Reflections on “Writing and Literacy in the World of Ancient Israel” by Christopher A. Rollston

Needless to say, Rollston’s Writing and Literacy in the World of Ancient Israel is a valuable starting point for studies in (1) epigraphy and (2) inscriptions. Essentially, he employs epigraphy as “a window into the world of ancient Israelite scribalism, writing, and literacy” (xv). First, he offers a helpful introduction to the origins of alphabetic writing and how the script became employed in distinct languages (Phoenician script was employed for Hebrew, Aramaic, and Phoenician languages).

Next, he offers a broad overview of the types of epigraphic records, primarily illustrating how inscriptions records demonstrate the variety of ways in which writing was employed in the world of ancient Israel.

Finally, having established a thorough introduction to epigraphy and the corpus, he argues that ancient Israel had formalized, scribal education [1]. Such scribal education was akin to what we find in other West Asian records. Namely, scribes were associated with private families or were state sponsored positions. At bottom, he argues that “Old Hebrew epigraphic data and the biblical data align and reveal that trained elites were literate and there is a distinct dearth of evidence suggesting that non-elites could write and read” (134).

Regarding the sometimes lack of detail in this volume, it is expected. As he notes near the beginning of the volume, his more detailed analyses of texts are available in the various articles which he has written. Furthermore, on the issue of how Hebrew came to function as a national language, that is an issue which Seth Sanders focuses on in The Invention of Hebrew (University of Illinois Press, 2009). What’s more, since this volume’s publication in 2010, much work has been done in terms of West Asian scribal practices and schooling practices [2].

[1] He prefers the term “formalized, scribal education” over “school” because the latter category assumes a model of education anachronistic the Iron Age.

[2] Most recently, see Uri Gabbay, The Exegetical Terminology of Akkadian Commentaries (Leiden: Brill, 2016), Niek Veldhuis, History of the Cuneiform Lexical Tradition, in Guides to the Mesopotamian Textual Record (GMTR), Volume 6 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2014). As I move forward, I am working on collecting a more comprehensive bibliography of articles and books on scribal issues.

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Review of “The Exegetical Terminology of Akkadian Commentaries” by Uri Gabbay

Uri Gabbay. The Exegetical Terminology of Akkadian Commentaries. In Culture and History of the Ancient Near East, Vol. 82. Leiden: Brill, 2016.

Uri Gabbay is a Senior Lecturer in Department of Archaeology/Ancient Near East and School of Philosophy and Religions at Hebrew University. Since 2009, much of his work has been in the area of Akkadian commentaries. This volume, though, is the first attempt to write a comprehensive description of the terminology used in Akkadian commentaries and how they function.

Like any volume, the Introduction offers a brief introduction to what Mesopotamian commentaries are and how to approach them, for which he suggests three steps: identify the base text (i.e. subject of the commentary), identify motivations behind comments (i.e. textual difficulties), and identify the technical terminology. Gabbay focuses on the third step, which enables one to better understand the hermeneutical process of Akkadian commentators. Subsequently, he offers a brief discussion of important terms: canonical (i.e. attributed to divine authority), hermeneutical technique versus hermeneutical motivation (i.e. methods employed versus solving problems in the base text), and exegetical terminology (i.e. reasoning and exegetical terminology employed in the comment).

One of the greatest strengths of the Introduction is the framing of commentaries not as speculation or expansion; rather, commentaries “respond to a problem in the base text,” both minor lemma problems and more extensive context problems (9). In other words, although signs are polysemous, polysemy is primarily employed to make a text more coherent.

One point of possible contention, though, is Gabbay’s employment of the category “canon,” which he essentially defines as a text which has “an interpretive and study tradition” (4). While “canon” can be productive in some cases, particularly for later commentaries, it seems reasonable to assume that the status of a “canon” would have functioned with various nuances, depending on the period and region. To draw from Biblical Studies, the Hebrew Bible was technically a “Canon” in the 5th century BCE (compilation with subsequent expansion in the DSS and Second Temple Period literature), 2nd century BCE (list of the “official” books in Sirach), and 2nd century CE (Rabbinic period). In each period of the Hebrew Bible’s canonicity, though, “Canon” had very different valencies. By analogy, one would expect the “canonical” texts of Mesopotamia to have similar valencies throughout various periods (Neo-Assyrian, Late Babylonian, etc.). Therefore, “Canon” may be used to describe the base text of commentaries; however, nuances of particular periods must be considered. For focus on these nuances may impact how we interpret the exegetical terminology and comments without commentary texts.

Furthermore, Gabbay’s categorizations of “Canon,” terms like coherence, discussion of hermeneutics, etc., would have been strengthened by including matters of literary theory. By not considering the relationship between his claims and literary theory, a wide gap is left in his introductory material.

Chapter One examines exegetical terminology reflective of the Sitz im Leben. Such terminology, suggests Gabbay, points to a scribal context wherein oral lessons were written by students, to be later combined with written sources. Many exegetical terms employed in oral lessons and student responses reflect the Sitz im Leben as a learning environment lead by the teacher-scholar. The terminology itself is divided amongst four sections: Sitz im Leben of study process, learning environment (i.e. the lesson), 2nd person references, and Sitz im Leben of commentary compilation. Together, his description of terminology related to the Sitz im Leben is helpful for reconstructing a hypothetical learning environment.

Problematic is that Gabbay suggests a hypothetical learning environment on the basis of terminology alone. As he notes later, though, Babylonian, Late Babylonian, late Achemenid and early Hellenistic, and Neo-Assyrian exegetical terminology function similarly in various contexts, different densities of terminology are present in their respect periods and geographic regions (269-274). Therefore, Gabbay’s hypothetical learning environment is an oversimplified model. A nuanced model based on (a) terminology and (b) region/period would have been more precise and useful for future historical reconstructions.

Chapter Two presents exegetical terminology which addresses the meaning individual words and phrases via definition. Such definitions are either equations or descriptions. Gabbay asserts that equations are reflective of the lexical genre, whereas descriptions are reflective of lexical texts and the descriptive genre in texts like abnu šikinšu and šammu šikinšu. Overall, the presentation is helpful, especially for future studies on Akkadian commentaries and hermeneutical methods.

