Professor Christine
Hayes: We were talking last
time about the mysterious
episode by the Yabbok River,
when Jacob undergoes a change
in name, and I mentioned the
fact that in the biblical view,
the name of something somehow
encapsulates its very essence.
 
Knowing the name of something
gives one power and control over
that thing.
Many commentators have observed
that the change in name
accompanies a change in
character, a change of essence
in Israel.
So some have noted,
one scholar in particular has
noted that the struggle with the
angel is the final purging of
the unsavory qualities of
character that marked Jacob's
past career.
And although Jacob appears to
be something of an anti-hero--he
actually literally limps into
the Promised Land alone--Jacob
is a new and honest man.
We see this immediately in his
reunion with Esau.
He greets his former rival and
enemy with these words--this is
in Genesis 33:10-11:
"'If you would do me this
favor,
accept for me this gift,
for to see your face is like
seeing the face of God,
and you have received me
favorably.
Please accept my present,
which has been brought to you,
for God has favored me,
and I have plenty.'
And when he urged him,
he accepted."
With Jacob, who is now Israel,
God seems perhaps to finally
have found the working
relationship with humans that he
has been seeking since their
creation.
God learned immediately after
creating this unique being,
that he will exercise his free
will against God.
God saw that he had to limit
the life span of humans,
or risk creating an enemy that
was nearly equal to him.
So he casts the humans out of
the Garden, blocks access to the
tree of life.
But humans continue their
violent and evil ways,
and in desperation,
God wipes them out,
and starts again.
This second creation proves to
be not much better.
They forget God,
they turn to idolatry.
God has promised at this point,
however, not to destroy all
humankind again,
so he experiments with a single
individual of faith.
 
Abraham's faith withstands many
a trial.
He is obedient to God in a way
that no one has been up to this
point in the narrative,
but perhaps ultimately the
model of blind obedience is
rejected, too.
When Abraham prepares to
slaughter his own son,
perhaps God sees that blind
faith can be as destructive and
evil as disobedience,
so God relinquishes his demand
for blind obedience:
he stops Abraham himself.
The only relationship that will
work with humans is perhaps one
in which there is a balance
between unchecked independence
and blind obedience,
and God seems to find that
relationship with Jacob.
 
And the metaphor for that
relationship is a metaphor of
struggle, or wrestling.
 
Remember Yisrael means "one who
wrestles, who struggles with
God."
God and humans lock in an
eternal struggle,
neither prevailing,
yet both forever changed by
their encounter with one
another.
Now the rest of Genesis relates
the story of Joseph and his
brothers, the 12 sons of Jacob.
It's one of the most
magnificent psychological dramas
in the Bible.
The story is intensely human.
We don't have a lot of
supernatural interference in
this story.
It focuses very much on the
family relationships,
on the jealousies,
very little reference to a
divine perspective.
It's like a little novella.
 
Scholars are divided over the
authenticity of the Egyptian
elements in the story.
 
You will read radically diverse
things.
Some point to the presence of
Egyptian names,
and customs,
and religious beliefs and laws
as a sign of some historical
memory being preserved in these
stories.
Others point to all the
problems: the anachronisms,
the general lack of specificity
as a sign that these are
composed quite late.
The art of dream interpretation
places a very important role in
this story, and dream
interpretation was a developed
science,
particularly in Egypt,
and the other parts of
Mesopotamia, but the Egyptians
were known in the ancient world
as dream interpreters.
Joseph is also known for his
ability to interpret dreams,
but the biblical narrator,
the monotheizing biblical
narrator, is very concerned to
describe him as reporting what
God reveals to him,
rather than relying on some
kind of occult science of
interpretation.
Now Joseph's brothers are
jealous of Jacob's partiality to
Joseph, and they conspire to be
rid of him.
But at the last moment,
his brother Judah convinces the
brothers that,
if instead of killing him,
they sell him,
they can profit a little for
their troubles.
So Joseph is sold ultimately
ends up in the household of
Pharaoh in Egypt,
and his adventures there prove
his meritorious character.
He rises to a position of great
power when he correctly
interprets some dreams regarding
an impending famine,
and with Joseph as the governor
of the country,
in control of the grain supply,
Egypt successfully weathers
seven years of famine.
 
Now, this famine,
which strikes Canaan as well,
drives Joseph's brothers to
Egypt in search of food,
and Joseph doesn't reveal
himself to his brothers.
He puts them to the test.
 
