


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the traveler Uriah the woman that he had taken from the poor man Uriah. In the end it is impossible to know how to read v. 4 of the mashal. While the associations with the earlier narrative are suggestive, they are only that, and inexact as well. Perhaps the most important point is that, like the other meshalim considered above, Nathan's has this inexact and polyvalent relationship with the preceding narrative. It is typical of the narrative meshalim in the way it represents 'refracted' images of the narrative in which it is embedded and of motifs found elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible.37 Having considered how Nathan's mashal proper is integrated into the narrative of 2 Samuel 11, it is appropriate to consider how it is associated with more disparate texts. Interestingly enough, in many ways Nathan's mashal fits the circumstances of the story of Naboth's vineyard in 1 Kings 21 better than it does the story of David and Bathsheba. 38 But this is only one factor that makes the story in 1 Kings 21 important for the present study. In order to clarify the significance of the story of Naboth's vineyard it is necessary to review it. It comes right after the prophet's mashal to Ahab at the end of ch. 20. Naboth's story begins with the notice that he owns a vineyard in Jezreel that is right next to Ahab's palace (v. 1). Ahab comes to Naboth and proposes that Naboth trade or sell his vineyard to him (v. 2). When Naboth refuses to part with his inherited land, Ahab returns home, dejected and saddened (ûn "ID) (vv. 3-4). Notably, the two words used to describe Ahab here are identical, as we have seen, to those describing his reaction to the mashal in the preceding chapter. This is one of the reasons one suspects that these adjoining texts are meant to be read in tandem. It seems most likely that the phrase was first found in 21.4 and then placed in 20.43 as an additional sign that the stories belong together. At any rate, Ahab returns to the palace and lies on his bed, refusing to eat.

37. S. Lasine ('Melodrama as Parable: The Story of the Poor Man's Ewe-Lamb and the Unmasking of David's Topsy-Turvy Emotions', HAR 8 [1984], p. 103) argues that 'like all melodrama, Nathan's story offers one-dimensional. .. portrayals. .. '. Lasine would seem to view our mashal as uni- rather than multivocal. As our discussion so far points out, nothing could be further from the truth. 38. For treatments of the Naboth episode see R. Martin-Achard, 'La vigne de Naboth (1 Rois 21) d'apres des etudes recentes', ETR 66 (1991), pp. 1-16; and A. Rofe, 'The Vineyard of Naboth: The Origin and Message of the Story', VT 38 (1988), pp. 89-104.

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Next, Ahab's wife, Jezebel, asks why he is so dejected (v. 5). In answer, Ahab tells Jezebel of the conversation he had had with Naboth (v. 6). Jezebel responds by telling Ahab not to worry, for she will get the vineyard for him (v. 7). In order to fulfill her promise, Jezebel writes letters to the elders of Naboth's town (v. 8), telling them to declare a fast and to put Naboth at the front of the assembly (v. 9). Having done this, the elders are to have a couple of ne'er-do-wells come and accuse Naboth of spurning God and king and, as a consequence, they are to have him stoned to death (v. 10). The elders of Naboth's town do exactly as instructed (vv. 11-13) and inform Jezebel of Naboth's stoning and death (v. 14). On hearing of the stoning, Jezebel informs Ahab, who goes to the vineyard and takes possession (vv. 15-16). After Ahab takes possession of the vineyard, Elijah comes to him with instructions to indict him for taking the vineyard (vv. 17-19). The language in v. 19 is especially interesting. Here Yhwh instructs Elijah to ask Ahab, 'Have you both murdered and dispossessed?' (nc?T~D:n nninn). Notably, this very phrase could have been directed at David in Nathan's mashal. In fact, it summarizes the events in the story of David and Bathsheba just as well as those in the story of Naboth's vineyard. The Naboth episode ends with Elijah's confrontation with Ahab and his pronouncement of judgment on him (vv. 20-29). In v. 27 Ahab, having heard of his guilt, tears his clothes and fasts. In response, Yhwh comes to Elijah and has him tell Ahab that because he humbled himself before Yhwh, Ahab's punishment will be delayed to the next generation, in his son's time. The applicability of Nathan's mashal to the Naboth episode is clear enough. In the latter the third party, who takes from the poor man to give to another, is represented by Jezebel. There are, however, as many problems in understanding this narrative against Nathan's mashal as there are with the David and Bathsheba narrative. In the mashal, the rich man kills that which he takes before giving it to his guest. In both the David and Bathsheba and the Naboth episodes, it is not the 'gift' that is killed but its original 'possessor'. Moreover, while Jezebel supplies the third party seen in the mashal, Ahab can hardly be viewed as the traveler. In the end, the mashal fits as loosely with the Naboth episode as it does with David and Bathsheba's. But this is precisely the point: the mashal fits equally well, if not slightly better, with the


