Structuralism and Form Criticism
LITERARY
STUDY OF BIBLICAL NARRATIVE
By Rav Dr.
Yonatan
Grossman
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This
series is dedicated to the refuah sheleimah of
our dear
mother
עטל רחל בת פעראל
by Frieda
and Dovid Wadler
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Lecture #20:
Structuralism and Form Criticism
STRUCTURALIST VIEW
In the previous lecture, we dealt with the structure and flow of the
plot. In order to continue this discussion, I would like to take note of an
additional way to track the plot of the narrative and its structure, a method
that relies on the fundamental themes of the narrative and is usually described
as deep structure.
The proponents of the structuralist view as a tool of literary analysis
claim that in every narrative there is a basic conflict which becomes clear
through the process of telling the story. The reader must distinguish what, on
the fundamental and ideal level, is the source of the tension. The narrative and its structure can
then be analyzed in terms of the process the reader must undergo in following
this conflict. The deep structure will not always describe the development of
the narrative and the plot in it according to the chronological order of the
story. On the contrary, according to this approach, the reader must disconnect
from the concreteness of the test and seek out its true underlying structure. In Rimmon-Kenans words:
Deep structure is paradigmatic, and based on static,
logical connections among the elements. Therefore, deep structures even though
they are an abstraction of the sequence of events are not stories in
themselves.[1]
Harold Fisch expresses this idea more sharply, saying of the
synchronistic order which structuralism seeks out:
We have no truck with a chain of events.
Practically, there is no concept of before and after here, but rather a network
of opposites which cut across all of the stories and impart a unitary
significance. This significance reveals itself in a form akin to a mathematical
equation. It is totally abstract, a model in logic, according to the words of
Levi-Strauss. On the other hand, the isolated concrete stories are revealed as
transformations of this model.[2]
In fact, the structuralist approach rests upon the concrete narrative and
seeks to locate an essential, shared tension of different stories.[3] However,
there is a value in the approach of following the structure of the lone
narrative, as one may describe the order of the organization of facts in the
narrative against the background of antithesis that the narrative clarifies.
This is, as we have said, the significant contribution of the structuralist
school of thought to the investigation of the theory of literature; as we shall
see later on, one may analyze the structure of biblical narrative as well in
light of these basic assumptions.[4]
The Story of the Complaint of the Mitavim
Many commentators and critics have struggled with the order and structure
of the story of the Mitavim (Bamidbar
11) literally, the desirers, who complain about the manna and demand meat
(and whose demise lends the location of the story its name: Kivrot Ha-Taava,
Graves of Desire). On its face, this story contains two axes, but the link
between them is not sufficiently clear. On the one hand, the narrative describes
the complaint of the Mitavim and the
response, in the form of the quails which are dumped on the camp. On the other
hand, we also find in this narrative a complaint from Moshe about his
stiff-necked charges, and the solution takes the form of seventy elders who take
on leadership under Moshe in the Tent of Meeting, with a side-note about Eldad
and Meidad, who prophesy inappropriately in the camp. Among contemporary critics,
conventional wisdom is that these two angles or axes are in fact two discrete
and unrelated stories that have been forced into one narrative. Thus, for
example, Jacob Licht writes:
Essentially, the passage is constructed in a very
simple way, a story within a story. The basic story is about Kivrot Ha-Taava,
and it is a characteristic tale of rebellion
but within it is integrated a
story dealing with a different subject entirely: the issue of Moshes prophecy
and the imparting of his power to the rest of the prophets. In order for the
narrative of inspiration to align with the story of Kivrot Ha-Taava, the
narrator develops a transitional section, in which Moshe complains about the
burden of leadership, and in which God tells him that He will lighten the load
upon him by imparting the spirit [to others] and that He will also feed the
nation.[5]
Is there, in fact, a characteristic link between these two elements or is
their conjunction actually only a circumstantial and technical arrangement of
convenience?
Before we discuss the analysis of the narrative, I wish to mention
briefly the view of David Jobling, who seeks to read the narrative while
searching for its deep structure.[6]
According to him, the two essential fundamentals which come into conflict in
this story are the fulfillment of the essential plan, which is to bring the
people to the land of Canaan as quickly as possible, and the obstacles which
threaten to undo this the peoples demand for meat and Moshes desire to cast
off the yoke of leadership.