He wants to know if they are
the same men who so callously
broke their father's heart by
selling Joseph,
his father's favorite,
so many years ago.
In the climatic moment in the
story, Joseph demands that his
frightened brothers leave
Benjamin--the other son of
Rachel,
the other son of the beloved
wife--leave Benjamin as a pledge
in Egypt.
And Joseph knows that it would
decimate his father Jacob to
lose Rachel's only remaining
son,
but he's testing his brothers
to see whether they have
reformed since the day that they
sold him into slavery.
And indeed Judah,
the one who had figured so
prominently in the sale of
Joseph,
that had crushed his father,
Judah steps forward and offers
himself instead of Benjamin:
he says: It would kill my
father now to lose Benjamin,
the last son of his beloved
wife, Rachel.
So the brothers,
having proven their new
integrity--Joseph weeps,
he reveals his identity in a
very moving scene,
and ultimately the family is
relocated to,
and reunited in Egypt,
where they live peacefully and
prosperously for some
generations.
That's the basic outline of the
story of Joseph and his
brothers, but one of the
important themes of these
stories is the theme of God's
providence.
The writer wants to represent
Jacob's sons,
their petty jealousies,
their murderous conspiracy,
Joseph himself,
all as the unwitting
instruments of a larger divine
plan.
In fact, Joseph says to his
brothers in Genesis 50:20,
"As for you,
you meant evil against me,
but God meant it for good,
to bring it about that many
people should be kept alive as
they are today."
Joseph's betrayal by his
brothers, his decent into Egypt,
set the stage,
not only for the reformation of
his brothers' characters,
which is an important part of
the story, but for the descent
of all of the Israelites into
Egypt,
so as to survive widespread
famine.
So yet another threat to the
promise is overcome:
threat of famine is overcome by
the relocation to Egypt.
 
Significantly,
God says to Jacob in Genesis
46:4, "I Myself will go down
with you to Egypt,
and I Myself will also bring
you back."
So, in short,
there seems to be a plan afoot.
The writer wants to represent
God going down there,
and he will bring them back.
 
Israel's descent to Egypt sets
the stage for the rise of a
pharaoh who, the text says,
didn't know Joseph and all that
he had done for Egypt.
 
And this new pharaoh will
enslave the Israelites,
and so embitter their lives,
that their cry will rise up to
heaven--the same cry from the
generation of the flood,
the same cry from Sodom and
Gomorrah.
And thus begins the book of
Exodus, which will lead us from
Egypt to Sinai.
Most of the narrative account
in Genesis 12 to 50--with the
exception of the Joseph story,
actually--but most of Genesis
12 through 50 is assigned by
scholars to the J source,
and certain themes emerge in
the J narrative.
The first is,
that while God's promise is
sure, the manner and the timing
of its fulfillment is quite
unpredictable.
The land never belongs to the
patriarchs to whom it was
promised.
Their descendants will take
possession of it,
but only after tremendous
struggle.
In other ways God's methods are
curious.
Why does he go against the
traditional Ancient Near Eastern
practice of primogeniture,
inheritance by the first born?
 
He chooses Jacob,
a liar and a cheat in his early
life, over the elder Esau.
 
Why does he choose young
Joseph, who's an arrogant
spoiled brat?
He provokes his brothers with
his delusions of grandeur.
 
Compare the law of
primogeniture that's listed in
Deuteronomy 21:15-17:
"If a man has two wives,
one loved, and the other
unloved, and both the loved and
the unloved have borne him sons,
but the first-born is the son
of the unloved one-- / when he
wills his property to his sons,
he may not treat as first-born
the son of the loved one in
disregard of the son of the
unloved one who is older."
And yet isn't this what happens
to Ishmael?
Isn't this what happens to Esau?
 
Isn't this what happens to all
of Joseph's brothers who are
born before him?
And there's no explanation in
the text.
Yet despite the false starts,
and the trials,
and the years of famine,
and the childlessness,
and the infertility,
the seed of Abraham survives,
and the promise is reiterated:
"I will go down myself with you
to Egypt,
and I myself will also bring
you back."
So ultimately,
the J source would appear to
assert God does control history,
all tends towards his purpose.
The book of Exodus is really
the sequel, then,
to the book of Genesis.
 
Despite God's promise of land
and blessing,
things don't look so good at
the end of Genesis.
The book closes with the
Israelites residing in Egypt.
They've managed to procure no
more than a burial plot in the
Promised Land.
Even God has left his land,
descending with the Israelites
into Egypt, so the promises and
their fulfillment seem quite
remote.
The book of Exodus will relate
the beginning of the process by
which the promises will be
fulfilled.
I've just charted the structure
very briefly for you ,
so you can get your footing in
the book of Exodus.
The first fifteen chapters tell
the story of Israel in Egypt:
the rise of a new Pharaoh who
didn't know Joseph;
the oppression of the
Israelites;
their enslavement in a state
labor force;
the killing of all first born
Hebrew males;
the birth, the early life,
the call of Moses;
the struggle for freedom,
Moses will plead with the
Pharaoh to let his people go and
worship their god in the
wilderness;
and then the final liberation,
when God does something at the
Reed Sea--we'll talk about that
later--so that the Israelites
can pass,
leaving the heavy Egyptian
chariotry to flounder in the
mud.
We have about two-and-a-half
chapters, 15:22 until chapter
18, that recounts,
then, the journey towards
Sinai.
This is a journey that's filled
with complaints.
The people complain they're
going to starve,
and God responds with quail,
and manna, and water.
Chapters 19 to 24 are very,
very important chapters that
contain the theophany,
the self-revelation of God to
the Israelites,
and the covenant that's
concluded at Sinai.
 
