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The poetics of Biblical Narrative

Friday, 22 April, 2005

To attempt a full-blown poetics of biblical narrative here would serve little purpose, since such treatments are readily available in the works just cited and elsewhere. But at least a few lines of orientation are necessary if we are to read the biblical narratives responsibly with a view towards their historical import. Biblical narratives may be characterized under three rubrics: scenic, subtle, succinct.

OT narratives are scenic—not in the sense of detailed descriptions of the physical setting or scene, but, rather, scenic in the way that a stage play involves scenes. Like a stage play, the OT narratives do more showing than telling. The reader is seldom explicitly told by the narrator how this or that character, or this or that action, is to be evaluated (though this does occasionally occur). Instead, the reader is shown the characters acting and speaking and is thereby drawn into the story and challenged to reach evaluative judgments on his or her own. In other words, the reader comes to know and understand the characters in the narrative in much the same way as in real life, by watching what they do and by listening to what they say. The scenic character of OT narrative leads quite naturally to a second dominant trait.

OT narratives are subtle. As implied already, OT narrators are generally reticent to make their points directly, preferring to do so more subtly. To this end, they employ an array of more indirect means in developing the narrative's characterizations and in focusing reader attention on those aspects of the narrative that contain its persuasive power. Mention of physical details, for instance, is seldom if ever random. If we read that Esau was hairy, Ehud left-handed, Eglon fat, and Eli portly and dim-sighted, we should anticipate (though not insist) that such details in some way serve the characterizations or actions of the story. Sometimes the words or deeds of one character serve as indirect commentary on those of another character. When Jonathan, for instance, remarks that “nothing can hinder the LORD from saving by many or by few” (1 Sam. 14:6), this casts Saul's excuse in the preceding chapter—“the people were slipping away” (13:11)—into a different light than a first reading might have done. Even small changes in the narrator's commentary on events may have far-reaching implications, not just literarily but historically as well. Immediately following King David's charge to his successor, Solomon, in 1 Kings 2:1-10, the narrator registers David's death (v. 11) and remarks (v. 12) that Solomon's “kingdom was firmly established” (made emphatic by Hebrew m^e)od), and this without Solomon having yet done anything. There follows an account of Solomon's eradication of Joab and Shimei (vv. 13-46), persons deemed dangerous by his father, and the account concludes with another narratorial comment (similar but not identical to v. 12): “So the kingdom was establised in the hand of Solomon” (v. 46). Gone is the adverb m^e)od, rendered “firmly” in v. 12. Added is the phrase “in the hand of Solomon,” which is better rendered in this context as “by the hand of Solomon.” Without coming right out and saying it, the narrator hints that Solomon's initial efforts to secure his kingdom by his own hand have accomplished little or nothing. His early days tell “a fairly sordid story of power-politics.” No wonder, then, that Solomon confesses, in the next chapter, to feeling like a “little child” who does not “know how to go out or come in” (3:7). Ironically, it will be news of the death not only of David but especially of Joab that will trigger the return of Hadad the Edomite (1 Kgs. 11:21), the first adversary raised up by Yahweh (1 Kgs. 11:14) when it becomes necessary to “chasten” the apostate Solomon with “floggings inflicted by men” (2 Sam 7:14; NIV). If such subtleties often go unnoticed by modern literary readers, how much more so do they escape historians, but they can prove essential to proper reading and reconstruction.

OT narratives are succinct. Perhaps in part because of the constraints of writing in a scenic, or episodic, mode, biblical narrators tend to be economical in their craft. They accomplish the greatest degree of definition and colour with the fewest brushstrokes. Biblical stories, although written, are “geared toward the ear, and meant to be listened to at a sitting. In a ‘live’ setting the storyteller negotiates each phrase with his audience. A nuance, an allusion hangs on nearly every word.” The very succinctness of the biblical narratives invites close attention to detail, and all the more so because the biblical narrators were masters in drawing special attention to key elements in their texts. They use all manner of repetitions to great advantage—words and word stems (i.e., Leitworte), motifs, similar situations (sometimes called “type scenes” or “stock situations”), and the like. The effect of repetition is often to underscore a central theme or concern in a narrative, as, for instance, in the repetition of the phrase “listen to the voice/sound” in 1 Samuel 15. As the chapter opens, Saul is exhorted to “listen” to the Lord's “voice” (v. 1) and destroy all the Amalekites (man and beats): later he claims to have done so (v. 13); Samuel responds by asking about the “voice” of the sheep and cattle to which he is “listening” (v. 14); Samuel and Saul debate whether Saul has or has not “listened to the voice” of the Lord (vv. 19-20); when Saul seeks to excuse his failure to listen by claiming to have spared livestock only in order to sacrifice to the Lord, Samuel responds that “listening to the voice” of the Lord is vastly more important than sacrifice (v. 22); and Saul begrudgingly concedes that he has “listened to the voice” of the people (v. 24). While the attentive reader can surely judge from the general flow of the passage that Saul's (dis)obedience is a central theme, attention to the literary fabric of the passage underscores and enriches this insight.

Our brief description of the scenic, subtle, and succinct character of biblical narratives only begins to scratch the surface. Beyond these basics, readers—even those (or perhaps especially those) whose interests are in historical questions—will profit greatly from immersing themselves in the works mentioned above, especially those by Alter, Longman, and Sternberg. The key point is that biblical accounts must be appreciated first as narratives before they can be used as historical sources—just as they cannot be dismissed as historical sources simply because of their narrative form. Indeed, it is not just biblical narratives but ancient Near Eastern texts in general that show literary patterns and shaping. Nor it is just biblical narratives that speak, for instance, of divine involvement or intervention in military afairs. Such references are common in ancient Near Eastern battle reports. And this has not prompted scholars to conclude that these reports are devoid of historical value. Why should it be otherwise with the biblical narratives?

(Iain Provan, V. Phillips Long and Tremper Longman III, A Biblical History of Israel, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville and London, 2003, pp. 91-93.)

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