Jobling argues that in light of this, one may take note of the set
structure of the narrative: while God appears to give in to the demands,
desires, and delays, He instead circumvents and counteracts them. Moshe challenges his sole leadership,
and therefore God takes some of his spirit and grants it to the seventy elders,
but it immediately becomes clear that they did not continue (25) to prophesy,
so that Moshe is left alone again.[7]
Similarly, the people ask for meat, and therefore God causes the quail
to come to them; but it becomes clear while the meat is still between their
teeth (33) that they will not enjoy it for very long, as Gods anger is kindled
against the people and He strikes a grievous blow against them.
This analysis is very interesting, but it is difficult to free oneself
from the feeling that many elements in the narrative are unmoored by this
description, without being integrated in the proposed structure. An alternative
approach to the narrative in my opinion, a very convincing one is taken by
Harold Fisch.[8] First,
he raises the issue of the artistic structure of the narrative, which jumps from
issue to issue (the question of meat and the question of leadership) in a set
way, so that there is a latticed structure:
4-10: The
desire for meat
11-17: The question of leadership
18-24:
The desire for meat
24-30: The question of leadership
31-33:
The desire for meat
Based on this, Fisch claims that the basic tension that becomes clear in
the narrative is the between good order and disorder and chaos. This
confrontation is set out in the narrative in two different contexts, the context
of physical nourishment and the context of spiritual nourishment:
Before us, however, is one binary contrast, which is
demonstrated by the two viewpoints (or the two paradigms) one from the realm
of food and one from the realm of leadership.[9]
In the alimentary sphere, one may follow the abovementioned tension in
the emphasis on the relationship between the manna and the quail, both of which
descend from the heavens. The manna
is collected by Israel at the rate of an omer per capita (Shemot 16:16)
fixed and measured. On the other hand, the quail is dumped around the camp in
large quantities, and each collects according to his or her hearts desire
(31-32):
And there went forth a wind from God, and it brought
across quails from the sea. It
brought them down all around the camp to about two cubits upon the ground, as
far as a days walk in any direction.
All that day and night and all the next day the people went out and
gathered quail. No one gathered less
than ten homers.[10] Then
they spread them out all around the camp.
The contrast between the orderly falling of the manna and the wild
dumping of the quail is expressed also in their appearance. The manna comes down with the dew
(9): When the dew came down on the camp at night, the manna came down on it.
The dew, according to Fisch, symbolizes
a regular, tranquil blessing, while the arrival of the quail is associated with
wind, ruach, which symbolizes the sudden and the extreme.[11]
Similarly, when it comes to the question of authority and prophecy, the
Torah makes clear the tension between the organized, orderly leadership and
chaotic rule-breaking. According to Fisch, the seventy elders symbolize orderly
leadership. Moshe passes on some of
his prophetic spirit in a disciplined manner, in a context which represents the
spiritual establishment the Tent of Meeting.
About the elders it is said and they prophesied and they did not
continue in other words, they experienced a one-time prophetic experience. (As we have noted in a footnote, this
is the first explanation mentioned by Rashi, following the Sifrei). In this process, something is taken
from the spirit of the main leader, Moshe, into the souls of the elders, who now
prophesy by Moshes power. In this
way, the hierarchy that is imperative for organized leadership is maintained. In
clear opposition to the seventy elders, the verse describes Eldad and Meidad,
who remain in the camp. The camp
unlike the Tent of Meeting represents the populace, the hoi polloi, the
masses.[12] In the
camp, these two men prophesy, and they are mentioned by name because they do not
utter their prophecies by the power of the organized leadership, but rather on
their own authority and they are in the writings (26).
Unlike the elders who experience one-time prophecy, Scripture never
states explicitly that they stop prophesying, so that the reader is naturally
concludes that they continued to prophesy. As R. Yosef Bekhor Shor puts it
(ibid. following Bamidbar Rabba 15:19):
Because they minimized themselves, God added
greatness upon their greatness; the others prophesied and stopped, because their
prophecy came from the power of Moshe, but they prophesied and did not stop,
because their prophecy came from God.[13]
Thus, one may describe the prophecy of Eldad and Meidad as a challenge to
the established organized leadership, that of the Tent of Meeting, presenting
alternative popular leadership of the masses in the camp. How does the establishment respond to
popular prophecies such as these, which are not integrated in the established
tradition? Yehoshua minister of
Moshe indeed is riled up and tries to protect his masters honor, suggesting
(28), My lord Moshe, shut them in!
However, Moshe, in his great humility, embraces popular prophecy as well,
even if it may undermine the ordered establishment.[14]
Fisch himself prefers to view Moshe as the balance between the elders, on
the one hand, and Eldad and Meidad on the other:
He belongs to both sides of the equation at the same
time. He is perhaps the common denominator between them. He is the ultimate
charismatic leader, but he is also the source of regulative authority
He is found in the Tent, but he is also
found at times in the camp. He
brings the announcement of the appearance of the manna and the quail as one. He
constitutes the third thread of the tapestry.[15]
In my view, it is easier to present Moshe as the representative of
established authority who, in his great humility, allows alternative leadership
to raise its head and seeks to bring them close to the divine spirit.