We'll be talking more about
that next time.
Chapters 25 to 40 contain,
beside the unfortunate incident
with the golden calf which is in
Exodus 32,
the rest of this unit from 25
to 40, is God's instruction on
how to build or erect the
tabernacle,
and then an account of the
Israelites actually
constructing,
erecting the tabernacle.
Source critical scholars
believe that J supplies the main
narrative of this unit in
Exodus.
It's supplemented by excerpts
from E, and then the addition of
considerable legal and ritual
and genealogical material from
P.
Now, the historical value of
the Exodus story has fascinated
scholars, but also lay people,
for generations.
Could the Exodus really have
happened?
And if so, when?
And does it matter?
 
And is there any evidence for
this story, for example,
in external sources,
outside the Bible?
Well, no, there isn't any
direct evidence outside the
Bible, but let's start at the
beginning.
We do have a victory hymn,
a victory hymn that's inscribed
on a stele--that's a slab of
stone--which was erected in the
year 1204 BCE.
It was erected by a pharaoh,
Pharaoh Merneptah.
 
So the stele of Merneptah dates
to about 1204,
and in this victory hymn he's
boasting of his victory over
various groups in Canaan,
and one of the groups he claims
to have defeated is Israel.
 
Now, this is a fabulously
important inscription,
because it's the earliest known
reference outside the Bible to
any person or entity that is
mentioned in the Bible,
and it suggests that a people
known as Israel was indeed in
the land of Canaan by the end of
the thirteenth century BCE.
Whether they arrived there
after an exodus from Egypt is
not of course indicated.
 
The source doesn't tell us
that, and in fact there's really
no archeological evidence of a
group,
a large group,
entering the land of Canaan at
this time.
There's a steady cultural
continuum, not evidence of
destruction as we would expect
for a big invasion.
 
We'll talk more about that when
we get to the book of Joshua.
But nevertheless,
let's just go with this for a
minute, and if we suppose that
it took about a generation to
enter the land--so you see,
I've done the math on the side
here.
I suppose I should have done
subtractions,
since we're talking BCE,
but if we put 20 years in for
actually arriving and settling
in the land,
that takes us to about 1225;
and if we assume 40 years of
wandering in the desert,
or wandering from Egypt,
that takes us to about 1265 as
a date for the Exodus.
 
Well, in 1265,
the Eighteenth Dynasty's most
illustrious pharaoh occupied the
throne,
Ramses II--who in fact was
pharaoh for, what,
70 years, or something…most
of the thirteenth century--and
he's very famous for his
building projects.
Now, according to the biblical
record, the Hebrews were set to
work on urban building projects
in the Delta region,
at the north part of the
Nile--the delta region of the
Nile in the cities of Pithom and
Ramses.
The Bible states that Israel
was in Egypt for 430 years,
so if we add that,
then that would put their
descent into Egypt--Joseph,
the other sons of Jacob--around
the year 1700.
Well, there's a certain appeal
to that scenario,
because in the 1720s,
Egypt was invaded and conquered
by a Semitic people known as the
Hyksos.
They established a dynasty of
Semitic rulers.
They were centered in the north
of Egypt, in the area known as
Goshen, so it's possible that
the pharaohs of the Hyksos
dynasty might have favored other
Semites: they might have allowed
them to enter in times of
famine,
and to dwell in the land of
Goshen, which the Bible
says--the Israelites lived in
the land of Goshen.
 
That Joseph,
a Semitic foreigner,
could be elevated to an
important post,
the post of governor,
is a little less surprising,
if we suppose there was a
Semitic regime.
In the sixteenth century,
the native Egyptians,
who were smarting and
smoldering under the humiliating
foreign rule of the Hyksos,
finally succeeded in rising up
and driving them out,
and reestablishing a native
Egyptian dynasty.
 
So some scholars have
speculated that that's the
historic reality behind the
statement in Exodus 1:18,
that a new pharaoh,
who knew nothing of Joseph and
what he had done for Egypt,
began to oppress the Hebrews.
The feeling is that the
establishment of a new native
Egyptian dynasty might have led
to the enslavement of any
remaining Semites or Semitic
outsiders,
and that would include,
of course, the Hebrews.
So in all probability,
anyone who was associated with
the hated occupying regime would
be treated poorly.
It all seems to fit.
 
Well, there's a problem with
this theory.
The Bible itself contains very
contradictory statements
regarding the length of the
Israelites' stay in Egypt.
So Exodus 6:16-20 says that the
Israelites were there for only
four generations,
maybe 80 years,
from Levi to Moses--Levi was
the great grandfather of
Moses--so only four
generations--which would mean an
arrival in Egypt a long time
after the Hyksos,
not 430 years;
and we don't even know whether
migration occurred in the Hyksos
period, so what we have really
is only a hypothesis.
 
