Introduction (I) On the Subtextual Reading of Biblical Narratives
LITERARY STUDY OF BIBLICAL NARRATIVE
By Rav Dr. Yonatan Grossman
Lecture #01: Introduction (I):
On the Subtextual
Reading of Biblical Narratives
The fact that biblical texts, which have been analyzed for millennia, still
yield new meanings in each and every generation proves, beyond the shadow of a
doubt, that there are many themes latent in the biblical narrative that readers
cannot discover during an initial survey.
All students of literature, including students of biblical literature,
know that a literary text can be examined at different levels and different
depths of meaning. Almost thirty
years ago, S. Yizhar set out his "model for reading literature," in which he
enumerates four levels of reading a story.[1]
A simple textual reading analyzes the facts presented in the story as
representing reality and reflecting a given event or series of events, while
more sophisticated subtextual readings allow one to lay the narrative bare and
to find in its details another world of symbolism beyond its plot elements.
Fabula and Sujet
Discussions of literary theory distinguish between fabula (the sequence of
events) and sujet (the setting of these events in a concrete literary text). The sequence of the event is the
skeleton of the plot in chronological order, while the sujet (essentially, the
prose) is the story as it is placed before the readers, the text which they
encounter. It sometimes seems that
the main thrust of the story is the fabula whatever, in the final analysis,
actually happens making it less important whether the plot is expressed
through the use of, say, the noun "present" or "gift."
Indeed, in some forms of writing e.g.
journalistic or technical writing, in which the main goal is to inform the
readers of some fact or another the essence is found in the fabula. However, in higher forms of
literature, it often seems that it is through the sujet that the power of the
story, and sometimes even its themes, are expressed. This idea is particularly cogent when
one approaches biblical narrative, which in its great concision, places its most
subtle messages below the surface.
These messages can be exposed only after an exacting dissection a dissection
which takes note of different details and stylistic elements.
In the course of this series, we will discuss the narrative portion of Tanakh,
emphasizing its design, form and structure, not its discrete plot elements. We will seek to examine the concrete
realization of a given story, and in this way, to understand the messages that
may lie beneath the events described in the narrative.
Advantages of Hiding the Message
The fact that there are messages which lie beneath the surface in the biblical
narrative may seem surprising, as biblical narratives have a didactic purpose,
and it would seem that hiding the messages would make the task of educating the
readers more difficult.[2]
However, hiding the message of the story has some clear advantages. As a preface to a serious analysis,
let us discuss two of them. One
applies to the process of reading, and the other touches on the significance of
the story.[3]
1.
Hiding the message in a
story allows the readers to become full partners in the process of interpreting
the narrative and in bringing out its meaning.
Feeling that they have uncovered the secrets of the story impacts
significantly on the readers' identification with it, so that the message of the
narrative imprints itself more deeply on the readers' souls than if the moral
had been stated openly. On the
contrary, in the case of obvious moral instruction, the readers become
defensive, feeling that they are being preached to. Incorporating the readers in the
process of interpreting the story turns them into "active readers" or readers
who "create the text" concepts discussed a great deal in recent literary
theory and criticism. This
activation of the readers deepens and concretizes the connection they feel to
the story and its messages.[4]
2.
More
important than this is the ideology which is at the basis of this subtextual
method. The idea that a sequence of
events can be explained on different levels, that it is possible not only to
tell a story in its own right, but to accompany it with subtle concepts, carries
within it a religious message which is intimately connected to the meaning of
the narrative: that reality, in and of itself, demands explication and
thoughtful analysis because real events may have a significance beyond what is
readily apparent.[5]
Conscious and
Subconscious Concealment
As we begin our discussion of biblical subtext, we must distinguish between two
forms of subtextual writing: the conscious and the subconscious. Since the days of Sigmund Freud and
the development of psychoanalysis, many thinkers have claimed that every story
contains subliminal levels and meanings, hidden from the conscious awareness of
the writer. A fine example of this
is the exchange of correspondence between the author S.Y. Agnon and the literary
critic Baruch Kurzweil. On January
23, 1946, Kurzweil wrote to Agnon about how much he enjoyed his story "Temol
Shilshom," but he was left with a question:
I read the story three
times or so, and I took many notes, but I am unsure about Balak [the name of the
dog in the story]. There is no
consistent symbolism... Though I am
aware that a literary commentator should not seek explanations from a poet, I
would be eternally grateful were you to give me a hint.