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Naboth episode!39 This suggests that the two narratives share more than is at first evident. This suggestion becomes more certain when one considers the outlines of the two stories. Like David, Ahab acts in the relative tranquility of the domestic scenery of the palace. In a bit of a twist, Jezebel, like David, sends letters to get rid of the man who stands in the way of the king's desires. Just as Uriah is put at the front of the battle (nnn^QH ^D ^1Q~^«), Naboth is put at the head of the assembly (D^n $K~n).40 In both cases the murder is committed for the king by others, and in both cases the king takes possession of the object of his desire once his 'rival' is taken care of. Finally, in both stories the punishment for the wrong-doing of the king devolves on his son.41 All of this suggests that the composition of the stories of David and Bathsheba and Naboth's vineyard rely on a similar set of assumptions and constellation of events and motifs. The apparent lesson of these stories is that kings are prone to killing so that they may take possession, as Elijah claims in 1 Kgs 21.19. This saying of Elijah's, as well as Nathan's mashal, points out this common trait. Given the almost equal applicability of Nathan's mashal to both narratives, it seems likely that it is meant to be a pithy parabolic formulation of the same issues and lessons embodied in their narrative forms. This understanding goes a long way toward explaining the parallels and divergences that the mashal has with each story. More significantly, all this helps to understand the loose fit between Nathan's mashal and the preceding narrative. The mashal by nature makes reference to a larger context of meaning than this single story. Like the meshalim considered above, Nathan's has strong associations with other texts. It is only in the larger context of its parallels with these other texts that its fuller significance can be recognized. The question of to whom or what we ought to attribute these parallels is difficult to answer. On the one hand, one could attribute them to the purposive compositional strategy of the Deuteronomistic Historian. On the other hand, they may be the result of numerous hands at work in the text and essentially the result of the immersion of all of the tradents in the idioms that are the basis 39. McCarter (2 Samuel, p. 305) notes that the mashal, indeed all of chs. 10-12, are meant to question kingship in general as much as David himself. 40. Again, note the association of the word &K~l with the poor man in Nathan's mashal. 41. This is only partially true in 2 Sam. 12.

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of the parallels. In the end, deciding on the source of the parallels fails adequately to address the multiple readings, and their significance, that result from them. One more example of the association of Nathan's mashal with texts outside of the immediate Court Narrative deserves attention. Of crucial importance in the narrative that Nathan's mashal is meant to interpret is the description of the events that led to the death of Uriah. In 2 Sam. 11.20-21 Joab predicts that David will say in response to the news of the war: 'Why did you approach [so near] the city to fight? Didn't you know they would shoot from atop the wall? Who killed Abimelech, son of Jerubeshet [Gideon]? Was it not a woman who threw an upper millstone from the wall onto him and killed him at Tebez?'

This echo of the text in Judges 9 is remarkable. It seems self-consciously to draw on the earlier text to inform the current events. As will become clearer below, this is part of a larger phenomenon related to the composition of each of the mashal/narrative complexes with which this chapter deals. For now it is enough to note the self-conscious reference in this mashal/narrative to the previous one. So much for Nathan's mashal proper. The second part of the larger mashal, David's response/pronouncement to Nathan's mashal proper, comprises 2 Sam. 12.5-6. Here, David grows angry and calls the rich man a 'son of death' (niQ~p). Next he declares that the rich man must repay four lambs for his misdeeds because he showed no compassion (*?Qn). This response is of interest for several reasons.42 First, like the options laid out in 1 Kings 20, David first says, essentially, that the guilty party deserves to die and then stipulates the amount of a fine. Just as Ahab presumes that only the 'death sentence' actually applies to him in 1 Kgs 20.43, in the narrative that follows Nathan's mashal, Nathan declares that David's 'death penalty' will be delayed. No possibility of paying a fine is mentioned! The function of the fine option is unclear in either case, although, in the case of David, payment would be impossible, since Uriah is no longer alive and repayment seems to have required handing over four of his wives. 42. As Polzin notes (David and the Deuteronomist, p. 122), David takes the mashal as history and fails to get the message. This critique may apply equally well to those who seek the historical message of these narratives to the exclusion of their theological or literary messages.