We thus see that one can describe the structure of the narrative as two
parallel axes, each of which reveals a similar contrast between the organized,
orderly basis and the chaotic violation of all boundaries. In the context of
food, the manna is the opposite of the quail, and correspondingly, in the
context of leadership, the seventy elders stand opposite Eldad and Meidad. It
appears that one may take another step beyond Fischs proposal and claim that
Scripture does not assess the question of violating boundaries equally in both
topics under discussion.
When it comes to the prophecy which breaks the boundaries, the reader is
naturally inclined to prefer Moshes judgment of Eldad and Meidads prophesying
over Yehoshuas judgment, as Moshe says (29): Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all God's people were
prophets, that God would put His spirit upon them! In this way, permission is granted to
break down the barriers for everything that is connected to issues of ruach.
However, in the context of the flesh, the assessment is different. There is no doubt that the Torah
prefers the food which is given in the form of the manna to the nourishment in
the form of the quail, because those who eat the quail are punished severely:
The meat was still between their teeth before it was cut off, and Gods anger
flared against the people, and God struck the people a very great blow (33).
Thus, tracing the deep structure of the narrative raises the significant
(and hidden) messages beneath its surface: the gap between the spirit and the
flesh, between the world of dedication and prophesying and the world of lust,
desire and craving food. In the first domain, there is a place for
breakthroughs, renewal, experimentation, even when they go beyond what is
accepted in the established tradition.
However, in the second realm, the desire to eat, it is exactitude which
is required, making do with less, reining in the desire which seeks in its very
nature to spread and to remove the boundaries of custom and law.
FORM CRITICISM
Alongside the structuralist approach, which describes the deep structure
of the narrative, it is worth mentioning form criticism, which seeks to
determine the literary genre of the narrative and in it to see a stable and set
structure for the narrative. The
story of this school of biblical criticism starts with Hermann Gunkel, who
claimed that one may distinguish different stories with have a common structure
because they are the realizations of a common literary genre.
In order to explain this, let us take the example of the wedding
invitations which we often receive. Needless to say, there is much in common in
the composition of these invitations (at least those common among the religious
community).
Many of the invitations start with citing a verse (usually, It will be
heard again
in the cities of Judea and the streets of Jerusalem Yirmiyahu
33:10 and usually in a semicircle at the top of the invitation). After that, there is an almost set
formula: We are happy to invite you to share with us the joyous occasion of the
nuptials of our beloved children, followed by the names of the groom and the
bride, which appear next to each other. The phrasing of the place and time is
also generally consistent: The chuppa will take place, God willing or
in its good and fortunate time on X day at Y hall. The parents sign at the
bottom of the invitation, and under their names will be written: Please RSVP by
the following date
or something of this sort.
How is it that all of the engaged couples think that this is the best way
to invite people to their weddings?
The answer is self-evident there is a set text for wedding invitations, and
even if every couple changes this or that detail in a given invitation, the
majority maintains the accepted formula. We may call this style the literary
genre of wedding invitations. In fact, many types of writing take the form of
set literary structures bearing a unified style or an identical technique of
writing, and the reader can easily attribute one style of writing to
journalists, another to academics, another to humorists, etc.
Gunkels claim is that in biblical narratives as well, one can
distinguish different literary styles of writing. Therefore, it is not a
coincidence that both the initial encounter of Yaakov and Rachel and the initial
encounter of Moshe and Tzippora happen at a well, as the male hero draws water
for the maidens flock, because the well is an element that belongs to the
literary genre of matchmaking stories. It
also belongs to the genre of men helping women water their sheep.[16]
According to this approach, these preordained structures influence the
order of the narrative and elements stressed in it.[17]
The awareness of these structures is particularly significant in a
narrative that strays from the direction of the anticipated sequence of its
genre. In these cases, it may be that the set order of elements actually
changes.[18]
Narratives of Pekida
We will demonstrate this with one short example. The motif of the infertile couple is
common in Tanakh, and the arrival of the long-awaited son is usually
described with the term pekida literally, taking account; God takes
account or shows special regard to the mother and grants her a son. Many critics take note of the
literary genre which can be called narratives of
pekida of infertile women or narratives of the birth of saviors.[19] In fact,
one may distinguish between these two types, but for our purposes, it makes no
difference one way or the other. The essential elements used to build the
narrative and constitute its infrastructure are:
·
Describing the
distress of the infertile woman
·
Response of the
characters to this distress
·
Meriting a miracle
(due to some good act or as a reaction to prayer)
·
Harbinger (prophecy
from God; an angel or a prophet)
·
Prediction of the
sons birth
·
Description of the
parents response to the announcement
·
Description of the
miracle pekida of the infertile
woman
·
The naming of the
newborn (with its explanation) and the gratitude of the parents
In fact, not all of these elements are found in all of the stories, but
the overwhelming majority of these different elements indeed construct the
narrative of pekida of infertile
women, including the pekida of Sara (Bereishit
17-18), the pekida of Rivka (ibid. 25), the
pekida of Rachel (ibid. 30), the pekida of Manoachs wife (Shoftim 13); the
pekida of Channa (I Shmuel 1);
and the pekida of the Shunamite woman
(II Melakhim 4).
