| Old Testament Exegesis Section Two | ||||||
|
Trinity College of Biblical Studies Library Trinity College of Biblical Studies Chapel Old Testament Exegesis Section One Old Testament Exegesis Section Three Old Testament Exegesis Section Four
|
I. COURSE DESCRIPTION A practical study of the procedures for doing sound exegesis in the various portions of the Old Testament. The method will include the study of words, poetics, textual criticism, syntax, biblical theology, and practical exegetical exposition in the different genres of the Hebrew Bible. Register for this free online bible class by clicking on this link
Texture
Texture deals with the style or the composition of the text itself, the lower level of a work - syllables, words, sentences‑all that goes to make up the narrative. It should go without saying that everything in a composition is important, especially in Scripture, for it is a piece of literary art. Unfortunately, preachers and teachers are too often oblivious to it. Not long ago I had the disturbing experience of catching a television preacher in his act. Preaching on Joseph's rise to power in Egypt through the interpretation of the dreams, he said, “It's a long story - I won't bore you with the details.” What this indicated was that his material, largely exhortation and illustration, was more important than the text. Many expositors might not say it, but they actually subscribe to that way of thinking, for their expositions are not at all text-based. Our point, however, is that God gave us “the details” because they are all absolutely essential to the meaning of the unit. The more that we uncover, the richer will be our understanding 1. Paronomasia and Phonetic Word Plays. By these devices the writers were emphasizing and focusing the reader's attention on critical points in the text. We may make a technical distinction that a paronomasia is a word play involving sound and sense, for the words used were cognate; whereas the phonetic word play only involves sound. There are also a few word plays that involve only sense and not sound. In general, all types may be classified as word plays, and then the significance in each case can be further explained. Word plays regularly appear in naming narratives in narrative literature, the point of the word play being to stress the significant meaning of the story. For example, in Genesis 16 we have the story of Sarai's giving Hagar to her husband in order to obtain a child. At the end of the story, the LORD rescued Hagar in the wilderness and prophesied concerning her child, giving him the name Ishmael with the explanation that the LORD heard (shama‘) her affliction (v. 11). She responded by naming God ’El roi, “a God who sees me,” and then named the place, Be’er lakhay roi, “the well of the living God who sees me.” The word plays on these names focus the reader's attention to the fact that “God hears” and “God sees,” meaning, God is able to deliver people from their affliction. Because these come through the revelation of God (a speech in the narrative), and because that revelation is the climax of the story of the expulsion of Hagar - who must return to her mistress - they provide the lesson (and rebuke) for Abram and Sarai. Is it any wonder, then, that their son Isaac meditates at Beerlahayroi (24:62); and that when his wife was barren, he prayed instead of schemed - and the LORD provided children (25:21)? But word plays are not limited to namings. In the story of Jacob and Esau the narrative employs many word plays. For example, in Genesis 25:27 Esau is described as a mighty hunter (tsayid); but then in verse 29 Jacob boiled (wayyazed) pottage (nazid). The writer contrasts the two by playing on the sounds, for the words are not related. But his point was that Jacob was also a hunter, laying the trap for this reddish, hairy animal of a brother who would came running to the bait. 2. Double entente. This latter example leads us into another area of the literary art of a passage, that is, deliberate ambiguity in the text by means of words with double meanings. In Genesis 25:29 another significant meaning can be seen in the choice of the verb zid, for although it does mean “to boil,” it is also used to describe presumptuous activity (the idea of water boiling over the edge coming to represent someone overstepping bounds). So the connotation of the word and the sounds of the word both go beyond the denotation “boil.” An example of deliberate ambiguity may be seen in Jonah 4:6 where the LORD caused the tree to grow up over Jonah's head “to deliver him from his evil plight” (mera‘ato). Does this word ra‘a refer to the angry attitude of Jonah (“it was very evil [wayyera‘] to him,” 4:1), or the sun beating down on his head, or both? I am inclined to say it refers to both, for the word has been used in the passage for Jonah's attitude, but the immediate context suggests the hot sun is the referent. At times the writer will use the same word or words in different senses. For example, in Genesis 40 Joseph was called on to interpret the dreams of the cup-bearer and the baker. The interpretation of the first was that Pharaoh would “Lift up your head” (yissa’ ’et ro’sheka), a restoration to the office (v. 13); but the interpretation for the latter was that Pharaoh would “lift up your head (yissa’ ’et ro’sheka) from you,” that is, putting to death. This grisly pun joins the two interpretations together by the repetition of the words, but plays on the different meanings to show the contrast. The point seem to be part of the proof of Joseph's ability to interpret dreams that appeared similar but had very different meanings. 3. Repetition. As should be obvious by now, at the heart of the study of texture will be the repetition of important words within the narrative, psalm, or oracle. These may be repeated in the same sense, giving direction then to the structure as well, or they may be repeated in a different sense. For example, in the story of Joseph's dreams about his destiny (Genesis 37:1-11), three times the text explains that his brothers hated him (wayyisne’u in verse 4; and wayyosipu ‘od seno’ in verses 5 and 8). This repetition points the expositor in the direction of the point of the episode. Incidently, the antonym of this verb, ’ahab, seems to fire the hatred, for the passage begins by stating that Jacob loved Joseph more than all the others. If the repetition occurs between passages, then a sort of stitching takes place by which the narrator wishes the reader to trace the connections. An analysis of the Book of Psalm reveals that this was part of the organizing pattern (as will be pointed out in the course). But in narrative, one sample that is clear is in the story of Joseph. The brothers hated Joseph and were not able to speak peaceably (leshalom) to him (37:4); but then the next section begins with Jacob's sending Joseph to discover the well-being (shelom) of his brothers. The writer had prepared the reader for the failure of this mission by the repetition of the words. Sometimes the repetition takes an ironic twist. In Genesis 12:10‑20 we have the story of Abram's deception about Sarai his wife. In verse 13 he instructed her to say that she was his sister, “in order that it might go well” (yitab) for him on her account. But when she was taken from him, the text says that Pharaoh "treated him well" (hetib), giving him all kinds of possessions as a dowry. The ironic repetition of the verb yatab shows emphatically how his plan backfired on him. 4. Allusion and Foreshadowing. By carefully choosing the words the writer can refer to previous events (allusions), or anticipate future events from the point of view of the text (foreshadowing). Allusion can be effected by simply using a word that is well‑known from another context. Psalmists, prophets, and narrators alike all make use of allusions. The identification of allusions requires that the reader or listener be familiar with the referent. For example, in Exodus 1:7 the text tells how the Israelites multiplied under the oppression of Egypt: “the Israelites were fruitful (paru) and increased abundantly (wayyisresu), and multiplied (wayyirbu) and became very, very mighty (wayya‘atsmu bim’od me’od).” The words that are used here are drawn from Genesis 1:28 and 1:20, the commandments to “be fruitful” and “multiply,” and the decree that the earth “swarm” with living creatures. The point of the allusion is to show that God's design for creation was now being developed in his formation of the new creation, Israel. The story in Genesis 12:10-20 is a good example of foreshadowing in narrative art. According to this account, there was a famine in the land, Abram went down to Egypt to sojourn, he was met with the possibility of the male being killed and the female taken alive, his wife was taken into bondage, the LORD delivered them by plagues, Pharaoh summoned Abram, and let them go, and they came up out of Egypt very rich. All these points parallel the experience of Israel's bondage in the exodus from Egypt, down to the use of identical words. Apparently Genesis 12:10-20 was written with that future experience in mind; in other words, the writer, knowing the later experience (so who better than Moses?), chose to word the patriarchal story to foreshadow the experience of Israel in Egypt - but not making up the story at all. By doing this he could show that the earlier experience was a harbinger of Israel's experience, showing that God would deliver them. 5. Notional Featrues.