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The second important element of the response also relates to the repayment option. David's judgment is in agreement with the law in Exod. 21.37 which says, 'If a man steals a cow or sheep and slaughters or sells it, he must repay fivefold for the cow and fourfold for the sheep.' The source of the agreement between David's decree and this legal code is unclear. Perhaps it is an editor's attempt to show that David was 'law-abiding'; the surrounding text, however, seems to challenge such a notion. On the other hand, it might be meant to have an ironic effect. David is punctilious about certain aspects of the law, in particular when he thinks they apply to someone else, but not so concerned when they apply to him!43 Whatever the reason for the agreement with the legal corpus, this phenomenon is much like the apparent legal background that is presupposed by the Tekoite's mashal. Granted, in the case of the Tekoite's mashal, the 'reference' is much more subtle and oblique, but both meshalim seem to presume associations with the legal material. We come, finally, to the last significant detail of the response. At the end of v. 6, David says that part of the 'fault' of the rich man is that he showed no 'compassion'. Notably, the same root for the word 'compassion', ^Qn, appears in the mashal proper in v. 4.44 In contrast, however, the root is used in v. 4 to tell of the rich man's hesitation in taking from his own flocks and herds. David's indictment of the rich man for not showing compassion (^Qn) is doubly ironic because in v. 4 the rich man does show ^QFI, only to his flocks and herds rather than to the poor man. This play on the root ^Qn is clearly meant to point out David's utter lack of compassion for Uriah.45 More significant, the playing off against the unusual use of ^Qn in v. 4 is in keeping with the way the meshalim subtly comment on the behavior of their targets 43. Perhaps the point is that David is privileged and is thus in some ways (but not totally) above the law. 44. Notably, this root is used to describe Saul's 'sparing' of Amalek and its cattle in 1 Sam. 15.9, 15. It is this act of sparing the cattle and flocks that leads to Saul's downfall. David's act of sparing his own 'sheep' in order to take Uriah's represents an odd resonance with 1 Sam. 15. This is especially the case because Saul's downfall and David's succession are mentioned in vv. 7-8 of Nathan's mashal. Adding to the resonance is the fact that in 'sparing' his sheep (i.e. wives) and taking Uriah's, he is rehearsing the way he came into possession of Saul's wives, the event that is described in vv. 7-8. 45. For more on ^Qn and associations with more diverse biblical texts see G.W. Coats, '2 Samuel 12.1-7a', Int 40 (1986), pp. 170-74.

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by the manipulation of key lexical items. The reversal of usual expectations and subtle commentary by the careful use and manipulation of language are hallmarks of the narrative meshalim, as we will continue to see. We now turn, finally, to the 'application' of Nathan's mashal in vv. 7-12.46 In v. 7 Nathan announces to David, 'You are the man!' Nathan continues with an extended message from Yhwh that takes up the remainder of the 'application', in which David is reminded of all the kindness with which Yhwh has treated him. Of particular interest is v. 8, in which Yhwh says, 'I gave the wives of your master into your bosom CpTn)'. This picks up on the language of the mashal proper, where v. 3 says that the lamb lay in the poor man's bosom Op TO). The mashal proper essentially accuses David of taking Bathsheba from Uriah's bosom. Yet in the 'application', Yhwh himself admits to having taken Saul's wives and placing them in David's bosom. This association between the mashal proper and the application may be coincidence but it seems unlikely. It serves to make much more ambiguous the message of the mashal. On reading only the mashal proper and the response of David, the interpretation would seem to be relatively clear: David must pay for stealing Bathsheba from Uriah's 'bosom'. Yet, the specter of Yhwh himself taking the wives of Saul and putting them into David's 'bosom' complicates the interpretation considerably. Nonetheless, vv. 9-10 reinforce the message that for taking Uriah's wife and killing him David must pay. In fact, as punishment for putting Uriah 'to the sword', Yhwh promises that the sword shall not turn away from David's family. In vv. 11-12 Yhwh says that he is about to raise evil from David's own house and hand his wives over to his associate ("pin1?) who will sleep with them in the open.47 Of course, 46. Not surprisingly, this application (like Judg. 9.16-20) is considered an addition by which the mashal has been joined to the narrative. Again, I agree with McCarter (2 Samuel, p. 300) that it is integral to the mashal as a whole and discussion below will confirm this. More to the point, however, the application is an integral part of the narrative meshalim that are our focus. So even if one could prove that the application is secondary it would not change how the application functions in the overall integration of the mashal into its narrative. 47. Once again, we have an important lexical association between Nathan's mashal and 1 Sam. 15. The word for associate ("fin1?) also occurs in 1 Sam. 15.28 where Saul is told that his kingship will be taken away and given to David. Notably, this represents a recollection of the chastisement and deposition of Saul within the chastisement (without deposition) of David. Cf. also Est. 1.19.