When we examine the plot structure in the abovementioned stories, a
number of specifics are noticeable that unify the particular narratives. For the sake of our analysis, we will
focus on the story of the pekida of Rachel, where the lack of dialogue
between the characters and God is noticeable. There is no prophecy or harbinger
angel telling Rachel ahead of time that she is destined to hold her own child in
her arms, nor is there any prayer or request on the part of the characters
(unlike in the case of Yitzchak, who prays, or Channa, who makes a vow).
This deficiency is felt mainly by the reader who expects to see an
element such as this in the narrative, as expected in this literary genre. A
lack of communication between God and the characters in the story of Rachels
infertility is very noticeable in the allusion to God in Yaakovs words to
Rachel (30:2): And Yaakovs anger flared against Rachel, and he said, Am I in
Gods stead, who has held back from you fruit of the womb?
The mention of God in Yaakovs words is
jarring, alerting the reader to what is missing in the narrative if indeed
Yaakov is not like God, Who can give fruit of the womb to an infertile woman,
why in truth is Rachel (or at least Yaakov her husband) not turning to God in
prayer? It is logical that indeed a prayer such as this has occurred; however,
the verses silence on this issue demands an explanation. In the framework of
our current analysis, we cannot elaborate on the significance of this matter,
and therefore we will point out the possible significance of the matter in
general terms only.
In the end, when Rachel is taken account of, she gives birth to Yosef.
Yosef has an important role in the Book of Bereishit; at the level of the
revealed plot, Yosef ultimately provides food for all of the people of the land
and will provide for the family. In this sense, one may view Yosef as the leader
of the family, who is concerned for its welfare. On the subliminal level, the
issue of Yosefs exceptionalism is even more striking; God reveals himself to
the Patriarchs, but He does not reveal himself to Yosef. The way in which God communicates
with Yosef in the Book of Bereishit is via dreams or, in fact, through
reality itself. Yosef is the one who says to his brothers after he reveals his
true identity to them: And now, do not be upset, and do not be angry with
yourselves because you have sold me here, for God has sent me before you to save
life (Bereishit 45:5).
Yosef interprets even his brothers sin as part of Gods providence over the
family, as essentially purposeful. In this sense, Yosef prepares the way for the
era of exile, a time when the hidden providence of Gods hand is realized
through reality itself, not a prophetic pronouncement that explains events. In a
still deeper sense, it is worthwhile formulating this idea in the opposite way:
Yosef prepares the ground specifically for the time of redemption, the time when
we were like dreamers (Tehillim 126:1), the time that Gods hand is
felt through reality itself as it is being redeemed. Reality will be the type of
dream that requires interpretation; history itself will express its hidden
significance through the dream-reality.
It may be due to this that, already at Yosefs birth, the element of open
communication between the characters and God is absent. As it were, Yosef is
born in the natural way. This is only as it were, because this is Yosef, whose
very conception requires providence and divine intervention. The verse says this
in an explicit way: And God remembered Rachel, and God heard her, and He opened
her womb (30:22); however, no angel comes to Yosefs parents and announces to
them explicitly that they will hold a baby in their arms. The revealed speech
disappears for Yosefs birth, but the narrator emphasizes for the reader Gods
providence over Rachel.
With this, we complete our analysis of the plot structures.
The coming lectures will be dedicated,
God willing, to the artistic structures of biblical narratives and the hidden
messages to which they allude.
Translated by Rav Yoseif Bloch
[1] Shlomith
Rimmon-Kenan, Ha-poetica shel Ha-sifrut Be-yameinu,
trans. H. Herzig (Tel Aviv, 1989), p. 19.