[15] We now must turn to consider the use of notional features within the sentences of a narrative. Here we are interested in observing the setting, referents, actions, and ideas as they occur within the text. This will take in grammatical studies, vocabulary, sentence structure, and paragraph organization. This part of the analysis is important because frequently the expositor does not know what the narrative is stressing, especially if it is a long and developed story. The following procedure may prove helpful. The first step is to list every being, object and place that is mentioned in the story (called referential taxonomy). Everything plays some role in the story, and so nothing must be omitted. The second step is to list every way in which a being, object or place is referred to in the course of the text. A study of the referential variants used reveals something of the writer's style and is useful in determining the theme of a passage. For example, in Genesis 4 Abel is referred to seven times as “Abel,” and seven times as “his [Cain's] brother,” further stressing that the murder was a sin against the brother. The third step is to determine what has the prominent use in the narrative (in other words, analyze the material statistically). Here you will distinguish the function of the referent within the grammar. Is the referent used in the main sentence structure of the story, or in subordinate clauses, or in quotation? Prominence can be determined by this, for the subject of a sentence is more important than an object (so Cain is more important to the story than Abel), the explicitly mentioned referent is more important than one referred to with only a suffix or a pronoun, and referents in a non-quotative sentence are more important to the structure of the story than referents in quotations. By doing this the exegete will learn who or what the writer considered the most important characters) or items in the story. The fourth step is to make a summary of line-event statement within the text. This means culling from the text all statements which advance the story in action and time and then restating them an a separate list in the order in which they were introduced into the text (sometimes sentence diagraming will serve this purpose). Certain things will be automatically excluded here: back references to previous events, supportive or explanatory material, non-event materials such as state-of-being propositions and projected or unrealized event statements, and narrator comments. Now here you will have to be careful, for the narrative sequence in Hebrew, made with the consecutive and the preterite, is not always used to carry the story-line forward; it may be subordinated to another preterite. For example, Genesis 3:6 should be translated, “When she saw (wattere’) . . . she took (wattiqakh).” The fifth step is to map the verbs of the narrative. Match up the verbs with their subjects to see what is the most dynamic subject of the story. For example, in Genesis 1:1 - 2:3 God is the subject of the verbs “to say,” “to see,” “to create,” “to name,” “to make,” “to bless,” “to separate,” “to rest,” “to place,” “to finish,” and “to sanctify.” No other subject has so many verbs. God is obviously central to the theme of the story. This would be obvious to any reading of this particular chapter; I am just using a clear chapter to show how it works so that it can be applied to other, less obvious, chapters. The sixth step is to identify thematic referents in the story. Thematic referents are characters or items that are referred to in more than one episode and are the subject of at least one event-line verb. For example, in Genesis 4 Abel is the thematic referent. He is the subject of the verb “brought” in verse 4, but apart from that he is only referred to, or is the subject of a stative verb. Finally, all this material is to be correlated with the findings of the studies of repetitions within the text in order to determine the theme. In the creation story there are twelve verbs or verb-centered structures repeated throughout the story. The familiar wayehi ken, “and it was so,” occurs once in episode two, twice in episode three, once in episode four, and twice in episode six. Also, the verb bara’, “create,” occurs six times in the narrative, once in the introduction, once in episode five, three times in episode six, and once in episode seven. By charting where the repeated verb-centered ideas are concentrated we can determine the highlight of the narratives theme. In the creation account this seems to be episode six, the creation of mankind. Even the repeated expression, “there was evening and there was morning, a first day,” repeated for each of six episodes, is highlighted in the sixth episode because only there is the article used in conjunction with the ordinal number - “the sixth day.” In the creation account episode six has the prominence because it has eight highlighted repetitions within it. The second most prominent is episode three. This is significant, because in the structure of the narrative, day one parallels day four, day two parallels day five. and day three parallels day six, each climaxing the twofold development of the narrative that accounts for correcting the waste (days 1-3) and the void (days 4-6). The highlighted theme of the text would then concentrate on the sixth episode. This does not mean that the rest of the chapter is secondary, or subordinate; it means that in the wording of the theme for the whole narrative we would focus our attention on that panel. And that would be expected from the rest of the exegesis too, for that panel records the instructions to mankind that will be developed throughout the Pentateuch. The exposition would focus, then, on God's creation of mankind and his commission to populate and dominate the totally good creation that God created, blessed, and sanctified. 6. Scenes. If we are analyzing stories in narrative literature, then there will be scenes in the development of the story. These can be rather easily identified by change of characters, change of settings, or change of actions. Not all will have the clear structural markers that the narrative about creation has, but there is usually enough to indicate the scenes. For example, in Genesis 27 we have clearly marked scenes in the story by the change of characters: Isaac sends Esau to hunt game for a blessing, Rebekah prepares Jacob for the deception, Jacob deceives Isaac for the blessing, Esau returns for the blessing from Isaac, Rebekah advises Isaac to send Jacob away, Isaac sends Jacob away with the blessing (27:1-28:9). What is interesting in this story is that no more than two of the people in the family are ever together in one of the scenes. The first and last scenes are parallel in that Isaac is sending away his sons, the first to hunt game and be blessed, and the second with the blessing. At the center of the story are two parallel blessing scenes, the first of Isaac blessing Jacob unwittingly, and the second of Isaac giving Esau the lesser blessing. In a passage like this the analysis of subjects and main line verbs would differ from scene to scene, but the parallel patterns between the scenes would show the emphasis of the narrator. 7. Poetic Language. It is important in studying Hebrew narratives to understand that a lofty or poetic language is used throughout to capture the point very dramatically. In short, highly figurative language is used to communicate the points, because the writer is trying to get the reader to live in the imagination of the story. At times the language seems cryptic because just enough has been said to make the point, and the rest is left to the reader to imagine. Note the classic understatement in Genesis 31:2: “And Jacob saw the countenance of Laban, and indeed it was not toward him as before.” At times we find expressions like “the voice of the blood of your brother cries out from the ground” (Gen. 4:10), and “sin is couching at the door” (Gen. 4:7), and “Why has your face fallen?” (Gen. 4:6). Such figurative language brings the narrative alive in the imagination and memory of the reader. I use these samples to make the point that what is often called narrative literature is also full of figures of speech. You will need to master the skill of identifying, classifying, and interpreting figures to work anywhere Scripture.