The 430 years number is also
something of an ideal number.
It places the Exodus 480 years
before Solomon's building of the
Temple: 480 is a multiple of 12,
and the Bible really likes
multiples of 12,
so it is an ideal number.
It's the kind of number that
crops up a lot in biblical
chronologies,
which makes it suspect for
other sorts of reasons,
as well.
So the Hyksos theory is one
that got people very excited for
a while, but is really not well
supported.
Still, there's some very
interesting circumstantial
evidence for Semites engaged in
building projects in the
thirteenth century,
however and whenever they might
have gotten to Egypt.
 
We do know, archaeologically,
that the fortified city of
Pi-Ramses, very much like Pithom
Ramses,
was rebuilt in the early
thirteenth century on the site
of the old Hyksos capital.
 
There was a capital Avaris.
 
They had moved the capital up
to the Delta region.
It had fallen into decay.
 
Now, in the thirteenth century,
this is being rebuilt,
and that's in the area of
Goshen.
So the city was being
reoccupied in the time of the
pharaoh Ramses,
Ramses II, in the thirteenth
century.
We do know that Egyptian
officials allowed hungry nomads
to enter the Delta region for
food: we have records,
written records of this.
We also know that Semitic
slaves are well attested in
Egypt at this time,
the end of the thirteenth
century: we also have records of
that.
We know of a people called the
Hapiru or 'Apiru.
 
 
They don't seem to be an ethnic
group so much as a marginalized
social class,
but some have suggested a
connection with the word
"Hebrew."
We know that they worked on the
building of the capital city of
Ramses II.
Other scholars deny that there
would be any connection with
"Hebrew."
The debates are endless.
 
One thirteenth-century Egyptian
papyrus describes Egypt's tight
control of her border areas,
and another reports some
Egyptian officials pursuing some
runaway slaves.
Obviously this happened from
time to time,
escaping into the desert.
 
The Exodus story also contains
many Egyptian elements.
The names Moses,
Aaron, Pinhas…these are all
Egyptian names.
"Moses" is simply this part of
Ramses: Tutmosis,
Ramses, this is Egyptian for
"born of," born of the God Ra.
 
And even Moses is an Egyptian
name.
So none of this,
of course, corroborates the
specific details of the biblical
story.
There's no Egyptian record of
the biblical Moses,
no record of plagues,
no record of a defeat of
Pharaoh's army.
There is a lot of
circumstantial evidence,
and some scholars think that
that lends plausibility to a
story of slaves working on
building projects who escape
from Egypt at this time,
and if there's any historical
basis to the Exodus,
then the most plausible time,
the most plausible backdrop
would be the thirteenth century
BCE.
Some scholars assume there's a
historical memory behind the
elaborate and dramatic story of
a miraculous redemption by God.
Why would you invent a hero,
a national hero who's entirely
Egyptian and has an Egyptian
name?
Why would you invent a myth of
origins in which your ancestors
are slaves?
Nevertheless,
as I emphasized earlier in the
patriarchal stories,
in the end we're dealing here
with sacred history.
We're dealing with a highly
embellished and theologically
interpreted myth of origins for
a nation.
So much more important than
historical verifiability is the
conviction of the ancient
Israelites who received and
venerated these traditions,
and developed them,
and embellished them,
that God had once acted on
their behalf,
rescuing them from bondage,
binding them to himself in an
eternal covenant.
A little bit about the outline
of the story,
and then we're going to finally
have an introduction between God
and Moses,
which will I think bring us
back to some of the
conversations we had at the
beginning of the course.
 
So let me first say a little
bit about the story line,
and some of the themes at the
beginning of Exodus,
the first six or seven
chapters.
According to the text,
the Israelites have multiplied,
they've filled the land of
Goshen that had been given to
them during Joseph's tenure in
office,
and this new pharaoh who feared
them--he didn't know Joseph,
he feared the foreign
presence--he rose and he
attempted to curb their growth.
 
He pressed all of the adult
males into slavery.
The text says "harsh labor at
mortar and brick," but the text
says, "the more they were
oppressed,
the more they increased and
spread out," so Pharaoh resorts
to more drastic measures.
 
He decrees the murder of all
newborn Israelite males at the
hands of Egyptian midwives.
 
He's thwarted by these midwives.
 
They say: Oh,
these ladies are too quick;
we get there too late,
they've already given birth by
the time we arrive.
 
They allow the male infants to
live.
So the pharaoh enlists all of
the people to annihilate the
Israelites by drowning all
newborn males in the Nile River.
This leads then to the account
of the birth of Moses,
and his exposure to the Nile
River.
He is born into a Levite family.
 
