Leitwort - Part V
LITERARY STUDY OF BIBLICAL NARRATIVE
By Rav Dr.
Yonatan Grossman
****************************************************************
This series is dedicated to the refuah sheleimah of
our dear mother
עטל רחל בת פעראל
by Frieda and Dovid Wadler
****************************************************************
Lecture #14:
Leitwort, Part V
As we noted in the end of the previous lecture, in this lecture we will continue
to specify the different uses of the mila
mancha, the guiding word or leitwort. This will be our penultimate lecture
on this topic.
Irony
Since tracing the mila mancha involves
keeping track of and examining the recurrences of a certain word in the text,
the reader cannot help but compare the different appearances of the word and its
variable use throughout the unit.
The reader may then be surprised to find that the narrative contains, subsumed
within it, different ironic jabs. We will examine this through a brief case
study.
Shimshon in Gaza
Let us begin with the repetition of the word "night" (layla) in the story
of Shimshon and the Gazan prostitute. Yaira Amit argues that layla should
be seen as the leitwort of this small passage:[1]
And Shimshon went to
Gaza,[2]
and he saw there a harlot, and he came to her. To the Gazans, saying: "Shimshon
has come here." And they surrounded him, and they lay in wait for him all night
at the gate of the city,
And they kept quiet all
the night, saying: "Until the morning's light then we will kill him." And
Shimshon lay down until midnight; and he arose at midnight, and he grabbed the
doors of the gate of the city and the two posts, and he plucked them up, bar and
all; and he put them upon his shoulders, and he carried them up to the top of
the mountain that is before Chevron. (Shoftim 16:1-3)
Laila
is prominent in the story because of its appearance in two consecutive phrases
(four times in two verses). At first, the Gazans are described with a twofold
use of the expression "all the night" (kol
ha-layla), and after that Shimshon's
act is described with the double use of the expression "midnight" (chatzi
ha-layla, literally "half the night").
The demarcation of this night is particularly noticeable because of its role in
the secret plan of the Gazans: "Until the morning's light then we will kill
him."
Tracing the mentions of layla in the narrative allows the reader to
notice the mockery of the Gazans in this scene: while the Gazans are waiting for
Shimshon "kol
ha-layla" and maintaining operational silence ("And they kept quiet"), "be-chatzi
ha-layla," Shimshon already takes
off, stopping to uproot the gates of the city and carry them off with him. The
derisive tone becomes quite clear when the reader pays attention to the fact
that the Gazans are maintaining their silence at the very same time that
Shimshon is uprooting "the doors of the gate of the city," presumably not
without a great cacophony. As Amit puts it, "They continued keeping quiet, but
he was no longer present in the place."[3]
In light of this, one may question whether the narrator alludes to a double
meaning of the reflexive verb "And they kept quiet," "Va-yitcharshu." This conjugation, which appears
nowhere else in Tanakh, is from the root cheresh, which can be an
adjective referring to quiet or secrecy or a noun referring to a deaf-mute. The
conceptual meaning, in keeping with the context, is clearly that of sitting
quietly, waiting without making a sound. Nevertheless, as a complementary
definition it is difficult to ignore the alternative meaning: they made
themselves deaf-mutes.[4]
Guiding In the Opposite Direction
The reader's natural inclination is to see in the recurring word an attempt on
that part of the verse to highlight that word and to raise its prominence it in
the reading process.
Despite this, sometimes Scripture's aim in emphasizing a given word is not to
allude to the fact that the concept represented by that word is realized in the
narrative in a unique way, but specifically to point out to the reader that the
recurring word's referent is not being realized. The repeated presence of the
word highlights the absence of its fulfillment. At first, this may sound
bizarre, but the reader must view this as an additional way to assimilate an
ironic allusion in the narrative. A certain idea is stressed in the narrative
specifically because it is not being realized, and the reader is required to pay
attention to the gap between what is emphasized through the lexical network of
the narrative and what is actually happening in the plot itself which is
advancing in the opposite direction.
Let us take two scenes from the book of Bereishit in order to examine
this phenomenon.
The Less-than-Brotherly Brother
The mila mancha of Hevel's murder at
the hands of Kayin (4:8-11) is clearly ach, brother. It recurs six times[5]
in the four verses of the episode of the murder and God's immediate reaction to
it even, notably, in places where it is wholly superfluous:
And Kayin
spoke to Hevel his brother.
And it was
when they were in the field that Kayin rose up against Hevel his brother
and killed him.
And God said
to Kayin, "Where is Hevel your brother?"
And he said,
"I do not know; am I my brother's keeper?"
And He said,
What have you done? The voice of
your brother's blood cries to Me from the ground.
"And now
cursed are you from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your
brother's blood from your hand."
The first three times that we encounter the term "brother," it is conjoined to
the name of Hevel, making it wholly extraneous. Does the reader not know by now
that Hevel is Kayin's brother? This superfluity strengthens the feeling that the
integration of the term "brother" in the narrative is intentional and an attempt
to transmit some hidden message.[6]
It is logical that the significance of
this is to force the reader to note that despite their fraternal relationship,
Kayin is not treating Hevel as his brother indeed, not even as a living
creature![7]
Alternatively, this is an ironic emphasis
that alludes to what is not occurring in the narrative. Repeating the term
brother recalls to the reader that we are talking about brothers, despite the
fact that one murders the other![8]
Hearing Without Listening
A second example of this sort of use of a
mila mancha is found in the story of the purchase of the Makhpela Cave (Bereishit
23). It is striking how each side in a commercial dialogue opens with the
appeal, "Listen to me."