Genre Criticism Qualifications It was with Form Criticism that biblical scholars were awakened to the different literary forms used in the Bible. By studying the structure and composition of a piece of literature, form critics could isolate different types of literature. Now genre has become prominent in literary studies in that the biblical scholar often uses genre in the interpretation of the text. Unfortunately, in actual practice, the identification of the form is being used by some critics to determine the question of historicity. For Gundry, to identify the story of the Wise Men in Matthew as a Jewish midrash brings to an end the question of whether there ever were any magi. Likewise, for Leslie Allen, to identify Jonah as parable removes the necessity of finding the historical connection with Nineveh or defending the episode with the fish. In both cases we would have to say “not so fast.” First, there are serious questions about their criteria used for identifying those genres, for we know what forms midrash and parables have - and these do not fit those criteria. Second, the classification of a genre does not necessarily means the events did not happen. If the Wise Men were a midrash, the telling of the story in that form would have the purpose of expounding some event or text. So these uses of genre studies are questionable. Genre studies are important for the complete exegesis of the text, but several qualifications are in order. First, you should know that there is much debate over what genre actually is, and once it can be identified to any satisfaction, whether or not it is all that helpful. Second, genre deals with the form of literature and cannot be used to determine historicity. For example, an essay could be fact or fiction. A play can be historical or non-historical. Allegory can use real events or fictitious events. Only when the genre specifically limits the nature of the material can it speak to the issue of historicity, but that limitation comes from the substance of the material, not the form per se (for example, fairy tales). A story is a story; it can be about William the Conqueror or St, George and the Dragon. Third, genre determination ivolves circular reasoning. We use genre to determine the interpretation of the passage, but we use the exegesis of the passage to identify the genre. But there are checks and balances, if we are careful to use them, to come to an accurate conclusion. However, if a writer classifies a passage according to a certain genre, but must delete or ignore certain parts in the story that do not fit that genre, or overlook features of the genre, then the classification is to be rejected. For example, Joseph is often classified as a hero, and the story of Joseph as heroic literature. But Joseph never risks everything in a heroic act - one of the features of heroic literature. On the other hand, the Jacob stories do fit the pattern of comedy (in the Greek sense), especially with Jacob's scheming and deceiving, and yet coming out well in the end. Or, if the writer tries to identify a genre without any other samples of that genre, the entire classification is called into question. For example, Westermann in his commentary on Genesis says that Genesis 29 is an old “substitution of the wife” story that was so common in the ancient world. But then he gives no samples and no references. Fourth, we are not always able to classify a passage according to its genre, whether it is a psalm or a narrative. We can describe what seems to be the form and the function of the passage, and give it a name, but without being able to find parallels we really do not have a literary type. And fifth, the study of form should have bearing on function. That is the whole point of genre. If we have a biblical narrative that fits a distinct form, then that form will convey something beyond the report of what happened in the narrative‑it captures the didactic element in the story. We may read again and again stories about provisions in the wilderness in Exodus and Numbers; these types of stories with their similar structures and motifs prepared the readers for the messages. You will find that it is easier to identify the forms and the functions of the different types of psalms than types of narratives. But some very helpful samples can be found in G. Herbert Livingston, The Pentateuch in Its Cultural Environment (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1974). Classifications Everyone who reads the Old Testament is aware that there is Poetry, Prophecy, Law, and Narrative. Those classifications narrow the discussion, but do not give specific direction for the exegesis. For psalms we can discern different types: individual lament psalms, national lament psalms, descriptive praise psalms, declarative praise psalms, and many, many more (as you will learn). Each classification has a distinct but never stereotyped pattern, and distinct terminology and motifs. The commonly used forms naturally suggest functions. If a lament psalm records a cry out of physical suffering, then we may identify the type of situation and the function of such a prayer. Or, if there is a praise psalm for victory in the battle, we may ascertain the setting in Israel's life, and how that praise would function in the worship of the congregation. So too in other genres of literature do we have specific types. In narrative literature there is a great deal of debate over the types, but this is not the place to discuss all that material. But categories such as narrative, story (if dissociated from the idea of fiction), episode, and the like can be useful, for each have distinctive characteristics. A narrative should have an arc of tension in which the passage traces the event through to a resolution. If the narratives are part of a self-contained story, such as the story of Joseph, or the Book of Ruth, then the complete story will have such a plot. And there are smaller units: genealogies, birth reports, burial reports, itinerary, wilderness wanderings, discourse narrative, and the like. Even within the type genealogy we find sub-categories: vertical genealogies and horizontal genealogies. The former traces lineage (Genesis 5 and 11), and the latter traces tribal federations (Genesis 10). They obviously have different structures and functions. As you work through the passages, you will encounter current discussions of genre for each passage. Some of the discussions will be helpful, and some will not. You will have to evaluate the suggestions, and if they stand up under close scrutiny, then you will have to determine if they are helpful for exegesis. For example, most students of the Bible know about the comparison of Hittite suzerainty treaties and Israel's Sinaitic covenant, specifically the Decalogue. The use of this genre adds to our understanding and appreciation of the text. On the other hand, the classification of the creation account as a myth, comparable to ancient Near Eastern mythologies, is problematic. It requires us to understand what a myth is, and what it was supposed to do - and here are some major difficulties. While one may recognize that Genesis 1:1 - 2:3 is primarily a theological treatise, the issue of truth is at the center of this discussion. The same would be true of the story of the Flood. While many would like to treat it as myth, some of us still come back to the question of whether or not there was a flood, a fall, or a tower of Babel. If the classification of "myth" is being used to side-step the question, or make the denial of the facts of Scripture acceptable, then the classification of myth is unsatisfactory. It must be stated that a passage can be understood apart from genre classification; yet, in many cases there are specific refinements that greatly enhance our understanding of the text. For example, Micah 1:10-16 has been classified as a Klagelied, a funeral dirge over the cities of the Shephelah (lowlands). It is characterized by the announcement of doom over the impending invasion of these cities, each of the cities receiving a word play on its name to suggest that the nomen was the omen. It is written in a meter that characterizes such a song, and the word plays on the names of the cities have the force of drumming the news into the listener so it is never forgotten. A parallel is Isaiah 10:27-34. It was written about the same invasion, but concentrates on the northern part of the invasion that comes over the mountain passes into Jerusalem. It too plays on the names of the cities with ominous word plays, showing that the names themselves speak of the invasion. Now, in reading through the passage in an English Bible we can learn that there is an invasion coming and the cities will be destroyed. But by analyzing the genre through the distinctive features we capture the force of this means of expression, and its memorability through the distinctive features of this song of death. There are no other passages in the Bible that are formed exactly like these two, although the prophets frequently play on the meanings of names.