The Levites will be priests in
Israel, so he's born to a
priestly family.
He's hidden away for three
months, and then he's placed in
a wicker basket,
which is lined with bitumen,
a tar, and set among the
bulrushes at the edge of the
Nile River.
Pharaoh's daughter will
eventually discover him.
His own mother will volunteer
to be his nurse,
and Pharaoh's daughter will
eventually adopt him and name
his Moses: again,
this is an Egyptian name.
The etymology given in the
biblical text is invented.
A lot of scholars have noted
that this story is full of
irony.
The rescue of Moses,
who will foil Pharaoh,
is affected by the daughter of
that pharaoh,
and Moses grows up and is
sheltered right in the pharaoh's
own palace.
Further, the significance of
Moses is hinted at through
literary allusions in the
narrative of his birth,
his infancy.
The basket in which he is
placed is called an ark:
the Hebrew word is
tevah.
This word is used precisely
twice in the entire Hebrew
Bible.
It's not the same word that's
used for Ark of the Covenant,
by the way: the Ark of the
Covenant, the word is
aron.
This word for ark,
tevah,
occurs exactly twice:
here, and in the story of
Noah's ark.
Noah's ark is a tevah.
 
Scholars have always been quick
to point out that in both cases,
this ark, this tevah,
is in the words of one scholar
"the instrument of salvation
through perilous waters",
waters that threaten to capsize
it, and so blot out God's hopes
and plans for his creatures.
 
Moreover, the basket is placed
among the reeds--the Hebrew word
for reeds is suph--and
that's a hint or an allusion to
the fact that Moses will lead
the Israelites through the "Reed
Sea,"
the Yam Suph.
It's not the Red Sea,
it's the Reed Sea,
but we'll talk about that later
also.
This legendary birth story has
important parallels in Ancient
Near Eastern and other
literature.
It's very common to find
stories of the extraordinary
events that surround the birth
of someone who will later become
great: Cyrus of Persia,
Oedipus, Jesus, and so on.
Many scholars have pointed out
that this story in particular is
paralleled by the birth story of
a great Akkadian king,
Sargon, from about 2300 BCE,
Sargon of Akkad.
Strikingly similar story to
Moses.
placed in a basket lined with
tar, put in the river,
and so on.
It underscores the degree to
which this story is part of a
literary genre,
part of a literary convention,
how much the Exodus story
itself is very much a literary
story.
Nothing is said of Moses'
childhood, but we learn of his
awareness of his Israelite
identity,
or his identification with the
Hebrews, in the following
passage: this is in Exodus
2:11-15:
Some time after that,
when Moses had grown up,
he went out to his kinsfolk and
witnessed their labors.
He saw an Egyptian beating a
Hebrew, one of his kinsmen.
He turned this way and that,
and, seeing no one about,
he struck down the Egyptian and
hid him in the sand.
When he went out the next day,
he found two Hebrews fighting,
and so he said to the offender,
"Why do you strike your
fellow?"
He retorted,
"Who made you chief and ruler
over us?
Do you mean to kill me as you
killed the Egyptian?"
Moses was frightened and
thought: Then the matter is
known!
When Pharaoh learned of the
matter, he sought to kill Moses;
but Moses fled from Pharaoh.
He arrived in the land of
Midian, and sat down beside a
well.
So coming to the aid of an
oppressed kinsman,
Moses kills an Egyptian,
and he has to flee to the
territory of Midian.
There at the well,
again he acts to defend the
defenseless.
This is a key to his character;
these two episodes are the two
that we're given of Moses' life.
So continuing verses 16 and 17
in Exodus 2: "Now the priest of
Midian had seven daughters.
 
They came to draw water,
and filled the troughs to water
their father's flock;
but shepherds came and drove
them off.
Moses rose to their defense,
and he watered their flock."
 
So again, this is a key to
Moses' character,
aiding the defenseless.
 
Moses will later marry
Zipporah, one of these women,
and live as a shepherd in
Midian for about 40 years.
Now, the situation of the
Israelites in Egypt,
the text says,
remains bitter.
Exodus 2:23-24:
"The Israelites were groaning
under the bondage,
and cried out;
and their cry for help from the
bondage rose up to God.
God heard their moaning,
and God remembered His covenant
with Abraham and Isaac and
Jacob."
One day in the wilderness at a
place called Horeb,
also Sinai, where there's a
mountain,
Moses sees a flame in a bush
that doesn't consume the flame,
and then he hears a voice.
 
And the voice says,
"I am the God of your father,
the God of Abraham,
the God of Isaac,
and the God of Jacob," and
Moses hides his face in fear,
but God continues.
 
He has a job for Moses:
"I have marked well the
plight of my people in Egypt,
and have heeded their outcry
because of the taskmaster;
yes, I am mindful of their
sufferings.
And I've come down to rescue
them from the Egyptians,
and to bring them out of that
land to a good and spacious
land,
a land flowing with milk and
honey, the region of the
Canaanites, the Hittites,
the Amorites,
the Perizzites,
the Hivites,
and the Jebusites.
 
Now the cry of the Israelites
has reached me.
Moreover I have seen how the
Egyptians oppress them.
Come, therefore,
I will send you to Pharaoh,
and you shall free my people,
the Israelites,
from Egypt."
[Exodus 3:7-10]
Moses demurs: Who me?
 
Why not my big brother Aaron,
he's a much better public
speaker?
This is the line that he takes:
I'm slow of tongue.
 