There is, though, one issue. Gabbay’s description of the Glossenkeil is over simplified. He claims in Chapter One that “textual variants are often indicated by Glossenkeil” (75). Then, in Chapter Two, he suggests two interpretations of the Glossenkeil: it separates two equated words or “corresponds to a verbal formula that was pronounced during lessons to indicate the relationship between the terms in a lexical equation” (85). Although convenient for his overall focus on exegetical terminology, the claim is problematic, inasmuch as it fails to provide any evidence or argument for his understanding of how a Glossenkeil functions within the texts. It may be preferable to interpret the Glossenkeil as a disjunctive marker. For, it can function syntactically in such a variety of manners that limiting the Glossenkeil to a single function is may be problematic. For example, he discusses a commentary on Sagig, wherein part of the text reads: “A = water, GUR = return; thirdly: (agurru, “baked brick,” refers to) a pregnant woman” (pp. 182-183;  [A : me-e] : GUR : ta-a-ra šal-šiš MUNUS.PEŠ4). In the commentary of Sagig, there is a Glossenkeil between A and , and GUR and târa. There is also a Glossenkeil between and GUR, though. While it may function to mark some sort of relationship between A: and GUR:târa, it is equally plausible that it simply functions as a disjunctive marker, distinguishing between the two lexical equivalences. This reading is preferable simply due to the ambiguity of Glossenkeilen. For, this reading takes into account the ambiguity of the Glossenkeil and forces one to carefully consider the function of it in its respective context.

Having described terminology which defines individual words and phrases, Chapter Three addresses terminology of contextualization terminology: “a process of discovering or constructing a context that will allow the interpreter to make sense of a lemma that is difficult to understand in isolation or in its immediate context, or to harmonize contradictory texts” (127). Such interpretation takes three forms: specification (clarification o the base text), changing the literal meaning of a lemma, and reasoning (“the process of identifying premises and drawing conclusions” (127)). Terminology employed, then, are primarily “prepositions and conjunctions that indicate the logical relationships between various signifiers” (128). Essentially, Gabbay categorizes the terminology which serves to makes sense of the base text by re-framing it.

As with Chapter Two, Gabbay’s cataloguing of exegetical terminology will be helpful for other studies. And considering the ambiguity of Akkadian commentary series, it would not be particularly surprising to find divergent interpretations of texts and how terminology functions within the texts. Even so, his arrangement is helpful nonetheless.

Although more of a cursory concern, there is an absence to any modern literary theory. Discussion this subject may be helpful in arranging the exegetical terminology and its uses. For example, while discussing the term libbū with textual citations, he references a Sagig commentary, wherein the commentator employs an omen from Šumma-ālu. In doing so, Gabbay suggests that the commentator reinterprets asirtu (concubine) in terms of esēru (to confine), inasmuch as the commentator claims asirtu actually refers the confining of a patient in his bed (p. 133). This method of interpretation is reflective of intertextuality. Closer attention to valencies of intertextuality (i.e. awareness of how a scholar cites material for interpretation) may have enabled Gabbay to analyze exegetical terminology in such a way that allowed one to more clearly see how various scribes themselves conceptualized authoritative texts and their relationship to them.

Chapter Four presents techniques and terminology which reflect awareness of “the nature and character of the text….  The action of interpretation itself and the commentator himself” (169). It is not entirely clear, though, how Gabbay decided what belonged to this category and what did not.

For example, he claims that the terminology kakku sakku (“sealed and shut”) in an explanatory text indicates a relationship between the comb/mirror of a goddess and the Corpse star. Said relationship is supposedly based on a “general ancient scholarly tradition” (179; 180n48). If this is the case, perhaps the terminology kakku sakku should fall under its own category. For, the relationship between elements A and B is suggested to be a general scholarly tradition. So, employing of kakku sakku is more of a reference to previous scholarly tradition than simply a comment on the nature or character of said text. If this is the case, Gabbay should work to expand his descriptive categories in the future, so that phrases like kakku sakku may be more adequately presented.

Chapter Five presents the variety of phrase with the verb qabû which function hermeneutically. Through this description, he suggests that the Mesopotamian worldview understood divine utterances to be present in the form of texts or “canon.” In a sense, this was the “divine word,” began commenting upon in the NA period.

Although the notion of a Mesopotamian “logos” is intriguing and may be a good course of research for future scholars, Gabbay’s treatment of the topic is not substantiated well. First, having focused primarily on qabû in Akkadian commentaries, briefly touching on its use outside of commentaries, any claim for a Mesopotamian “logos” must be substantiated by a systematic analysis of qabû in all Mesopotamian literature. Second, in attempting to paint a broad brushstroke of what constitutes a Mesopotamian “logos,” he does not distinguish between time period and region. As previously mentioned, further analysis in these regards would benefit all of his conclusions.

Finally, the Conclusion reflects on why his analyses matter. First, he suggests that the exegetical terminology points to a strong culture of scholasticism amongst scribes. Second, he carefully notes that, while exegetical terminology illustrate the hermeneutical process, the hermeneutical process may still occur within the exegetical terminology. Thus, Gabbay’s outline of exegetical terminology, and therefore the hermeneutical process, will be helpful for interpreting texts, especially commentaries, inasmuch we now have a better sense of a Mesopotamian hermeneutical framework. Finally, he briefly reflects on the spread of exegetical terminology. In doing so, he provides a summary of how Akkadian exegetical terminology may have developed.

Although intriguing, such analysis of the spread of exegetical terminology via geography, time period, and colophon should have played a bigger part in Gabbay’s analysis. For example, rather than dividing between the chapters as he did, it may have been more productive to categorize terminology by region and time period, subsequently considering the extent to which they informed each other or overlap.

Overall, The Exegetical Terminology of Akkadian Commentaries is a helpful volume for scholars, particularly those interested in Akkadian commentaries. And while he does offer thorough coverage of Akkadian exegetical terminology, this reviewer is left wondering if more substantive conclusions may have been achieved by arranging terminology on the basis of region, period, and attentiveness to intertextuality. Even so, there is no doubt that this will be a valuable volume for the future, especially as studies on Akkadian commentaries are on the rise. For, it also includes two concise and useful appendices on exegetical terminology in divinatory literature and early Hebrew literature.

*The publisher provided a review copy in exchange for my honest opinion.

Reflection on “Grammatical Parallelism and its Russian Facet” by Roman Jakobson (1966)

For those who were with biblical poetry, Roman Jakobson is an incredibly important scholar. For, his understanding of parallelism shaped and formed the framework by which Adele Berlin (The Dynamics of Biblical Paralellism) treated Biblical poetry in her own book. One quote from the article stands above the rest:

Pervasive parallelism inevitably activates all the levels of language – the distinctive features, inherent and prosodic, the morphologic and syntactic categories and forms, the lexical unites and their semantic classes in both their convergences and divergences acquire an autonomous poetic value. This focus upon phonological, grammatical, and semantic structures in their multiform interplay does not remain confined to the limits of parallel lines but expands throughout their distribution within the entire context; therefore the grammar of parallelistic pieces becomes particularly significant.

It is these categories in particular which Berlin breaks down within biblical poetry. In the next few years, though, I do look forward to a dissertation being written within NELC at the University of Chicago. It may help to clarify much of what others, Jakobson, and Berlin argued, albeit with more clarity.