Conclusion
This section of the notes has briefly opened up the discussion of rhetorical and genre criticism. It should now be clear that the Scripture is literary art as well as historical and theological truth. The writers employed all the conventions at their disposal in formulating and expressing their messages. But this literary art is not merely ornamental; it is a part of the total meaning of the text, and must be included in the exegesis and in the exposition of the text.
[1] This is the emphasis of canonical criticism for one; see Brevard S. Childs, Introduction to the Old Testament Scriptures (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979). [2] James Muilenberg, “Form Criticism and Beyond,” JBL 88 (1969):1-18. [3] The literature is very helpful: see J. P. Fokkelman, Narrative Art in Genesis and Narrative Art and Poetry in the Books of Samuel: King David; John Barton, Reading the Old Testament: Method in Biblical Study; and John H. Patton, “Rhetoric and Biblical Criticism,” QJS 66 (1980):327-337. [4] Different writers stress different aspects of literary analysis. For example, see S. Bar-Efrat, “Some Observations on the Analysis of Structure in Biblical Narrative,” VT 30 (1980):154-173; Mary Savage, “Literary Criticism and Biblical Studies: A Rhetorical Analysis of the Joseph Narratives,” in Scripture in Context, edited by Carl D. Evans, William H. Hallo, and John B. White (Pittsburgh: The Pickwick Press, 1980); and Roy F. Melugin, “Muilenberg, Form Criticism and Theological Exegesis,” in Encounter with the Text, edited by Martin J. Buss (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979). [5] For a good introduction, see Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Schocken Books, 1979). [6] See Michael Fishbane, Text and Texture: Close Readings of Selected Biblical Texts (New York: Schocken Books, 1979). [7] For samples of writings of literary scholars, see Kenneth R. R. Gros Louis, ed., Literary Interpretations of Biblical Narratives (Nashville: Abingdon, 1974). [8] James Muilenberg, “A Study of Hebrew Rhetoric: Repetition and Style,” VTS 1 (1953):97-111. [9] The work of Phyllis Trible, Texts of Terror (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), may illustrate this. Trible has excellent insights into the texts of selected passages, but there is little attempt to articulate the meanings of the units apart from her use of them for studying terrorized women (which, to be fair, was her purpose). [10] If you wish to see this issue for Genesis 1-11 discussed, see Walter C. Kaiser, “The Literary Form of Genesis 1-11,” in New Perspectives on the Old Testament, edited by J. Barton Payne (Waco, TX: Word Books, 1970), pp. 48-65. [11] But one must remember that the Chronicler is writing to supplement the Book of Samuel and the Book of Kings, and so there was no attempt to conceal David’s sins, for the reader could read about that elsewhere. The Chronicler simply had his own purpose, and it did not require reviewing those things. [12] It is not a naive faith that leads to the view that these events occurred, but rather a logical consistency in the interpretation of Scripture, as well as a rejection of the arbitrary and subjective elimination of material by the modern theologian just because it may not fit his system or approach. [13] See, as a start, Kenneth Kitchen, Ancient Orient and Old Testament (Chicago: InterVarsity Press, 1966), pp. 135-138. [14] Franz Delitzsch, A New Commentary on Genesis, translated by Sophia Taylor (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1888), p. 238. [15] I am indebted for much of this section to Robert Bergen, who read a paper at the regional Society of Biblical Literature in March, 1983, entitled, “A Proposed Discourse Critical Methodology for Use with Hebrew Narrative Material.”
POETIC DISCOURSE
Definition
Our study of poetic discourse will include more than just the figures of speech used in the Bible, for before we can understand more precisely and appreciate fully the various words used by the writers we must come to an understanding of the nature of poetic language.
Hunt has provided a definition that would include what most would wish to see included, saying, “Poetry is the utterance of a passion for truth, beauty and power, embodying and illustrating its conceptions by imagination and fancy, and modulating its language on the principle of variety in uniformity” (cited by Abrams). Scott characterized its communicative aspect by saying that the painter, orator, and poet each has the motive of exciting in the reader, hearer, or spectator, a tone of feeling similar to that which existed in his own bosom, ere it was embodied forth by his pencil, tongue, or pen. It is the artist's object, in short... to communicate, as well as colours and words can do, the same sublime sensations which had dictated his own composition.
In effect the poet recreates his or her emotional experience by the choice of words so that the reader may imitate the sensation. To communicate such emotions necessarily requires the use of figurative language. People think in pictures and symbols, and their conversations are filled with such expressions. Thus, beautifully written literature which employs effective figures of speech is both satisfying to the human desire for aesthetics and meaningful to the human need for images.
It should come as no surprise, then, that poetic language can be found on almost every page of the Bible, both the Old and New Testaments. God chose to communicate His truth to people with high and low figure! Such language not only brings an aesthetic quality to the Scriptures, but also brings the Word of God to the level of human experience so that it may be understood in both its truth and its spirit.
The following summary captures the points we are making here:
“It may be helpful to note that ‘in turning’ the word the poet often juxtaposes or transfers the word into a semantic field of thought where it is not normally at home. For example, in the sentence ‘the LORD is my shepherd’ the word ‘shepherd’ which belongs to the semantic range of animal husbandry is juxtaposed to apply to a spiritual Being. When David prays: ‘Cause me to hear joy and gladness’ he juxtaposes a word referring to a psychological state as the object of a verb denoting physical activity. Elsewhere the poet says: ‘the mountains clapped’ whereby he transferred a verb denoting human activity to an inanimate subject. A juxtaposition of semantic ranges of thought also takes place when Caesar says of Brutus: ‘For Brutus is an honorable man; so are they all honorable men,’ for a word of virtue is transferred to describe men of vice as the rest of the composition makes clear. It is this transference, this juxtaposition, of a word into a foreign semantic field of thought that often alerts the reader to the realization that the writer has used a figure of speech.
“Furthermore, when an author artfully turns his words he does not fully explain his meaning because he is also attempting to create a feeling in his reader. In other words all figures are elliptical and many are evocative. For this reason the exegete in his endeavor to recreate in his mind and viscera what was inside the mind and viscera of the author tries to fill in the unstated thought and unstated feeling. For example, when David says: ‘the LORD is my shepherd’ he evokes the image of a shepherd tending his sheep, an image pregnant with the thought that the shepherd feeds (v. 1), refreshes (v. 2), guides (v. 3) and protects (v. 4) his sheep. His full thought seems to be: ‘as a shepherd is good and lovingly loyal to his sheep, so the LORD is good and lovingly‑loyal to me’ (v. 6). Then, too, by this image the author evokes a feeling of tender concern. Since the author does not fully explain his thought or his intended feeling, the exegete must at first guess at the writer’s intention and then try to validate his guesses by other indications in the composition under consideration. These reconstructions are mostly intuitive, and therefore the process is more in the nature of an art than in the nature of a science. Then too, the twentieth century urban reader is greatly removed from an Iron Age agrarian man. It is therefore imperative that the modern reader try to steep himself in the culture of the author in order to be able to think and feel with the inspired poet (Bruce K. Waltke).