The Hittites
replied to Avraham, "Sir, listen to us. You are a mighty prince among
us..." (5-6)
He said to
them, "If you are willing to let me bury my dead, then listen to me and
intercede with Efron son of Tzochar on my behalf..." (8)
Efron the
Hittite was sitting among his people, and Efron the Hittite replied to
Avraham... "No, my lord, listen
to me; I give you the field, and I give you the cave that is in it..." (10-11)
Avraham bowed
down before the people of the land.
And he said to Efron in the hearing of the people
of the land, "Listen to me, if you only would. I will pay the price of the field..."
(12-13)
Efron
answered Avraham, saying to him, "Listen to me, my lord; the land is
worth four hundred shekels of silver, but what is that between me and you?"
(14-15)
Avraham
listened to Efron, and Avraham weighed out to Efron the price he had named
in the hearing of the Hittites, four hundred silver shekels, according to the
merchant's standard. (16)
Because this word opens every statement of each side, and it is even mentioned
in the conclusion ("Avraham listened to Efron's terms"), it is
clear that the verse stresses this in a unique way. Furthermore, it is worth
noting that the form "Listen to me," "Shema'eni," as a
request or a command is unusual and not mentioned elsewhere in Tanakh.
This suffices to attract the attention of the reader to this word and its
repeated appearances.
It appears that here as well the repeated use of this verb alludes to the
reversal of the meaning of the term; in other words, it is a verbal exchange in
which neither side is listening to the other, a sort of dialogue of the deaf. In
lieu of an actual meeting of the minds, each participant in the conversation is
trying to put pressure on the other, beseeching in courtly language: hear me
out, accept what I am saying. This is particularly clear in Avraham's words in
verse 13: "Listen to me, if you only would."
Why, in a narrative which is based totally on a dialogue, is there is a lack of
communication between the speakers? It appears that both sides of the dialogue
have obscure motives, which they take pains to conceal.
Efron, on one side, presents himself as polite and courteous, but in fact he is
asking a tremendous price for the cave (and he adds the field incidentally,
something that pushes up the price even higher).[9]
Avraham, on the other side, initially gives the impression that he is only
asking the Hittites for authorization for one burial plot among the Hittites;
however, as the dialogue progresses and the interlocutor changes from anonymous
Hittites to Efron, Avraham lets the cat out of the bag by revealing that he does
not want a lone plot in the communal Hittite cemetery, but rather a specific
cave that he will conclusively acquire to be his and his descendants' forever.[10]
The polite dialogue that hides so much beneath the surface creates the feeling
of "double talk." There are things which are said explicitly, but there are also
things which are hinted to between the lines, and still others which are not
even alluded to, although they may very well be the primary motives of the
speakers. In light of this, it is not surprising that each participant feels
that his companion is not listening to him because the companion is only hearing
himself.
Thus, the use of the root shama, with its varied meanings of hearing,
listening, and hearkening, makes for a subversive mila mancha.
Next week, we will analyze an interesting phenomenon that appears all over
Tanakh: the teamwork of complementary guiding words. In particular, we will
look at a natural pairing of shama and its familiar companion, ra'a
(seeing). With this, we will finally
conclude our series on the leitwort.
[Translated by Rav Yoseif Bloch]
[1]
Y.
Amit, Shoftim (Mikra Le-Yisrael, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, 5759), p.
245.
[2]
Biblical Gaza refers to Gaza City, one of the five ancient capitals of the
Pelishtim (Philistines).
[3]
Y. Amit, Likro Sippur Mikra'i (Universita Meshuderet, Misrad
Ha-Bitachon, 5760), p. 17.
[4]
Yaira Amit also proposes that this verb has an intentional double meaning, but
she takes it in a different direction: "It must be that this root is preferred
because of its dual significance: whispering and plotting" (Amit, Shoftim,
p. 245).
[5]
For the reader who is expecting to encounter this word seven times specifically,
I will note that at the beginning of the narrative, the verse states: "And she
went on to bear his brother, Hevel" (4:2).
[6]
Compare F. Polak, Ha-Sippur Ba-Mikra (Jerusalem, 5759), p. 93.
[7]
Note that throughout the length of Hevel's story, he is referred to as the
brother of Kayin, while Kayin is never called Hevel's brother. It is clear that
the verse seeks to stress the criticism of Kayin, who does not relate to Hevel
as his brother; therefore, this description is placed specifically next to the
murdered brother's name.
[8]
The ironic mockery of Kayin is expressed in his response to God's question,
"Where is your brother Hevel?"
Interpreting God's question in its literal sense, as a request for information,
allows Kayin to dodge the question, claiming ignorance ("I do not know"). Kayin
thereby makes himself the object of mockery, as noted by M. Sternberg, The
Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading
(Bloomington, 1985), p. 92.
[9]
The Sages alluded to this, as Efron is criticized for initially offering the
cave and the field for free and then demanding top dollar. Rashi notes this in his commentary to
v. 16, pointing out that Efron's name is here spelled without the letter vav
(E-f-r-n): "'And Avraham weighed out to Efron' missing a vav, because
he said a lot but did not even do a little. He took from him large shekels which
were hundredweights, as it says, 'according to the merchant's standard' which
are accepted as a shekel everywhere. There is a place where their shekels are as
big as hundredweights." On Efron's double talk in this passage, see M.
Sternberg, "Double Cave, Double Talk: The Indirections of Biblical Dialogue," in
J.P. Rosenblatt and J.C. Sitterson (eds.), Not in Heaven (Philadelphia
and Bloomington, 1991), pp. 28-57.
[10]
For a fuller treatment of this issue, see my essay, "Ha-Shimmush Be-Lashon
Du-Mashma'it Be-Sippurei Mirma Ve-Hataya Ba-Mikra," Tarbitz 73 (5764), pp.
483-515.