One things, though, stood out to me within this article: oral traditions. Essentially, a 19th century scholar recorded a many Russian folklore traditions and poems. Although many of these records had some variation, it was noted that many of these traditions were extremely similar. Scholars argued that these similarities were due to the usage of parallelism and its dominant role in oral traditions.  Such things are present throughout many modern cultures.

Additionally, they often times drew from parallelism as defined by Lowth. Down the road, it was argued that poetic and prose traditions in the Hebrew Bible reflect an oral culture preceding it. It is this point which I want to address. Without a doubt, the oral traditions of the Hebrew Bible are possible; however, comparison of 19th century oral traditions, such as a Turkish one which goes back to the 16th century, with those of the Hebrew Bible is methodologically flawed. The method is problematic because 2000 to 2300 years separate modern traditions and ancient traditions.

So, while it is possible to prove that modern folklore traditions tend to employ grammatical parallelism, it is harder to claim such a thing for the Hebrew Bible, as did Albright and many other scholars. That said, one must produce evidence and develop a method in order to bridge the gap between modern folklore traditions and ancient traditions, particularly with regard to the relationship between oral traditions and grammatical parallelism.

Cf. U. Gabbay / Dead Sea Discoveries 19 (2012) 267–312 (esp. p. 279), wherein here notes that Mesopotamian scholars had a sense they were the recipients of an oral tradition that allowed them to offer the best commentary on canonical texts.  

Grounds of Being at the University of Chicago Divinity School

cash20onlyAt the moment, I work at the Grounds of Being coffee shop at the University of Chicago Divinity School, a non-profit coffee shop. Unfortunately, the future of Grounds of Being is at risk, especially after the new dean was hired. This is significant because Grounds of Being currently (1) provides jobs for divinity students, (2) is an important social and cultural center of both the Divinity School and broader university, and (3) provides the funding for DSA, a program which provides substantial financial support for Divinity School students in terms of things like travel grants, conference grants, and emergency funds.

Included in the body of this post is an update on the situation from the perspective of Grounds of Being and DSA management. Likewise, please visit this link in order to see how others are responding to the current situation.

News and Information about the DSA/GoB Preservation Committee can be found on this page. It will be updated accordingly.

The Divinity Students Association (DSA) is an organization run by and for University of Chicago Divinity School students. The organization contributes to many spheres of life in the Divinity School, including academic, professional, and social.  Above all else, the DSA strives to foster a true community of Divinity students from every degree program.

The Divinity Students Association was founded in the early 1960s and has operated as an independent nonprofit (501c3) within the Divinity School since 1968. The DSA is focused on pursuing three goals: 1) to enhance student life and research; 2) to foster collegiality and social cohesion; 3) to work with the Divinity School administration in areas pertaining to student needs. To achieve these goals, the DSA draws on two sources of funding: a percentage of your student life fees and the net profits of Grounds of Being, our student-run nonprofit coffee shop. These funds go towards providing students with a number of important resources and opportunities.


January 3, 2018

Dear Students, Staff, and Faculty of the Divinity School:

We write on behalf of the Divinity Students Association/Grounds of Being Preservation Committee, a group formed by a unanimous vote of Divinity School students to advocate on behalf of the Divinity Students Association (DSA) and Grounds of Being (GoB) in response to recent administrative threats against these organizations’ autonomy and continued existence. We believe that the work that DSA and GoB do for students and the communal life of the Divinity School should continue, and that decisions about these organizations’ shared future should be made with the participation of every person in the Divinity School. We consequently believe that students, staff, and faculty should have common access to as much information as possible, and that public fora should exist for honest, collegial conversation about the challenges that currently face DSA, GoB, and the Divinity School as a whole. It was with this intention that we held two plenary meetings of DSA last quarter. It is with this same intention that we now publicly disseminate the following information and invite all faculty and staff to a public forum hosted by the DSA/GoB Preservation Committee on Friday, January 12th at 10 AM in the Swift 3rd Floor Lecture Hall.

In June 2017, DSA and GoB leadership first received word from then-Dean Rosengarten’s office concerning the new University-wide budget system and the possibility that GoB would be asked to pay rent for space currently occupied in the basement. Dean Rosengarten met with GoB managers to discuss a potential solution to the budget problem; Dean Rosengarten suggested at that time that GoB and the Dean’s office work together to determine a percentage of the quoted rent that GoB could pay while allowing DSA and GoB to continue their current activities. In June, there was confusion about rental rates and square footage estimates, and therefore no agreement could be reached. In August, DSA and GoB received from the Dean’s office a rent estimate of $36,943. In recent years, GoB’s net profits have amounted to between twenty-five and thirty-five thousand dollars a year, the entirety of which comprise the only financial support for student resources administered by DSA such as the Swift Cares emergency relief fund, student travel grants for research and professional activities, and funding for student-run conferences in the Divinity School. As no resolution was found under Dean Rosengarten’s administration, the conversations about rent continued into the Fall Quarter.

The situation has changed dramatically since June. During the first two months of Fall Quarter, DSA and GoB leadership held several meetings with members of the Divinity School administration, including new Dean Laurie Zoloth and Dean of Students Joshua Feigelson. These conversations culminated in a meeting on November 16th, which included DSA President Erin Simmonds, GoB General Manager Juliana Locke, GoB Assistant Manager William Underwood, Dean Zoloth, Associate Dean Sandra Peppers, Dean of Students Feigelson, and Deputy Dean Jeffrey Stackert. Over the course of this meeting, Dean Zoloth delivered a series of non-negotiable demands to DSA and GoB leadership including: (1) that GoB immediately adopt the university’s point-of-sale system in order to take Maroon Dollars and credit cards, due to concerns about accessibility and optics; (2) that GoB immediately integrate its finances into the university’s financial system; (3) that GoB pay approximately $61,000 in annual rent and estimated utilities. DSA and GoB leadership highlighted a number of obstacles to enacting these three demands, each of which would result in serious threat to the economic viability and autonomy of these student organizations. Accordingly, DSA and GoB leadership provided alternative proposals and compromises. These offerings were summarily discarded.

Throughout this meeting, Dean Zoloth repeatedly dismissed the importance of DSA and GoB to community life in the Divinity School. Among other remarks, she suggested that it is not her concern that GoB employs twenty-one Divinity School students, that perhaps the school could replace GoB with a different, profit-seeking coffee shop, or that GoB management could personally fundraise enough money to endow the cost of rent and utilities. It was made clear that GoB must come up with the full $61,000 or face closure.