Misconceptions of Poetry
It is sad that many who study the Scriptures do not take the time to work with poetic language, for it is basic to interpretation and cannot be cast off as an esoteric study unrelated to the exegetical procedure. Such a reluctance to work with poetry is caused in part by a failure to understand its nature.
I. C. Hungerland in Poetic Discourse states that there persists among critics of poetry the notion that the literal meaning and the poetic meaning are somehow opposed. She explains that this idea is expressed in both naive and sophisticated ways (pp. 107ff.). In its naive form, the notion amounts roughly to the belief that “fancy” language, language exhibiting many figures of speech, is peculiar to, or characteristic of, poetry. In its more sophisticated form the notion is implicit in current doctrines to the effect that ambiguity, paradox, and irony are essential to poetry.
Whether expressed naively or on a more sophisticated level, there is a half truth at the basis of the notion. In order to take care of this half truth and avoid the mistake of limiting the kind of language which poetry uses, it will be well to start our study of figures by thinking about them in everyday discourse.
We accept without question such expressions as: “the White House said today,” “He waited an eternity,” “She floated into the room,” “He’s a pig.” But other expressions, although commonly used, are a bit more puzzling to us: “She dropped her eyes,” “They faced the difficulty,” “It is crystal clear,” “They were up in arms,” “Her almond eyes. . . .”
Also, if we try to evaluate slang expressions we have a difficult time with some figures: “It’s raining cats and dogs,” “I’ll take a raincheck on that,” “He’'s the spit’n image of his father.” “This baby has four hundred horses under the hood,” “I needed that like I needed a hole in the head,” and the expression attributed to a pilot from the Bronx before take‑off, “Give with the woid, and I’ll make like a boid.”
The Criterion in Studying Poetry
What is our criterion for distinguishing literal and figurative in such common expressions? We might formulate it provisionally in this fashion: a figurative expression is one which, when its component words are employed in the usual or customary way, turns out to be either a patently false or a nonsensical statement. In brief, figures exhibit a violation of some rule of usage. It must be noted, of course, that not all violation of usage will be figurative language.
This criterion will be qualified by the following considerations. In the first place, it is well to remember that poetic language is commonly employed as a device in expository and explanatory discourse, whether of an everyday sort or of a scientific sort. The use of figures will help to clarify and specify the subject matter.
Moreover, figurative expressions have paraphrases or translations which, taken literally, make sense. Here we must be careful, though, for the meaning of a figure will not be exactly the same as the figure. The translation of the figure will differ from the original in tone, line of suggestion, and information conveyed by the speaker.
So the conclusion that poetic language is merely fancy and figurative on the one hand, or ambiguous and mystical on the other, fails to understand the nature of poetic language. Our two conditions provide a basis for interpreting and evaluating figurative language (I say evaluating because an important part of the study is to determine the effectiveness of the figure in the author’s intent):
1. there must be some ascertainable point in the deviation from ordinary usage (the violation of usage must be deliberate), and 2. there must be available a literal rendering of the expression in question.
Our procedure will be to identify the figure of speech used and articulate its literal meaning as well as the feeling conveyed with it. (It should be mentioned in passing that even though some figurative expressions may be deliberate deviations in usage and may have literal renderings available, they still may fall short of the high standards for good poetic language. We hear the expressions so often in popular or country music, a lot of modern Christian music, advertising, or journalism‑‑especially in sports‑‑that we easily lose touch with effective poetic language. It may be said that if figurative language is contrived and pedestrian it is not good poetic discourse).
We must recognize how poets uses words. They have two sides to words they select: the straightforward, explicit meaning of the word (its denotation); and the implied, suggested meaning (connotative). Each word, or group of words, then becomes a carefully chosen device or tool with which poets produce the double effect of conveying a statement or comment about something and suggesting feelings or ideas beyond what they have literally said.
The context in which the word appears, moreover, may often help to determine our feelings about the word. Consider these two statements:
1. His father stood over him while he did three problems in subtraction.
2. The little cousin is dead by foul subtraction.
The denotative meaning of subtraction applies to both sentences; but the connotation of the word in the second sentence, especially with “foul” in close proximity as well as the idea of death, creates an emotional potential for the word. Here, in this context, a mathematical term has tragic overtones. So we see that the context may start a normal word vibrating in an unusual manner.
Emotional connotations, intellectual connotations, allusion effects and sound effects all increase the reach of meaning in a word. Note in “Fern Hill” (Dylan Thomas) the line
. . . it was all Shining, it was Adam and maiden
The word “maiden” has several implications: 1) emotional, for the word suggests freshness, beauty and joy; 2) intellectual, for the word implies innocence, lack of experience; 3) allusion, for the name Adam is part of the context and the reference is to Eve, the first woman, supporting the above connotations but adding the emotion of potential sorrow; 4) sound, for the word is soft and graceful when used in the phrase A‑dam and Maiden, thereby producing a musical, lifting quality.
We may observe these same elements in the word of the prophet Isaiah (1: 18):
“though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow; though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool.”
Here we have the repetition of two similes to stress the point being made. In addition, the word order makes the contrasts within these lines more glaring: the two nouns which form the contrast meet in the middle, and the first and last cola use yihyu while the second and third the Hiphil of verbs denoting colors.
The emotional and intellectual connotations of the words used here are striking. The “scarlet” (sani) refers to the highly prized brilliant red color produced from the Kermococcus vermillio Planch used to produce the famous dye (Sanskrit krmi; Persian Kerema, kirm; Pahlevi kalmir; Hebrew karmil; and our carmine and crimson. See also Persian sakirlat and Latin scarlatum). There is great symbolism in the Bible for colors. In Revelation, for example, the great Whore is in purple and scarlet while the Saints are in white. Why does Isaiah use red for sin? Dreschler suggested it meant bloodshed‑‑a blood stained garment enwrapping the sinner. Delitzsch interpreted it as a fiery life that was selfish and passionate, a life characterized by wild tempestuous violence. These ideas may well have been in Isaiah's mind. At least we may say that red signifies that which is most enflamed‑‑conspicuous and glaring.
In contrast to the scarlet and crimson is the whiteness of wool and snow. Not only do these terms represent purity from the cleansing from sin, but they convey the sensations of softness and freshness. The emotional overtones of peace and tranquility offset those of violence and passion.