A week later, S.Y. Agnon wrote Kurzweil a detailed letter. Among other things, he addressed the
question of the place of the dog Balak in the story and Kurzweil's questions:
I do not see myself as
a person to whom the mysteries of life have been revealed; however, frightful
reality does reveal something of itself to me from time to time. As much as possible, I try to
emphasize it and sweeten it, but here all I could do was tell it.
Perhaps you will have the opportunity
if not now, then at a later point to explain it to the both of us.[6]
Remarkably, the author is looking to his critics for explanations of the
symbolism inherent in his story!
Despite the inherent interest in these levels of reading and writing, we will
focus in the coming lessons on consciously subtextual writing, in which the
author of the story buries messages and only alludes to them, without explicit
statements. An example of classical
writing on this level is the Book of Shir Ha-shirim. Those commentators who see the book
as a complex parable describing the relationship between the believer and God,
or the relationship between the entire Jewish nation and God, argue that even if
the book does not say so explicitly, this allegory is its actual meaning;
consequently, whoever reads the book without being aware of this subtextual
level will be akin to someone who reads a parable as if it is a historical
account i.e., the reader will miss the essential aim of the composition.
However, this example emphasizes the danger of subtextual writing. It is no coincidence that in the case
of Shir Ha-shirim, many modern critics argue that we must see in it
purely secular poetry, and as the Talmudic debates make clear, this claim has
been sounded for millennia[7].
Herein lies the main difficulty of one who composes a work with a subtextual
aim. On the one hand, the author is trying to hide the deeper messages and
meanings by burying them in the narrative. On the other hand, the writer must
leave guideposts for the readers so that they will pay attention to the
subliminal elements of the composition.
This is similar to the children's game of hide-and-go-seek: the winner is the
one who finds the best hiding place, the one who succeeds in avoiding detection;
however, if the hiding place is too good, one is likely to stay in it for quite
a while after the game ends.
Because of this, not every hidden meaning which may be unearthed in the language
of the narrative necessarily represents a subtextual level in the story. For example, let us turn to the
Kabbalistic reading of biblical verses.
According to this approach, many words allude to the various sefirot
(divine "attributes") of Kabbala.
For example, the word be'er (well) alludes to the sefira of
kingship; the words shalom and berit allude to the sefira
of foundation, etc. Can we see in
this reading, as well as in other exegetical exercises, an understanding which
draws out both the hidden intent and the surface meaning of the story?
It is highly doubtful, as the Kabbalistic
reading imposes upon the text a lexicon which is foreign to it. In the story itself, there is no hint
to decoding words in such a manner; this form of reading inevitably requires the
prior acceptance of a system of rules and norms of reading which do not flow
from the text itself and are not alluded to in it.
In order to uncover a meaning which the author has consciously hidden, the
readers must take a "subversive" position as they pay careful
attention to the following questions: What is the story concealing from us?
What does the author really think, and
what is the author not saying explicitly? Where
do we find clues to decipher the full meaning of the story?
Therefore, there is value to defining
this as our starting point in approaching a text, so that it will guide us in
the reading process and in decoding the narratives messages.
Subtextual Readings in Life
It is fitting to note that sometimes subtextual writing may be polemical or
addressed to a certain person, in which case the writer is not interested in
others understanding the message.
Many letters sent from the Soviet Union in the era of the Iron Curtain to
relatives in Western countries constitute a good illustration of this sort of
writing. Yaira Amit recalls a
relevant example:
My mother would receive from
time to time... letters from family members who were exiled to Siberia... If the writer would repeatedly
mention the fact that they were not cold despite the harsh, frigid winter, the
adult listeners around me would immediately understand that our relatives were
indeed very cold, and they would begin planning to send a package to Siberia, in
distant Russia... As for my question
as to how they knew this, they would answer that it was because the writer
repeatedly raised the issue of the cold, or because the writer noted that it was
not particularly cold for the family.[8]
In fact, subtextual readings are an integral part of daily life, not merely in
the world of literature, but in the most basic levels of communication.
We all may recall running into an
acquaintance and being compelled by the laws of polite society to remark, "Oh,
it's been so long since I've seen you! I'm so happy to run into you," while we
are in fact thinking, "I'm in such a rush.
Let's hope that this doesn't take too long..."
This is the subtext which accompanies all
human communication, and in this sense, literature fully imitates life.
The Relationship between the Revealed Meaning and the Hidden Meaning
The hidden meaning of the text can form a complex and varied relationship with
the revealed, simple meaning of the text.