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all of this comes true in the following chapters of the Court History when Absalom usurps the throne and sleeps with ten of David's concubines. Importantly, this threat must be seen against the background of the events and vocabulary of the mashal proper and the application. In particular, the language used to describe the future taking of David's wives and handing them over to another is almost identical to Yhwh's reminder of Saul's wives being taken for David. So this future event will be a kind of payment in kind not only for David's taking of Bathsheba, but even as a kind of strange complement to the events of David's succeeding to Saul's throne. Moreover, the 'payment in kind' may reflect the sentence that seems to go unaddressed in David's proclamation of v. 6. Recall that he not only called the rich man of the mashal a 'son of death', but that he wanted him to pay fourfold for the lamb he took. Notably, in having Absalom sleep with ten of his concubines the text may record that the other part of David's selfprescribed 'sentence' is fulfilled, only tenfold rather than fourfold.48 Once again, the mashal makes a narrative 'stitch' backward and forward in associating the events of David's life. Notably, that this image emerges from the fabric of the narrative depends entirely on Absalom's return to Jerusalem, an event that could not take place unless David interprets the Tekoite's mashal the way he does. A final issue requires consideration in light of our most recent discussion. With all of the application in front of us, Nathan's 'you are the man' takes on new significance. On first reading, one naturally presumes that the 'man' with whom David is associated is the rich one that stole the ewe-lamb from the poor man. On closer consideration, however, David can be associated with each of the three men of the mashal.49 As Polzin has noted, when Yhwh mentions the taking of Saul's wives for David in vv. 7-8, David is the equivalent of the traveler for whom the lamb is taken.50 In vv. 9-10 David's killing of Uriah 48. Levenson and Halpern ('The Political Import of David's Marriages', p. 514) suggest something similar. 49. Polzin (David and the Deuteronomist, pp. 123-26) makes essentially the same observation but argues that David's association with all three men is meant to contrast David's current betrayal of Uriah with God's benevolence in the past. My understanding of the triple reference of 'you are the man' suggests that it has broader significance than its relation to God's benevolence in the past. 50. David and the Deuteronomist, pp. 123-26. Note that the traveler, with whom I associated Uriah, at least in part because of the similarity in the participle for 'traveler' and Uriah's name, can be equally associated with David. Rather than consider these