Connotations
1. Emotional Connotations. Emotional connotations have to do with our feelings about a word, how the word appeals to our emotions of fear, delight or disgust. An example suggesting pleasant, happy feelings is seen in E. E. Cummings’ poem:
anyone lived in a pretty how town with up so floating many bells down
The words “up” and “floating” and “bells” as used in the context all have a joyous emotional potential.
On the other hand, Richard Eberhart’s poem “For a Lamb” shocks us by its use of two unexpected words:
I saw on the slant hill a putrid lamb, Propped with daisies . . .
We expect the lamb, a creature of innocence, to be playing in the daisies there rather than being propped and putrid. These two words stain the poem with the emotion of disgust and repulsion.
Finally, a less obvious example of emotional connotation comes from David Ferry’s “Adam’s Dream”:
He was the lord of all the park, And he was lonely in the dark, Till Eve came smiling out of his side To be his bride.
“Sweet Rib,” he said, astonished at her, “This is my green environ!” Eve answered no word, but for reply The wilderness was in her eye.
As used in the context, the word “wilderness” strikes a note of fear or dismay. The word does not mean “fear” or “dismay,” but denotes the surrounding natural, uncultivated scenes. Yet the word has emotional overtones for the impending Fall.
Zechariah heightens the sense of abhorrence of sin by his choice of words:
“Now Joshua was clothed with excrement-bespattered garments, and was standing before the Angel” (3:3)
Isaiah also conveys the worthlessness of man’s best deeds by using an emotionally freighted word:
“All our righteousnesses are like filthy rags” (64:5)
The word ‘idda refers to stains from menstruation.
2. Intellectual Connotations. Intellectual connotations have to do with the additional intellectual meaning a word might have beyond its denotative meaning. Words, as we know, often have several denotative meanings at the same time. Emotional connotations register in our feelings or emotions, but intellectual connotations appeal to our minds and often involve a witty word play.
For example, W. H. Auden writes of a Chinese soldier killed in the war with Japan: “Far from the heart of culture he was used.” The word “heart” has a double meaning referring to the center of culture as well as referring to the emotional concerns; he dies in an indifferent, heartless world.
By employing a combination of semantic and syntactical ambiguity, poets gain depth or richness of meaning which straightforward prose writing rarely has. Our challenge in reading poetry, then, is to become sensitive to the nuances of meaning possible in the artistic combinations of words of poetry.
A special case of intellectual connotation is irony which has to do with a double vision of experience where the words do not quite fully account for the reality of the situation. Take a poem by Wilfred Owen, the British poet killed in World War I:
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went, And took the fire with him, and a knife. And as they sojourned both of them together, Isaac the firstborn spake and said, My Father, Behold the preparations, fire and iron, But where the lamb for this burnt‑offering? Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps, And builded parapets and trenches there, And stretched forth the knife to slay his son. When lo! An angel called out of heav'n. Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad, Neither do anything to him. Behold. Abram, caught in a thicket by its horns; Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him. But the old man would not so, but slew his son, And half the seed of Europe, one by one.
This is highly ironic when contrasted to the real story; Owen wished to dramatize that men allow wars to kill off their sons from generation to generation. Man sets his own precedent for violence which ironically carries off his own sons.
In this we have the double view of reading the words and knowing the situation. Ezekiel’s song of lament over the king of Tyre will serve to illustrate this from the Bible (Ezek. 28:11-19).
11 The word of Yahweh came unto me, saying, 12 “Son of man, take up a lament concerning the king of Tyre and say to him: ‘This is what the Lord Yahweh says: You were the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. 13 You were in Eden, the garden of God; every precious stone adorned you: ruby, topaz and emerald, chrysolite, onyx and jasper, sapphire, turquoise and beryl. Your settings and mountings were made of gold; on the day you were created they were prepared. 14 You were anointed as a guardian cherub, for so I ordained you. You were on the holy mount of God; you walked among the fiery stones ... 17 Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor. So I threw you to the earth; I made a spectacle of you before kings . . .’.”
This prophetic denunciation of the king of Tyre appears to contain references to Satan’s origin and fall. Apparently they were analogous in the mind of Ezekiel.
3. Allusion Effects. When a word in a poem has a specific reference to a place in geography, to an event in history or literature, or to a person, real or literary, this word is called an allusion. The allusion in poetry is a particularly potent device for creating both emotional and intellectual meaning.
Notice the allusions in T. S. Eliot’s “Journey of the Magi”:
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water‑mill beating the darkness, And three trees on the low sky, And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. Then we came to a tavern with vine‑leaves over the lintel, Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine‑skins. But there was no information and so we continued And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death: There was a Birth, certainly We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, But had thought they were different; this Birth was hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.
Now observe the allusions in these passages from the Old Testament:
23. “I beheld the earth, and lo, it was waste and void; and the heavens, and they had no light. 24. I beheld the mountains, and lo, they trembled, and all the hills moved to and fro. 25. I beheld, and lo, there was no man, and all the birds of the heavens were fled. 26. I beheld, and lo, the fruitful field was a wilderness, and all the cities thereof were broken down at the presence of Yahweh at the presence of His fierce anger” (Jer. 4:23‑26).
Here the prophet is definitely alluding to the creation account of Genesis in his oracle of judgment, but his usage of the terms and phrases reverses the order, as if to say judgment will undo creation.
In a similar way Zephaniah alludes to the confusion of tongues at Babel in his message, using terms such as “pure language,” “Kush,” “dispersed,” “proudly exulting” and “mountain”:
9. “For then I will turn to the peoples a pure language that they may call upon the name of Yahweh to serve Him with one consent. 10. From beyond the rivers of Kush, my suppliants, even the daughter of my dispersed shall bring my offering. 11. In that day shall you not be put to shame for all your deeds wherein you transgressed against me For then I will take your proudly exulting ones and you shall no more be haughty in my holy mountain” (Zeph. 3:9‑11).
The psalmists, too, drew heavily upon early images and motifs. In this selection from Psalm 36 we note that David alluded to Eden (“pleasure”) with its fountainhead of life (in words that find their way into the New Testament as well). But the portion of the priests in the sanctuary also provided him with an image of divine blessing.
8[7] “How precious is Your loyal love, O God, that humans may take refuge under the shadow of Your wings! 9[8] They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of Your house; and You will make them drink of the river of Your pleasures. 10[9] For with You is the fountain of life; in Your light we see light” (Ps. 36:7‑9).
4. Sound Effects. We should now add the obvious fact that a word represents in written characters a physical sound‑‑unpleasant, pleasant, funny, odd, or neutral‑‑but a sound. The poet exploits sound in his verse when he can, as a way usually of emphasizing meaning, or as a means of drawing his lines together into a more artistically compact form. We should think of sound as a way of reinforcing meaning, or understanding the denotations and connotations of the words.