[2] Harold Fisch,
Gisha Structuralistit Le-sippurei Rut U-Voaz, Beit Mikra 24 (5739), pp.
260-5 (the quotation is from p. 261). In his essay, Fisch traces three stories:
Lot and his daughters; Yehuda and Tamar; and Boaz and Rut, arguing that there is
a similar basic tension (a common deep structure) that is expressed in each of
them.
[3] This, as we have
noted, is Fischs approach in his abovementioned article (Gisha
Structuralistit Le-sippurei Rut U-Voaz).
[4] There have been a
number of interesting attempts to apply the structuralist view in reading
biblical narrative. See, for example, the collection edited by Roland Barthes
(and others), Structural Analysis and Biblical Exegesis: Interpretational
Essay (Pittsburgh, 1974). Robert Culley claims that the researcher must
accept the text as it is, even if it is the end result of various
reinterpretations; the contradictions in the body of the text may be
interpreted, according to him, via the structuralist approach (R. Culley,
Studies in the Structure of Hebrew Narrative [Montana, 1976]).
[5] J. Licht, Peirush
al Sefer Bamidbar [11-22] (Jerusalem, 5751), pp. 13-14. Many modern critics
hold this opinion. See, for example, G. W. Coats,
Rebellion in the Wilderness (New York, 1968), p. 98.
[6] D. Jobling, The
Sense of Biblical Narrative: Three Structural Analyses in the Old Testament
(Sheffield, 1978), vol. 1.
[7] The term ve-lo
yasafu is somewhat ambiguous, since sof means end, while hosafa
is addition. Thus, the phrase could mean and they did not continue, but it
could also mean and they did not cease. Jobling takes the former meaning, in
accordance with the first explanation brought by Rashi (following the Sifrei),
and not the latter, which is the second explanation that Rashi brings (following
Onkelos).
[8] H. Fisch, Eldad
U-Meidad Mitnabbim Ba-machaneh: Iyun Structuralisti Be-Bamidbar 11, Iyunei
Mikra U-farshanut 2 (5746), pp. 45-55.
[9] Fisch, Eldad
U-meidad, p. 50.
[10] Translators note:
A homer is a unit of biblical measurement equal to ten ephahs, while an
omer is one-tenth of an ephah. An ephah is itself is about one bushel or
36 liters. Thus, the minimum amount of quail would be one thousand times the
allotted per-capita amount of manna.
[11] Fisch, Eldad U-Meidad,
p. 51. My previous analysis of the term ruach (meaning both spirit and
wind) in this story may be found in Lecture #7.
[12] Compare this to the view
of R. S.R. Hirsch in his commentary ibid. and Joblings words ibid. p. 51.
[13] Jobling also relates to
this point, but from his perspective, one should see in their continuing
prophecy something which endangers Moshes status even more than the prophecy of
the seventy elders, which is only temporary (ibid. p. 46).
[14] The undermining of Moshes
leadership expressed in the prophecy of Eldad and Meidad, who did not go out to
the tent, is strongly expressed in the Sages view of the content of the
prophecy of Eldad and Meidad, as Rashi cites ibid.: They were prophesying:
Moshe will die, and Yehoshua will bring Israel into the land.
[15] Fisch, Eldad U-Meidad,
p. 53.
[16] As with every literary
theory, not all of its proponents are identical, and in the search for literary
genres, there are different voices. Expansive analysis of the issue may be found
in a collection of essays dedicated to this theory:
M.
A.
Sweeney and E.
Ben Zvi (eds.), The
Changing Face of Form Criticism for the Twenty-First Century (Grand Rapids, 2003).
[17] The problematic nature of
this approach is clear: there is a tendency to ignore the concrete questions of
the narrative and an inclination to take a wide view and consequently, the
narrative may lose its uniqueness. On this, see: M. Globinsky, Ha-Genre
Ha-sifruti U-vaayot Ha-poetica Ha-historit, Ha-sifrut 2 (1969), pp. 14-25.
[18] On this, see R. Knierim,
"Old Testament Form Criticism Reconsidered," Interpretation 27 (1973),
pp. 435-68.
[19] See, for example, Y.
Zakovitch, Sippurei Shimshon (Jerusalem, 5742); U. Simon, Sippur
Holadat Shmuel, Iyunei Mikra U-farshanut (5746), pp. 57-110 (especially
93-110); J. S. Ackerman, "The Literary Context of the Moses Birth Story," in
K.R.R. Gros Louis (et. al., eds.), Literary Interpretation of Biblical
Narrative (Nashville, 1974), pp. 74-119.