But as we've already seen in
Genesis, God chooses whom he
chooses, and his reasons aren't
always fathomed.
Moses says: May I say who sent
me?
He asks for God's name.
 
The Israelites will want to
know who has sent me,
and God replies with a
sentence, "Ehyeh asher
ehyeh."
This is a first person sentence
that can be translated,
"I am who I am," or perhaps,
"I will be who I will be," or
perhaps, "I cause to be what I
cause to be."
We really don't know,
but it has something to do with
"being."
So he asks who God is,
God says, "I am who am I am" or
"I will cause to be what I will
cause to be."
So Moses, wisely enough,
converts that into a
third-person formula:
okay, he will be who he will
be,
he is who he is,
"Yahweh asher Yahweh."
God's answer to the question of
his name is this sentence,
and Moses converts it from a
first-person to a third-person
sentence: he will be who he will
be;
he is who he is;
he will cause to be,
I think most people think now,
what he will cause to be,
and that sentence gets
shortened to "Yahweh."
 
This is the Bible's explanation
for the name Yahweh,
and as the personal name of
God,
some have argued that the name
Yahweh expresses the quality of
being, an active,
dynamic being.
This God is one who brings
things into being,
whether it's a cosmos from
chaos, or now a new nation from
a band of runaway slaves.
 
But it could well be that this
is simply God's way of not
answering Moses' question.
 
We've seen how the Bible feels
about revealing names,
and the divine being who
struggled and wrestled with
Jacob sure didn't want to give
him his name.
So I've often wondered if we're
to read this differently:
Who am I?
I am who I am,
and never you mind.
 
There are certain important and
unique features of this burning
bush dialogue.
First God identifies himself to
Moses as the God of Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob,
and as numerous commentators
have pointed out,
in so doing,
the biblical writer is trying
to establish an unbroken
historic continuity between the
present revelation to Moses,
and the revelations and
promises that are received by
Israel's forefathers,
the patriarchs.
And yet, paradoxically,
the very assertion of
continuity only serves to
underscore a fundamental
discontinuity,
because even as God asserts
that he is the God of the
patriarchs, he reveals to Moses
a new name,
Yahweh, so that Yahwism,
and the Yahweh cult,
can be said to begin only with
Moses.
Now, as we've seen,
the biblical sources differ on
this point.
According to the J source,
in Genesis 4:26,
the earliest humans worshiped
Yahweh as Yahweh.
 
The name was always known.
 
J wants to assert a direct
continuity between the God of
the patriarchs,
and the God of the Exodus.
The P and E sources tell it a
little differently.
Exodus 6:2-4,
a very important passage,
is assigned to P,
and here God says,
"I am.
I appeared to Abraham,
Isaac and Jacob as El Shaddai,
but I did not make Myself known
to them by My name."
 
Now, this contradicts the J
source, and many scholars have
suggested that P and E preserve
a memory of a time when Israel
worshipped the Canaanite god,
El.
P and E wish to claim that the
God who covenanted with the
patriarchs is the God of the
Exodus, but now with a new name.
They also, like J,
want to assert a continuity,
but in doing so,
they do it in a way that really
ultimately draws attention to
the fundamental discontinuity,
the sense of a new
beginning.
To understand that new
beginning, we need to look at
the differences between
patriarchal religion,
and the new Yahwism.
 
There's a list on your handout,
so I hope everyone got a copy
of the handout.
If you didn't,
perhaps you can raise your
hand, and if the TFs have any
left -- you'll want to take a
look at these differences
between patriarchal religion and
Mosaic Yahwism,
and this is going to help us.
 
This list is based on
information that's supplied by
many scholars.
I've relied very much on
Michael Coogan,
but others as well.
Look first at the sheet that
gives you the titles of God,
and you'll see that in the
patriarchal traditions--so we're
talking about Genesis primarily;
I've thrown in some other texts
also, but focusing for a moment
on the patriarchal traditions of
Genesis--God is six times called
El Shaddai.
Other names are El 'Elyon,
and El Olam,
El Ro'i, El Beyt El.
 
You can see the translations of
these: the everlasting God,
God most high,
the God of seeing,
the God of the house of God,
and so on.
El is the name of the chief God
in the Canaanite pantheon.
Flip over to the other side of
your handout,
where I discuss an important
set of texts that were
discovered at a place called Ras
Shamra.
Ras Shamra was ancient Ugarit.
 
In 1928, a peasant in Syria
discovered a tomb at Ras Shamra,
which was subsequently
excavated by the French,
and it was found to contain a
library of tablets that were
written in a language very,
very close to biblical Hebrew.
It's clear that Hebrew is
simply a Canaanite dialect--in
fact, I remember reading one
scholar who said if you go back
far enough,
you'd be really hard pressed to
tell the difference between
Canaanite and Hebrew--and in
these texts we read of the
exploits of the gods of
Canaanite religion.
 