The repetitions of sound we call alliteration (initial syllable), consonance (consonants), assonance (vowels), and rhyme (syllable sounds). Observe the sound effects in T. S. Eliot’s “East Coker”:
The wounded surgeon plies the steel That questions the distempered part; Beneath the bleeding hands we feel The sharp compassion of the healer’s art Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.
Our only health is the disease If we obey the dying nurse Whose constant care is not to please But to remind of our, and Adam’s curse, And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.
The whole earth is our hospital Endowed by the ruined millionaire, Wherein, if we do well, we shall Die of the absolute paternal care That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.
The chill ascends from feet to knees, The fever sings in mental wires. If to be warmed, then I must freeze
And quake in frigid purgatorial fires Of which the flame is roses and the smoke is briars.
The dripping blood our only drink, The bloody flesh our only food: In spite of which we like to think That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood‑‑ Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.
One good example of the way the Hebrew used sounds to strengthen the meaning may be seen in the story of the dispersion at Babel (Gen. 11:1-9). The narrative is arranged to reflect the ironic turn of events after the visitation of Yahweh: whereas the earth had been of one language, it was now confused; whereas they could speak to one another, now they cannot; whereas they wished to make a name for themselves, they were given an ignominious name; whereas they desired to come together, they were now scattered; and whereas they wished to make a tower reaching into the heavens, Yahweh came down to see it and they left off building it.
A all the earth had one language B there C one another D come let us make bricks E let us build for ourselves F a city and a tower X and Yahweh came down to see F’ the city and the tower E’ which the sons of man began to build D’ come . . . let us confuse C’ everyone’s language B’ from there A’ the language of all the earth (confused)
This antithetical structure displays the divine reversal of man's enterprise. In fact, the key words of each section are the reverse of one another:
“make bricks”
“confound”
Moreover, these sounds lead to the word play on the name “Babel” in verse 9, which according to the structure and design of the passage is the message's climax. The name bab-ili (“gate of god” in Babylonian) is explained by the narrator by balal ( in a clever phonetic word play--“to confuse”). So that ancient kingdom of power and pride becomes to Israel the prime example of judgmental confusion because of their disobedience.
THE FIGURES OF SPEECH
Introduction
Quintilian defined a figure of speech as “any deviation either in thought or expression, from the ordinary and simple method of speaking . . .” or “. . . a form of speech artfully varied from common usage” (Instit. Orat. IX, i, 11). These forms were called by the Greeks Schema, and by the Romans Figura. Both words mean “shape” or “figure.” P. J. Corbett, however, divides figures of speech into two main groups‑‑the schemes and the tropes (Classical Rhetoric for the Modern Student [New York: Oxford Press, 1971]). He writes: “A scheme ... involves a deviation from the ordinary pattern or arrangement of words. A trope involves a deviation from the ordinary and principal signification of a word” (p. 461).
In this discussion we shall survey the most important types of tropes and schemes. More attention will be given to the tropes than the schemes because they are more difficult to learn. The types listed below are those encountered most frequently in the study of the Psalter. The student may find it helpful to use E. W. Bullinger (Figures of Speech Used in the Bible) for the less common types and problematic passages. But this book should not be used simply for finding obscure figures or technical jargon. The table of contents and the Scripture index will provide the student with a beginning for the use of this reference tool.
Before surveying the common types of figures one must briefly, at least, consider a basic issue‑‑the tension between the literal and the figurative. Many students of the Bible think that if something is figurative it means that no one can be sure what is being said (for this, see Bullinger’s preface). Others, however, insist on a “literal interpretation” of the Bible to the exclusion of figures of speech. If “literal interpretation” is taken literally, then there are all kinds of problems‑‑God would be a block of granite, Jesus a piece of wood on hinges, and believers grazing sheep or growing wheat. The problem is confronted enough to warrant a survey of how the issue has been handled in the interpretation of the Bible.
Students of the Bible are perhaps aware of Augustine’s concept of multiple senses of Scripture, whereby both words and the things they signify point to spiritual or allegorical meanings. Yet Augustine gave careful attention to the words of Scripture, the literal sense, as the ground for the spiritual significances. Attention to the words involves knowledge of the original languages, of logic (rules of valid inference), or history, and especially the rhetorical figures. He says,
Lettered men should know, moreover, that all those modes of expression which the grammarians designate with the Greek word tropes were used by our [Scriptural] authors, and more abundantly and copiously than those who do not know them . . . are able to suppose or believe. Those who know these tropes, however, will recognize them in the sacred letters, and this knowledge will be of considerable assistance in understanding them . . . . And not only examples of all these tropes are found in reading the sacred books, but also the names of some of them, like allegoria, aenigma, parabola (De Doctrina, III, xxix).
Thomas Aquinas’ discussion of the senses of Scripture in Summa Theologica rationalized Augustine’s account of figurative meaning into the Catholic formula: a literal sense, and a spiritual sense having three levels‑‑allegorical or typological, tropological or moral, and anagogical (I. Q. 1, Art. 10, Basic Writings, I, 16‑17). With regard to the literal sense, Aquinas says,
By words things are signified properly and figuratively. Nor is the figure itself, but that which is figured, the literal sense. When Scripture speaks of God’s arm, the literal sense is not that God has such a member, but only what is signified by this member, namely, operative power (ibid).
While Aquinas classifies the meaning of the trope as the literal sense, he suggests that the poetic language often obscures the truth, making the reader look beyond the figures for the true meaning. There is no real emphasis on the meaning conveyed by the metaphor itself. Neither Augustine or Aquinas place great value upon the poetic language of Scripture as such.
The Reformation surfaced a new emphasis on literalism in the Scripture, along with the emphasis on the one sense of Scripture. But a study of the writings of the Reformers shows that this was no prosaic literalism. Tropes now became God’s chosen formulations of the revelation which must be understood correctly, in themselves, and not as a means to a higher, allegorical vision. Calvin’s discussion of the doctrine of the sacraments, especially the expression “This is my body” is instructive:
[Those who state that] the bread is the body . . . truly prove themselves literalists . . . . I say that this expression is a metonymy, a figure of speech commonly used in Scripture when mysteries are under discussion . . . . For though the symbol differs in essence from the thing signified (in that the latter is spiritual and heavenly, while the former is physical and visible), still, because it not only symbolizes the thing that it has been consecrated to represent as a bare and empty token, but also truly exhibits it, why may its name not rightly belong to the thing? . . . Let our adversaries, therefore, cease to heap unsavory witticisms upon us by calling us “tropists” because we have explained the sacramental phraseology according to the common usage of Scripture (Institutes IV, xvii, 20‑21).
The irony here is that the Roman Catholic position on the sacrament (transubstantiation) is achieved by taking the text literally. The figurative sense (metonymy) communicated by the physical signs was taken by the Reformers.