After this meeting, DSA and GoB held several meetings with students and faculty, including a staff meeting with employees at GoB on November 17th, a DSA Board meeting on November 16th, and two plenary meetings to which all Divinity School students were invited on November 20th and November 27th. In these plenary meetings, students voted unanimously to refuse the demands of the Dean’s office and to continue negotiations through a newly-constituted DSA/GoB Preservation Committee. During this period, DSA and GoB leadership received communication from intermediaries that Dean Zoloth had become amenable to a compromise. Through these same intermediaries, GoB leadership negotiated a tentative compromise on two questions: (1) adoption of the university’s point-of-sale system, and (2) the possible integration of GoB accounts into the university’s financial system. It was explicit in these conversations that GoB would not negotiate rent until these two questions had been resolved and that rental negotiations would thereafter involve a wider group of participants, including a nascent faculty committee. In short, after weeks of high tension and concern that GoB would have to close, thus substantially defunding DSA, it seemed that it would be possible to pursue good-faith negotiations with a set of shared commitments to the continued existence and autonomy of both DSA and GoB.

In the last month, however, student confidence in that possibility has dissolved. Further communication with Dean Zoloth and administrative intermediaries has made it clear to DSA and GoB leadership, as well as to this open committee of students, that the Dean’s office has no intention of compromising. While we appreciate the efforts of certain administrative figures to work cooperatively and respectfully with student leadership on these issues, we no longer believe that it is advisable or responsible to negotiate privately with the Dean’s office. Despite six months of continued conversations, no resolution has been achieved and we are left with the impression that the good faith with which DSA and GoB leadership approached these negotiations has not been reciprocated with the openness and fairness we expect from our Divinity School leadership. No tangible progress has been made and we need to move forward.

In the interest of preserving vital student organizations and pillars of our community, we now call for: public deliberation and accountability regarding issues that concern the entire Divinity School; administrative transparency on financial matters pertaining to student institutions such as DSA and GoB; and student involvement in decisions that affect those institutions. Motivated by these imperatives, we, again, entreat all faculty and staff to attend a public forum hosted by the DSA/GoB Preservation Committee on Friday, January 12th at 10 AM in the Swift 3rd Floor Lecture Hall. At this meeting, DSA and GoB leadership will provide faculty and staff with both groups’ financial and operational information. We invite all attendees to ask questions about these organizations and the work they do in the Divinity School, as well as to speak openly about what solutions they believe will best serve the collective interests of the Divinity School community. We hope that this meeting will generate the kind of informed, public conversation that is necessary for making decisions that affect every person in the Divinity School.

 

Yours in partnership,

 

The DSA/GoB Preservation Committee

DSA and GoB Leadership

Reflections on §1-33 of Joüon-Muraka

*This quarter, a required reading is all of the Biblical Hebrew grammar by Joüon-Muraka. Here, I reflect that reading. 

Observation 1: 

In the previous quarter, we learned the historical grammar for vowels and nouns in Biblical Hebrew. As I start reading through Joüon-Muraka, the knowledge of such historical grammar helps immensely, namely by helping me to understand his discussion regarding morphological explanation for substantives, verbs, and particles. While his consistent reference to this historical grammar is valuable, it assumes one already grasps the elements of historical grammar. Therefore, this grammar can be particularly difficult to digest if one has not been taught the foundations of historical grammar.

Observation 2: 

In light of the phonetic shifts between vowels (i.e. Philippe’s Law), should this be brought into consideration when considering grammatical parallelism, particularly in Biblical poetry? I don’t know. This is a possibility worth pondering, though.

Observation 3: 

Section 15e comments on the role of accents in the MT, noting that “their main purpose is to regulate the musical modulation or recitation of the Bible” (58). Though it may have been done (or not), I wonder how those accent impact the interpretation of texts. Think of, for example, how one artist may cover a song by another artist. Often times, though the same language and grammar is utilized, the music genre brings an entirely new sense to how one understands the song. A study on this would be interesting, especially if there is some sort of psychology music study focusing on the the psychology of different music genres.

Observation 4: 

If I am recalling correctly, section 29e-g, wherein Joüon-Muraka discusses the first and second degrees of attenuation, is subsequently explained by Lambdin. For Lambdin, this attenuation is classified as “category 3” (or 2?). I need to check up on this, though.

Observation 5: 

This grammar was first written in 1923. So, it isn’t surprising that Joüon reference the waw + PC as an “inverted future” (section 31b). It is interesting, though, how current grammatical discussions have (tried) to move beyond a tensed verbal system into an aspect verbal system. To what extent was this sort of discussion going around in the 1920s?

Review of “From Prophet to Priest: The Characterization of Aaron in the Pentateuch” by James Findlay

James D. Findlay. From Prophet to Priest: The Characterization of Aaron in the Pentateuch. CBET 77 (Bristol, CT: Peeters). Pp. 423.

The goal of Findlay’s book is straight-forward: he seeks to offer a thorough analysis of Aaron’s characterization in the Pentateuch. In what follows, I offer a summary of his analyses. For each chapter, I raise criticisms regarding his analyses.

Chapter one discusses standard issues for any monograph. First, he reviews the state of scholarship and issues of methodology. He contends that (1) no comprehensive analysis of Aaron’s literary character, (2) with multiple methodological approaches, has been written. So he sets out his literary-critical and form-critical approaches. By using multiple methods for multiple readings, he suggests it is more in line with the Hebrew Bible itself.

While his attempt to utilize multiple methodologies is reasonable, his method is still unclear. For, literary-critical and form-critical approaches are good methods; however, they are only a portion of what should be covered in method. For example, Findlay does not consider the categories “prophet” and “priest” in the HB and ANE. Similarly, he does not engage with the documentary hypothesis. Even if Findlay does not agree with much within the documentary hypothesis, he should at least engage with it, offering a defense and argument as to why it does not play a large role in his methodology.

Additionally, Findlay seemingly offers no reason for texts he chose to examine (Ex. 7-11, 32-34; Lev. 8-10; Num. 12, 16-17; Deut. 9-10). Instead, he briefly comments that “an examination of this set of texts is useful because they represent a range of genres, including narrative, exhortation, and liturgies of priestly ordination, among others” (31). Even if these passages represent a range of genres, there is seemingly no reason or rhyme to what distinguishes these passages from any other appearance of Aaron in the Pentateuch.

Chapter two offers a structural and literary analysis of Exodus 7-11. Notably, Findlay approaches Ex. 7-11 as a united narrative. He justifies this by viewing the phrase wy’mer yhwy mshh as a marker for various sections. So, he reads 12 plagues, not 10. After laying out the structure of these 12 divisions, he highlights various phrases which may demonstrate the unity of Ex. 7-11. Within the text, he characterizes Aaron as acting sporadically. He calls it a ‘sign-cycle’ or ‘narrative’ or ‘prophetic legend’ narrative. He then asserts a cultic setting in the pre-exilic or post-exilic period; however, he offers no arguments or interaction with other scholarship, likewise with his assertion for the texts intention. He concludes that Aaron functions as a “prophet” to Moses, namely as his brother, partner, and associate. So, he is essentially parallel to Moses.