These gods include the sky god,
El, I've listed here,
the father of the various gods
and humans.
El has a wife,
Asherah: she's listed third on
your paper, a mother goddess;
their daughter,
Anat, who is a goddess of love
and war.
She's quite fierce.
 
And then their son,
Baal, who is a storm god.
He's depicted in mythological
literature as defeating both the
chaotic sea god,
Yam, and the god of death,
Mot.
There are striking resemblances
between the biblical gods of the
Patriarchs and the Canaanite god
El.
El is the head of a council of
gods.
He is said to have a long white
beard.
He dwells on a mountaintop in a
tent.
His epithets include "Father of
all creatures," "Bull," "King."
 
He's also described as the
protector of patriarchs,
patriarchal figures,
"a God of the father of the
clan," it says in the text.
 
He guides them.
He protects them.
He promises them descendants.
 
Many biblical passages depict
God exactly this way,
as the head of a council of
divine beings.
He's occasionally described
with some of the epithets that
are associated with El.
 
He's referred to as the father
of all creatures.
There are poetic passages in
which he is referred to as
"Bull."
Also certainly as "King."
And in the patriarchal
narratives, God refers to
himself as the God of the
Father.
"I am the God of the father,"
the same way El is referred to.
He guides and protects the
patriarchs.
He makes promises of progeny to
Abraham and his heirs.
He also is associated with a
mountaintop, Sinai,
and gives instructions for the
building of a tabernacle,
a tent-like structure,
in which he will dwell.
Many personal and place names
in the patriarchal narratives
are compounds in which one
element is El.
Israel, Ishmael, Beth-el.
 
El is the God of the Patriarchs.
 
By contrast,
after the time of Moses,
Israelite names start to be
formed using Yah,
or Yahu, as part of the name
Yahweh: Elijah in Hebrew is
Eliyahu.
So you start to have
theophorics, names that use a
name of a deity,
which are using forms of Yahu
instead of El.
There are other descriptions in
the Bible of God,
which are much more
reminiscent, however,
of the storm god,
Baal.
According to Canaanite
mythology, Baal defeated El,
and assumed his position at a
certain point as the head of the
Canaanite pantheon,
so there was a switch in
Canaanite mythology,
from El to Baal becoming
supreme.
Like Baal, Yahweh is said to
ride on the clouds:
we have a poetic passage in
which that's the case.
 
His revelations are accompanied
by thunderstorms,
earthquakes:
Baal is the god of the storm.
There are poetic fragments also
that allude to Yahweh's victory
over water foes,
and that is a motif that's
associated with Baal,
who does battle with the Yam,
with the sea.
And finally,
also associated with Israel's
God, we have Ancient Near
Eastern holy war traditions.
 
God is depicted as a warrior,
who leads his host,
the Lord of hosts in battle.
 
He's armed with spear and bow
and arrows.
The worship practices of
ancient Israel and Judah clearly
resemble what we know of
Canaanite and Ancient Near
Eastern worship practices.
 
Canaanite religious ritual took
place in small temples that
housed cultic statues.
 
There were stone pillars,
perhaps symbols of the gods,
or memorials to the dead.
 
There were altars for animal
sacrifices, cereal,
liquid sacrifices.
 
Similarly, Israel's gods,
or Israel's God,
was worshiped at various high
places: they're referred to as
elevated or high places.
 
They were shrines with little
altars, maybe cultic pillars,
and wooden poles:
the word for a wooden pole
that's used in the Bible is
asherah.
These shrines may have been
associated with some kind of
contact with ancestors,
some kind of cult of the dead.
Now, worship at these local
altars and high places would
come to be banned:
Deuteronomy is going to
polemicize against this.
 
Deuteronomy will insist that
all worship must occur in one
central sanctuary and these
outlying areas,
and their asherot are to
be destroyed.
It will decree the destruction
of all of these altars and high
places.
The patriarchal stories are
clearly not the work of the
Deuteronomist,
and these stories must have had
very longstanding traditional
authority if they were adopted
without serious modification by
the Deuteronomist redactor--
some modification,
but not serious.
So what is going on here?
What are we to make of the
incredible similarity of
Israel's deity and cult to those
of her neighbors?
How are we to understand the
rise of Israel's God,
Israel's religion?
 
Well, so far we've had two
models that have been thrown out
to you: the kind of classic
evolutionary model.
From polytheism's worship of
many gods there's a natural
evolution to henotheism's
elevation of one god to a
supreme position.
 
One comes to be favored and
then eventually becomes so
important, the others really
fall away, and you have the
denial of all gods but the one.
 
We saw Kaufman in the 1930s
reacted against this.
He argued that monotheism and
polytheism are so radically
distinct that one could not
possibly have evolved from the
other.
Surely there's an element of
truth in both models.
 
The evolutionary model is,
I think, responding to,
and picking up on,
the fact that in many respects,
Yahweh resembles the gods of
Israel's neighbors.
To be blunt,
the patriarchs seem to have
worshiped the Canaanite God,
El.
The problem with the
evolutionary model is that it
doesn't account for those
aspects of the biblical text
that show a clear polemical
relationship between Israel's
religion and that of her
neighbors.
Now, we saw when we read
Genesis 1, that there was
something going on there,
there's a polemic going on.
There are strata within the
Bible that are clearly
polemicizing against a certain
kind of mythological
presentation of the deity.
 