Based on such ideas the Protestants’ writings in the subsequent centuries systematized the study of the rhetorical devices used in Scripture. The importance of understanding the tropes and schemes became paramount. It was not that they were now taking the text literally whereas the Church had taken it allegorically or mystically; rather they were now studying the figures used in the Bible as means of communicating the divine revelation. Because the Scripture made widespread use of figurative language, scholars realized that skillful use of the various types of figures was necessary for exegesis. Handbooks on the figures of speech and interpretation appeared throughout Protestantism. It was prompted by the recognition that figures of speech served as vehicles of truth; they were chosen by God for His revelation of himself to people.
The concept of God as a magnificent poet who uses figurative language to communicate His literal Word is graphically expressed by Donne:
My God, my God, Thou art a direct God, may I not say a literall God, a God that wouldst bee understood literally, and according to the plain sense of all that thou saiest? But thou art also . . . a figurative, a metaphoricall God too; A God in whose words there is such a height of figures, such voyages, such peregrinations to fetch remote and precious metaphors, such extensions . . . . O, what words but thine, can expresse the inexpressible texture, and composition of thy word (Sermons, VII, 65).
So the concept that figurative language is the character of the literal Word of God in many places, and not some mystical sense, came to be the important distinctive of biblical exegesis after the Reformation. Unfortunately, modern “expositions” have not taken the time to understand much of this, but rather stand closer to some Puritan interpretations which considered rhetorical devices to be minimal or deceptive. Each student of the Bible must recapture this important relationship between the figurative and the literal. One must learn that not only is the figurative the means of communicating the literal, but that the figurative is the literal in its chosen means of expressing the truth, a means that includes intellectual and emotional connotations, allusions and sounds. The figure is both unified in its communication, and diverse in its aspects.
The Classification of the Figures
Because writers turn their words in various ways, literary critics have attempted to analyze and categorize these deviations in the use of words in order to gain better control over the intended thought and feeling of the author.
I. Figures Involving Comparison
In these figures of speech the author transfers a word into a foreign semantic field to illustrate or picture his thought and to evoke the appropriate feeling in his reader. In this way the writer draws a comparison between two things of unlike nature that yet have something in common. The subject matter is real, but that to which it is compared is present in the imagination. That which the subject and things compared have in common is not stated and must be guessed at and validated by the interpreter from other indications in the composition. The interpreter must also try to articulate the mood evoked by the figure.
1. Simile: Resemblance, an explicit comparison (using “like” or “as”) between two things of unlike nature that yet have something in common (see Bullinger, pp. 726‑733).
“Silence settled on the audience like a block of granite.”
“Silence” settling down is here compared to a “block of granite.” The image is one of suddenness and absoluteness. There is a contrast implied between the roar of an audience before a performance, and the sudden silence when the safety curtain goes up.
“All flesh is like grass.” (1 Pet. 1:24)
In this verse “flesh,” which is also a figure of speech representing all living creatures, is compared to “grass.” The point is that grass is transitory‑‑it withers and dies easily. This figure must be seen in the context of grass in Israel--in the heat it completely disappears from the hills until the rainy season. The feeling that this simile evokes is one of pathos and futility.
“He shall be like a tree planted by rivers of waters.” (Ps. 1:3)
The psalm is describing an individual who meditates in the Law of the LORD. The comparison is now made to a tree. Here, as is often the case, the simile is qualified: the tree produces fruit in season and does not wither because it is planted by water. The qualifications lead us to conclude that the water represents the Law, and the fruit righteousness. The common thought between the tree and the person is life or vitality. It creates a positive feeling of desirability.
2. Metaphor: Representation, an implicit comparison between two things of unlike nature that yet have something in common; a declaration that one thing is or represents another (see Bullinger, pp. 735‑743). This description will serve the purpose of this introduction, but it must be acknowledged to be a simplification. Pure metaphors are essentially figures of transference (for a detailed study, see Gustav Stern, Meaning and Change of Meaning, chapter xi). That is why many prefer to use “metaphorical language” as the equivalent of “figurative language” without further qualification of types. The study must be aware of this; some commentaries will use the word “metaphor” to mean any figure of speech, when the actual figure under consideration is not a metaphor.
“The question of federal aid to education is a bramble patch.”
The idea of “federal aid to education” is now stated to be a “bramble patch” (not “like” a bramble patch). The point is that it is tangled, not easily solved, “thorny.” The metaphor conveys the feeling of frustration, complexity, pain.
“The LORD God is a sun and a shield.” (Ps. 84:12 [11])
The LORD God is being compared to both a “sun” and a “shield.” Each metaphor supplies different information about the LORD. The “sun” conveys light, warmth, provision for growth among other things; the “shield” primarily represents protection. So the line brings a feeling of security in God’s provision of and protection for life.
“The LORD is my shepherd.” (Ps. 23:1)
In this line a comparison is expressed between the LORD (a spirit) and a shepherd (a human being who tends flocks). The essential qualities of the shepherd are transferred to the LORD so that a greater understanding of his nature may be achieved. The subsequent lines of the psalm (verses 1-4) extend and qualify the metaphor, so that the shepherding activates of feeding the flock, leading them, and refreshing them, are all brought to bear on the communication of the LORD's spiritual ministries to His people, i.e., teaching them the truth, cleansing them from sin, and leading them in righteousness. So we can see that the context must be considered in explaining a figure.
The figure of “shepherd” was used frequently enough to achieve lexical status, and so dictionaries often list the figurative use as one of the categories of meaning. Even in English dictionaries under “shepherd” you will find “ecclesiastical use for minister.” When this happens the figure is classified as a dead metaphor, or an idiom. However, in your exegesis you must interpret it as you would any metaphor, because it is a figurative use of a term.
3. Hypocatastasis: Implication, a declaration that implies a comparison between two things of unlike nature that yet have something in common. Unlike the above, however, in hypocatastasis the subject must be inferred (see Bullinger, pp. 744‑747; Bullinger, however, does not give enough attention to this very common figure). It may be simpler to refer to this as an implied metaphor if the title sounds too technical or difficult. The main feature is that in the text, the figure will be expressed fully, but the true topic or subject will be suppressed. For example, “Smite the shepherd and the flock will be scattered” is a statement that remains on the figurative level. The exegete must discern from either the context or usage of the terms what is meant by “shepherd” and “flock.”
“Dogs have surrounded me.” (Ps. 22:17 [16])
The psalmist is comparing his enemies to dogs. There are no dogs surrounding him; the context will state it is a company of evil‑doers. If he had used a simile, he would have stated explicitly “my enemies are like dogs.” A straightforward metaphor would have said “my enemies are dogs.” But he simply says “dogs have surrounded me,” and you are left to determine if they are real dogs, and if not, what are they. Once this has been done, you have to return to the figure and ask why he compares them to dogs. Dogs in the ancient Near East were scavengers‑‑they ran in packs and scoured |