Like any reading, he offers an alternative to something like the documentary hypothesis; however, he does not engage at all with JEDP source. Although he makes reference to the “Priestly writer(s)” (98), he never seems to entirely engage; rather, Findlay only utilizes JEDP divisions when it is helpful to strengthening his own argument. Additionally, and similar to a previous criticism, Findlay does not define or offer sustained discussion about the categories of “priest” and “prophet.” For this reason, it is difficult to fully consider his argument when he offers no framework or discussions of what these roles mean in the HB and ANE. So, although there are some interesting observations tucked within his analyses, the lack of methodological strength severely destabilizes the majority of his conclusions.

Chapter three offers a structural and literary analysis of Ex. 32-34, focusing on Aaron’s role in the narrative. Based on the structure, Findlay argues that Aaron endangered the community through his actions. Although not held responsible for the sin of the people, Aaron does become subordinate to Moses. In other words, he is ‘demoted.’ So, while Aaron is originally ‘almost equal’ to Moses, he now recedes into the text’s background. In his literary-analysis, he reaches a similar conclusion. Whereas in Ex. 32 Aaron is independent, he is absent in 33 and not at the forefront of 34. Because Aaron is not honest about the incident in 33:21 and the narrator notes Aaron’s guilt, the role of Aaron is demoted in the text. For, now he is only referenced with other characters.

 

Like the other chapters, there are interesting observations tucked away. The negative critiques of his analysis, though, strongly out-weight the positive. First, in all his discussion about Aaron’s role in the calf incident as a priest, he does not consider how Aaron’s actions reflect other broader priestly concerns in the HB and ANE. Put another way, what is a ‘priest’ and what does a ‘priest’ do? How did priests in the HB and ANE relate to the people? Again, his argument regarding the characterization of Aaron is weak because it does not address a basic, yet primary, methodological concern.

Second, although small, one comment may reflect a problem with Findlay’s attentiveness to the text. Speaking of the Levites slaying those who sacrificed to the calf, he notes that the Levites had been blessed “due both to their loyalty to Moses and their willingness to kill man of their Israelite kin” (117). First, they were not “loyal” to Moses; rather, the Levites were dedicated to Yahweh. Similarly, the notion of “willingness to kill many of their Israelite kin” carries an almost moral weight. Yet, again, though, he failed to consider the category of “priest” in the HB and ANE, which would have clarified the actions of slaying the people. This issue of defining priest is further present in his conclusion about the characterization of Aaron: “Whether or not he is a priest is unclear; however, we might conclude that Aaron no longer has the status of prophet, with his unfortunate behavior during the incident with the Golden Calf being the likely reason” (126). If Findlay is unclear whether or not Aaron is a priest at this point, perhaps he should begin by expanding his analysis to consider the conceptual world of the scribe of Exodus. This would include considering what a priest is within the Pentateuch, HB, and ANE. This issue with defining ‘priest’ is a problem through all of this book.

Third, he lacks attention to the nuances of words, which raises concerns for all of his readings. For example, his discussion of Exodus 32:6b suggests that “the description contains no judgmental statement from the narrator that the actions are lurid or abominable… Thus, the object and character of the people’s actions, at this point in the narrative, remain uncertain” (141). A brief look at the BDB entry for the root tsch-k suggests otherwise (books contain typo with h instead of ch). BDB defines the verb as “to laugh.” Each appearance of the root is in a somewhat negative context (i.e. laughing at Yahweh’s promise to Abraham, what the Philistines have Samson do between the pillars, Joseph “making sport” of his master’s wife, etc. In other words, the root is typically used in negative situations. So, use of the root tsch-k does, in fact, indicate that the narrator is commenting on the people’s actions to some degree. Unfortunately, Findlay fails to address this obvious nuance of the root.

Chapter four discusses Aasron’s characterization in Lev. 8-10. Within his structural analysis, Findlay illustrates a shift from chapter 8 to 9. Whereas Aaron is the recipient of Moses’ acts in chapter 8, he shifts into the role of primary ritual actor in chapter 9. Chapter 10, though, shifts Aaron into another role: he now becomes an independent speaker. With these shifts, Aaron’s “role as prophet [has] apparently almost completely receded, but his function as priest is in full view” (195). Consequently, he describes the genre of Lev. 8-10 as a narrative of priestly consecration, ordination, and installation (19) on the basis of structure and comparison with the NIN.DINGIR priestess at Emar. Additionally, on the basis of a post-exilic setting, he suggests that the text’s intention is to characterize Aaron a priest accountable to Moses. Shifting to literary analysis, Findlay highlights Aaron’s role as the primary object in Lev. 8, suggesting his role as an ideal priest: “Aaron is presented to the readers of Lev. 8 as obedient to commands, receptive of enrobement and anointment, and immediately capable of ritual action once he is consecrated… he stands before us as the ideal priest, newly installed in office” (208). 

Findlay’s division of Lev. 9, Aaron is characterized as a priestly hero and flawless liturgical functionary: the perfect priest. As for Lev. 10, Findlay asserts that Aaron, though no longer the perfect priest, is an “effective community leader.” He bases this on an assertion that “we can sense, by the content and tone of his speech which closes the unit, that Aaron is not just a priest, but a responsible, responsive human being, possessed of both eloquence and emotion” (226).

Again, there are some interesting observations tucked away; however, none are necessarily worth noting. Instead, I will focus on a few serious issues. First of all, he does not engage with questions of ritual errors in the HB and Akkadian literature. This is problematic because Leviticus 8-10 revolves around ritual and, eventually, ritual error. If Findlay is considering Aaron’s role as a priest, it must also take into consideration other rituals and ritual errors. This would help to clarify what is happening in Lev. 8-10 and Aaron’s role within it. Yet, he does not do this.

Second, Findlay’s characterization of Aaron in Lev. 9 is so elevated that it is almost humorous. Essentially, because Aaron “proceeds without error or uncertainty, and asks no questions of either Moses or YHWH to clarify how he ought to act during the ritual procedures” (215), Findlay determines that Aaron is a “priestly hero”, “perfect priest”, and “flawless liturgical functionary.” In other words, Findlay is so fixated on Aaron’s characterization that he seems to elevate Aaron significantly beyond what the text itself expresses. This points to a consistent problem with this book. Although it is a book about Aaron’s characterization, it is so fixated on Aaron that everything not directly related to Aaron becomes fuzzy, sloppy, and not thorough (see my other critiques throughout this review).