By contrast,
Kaufman's revolutionary model
focuses almost exclusively on
the dissimilarities and the
polemical relationship between
Yahwism and Canaanite
polytheism.
the revolutionary model also
fails because it doesn't
acknowledge the many,
many areas of contact,
similarity, and even identity.
So a third way has emerged in
the last 20 years,
or 15 years or so,
and it's one that seeks to
avoid this dichotomy between
polytheism and monotheism.
Instead of viewing Israelite
religion as an evolution from
and a refinement--just this
natural process of
refinement--of Canaanite
religion,
or as a radical break
with and polemic against
Canaanite religion,
we have some biblical
scholars--Mark S.
 
Smith is among them,
and Steven Geller--who examine
the cultural and ideological
negotiations that gave rise to
Israelite monotheism.
 
What do I mean?
Mark Smith specifically
describes the origin and
development of Israelite
religion as a process of what he
calls convergence and
differentiation.
He writes, "Convergence
involved the coalescence of
various deities,
and/or some of their features
into the figure of Yahweh".
There's a period of convergence
and blending of the deities.
By contrast,
he describes differentiation as
a process whereby Israel came to
reject its Canaanite roots,
and create a separate identity.
 
At some point there was a
desire to separate,
and in that process of identity
formation,
a polemic began to develop that
created Yahweh in a distinct
way, differentiated from the
Canaanite deities.
So let's consider Smith's
convergence first.
The Canaanite roots of Israel's
ancestors are clear.
The Hebrew language itself is
essentially Canaanite,
a Canaanite dialect.
 
The Canaanite god El was,
from the biblical text,
the God of Israel's earliest
ancestors.
Through a process of
convergence, he argues:
the God Yahweh was the god that
we think originally came from a
region further south,
Sinai, Edom,
somewhere further south--but
this god, through a process of
convergence and cultural mixing,
began to take on the
characteristics of other
deities, first El,
and then Baal,
or sort of simultaneously El
and Baal.
Later, certain aspects of this
convergence would be polemicized
against, and rejected as a
Yahweh-only party sought to
differentiate itself from those
that it would now label as
other,
and call Canaanites,
as distinct from Israelites.
Smith's model of convergence
and then differentiation,
has great explanatory power.
 
It explains the deep similarity
of Israel's deity and the
deities of her neighbors,
but it also explains the
vehement biblical polemic
against Canaanite religion,
and Baal worship in particular,
which we will come to see.
It reminds one of sibling
rivalry.
Siblings who obviously share a
tremendous amount,
and can be extraordinarily
similar are precisely the
siblings who can struggle and
wrestle the most to
differentiate themselves from
one another.
Smith's model of convergence
and differentiation also avoids
unhelpful dichotomies.
 
Israel is either like or unlike
her neighbors--that's not
helpful.
It helps us understand Israel's
God as the end product of
familiar cultural processes,
processes of convergence--we
see convergences of cultures all
the time--and differentiation.
 
Differentiations of culture
happen all the time as well.
When and why,
you may ask,
did this differentiation occur?
 
When and why did some
Israelites adopt a Yahweh-only
position, and seek to
differentiate what they would
call a pure Yahwism from the
cult of Baal,
for example?
The debate over that question
is fierce, and it's one we're
going to leave for another day.
We will come back,
as we continue moving through
the biblical text,
and we will address that
question.
But to sum up,
it's clear that the biblical
patriarchs and matriarchs are
not strict Yahwists,
as we will come to understand
that term.
The P and the E sources
preserve this insight;
and they preserve it in their
insistence that the Patriarchs
worshiped God as El,
but at the time of the Exodus,
God revealed himself as Yahweh.
There's an interesting passage
in the book of Joshua,
Joshua 24:14-15.
Joshua was the successor to
Moses.
He presents the Israelites with
the following choice:
"Now therefore revere the
Lord,"
using the word Yahweh,
"revere Yahweh,
and serve him with undivided
loyalty.
Put away the gods that your
forefathers served beyond the
Euphrates and in Egypt"--put
away the gods your forefathers
served beyond the Euphrates and
in Egypt--"and serve Yahweh.
 
/ Choose this day which ones
you are going to serve,
but I in my household will
serve Yahweh," serve the Lord.
Only later would a Yahweh-only
party polemicize against and
seek to suppress certain… what
came to be seen as undesirable
elements of Israelite-Judean
religion,
and these elements would be
labeled Canaanite,
as a part of a process of
Israelite differentiation.
But what appears in the Bible
as a battle between Israelites,
pure Yahwists,
and Canaanites,
pure polytheists,
is indeed better understood as
a civil war between Yahweh-only
Israelites,
and Israelites who are
participating in the cult of
their ancestors.
 