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and the taking of Bathsheba clearly link him with the rich man. At the end of the mashal, in vv. 11-12, where David is told that his wives will be taken from him, we see the equation of David with the poor man. Finally, we need to note that Nathan's 'application', like Jotham's in Judg. 9.16-20, picks up on the multivocal quality of the mashal and maintains the refracted way in which the mashal relates to the larger narrative(s) of which it is a part. Let us summarize. The investigation of the genre of narrative meshalim has resulted in a number of observations. First, it is clear that a general outline of the genre includes three main elements: the mashal proper, the response, and the application. That the mashal in Judges 9 is missing the response may, in part, be due to the fact that it is directed to the citizens of Shechem rather than to the king. At any rate, all of the examples thus far include the mashal proper and the application. Furthermore, it should be noted that the variations from the outline need not be considered serious, since it is really only an abstraction based on what is generally true about the genre's various manifestations. That is to say, the word 'genre' implies variation as much as conforming to the 'ideal'. Secondly, on a number of occasions it has become evident that the meshalim are carefully integrated into their narratives by what I have called 'stitching forward and backward'. By this I mean that the meshalim pick up language, imagery etc. from the narratives in which they are embedded. The mashal in 1 Kings 20 clearly addresses the immediately preceding events by which Ben-Hadad found his freedom from Ahab. It also seems to be intended to comment on the events that follow in ch. 21. The mashal in Judges 9 looks backward and forward by drawing on the example of Gideon to indict Abimelech. Also, by picking up the arboreal imagery that dominates the rest of Judges 9, Jotham's mashal has been well grafted into its surroundings. Nathan's mashal ties the events surrounding David's liaison with Bathsheba to the following Court History in which his wives are taken by Absalom. More significantly, the mashal associates David with the rich man who has taken the poor man's lamb. It also introduces a moral perspective two associations as mutually exclusive, it seems much more attuned to the nature of the mashal to recognize in the 'traveler' associations with both men. The association of both men with the traveler suggests that somehow David's fate will be like Uriah's, which the last warning in 12.11-12 verifies. Ironically, their shared fate is not that of the traveller but that of the poor man who has his ewe-lamb taken from him.


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on the central narrative themes of the rest of the Court History. The third observation that has emerged from the preceding investigation is that along with the fact that these meshalim have been stitched, albeit roughly, into their narratives, they also have important associations with more distant texts. For instance, the mashal in 1 Kings 20 draws on a larger problem represented by Saul and his clemency extended toward Agag. Indeed, the mashal seems more appropriately addressed to Saul than Ahab. Jotham's mashal also seems to have strong associations with the story of the selection of Israel's first king in 1 Samuel 8-14. Furthermore, there are strong associations between the story of Abimelech's death and two distant texts: first are the accounts of Saul's death in 1 Samuel 31 and 2 Samuel 1; second is the reminder of Abimelech's death in 2 Samuel 11. In Nathan's mashal, while the taking of the lamb in the mashal is equated to the taking of Bathsheba, it is also placed in the context of the taking of Saul's wives. Finally, Nathan's mashal fits the story of Naboth's vineyard as well if not better than the David and Bathsheba affair. The final observation we need to make relates to the multivalent quality of the meshalim. This multivalence is due, in part, to their multiple textual associations outlined above, but also, in large measure, to their agglutinative quality. This is especially evident in 1 Kgs 20.3543 and Judg. 9.8-20 where literary forms with distinctly separate messages are placed together.51 The result can manifest almost contrary interpretive trajectories through the accompanying narrative. The mashal of 1 Samuel 20 appears to be a combination of a mashal, as defined herein, and a prophetic sign-act. It appears that whoever is responsible for the combination of the two genres recognized that they had complementary messages that could be combined and applied to the case of Ahab. Notably, it is this particular formulation that applies better to Saul than to Ahab. The mashal in Judges 9, likewise, takes several different approaches to the issues at stake in its surrounding narrative. The mashal indicts the Shechemites/Israelites for wanting a 51. Note that with 1 Kgs 20 we are dealing with two distinct and familiar forms, the sign-act and the short mashal. With Judg. 9 the problem is a bit more subtle and may reflect the addition of vv. 15b-20 as the transition to accommodate the mashal proper to the narrative of which it is now a part. Nevertheless, the effect of this combination, as we now have it, replicates that of the 'double' mashal in 1 Kgs 20. More significantly, this agglutinative quality is especially informative for understanding the Tekoite's mashal.