Third, and dovetailing off of the previous critique, many of his arguments lack attention to syntax, simply resorting to a basic, undeveloped reading of a text. For example, the reason he emphasizes the “perfectly obedient character of Aaron” by noting that Yahweh commanded Moses, who subsequently commanded Aaron. Therefore, Aaron is a great priest for listening. Yet, this is not particularly surprising in priestly literature. For, it is normal for any priest to perform the ritual duties correctly. In other words, Findlay unnecessarily over-emphasizes the “obedience,” when Aaron simply functioned ritually how he was supposed to function. A similar problem occurs in his discussion of chapter 5: “though [Aaron] is the object of devine speech, he is also a perfectly obedient servant of that divine power, going forth to the tent, alongside Miriam, just as they are commanded” (288; italic added for emphasis). So, again, he fails to recognize the sematic range of commands and their syntax. After all, in Hebrew Letters, an imperative is sometimes directed towards a person in a higher social standing. Does this mean the person in a higher social standing will be “obedient” to the person sending the letter? No. For, volitives do not always function to express “perfect obedience” in a religious sense, as Findlay seems to suggest.

In chapter five, Findlay analyzes Numbers 12. In his form-critical analysis, he first highlights 5 commonly accepted factors in Numbers 12. He then divides it into four sections, without offering argumentation for the division. Working through the text, he concludes that “Aaron is characterized as a community leader who needs and receives correction, is able to plead effectively for others, and is accountable to appropriate human and divine authority” (255), with ambiguity regarding his role as priest/prophet. In the literary analysis, Findlay illustrates that the grammar points to the important literary and communal role of Miriam. Then, Miriam and Aaron are equated. Both, he argues, are prophets. Aaron’s role shifts in vs. 9 where he becomes an interceding figure between Moses and Miriam. So, he is illustrated to be linked to Miriam and subordinate to Moses, a priest and prophet in relation to others.

Unlike the previous chapters, chapter five does contain some interesting observations with fewer criticism. For, in his linking Miriam and Aaron, he made a convincing argument based primarily in the grammar. Although there are many assertions, none overwhelmingly detracts from his argument, save for the point I previously made about “perfect obedience.” The primary criticism is reflective of problems throughout the book. Regarding Aaron’s intercession for Miriam, he comments that “here, it seems, his compassion and care exceed those of both Israel’s God and Moses” (281). A statement like this, while possibly true within a Western framework of religion and social interactions, does not take seriously the conceptual world of the HB. This is one of the biggest problems of this book. It never really takes seriously the conceptual world of the HB and ANE, unless it conveniently supports his argument.

 

Chapter six discusses Numbers 16-17. Regarding his form-critical analysis, he concludes that Aaron is presented as a proper priestly practitioner. For, those who oppose Aaron are opposed by Yahweh. The date of the text, he contends, is late in the Persian period, with a setting of the temple circles. As for the intention of the text, he writes that “the depiction of Aaron as the object of Levitical attack, as the liturgical actor who saves the community from plague, and the one chosen by the deity to approach the holy place safely, is central to the text’s intentions. The leadership of his descendants at the Temple and in the community is affirmed” (310). In terms of literary analysis, Aaron functions as a companion to Moses, representative of Yahweh, and opponent of Korah; however, in the midst of Aaron’s silence, Findlay asserts that “he is a power present in the narrative. In Chapter 17:1-5, Aaron is apparently “a triumphant priest, who now has no rivals for any aspect of his activities or community leadership role” (328). In the remained of Chapter 17, Aaron is apparently portrayed as “the sole legitimate priestly actor in Israel… as the best possible priest… [and] as the one who can safely and powerfully represent them [the people]” (338).

Like previously mentioned, Findlay praises priests too much. The function of a priest in antiquity was similar to how Aaron is represented. Instead, Findlay seems to ignore the widespread phenomena of priests and their cult function, focusing solely on the text. Without discussion of the notion of priesthood, he makes claims which so ever emphasize Aaron’s significance that they seem somewhat silly, such as the claim that “Aaron acts as the best possible priest.” In reality, it seems that Aaron is just doing what any priest is supposed to do, albeit with the nuances of ancient Judean cult practices as represented by literature.

Chapter 7 addresses Aaron’s role in Deuteronomy 9-10:11. Within the form-critical approach, Aaron is addressed thrice. First, Aaron is specifically addressed as one with whom Yahweh was angry, viewed as a distinct character from the community. He determines that it should be deemed as the genre of “Address of Exhortation and Paranesis,” which seems to simply combine older scholarly views. Aaron, though, is understood as a “warning sign” that people may anger the deity, namely how Aaron is represented in the text. Like every other appearance, he claims the ‘setting’ is for public gathers. As for the literary critical analysis, he claims that Aaron is simply referenced to highlight past sins against Yahweh. He also also depicted in 9:20a as without agency. So, Findlay concludes “his characterization her is a decidedly negative one. Aaron is weak, dependent, powerless, and unable to speak or act” (367). Concerning Aaron’s death itinerary, Findlay goes as far as to say that the “entire content of Aaron’s life is unimportant to the author(s) of the biblical book… Aaron is presented, then, as an example of what the people are not… Aaron is an Israelite actor who perishes before receiving the land and other blessings which are promised” (383).

Regarding this Chapter, I have three major criticisms. First, he discusses Deuteronomy 9:20a, even noting that it specifically links with other texts like Exodus 32. Yet, he does not even consider the possibility of utilizing inner-biblical exegesis. For something like this, where Aaron is said to have sinned in one and not in the other, inner-biblical exegesis would potentially help to clarify either Deuteronomy 9:20a and/or Exodus 32. For, tracing how the scribe understood one tradition in light of the other (assuming one could establish the use of one in the other) would be valuable.

Second, his argument that Aaron is powerless and weak is silly. For, he bases this argument upon the extent to which Aaron has agency in the text. Agency, though, does not necessarily express ones power, especially in a narrative, literary text! If he wants to interpret positive or negative characterization of Aaron on the basis of agency, he needs to prove that agency of a character functions as a tool by which the scribe attempts to characterizes characters. This must be demonstrated as a consistent pattern in the Pentateuch, which he does not do.

Third, his argument for setting is extremely problematic. For, it indicates that his methodology is, in fact, not very critical. He suggests the setting is a public gather on the following basis: Nehemiah 8 describes communal worship associated with reading the sepher; the reading lasts several hours, with people weeping after hearing the reading; because Deuteronomy 5-11 has a “sharp and challenging tone” (356), it would be a fitting setting, namely the post-exilic period. In his own words, “reminder of past sins contained in Deut. 9:1-10:11, spoken by a voice with “Mosaic authority,” would serve extremely well to admonish returning exiles regarding past failures and the need to avoid them in the future” (356). Such a claim is baseless. It seemingly ignores any and all scholarship about Nehemiah, makes ridiculous attempts to connect the texts on the basis that “people wept,” and fails to take into account any consideration about historical studies. In short, it is a poor, unfortunate conclusion. In light of the various other issues, though, it is not a surprising conclusion.

In conclusion, this is a poorly argued volume. It utilizes a poor methodology and fails to address many issues critical to the research. While there are a few interesting observations in the book, it is, overall, not worth reading.