Generally, we can discuss three ways in which these two readings, the textual
and the subtextual, can relate; as we will establish, we can find all of them in
biblical narratives.
1.
Confirmation:
This is perhaps the most common relationship between the different levels of
reading. The subtextual reading
echoes the theme of the revealed story and strengthens it. If, for example, the textual reading
is critical of a given character, subtextual clues scattered throughout the
story may amplify this view.
2.
Contradiction:
This is a very surprising tendency, but it is also present in Scripture. According to this model, the
subtextual reading stands in opposition to what arises from the textual reading. It may be, for example, that the
textual reading seems to judge King Yehu (II Melakhim 9-10) and his
revolution positively, but if we listen to the subtextual reading, we will
notice sharp criticism of him.
Naturally, the readers must decode the significance of the incongruity between
what the text reveals to the outside world and what hides beneath its surface.
3.
Contrast:
Sometimes, the subtextual reading brings up from beneath the surface of the text
new themes which are not even addressed in the textual reading. For example, let us take Ya'akov's
dream in Beit El (Bereishit 28). The textual reading clearly ties it to
his covenant with God, but the subtextual reading of the story yields a polemic
against the Babylonian view that Babylonia was "the gate of God."
This controversy can be tied to the
revealed aim of the story (indeed, Ya'akov is travelling to Mesopotamia). However, the Torah may want to
deliver an additional, allusive message which does not deal directly with the
simple meaning of the story.
Throughout this essay, I have sought to trace the different literary tools with
which we can open windows and shed light on the meaning of biblical narrative
especially the aspects which are hidden from the readers as they first encounter
the story. In fact, the coming
lessons will be divided according to the different literary tools. However, in
order to form a sound subtextual reading, we must consider all of these literary
tools together, and it is only their use in concert which allows us to establish
the subtextual reading to which, even though it is hidden, Scripture has left
us clues and hints.
(Translated by Yoseif Bloch)
[1]
Likro Sippur
(Tel Aviv: 1982), pp. 206-o221.
[2]
In another context, Uriel Simon has raised a similar point, disagreeing with
Perry and Sternberg, who claim that in the story of David and Bat Sheva, there
are lacunae unresolved (e.g., did Uriah suspect the king?) and that the reader
must fill in these gaps in various ways.
See U. Simon, "Sippur Mikra'i Bi-tfisa Ironit Al Ha-interpretatzia
Shel Sippur David U-Vat Sheva," Ha-sifrut (1970), pp. 598-607.
[3]
In this essay, I will not address the intentional esoterism of some
philosophical writing. In this
genre, the author seeks to hide the truth from the simple reader, directing his
or her writing only to the cognoscenti.
Some striking examples of this sort of writing are: the Rambam's Moreh
Ha-nevukhim (see particularly his Introduction, Principle #7, in
which he explains the reason apparent contradictions in his work); and the
Ramban's Commentary on the Torah, in which he uses the code words "al
derekh ha-emet" (by way of truth) and obscure allusions so that the reader
not well-versed in Kabbala will not understand (see his Introduction).
[4]
Eco gave this idea its most extreme expression thirty years ago (Umberto Eco,
The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts, Bloomington
and London: 1979). Eco is not alone
in this approach, which is progressively spreading in literary criticism. We should mention in this context
three dominant names: Michael Riffateere (1966), Stanley Fish (1970) and Roland
Barthes (1970).
[5]
Incidentally, we must note that sometimes the deepest themes of a story are
connected to questions of text and subtext.
In these cases, the subtextual writing integrates with the practical
moral of the story itself. In other
words, esoteric writing is not only a literary tool; it may direct the reader to
the theme of the story itself. This,
for example, is the situation in the story of Yosef and in the Book of Esther.
[6] L. Dabby-Goury (Editor), Kurzweil,
Agnon, A.Z.G. Chillufei Iggerot, Bar-Ilan University (1987), pp. 18-20.
[7]
See for example, E.E. Urbach, "Derashot Chazal U-feirushei Origanes Le-shir
Ha-shirim Ve-ha-vikkuach Ha-Yehudi Notzeri," Tarbiz 30 (1971), pp.
148-170; G.D. Cohen, "Shir Ha-shirim Be-aspaklarya Ha-Yehudit," in A.
Shapira (Editor), Torah Nidreshet: Chibburim Bi-sheelot Yesod Be-olamo Shel
Ha-Mikra (Tel Aviv: 1984), pp. 89-108.
[8]
Y. Amit, Galui Ve-nistar Ba-Mikra (Tel Aviv: 2003), p. 11.