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king; it suggests that only a ne'er-do-well would want to be king; and it seems to indict the insincere attempt to appoint a king. The message that emerges is not altogether clear but can be summarized as, 'You should not want a king, since kings cannot be trusted. Besides, you are not seeking a king out of loyalty to Gideon, who, by the way, refused to be king.' All these trajectories find their vectors in the surrounding narratives but clearly do not all serve a single purpose. Lastly, Nathan's mashal cuts across the Court Narrative and its game of 'musical beds' by pointing to David's 'inheriting' of Saul's wives, taking of Uriah's wife, and loss of ten of his concubines to Absalom. Moreover, Nathan's mashal draws parallels with Naboth's vineyard into the interpretive mix as well. The general applicability of the meshalim suggests the possibility of an independent origin for each. We should probably imagine that they found their present locations because of their relatively close association with the narratives in which they are found. The reverse of this positive formulation is that their independent origins explain why they do not have a one-to-one correspondence with their associated narratives. Furthermore, their dense quality represents a kind of condensate of central cultural values reduced to idiomatic and parabolic formulation. In other words, the meshalim are independent of their present narratives, and of similar narrative crystallizations of their themes, but are dependent on similar idiomatic expressions and images of their broader culture. This goes a long way toward explaining their associations with disparate narratives that represent variations on the issues at stake in the meshalim themselves. All of the above observations help to clarify the mashal of the wise woman of Tekoa, to which we must now, finally, return.

4. noon nm nm np'i rurpn DKV rfteh Joab Sent to Tekoa and Brought From There a Wise Woman The full text of the mashal of the wise woman of Tekoa reads as follows: Uoab son of Zeruyah knew that the king's heart was on (*?!?) Absalom;52 so Joab sent to Tekoa and brought from there a wise woman.53 He said

2

52. The preposition 'on' (Û) is difficult here. It is not clear if it means worrying about or angry at. On this see especially Polzin, David and the Deuteronomist, pp. 139-40. 53. The question of the label HQDn rTON and its significance is aptly addressed by


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to her, 'Act as if you are in mourning (K3~''73Knn), put on mourning clothes (^DfcTHn) and don't anoint yourself with oil. Act like a woman who, for many days, has been mourning (rfrHNnQ) the dead. 3Go to the king and speak to him like this (PITH "O~D).'54 And Joab put the words in her mouth. 4The Tekoite woman said to the king55 . .. 'she fell to the ground face down and bowed and then said 'Help, O king.' 5The king said to her, 'What bothers you?', to which she replied 'truly (^38), I am a widow and my husband is dead. 6Your maidservant had two sons and the two of them struggled in the field. There was no one to separate them and one struck the other and killed him. 7Now the whole family has arisen against your maidservant and said, "Hand over the one who struck (HDQ) his brother so that we may kill him for his brother's life (TFTN 2JSD3) that he took 0~in) and so that we might also destroy the heir." They would extinguish my ember that remains in order to (Tl^D^) leave my husband without name or remnant on the face of the earth.'56 8The king said to the woman, 'Go home and I will give a command concerning you.' 9The Rosenberg (King and Kin, p. 189) when he states, 'Much has been said about the "wisdom" influence in the court history, and I will not attempt here to assess this question in detail. My views on the matter can be summarized by the simple observation that products of a literate culture—indeed, efforts to sustain an oral or written culture together—are, by definition, "wisdom". To look for a "wisdom" genre, or for hallmarks of a "wisdom" style, is simply to add to the fund of fruitless abstractions of which—if I may be indulged this momentary fit of cantankerousness—PhD dissertations and publish-or-perish articles are made.' Nicol has made the case that if Joab put all the words in the Tekoite's mouth she can hardly be considered the wise one; Nicol credits Joab with all the 'wisdom' displayed in this episode ('The Wisdom of Joab and the Wise Woman of Tekoa', pp. 97-104). Camp ('The Wise Women of 2 Samuel', pp. 14-29) argues that the wise women of 2 Samuel (including 2 Sam. 20) have a regularized institutional function in ancient Israel. This claim is difficult to sustain given the meager evidence in the two passages with which she deals. We more likely have in these women a familiar type. Whether they are restricted to merely 'literary' types or, perhaps, appeared on the historical scene now and again is impossible to tell. On the larger question of women in the wisdom literature of the Hebrew Bible, see, by the same author, 'The Female Sage in Ancient Israel', pp. 185-203. 54. The difficulty of reported speech is treated in Savran, Telling and Retelling. 55. Many versions (LXX, Syr, Vg, TgMSS, MTMSS) have 'The Tekoite woman went to the king'. On accepting the MT see above Ch. 2 §2.d. See also Radaq who thinks the first HQNm is addressed to the gatekeepers. On his reading she speaks to them in order to gain an audience with the king. 56. This verse admits of no easy translation. Another possibility for translating

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