“The Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism” by Adele Berlin

This post is a review/summary/reflection on my reading of The Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism for my coursework. 

In the Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, Adele Berlin attempts to show how parallelism function dynamically, namely how aspects of it are part of a broader system of linguistic usage. Drawing from the linguistic framework of Roman Jakobson and expanding beyond Lowth, Berlin first addresses parallelism in terms of both biblical studies and linguistic studies. In doing so, she makes a strong argument for the idea that parallelism is a constitutive device in poetry. So, while parallelism is present in nearly all literature, it is a dominant and constructive device in biblical poetry. Simply put, she argues that the degree to which parallelism is present in a given text is how one distinguishes between “prose” and “poetry.”

Although this was only the first chapter, two questions arose in my mind. First, while poetry is nonlinear and prose is linear, how might one understand seemingly linear poetry, such as Psalm 82? Though it is more of a comment than question, my second question regards an example. Regarding the parallelism in Judges, she notes: “These two actions presumably involved the use of two difference hands, since the alternative would be to have Yael juggling both the peg and the hammer in one hand – a patently ridiculous, if not impossible, feat” (15). My question: would somebody please make a cartoon of Yael juggling a peg and hammer in one hand, while she stands above Sisera?

In order to clarify her use of the linguistic prism for parallelism, she reviews how scholars have looked towards the linguistics for a methodological prism of viewing poetry. As she illustrates, though, there is no unified standard for determining what is parallel because scholars focus on different structural levels to mark the “threshold at which point two lines are deemed parallel” (19). Regarding the work by Terence Collins, her primary criticism is that both semantic structuring and grammatical structuring are equally involved in parallelism. As for Stephen Geller (Parallelism in Early Biblical Poetry), he was aware of both semantic and grammatical parallelism. According to Berlin, Edward Greenstein’s “How Does Parallelism Mean” is the most thorough and dependent on grammatical parallelism. For, Greenstein considers all parallelism to be grammatical parallelism, regardless of sematic content. Berlin contends, though, that “just because similarity in structure promotes semantic relationship does not mean that difference in structure prevents it.” (23). In other words, she broadens Greenstein’s limitation of grammatical parallelism by allowing semantic parallelism to play a role as well. Even with this criticism, Berlin notes that Greenstein “took grammar about as far as it could go in terms of parallelism” (25) [1].

Next, Berlin discusses the presentation of parallelism by M. O’Conner in Hebrew Verse Structure. He claims that scholars have difficultly defining parallelism because they failed “to perceive.. the multiaspect and multilevel nature of parallelism; that is parallelism may involve semantics , grammar, and/or other linguistic features, and it may occur on the level of the word, line, couplet, or over a greater textual span” (25). In other words, scholars have typically made too narrow of a definition for parallelism as it relates to linguistics. Citing Roman Jakobson, whose linguistic framework is foundational for Berlin’s present work, “Pervasive parallelism inevitably activates all the levels of language – the distinctive features, inherent and prosodic, the morphological and syntactic categories and forms, the lexical units and their semantic classes in both their convergences and divergences acquire an autonomous poetic value” (26).

In order to clarify her languages, Berlin, subsequently, deems aspect as things related to phonology, morphology, etc., whereas level relates to the textual structure. It is, essentially, this perspective from which she operates: a presentation of “an overarching, integrated, and linguistically based description of biblical parallelism” (29).

Chapter III offers a thorough analysis of the various types of parallelism with regard to the grammatical aspect of parallel lines. This she subdivides into two types of parallelism: syntactic parallelism (“syntactic equivalence of one line with another line”) and morphological parallelism (“morphologic equivalence or contrast of individual constitutents of the lines”) (31). For clarity, the Berlin’s presentation will be summarized as a list with various sub-sections. After the summary list, relevant points will be discussed.

  • Morphological Parallelism
    • Morphological Pairs from Different Word Classes
      • Noun // Pronoun, Noun/Pronoun // Relative Clause, Prepositional Phrase // Adverb, Substantive // Verb
    • Morphologic Pairs from the Same Word Class
      • Contrast in Tense, Contrast in Conjugation (with a variety of nuances), Contrast in Person, Contrast in Gender, Contrast in Number, Contrast in Definiteness, Misc. Contrast
  • Syntactic Parallelism
    • Nominal // Verbal
    • Positive // Negative
    • Subject // Object
    • Contrast in Grammatical Mood

In describing the many ways a line may be grammatically parallel, she offers clear sight of how pervasive grammatical parallelism is dominant in the construction of biblical poetry. Naturally, such grammatical structures ultimately impact the meaning of the text.

For the most part, I appreciated the divisions presented by Berlin. For, they make extremely clear the particular types of grammatical parallelism. Likewise, thorough examples for each points also illustrate how, in many cases, different aspects of grammatical parallelism, whether syntactic or morphological, function together in order to construct the text on the basis of grammatical parallelism.

Concerning her analyses, I have one comments. Regarding her discussion of Contrast in Tense, there is missing consideration: how does the w-retentive play into the contrast of tense? One of her examples is Psalm 29:10, wherein line 1 contains a SC (suffix conjugation) and line 2 contains a waw-retentive + PC. These are morphologically distinct. Yet, she simply categorizes these as the paralleling of qtl and yqtl verbs. Perhaps, though, it is more specifically a paralleling of qtl and wyqtl verbs, namely a waw-retentive verb. This is important because the qtl and wyqtl arguably function in the same way. Yet, in the same category, she places Psalm 26:4, in which line 1 contains a negative particle + PC and line 2 contains a negative particle + SC. So, here the verbs contrast morphologically and functionally. Whether or not this distinction is significant (i.e. morphologically, but not functionally, contrasting verbs vs. morphologically and functionally contrasting verbs), I do not know. It is, though, worth considering.

Chapter IV focuses on the lexical and semantic aspects of parallelism. So, whereas Kugel replaced the tripartite division of parallelism types with an single, diverse, overarching semantic concept (‘A, and what’s more, B’), Berlin focuses on providing a complete description of how such parallelisms play out within a linguistic framework. To do so, she divides between the lexical aspect (word-level phenomenon) and semantic aspect (line-level phenomenon).  Rather than explaining the lexical aspect simply as word pairs which can be generated by anybody, she refines the notion of ‘word pairs’ by drawing from some observations in two psycholinguistic studies about word association.

  • First, in the studies, players with more time provided statistically unusual associations; players with little to no time typically provided more statistically common associations. Players between “more time” and “no time” typically provided the most statistically common word pairs.
  • Second, the word itself may be an association.
  • Third, words elicit different associations depending on factors like general population responses, connotations, etc.
  • Finally, reciprocity is a variable. So, land may be associated with sea, and sea with land; yet, while frigid may be associated with coldcold is not typically associated with frigid.

