Two weeks into my year-long reading of the Bible, I've hit my first major landmark, the end of the first and most famous of all biblical books, Genesis. It's home to some of the most widely-known stories in the western world, from Adam & Eve to Cain & Abel, from Abraham & Isaac on the mountain to the Tower of Babel. The last quarter of Genesis is devoted to the story of Joseph and his brothers, who constitute the 12 tribes of Israel (as mentioned in the previous blog, Isaac's name changes to Israel during the course of the book, so it's more than a place name).
Over this past weekend, I was reading Zadie Smith's Swing Time and – in one of those serendipitous moments that life does so well – I came across a section (on p239 of the hardback edition) which mentioned the 12 tribes of Israel, hinting at its wider cultural resonance, in this case specifically in relation to the UK's Afro-Caribbean communities. The power of this idea of God's people moving south from the eastern Mediterranean into Africa, specifically Egypt, has fuelled the idea of the lost tribes of Israel, which some think ventured further south into the continent (with one such tribe even claiming to exist in Zimbabwe). I'd recommend this article from the Jewish Encyclopaedia, especially the section about the kernel of historical truth that underpins the story of Joseph in Genesis:
"The historical kernel involved in all the tribal catalogues and the patriarchal legends would appear to be this: In the Sinaitic Peninsula a number of pastoral tribes had for centuries been pasturing their flocks; and at times, when food was scarce, were driven to take refuge in Egypt, in the border district of which country some (e.g. Joseph) of their number found settled habitations. These tribes were loosely conscious of their common religious affinity, regarding as their progenitor Israel, whose sons they were called ("Beni Israel")."
To my mind, what the final quarter of Genesis gains in terms of historical accuracy, it loses in terms of narrative power. While the story of Joseph and his brothers is indeed a powerful and rich one, it loses some of that spark when it's spread over the last 14 books of Genesis. In Chapter 44 especially, it felt like Joseph was dragging out the process of tricking his brothers about his identity a bit too long, and I seem to remember that the stage version of Joseph & the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat (which I saw a couple of times as a kid) condenses this section. Another retelling is Thomas Mann's novel, Joseph & his Brothers, which I mean to read one day.
A quick note on the language of this section: though the KJV version does throw up some words that are no longer in modern use (for example, "kine" for "cows" in this section of Genesis), in general it's stunning for its beauty. Three examples: "And the famine waxed sore" (41.56), "then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave" (43.38, repeated at 44.29) and "fat of the land" (45.18). There are many more examples, but I hope the above gives a flavour of how the KJV version was not only an immense translation achievement, but also still influences usage today.
As well as appreciating the complexity of the language, I've also found Genesis ethically complex. There's the sense that Joseph's abandonment by his jealous brothers was all part of God's plan, when Joseph says (45.7): "And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance" (this relates to Joseph's ability to interpret the Pharaoh's dream and advise that Egypt should store up some of its food during the seven years of bounty, in order to survive the seven years of famine). Not only do Joseph's 11 brothers profit from abandoning their brother, by later taking food from the Pharaoh's store during the time of famine, but they also get to be the forefathers of God's chosen people. In a cruel twist of fate, Joseph is told that he cannot be the founder of the 12th tribe of Israel, but instead must hand on this privilege to his sons, Ephraim and Manassesh. There's a similar sense of family injustice in the story of Jacob and Esau.
This theme of displacement of the legitimate heir is difficult to fathom in a book that often puts so much stress on genealogy (X begat X begat X, etc). To my mind, this speaks to the possibility of later Christian writers imposing a sense of "God's plan" on to the messiness of history – it's the most likely explanation for the appearance of the story of Judah and Tamar in chapter 38, which doesn't really fit with the rest of the narrative. Judah suggested selling Joseph to the Midianites, yet it's the fruit of his incestuous relationship with his daughter-in-law that produces the twins, Zarah and Pharez, the latter providing the direct genealogical line to the House of David and Jesus. Anyway, there's much else of interest here, especially the interpretation of dreams in chapters 40-41, with Joseph like an early Sigmund Freud. Genesis also ends strongly, with Jacob assessing his sons one-by-one in chapter 49, followed by the story of Jacob's embalming and the sense of much drama ahead in chapter 50.
Over this past weekend, I was reading Zadie Smith's Swing Time and – in one of those serendipitous moments that life does so well – I came across a section (on p239 of the hardback edition) which mentioned the 12 tribes of Israel, hinting at its wider cultural resonance, in this case specifically in relation to the UK's Afro-Caribbean communities. The power of this idea of God's people moving south from the eastern Mediterranean into Africa, specifically Egypt, has fuelled the idea of the lost tribes of Israel, which some think ventured further south into the continent (with one such tribe even claiming to exist in Zimbabwe). I'd recommend this article from the Jewish Encyclopaedia, especially the section about the kernel of historical truth that underpins the story of Joseph in Genesis:
"The historical kernel involved in all the tribal catalogues and the patriarchal legends would appear to be this: In the Sinaitic Peninsula a number of pastoral tribes had for centuries been pasturing their flocks; and at times, when food was scarce, were driven to take refuge in Egypt, in the border district of which country some (e.g. Joseph) of their number found settled habitations. These tribes were loosely conscious of their common religious affinity, regarding as their progenitor Israel, whose sons they were called ("Beni Israel")."
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| Joseph interprets the Pharaoh's dream |
A quick note on the language of this section: though the KJV version does throw up some words that are no longer in modern use (for example, "kine" for "cows" in this section of Genesis), in general it's stunning for its beauty. Three examples: "And the famine waxed sore" (41.56), "then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave" (43.38, repeated at 44.29) and "fat of the land" (45.18). There are many more examples, but I hope the above gives a flavour of how the KJV version was not only an immense translation achievement, but also still influences usage today.
As well as appreciating the complexity of the language, I've also found Genesis ethically complex. There's the sense that Joseph's abandonment by his jealous brothers was all part of God's plan, when Joseph says (45.7): "And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance" (this relates to Joseph's ability to interpret the Pharaoh's dream and advise that Egypt should store up some of its food during the seven years of bounty, in order to survive the seven years of famine). Not only do Joseph's 11 brothers profit from abandoning their brother, by later taking food from the Pharaoh's store during the time of famine, but they also get to be the forefathers of God's chosen people. In a cruel twist of fate, Joseph is told that he cannot be the founder of the 12th tribe of Israel, but instead must hand on this privilege to his sons, Ephraim and Manassesh. There's a similar sense of family injustice in the story of Jacob and Esau.
This theme of displacement of the legitimate heir is difficult to fathom in a book that often puts so much stress on genealogy (X begat X begat X, etc). To my mind, this speaks to the possibility of later Christian writers imposing a sense of "God's plan" on to the messiness of history – it's the most likely explanation for the appearance of the story of Judah and Tamar in chapter 38, which doesn't really fit with the rest of the narrative. Judah suggested selling Joseph to the Midianites, yet it's the fruit of his incestuous relationship with his daughter-in-law that produces the twins, Zarah and Pharez, the latter providing the direct genealogical line to the House of David and Jesus. Anyway, there's much else of interest here, especially the interpretation of dreams in chapters 40-41, with Joseph like an early Sigmund Freud. Genesis also ends strongly, with Jacob assessing his sons one-by-one in chapter 49, followed by the story of Jacob's embalming and the sense of much drama ahead in chapter 50.
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