Regarding these rules, Berlin re-arranges them in terms of categories suggested by one of the psycholinguists.

  • Paradigmatic Rules
    • Minimal Contrast Rule
      • Common words tend to be associated with their “opposite.” (i.e. father-mother; brother-sister; black-white).
    • Marking Rule
      • Words tend to return to their base form, rather than to an expanded form (i.e. dogs is associated with dogs; however, dog is not associated with dogs)
        • On this point, Berlin notes that she has no idea of this actually bears out in Biblical Hebrew. Likewise, Clark, the psycholinguist, notes that this is not always consistent.
    • Feature Deletion and Addition Rule
      • The addition rule specifies the group of something (i.e. apple-fruit; father-man), whereas the deletion rule specifies something within the group (i.e. fruit-apple; man-father).
        • Berlin suggest this is present in Hebrew verbs, such as word association between a qal and hiphil verbal form.
  • Syntagmatic Rules
    • Selection Feature Realization Rule
      • A word can limit its associations (i.e. young may be associated with boy; however, it may not be associated with book).
    • Idiom Completion Rule
      • A rule similar to the selection feature realization rule (i.e. apple-pie, needle-thread, etc.); in other words, these word associations are simply idioms, not simply our association of an apple with a pie.

Following after these, Berlin specifies types of syntagmatic pairing in Hebrew. Notably, she agrees with the basic categories provided by O’Conner in Hebrew Verbal System; however, she disagrees with some of the examples which he provides.

  • Syntagmatic Pairing in Hebrew
    • Conventionalized Coordinates
      • Related to the idiom completion rule, this association relates two terms belonging “to an idiom or conventional expression” (76) (i.e. orphan – widow; loyalty – truth; etc.). Though not synonyms, they functions as a type of syntagmatic pair in order to express a broader idiomatic idea. So, orphan – widow expresses the idiomatic idea of one who is defenseless within society.
    • Binomination
      • Two things refers to one thing via a two-part name (i.e. Balak – King of Moab).
    • Normal Syntagmatic Combinations
      • “… a manifestation of The Selectional Feature Realization Rule” (77). So, while throne and sit are not necessarily idioms for something, it is normal discourse to sit on a throne (i.e. write – book).
        • Regarding the example of throne and sit from Is. 16:5, one may also view this as a type of conventionalized coordination. For, while the terms are not necessarily related, one may argue that they express the broader idiomatic idea of kingship or rulership. This, though, supports Berlin’s original claim, namely that a wide-variety of constructive elements are at play in constructing parallelism. Therefore, it is not problematic that throne – sit may be described as both as normal syntagmatic combination and conventionalized coordinates.

Having established the lexical-aspect via word pair association theory in psycholinguistics, she proceeds to develop the relationship between the lexical-aspect and semantic-aspect. To do show, she illustrates how different levels of parallelism operate from a variety of examples. So, in her example of Psalm 15:1, ‘hl and yshkn are a lexical pair (a normal syntagmatic combination); yet, they are not semantically the same. yshkn and ygwr, though, are semantically and grammatical equivalents. In other words, there are multiple layers of parallelism. One must be attentive in order to distinguish between such layers. Subsequently, she illustrates how the lexical, grammatical, and semantic patterns are distinguishable within various texts via three primary patters: aabbabababba.

To wrap up the chapter, she focuses on the Semantic Aspect. Defining it as “the relationship between the meaning of one line and its parallel line,” she breaks it into two parts: disambiguation and ambiguity; and parallelism as metaphor. As she notes though, distinguishing between the various levels is often times ambiguous within BH poetry.

Chapter V focuses on the aspect of phonological parallelism. In particular, she focuses on sound pairs. Prior to providing examples, she offers some preliminary limitations and definitions of ‘sound pairs’ in biblical Hebrew. First, she defines it “as the repetition in parallel words or lines of the same or similar consonants in any order within close proximity” (104). The definition is subsequently tempered: because biblical Hebrew originally only had consonants, and Hebrew is a consonantal language, sound pairs are only based on the consonants. Similarly, in order to “reduce the effect of rand repetition and… the subjectivity involved with the perception of sound correspondence,” three more limitations are added (105): two sets of consonants must be involved, they must be in close proximity, and they must have similar phonemes, allophones, or articulation.

After offering a few examples, she explains what they mean in terms a parallelism. Although I wish more linguistic studies were available to detail and clarify this point, she offers a good, simply thought. Sounds pairs add to the perception of parallelism. In other words, they serve to reinforce the parallelism of two lines, even if said lines already contain Grammatical, Lexical, and Semantic parallels.

Although she present solid evidence for the value of sound pairs in biblical poetry, along with some limitations, a more developed organization of sounds pairs and more developed limitations for what constitutes sounds pairs would have been valuable. At the end of the chapter, she highlights the chance of subjectivity in locating sounds pairs. More restrictions as to what defines “sound pairs” may have helped by offering clear boundaries.

In the final chapter (VI), Berlin highlights the purpose of her works. By distinguishing four aspects of language (grammatical, lexical, semantic, and phonological, one can see the various elements at play in biblical parallelism; however, such as usually occur simultaneously. In other words, she summarizes how she has shown “the enormous linguistic complexity of parallelism” (129), which avoids reduction into small, restrictive categories.

Next, she lays out an four important tentative principles relating to the perceptibility interestingness of parallelism. For, one of the biggest criticisms of Jakobson was that perception is subjective. Therefore, to claim parallelism in literature is, somewhat, subjective. Having laid out a thorough and well-argued layout of the various aspects of biblical poetry and parallelism, she offers these fours principles, for which she is careful to note are tentative and may increase perception of parallelism:

  1. Proximity of parallel lines (i.e. lines with the pattern abab are harder to perceive, in terms of parallelism, than lines with the patter aabb.)
  2. Similarity of surface structure (i.e. lines with a similar surface structure are easier to perceive as parallel lines.
  3. Number of linguistic equivalences (i.e. the more presence of grammatical, lexical, semantic, and phonological equivalences, the easier it is to perceive parallelism.
  4. Expectation of Parallelism (i.e. if the surround context is constructed on parallelism, and one line seems not to be parallel, the surround context suggests it should be understood as a parallel line to some degree).

Finally, she briefly discusses the effect of parallelism; however, because Berlin has demonstrated the parallelism is a complex linguistic phenomenon, the effect of parallelism is context dependent. It does so by patterning the language in a constructive manner. In her own words, “by means of these linguistic equivalences and contrasts, parallelism calls attention to itself and to the message which it bear. Parallelism embodies the poetic function, and the poetic function heightens the focus on the message” (141).

[1] At this point in time, F.W. Dobbs-Allsopp (On Biblical Poetry, 2015) is the most recent treatment. Unfortunately, I’ve not had the time to work through his book.