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2.2 Job as Hebrew Poetry
In seventh grade my younger brother was exposed to higher culture and
western literature. His English teacher decided that memorizing a poem
would be a profitable way of teaching him about the civilizing aspects of
modern culture, perhaps giving him some romantic appeal as he
approached the liberating age of adolescence. She asked the class to
memorize Wordsworth's poem "Daffodils".
My brother, who was perhaps
too far gone for such rescuing efforts, saw through the ploy
immediately. "I'm not going to memorize a sissy poem!" he confided in
me. We held a strategy session, and decided that if he found a longer
poem more to his liking, she could have no objection on purely
academic grounds. Sure enough, the strategy worked, and he set out at
once to memorize "Gunga Din"
by Rudyard Kipling. To this day I can
rattle off the prologue to Gunga Din, doing my best to sound like a
British soldier, "Oh you can talk of gin and beer, when you're
quartered safe out here, and you go to penny fights in Aldershottit;
but when it comes to slaughter you'll do your work on water, and
you'll kiss the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it". I think its fair
to say that he escaped the civilizing aspects of modern culture virtually
unscathed.
The Place of Poetry
What is the purpose of poetry? Is it merely, as that English teacher
thought, a civilized, greeting card sort of endeavor? Something
gentlemen in white suits might engage in while sipping ice tea on a
porch swing? Consider for a moment that much of music industry is
putting rhyming words on a page with percussion accompaniment, and
that adolescents (and adults) by the millions are buying this poetry
and listening to it on their walkman for hours on end. If radio
changed popular culture by bringing music to "everyman", then the
walkman has enabled the message in that music to become the ever
present subliminal thought life of millions. Poetry has
impact.
Poetry is coupled often with music, perhaps because they speak the
same language, the language of the heart. David's Psalms, beautiful
examples of Hebrew poetry, were thought to be accompanied with music
at one time. Yet even without the music, the passion, the wide range
of emotions can rarely be equalled in any other part of the
Bible. Whenever more than intellectual interest is important, we find
poetry surfacing as a potent method of communicating emotional and
subjective truth. Examples can be found sprinkled through nearly every
book of the Bible: Miriam's song of victory in the Pentateuch, Paul's
paeans of praise interrupting his Epistles, Jeremiah's lament of the
rape of Jerusalem, the many prophetic pleas, Jesus' beatitudes, John's
song of the cherubim, and the list goes on.
Why is poetry so ubiquitous in the Bible? Isn't it dangerous to allow
such a subjective literary style to convey the unalterable truths of
God's word? What if someone took literally the poetic imagery, or
took the literal truths poetically? Doesn't this sort of thing
introduce dangerous ambiguity into the presentation of the truth (such
as the length of the days in God's creation of the world)? Surely no
one has endeavored to write a systematic theology textbook in rhyming
verse, so why should the Bible?
If I might rephrase this question to be: what is the relationship
between poetry and truth? I think the whole issue is a problem of
modern thought. Theology used to be queen of the sciences, but
Immanuel Kant separated the two by an impassable gulf. Science, the
rational mind, the factual truth on one side, and theology, the
emotions, the irrational heart on the other. We have come to believe
that all truth is somehow like history facts or Newton's laws;
composed of unalterable syllogisms of deductive logic and rational
premises. When someone asks us "what are your true feelings?", we
grope as if in the dark, cross-examining every emotion for traces of
genuine fact. We are confused by this divide that did not exist in the
ancient mind, that could believe with the whole heart, that could
weave emotions into the truth. When King David was confronted by
Nathan of his sin in killing Uriah, Nathan used a tear-jerker story of
a poor man and his lamb to make the point with the king. Emotions were
an invaluable aid or even necessary in comprehending the truth. When
Timothy McVeigh was on trial for premeditated manslaughter, the
prosecution used exactly the same technique. Why? Because emotions can
cloud the intellect? No, on the contrary, emotions are an important
part of the truth. If I say to my children, "I love you" with gritted
teeth and fearsome demeanor, will they grow up with self-confidence?
No, because "the truth" removed from proper emotion no longer is "the
truth".
My own personal revelation came while meditating on the words of
Jesus, when he said "I am the way, the truth and the life". I could
not grasp how he could equate an abstract, hard, empirical, rational
fact with an emotional, subjective persona. Suddenly it hit me, the
truth was a person. And people have emotions, feelings, personality,
and character. The truth might even be inexpressible without all of
this emotional "baggage", the truth might require a subjective
response in order to be objectively real, much as Quantum Mechanics
requires an observer for an object to be realized. The truth could no
more be owned or manipulated than a human being could be owned and
manipulated. The truth is a person.
In the light of this revelation, the writer of Job is using poetry to
convey all that is important and crucial, all that is true, all that
is essentially lost in the history sections; the subjective response of
the reader. The Cliff Notes version of Job is no longer true, the
Bible notes summary is no longer true, because it misses the
human, the subjective, the emotion packed replies of Job. It is my
view that the poetry of Job was a necessity, not an embellishment; that the
subject material required a poetic treatment. Therefore if the poetry
of Job was necessary in communicating his message, let us consider
carefully the characteristics of Hebrew poetry.
Hebrew Poetry
Before we discuss Hebrew Poetry, we should ask what are the
distinguishing characteristics of English Poetry. The most obvious
characteristic is rhyme, as is evident in the opening
paragraph. However there have been famous poets who disdained rhyming,
John Milton, for example. In his case he emphasized a second
characteristic of poetry, rhythm. No doubt you were exposed to
pedantic phrases such as "iambic pentameter" as an explanation for
Milton's reputation when he couldn't rhyme his way out of a paper
bag. Yet both of these defining characteristics, rhyme and rhythm, do
not translate into another language easily. Perhaps that is why we
don't find books such as "Great French Love Poetry" gracing our book
shelves, it just isn't the same in translation.
Fortunately for us then, Hebrew poetry uses neither rhyme nor rhythm
in its construction, since it would be nearly impossible to
translate. Why then do we call it poetry, rather than elevated prose?
Because it has some peculiar characteristics not generally found in,
say, the historical books; characteristics such as concrete language,
allegory, metaphor, and perhaps alliteration. English poetry has many
of these same "secondary" characteristics that we may overlook if we focus
on the more obvious rhyming of words, simply because it is attempting
the same task: speaking to the heart.
Let me address a few of these characteristics, which is by no means an
exhaustive list, but those that hopefully will give us some insight into
the style of the book of Job.
Concrete vs. Abstract
Forget rhyme. Forget rhythm. If one learns to be concrete, one can
write poetry with the best of them. Take this example:
(1)"He was unutterably sad, terribly confused, and weakened by grief".
versus
(2)"He stood silently, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes slowly filling
with tears, leaning against the doorjamb with his knees gradually
buckling under him."
In the first sentence, I have analyzed the situation and told the
reader how he should react. In the second sentence, I have merely
observed the situation without analyzing it, letting the picture evoke
its own emotional response. The first sentence used abstract concepts,
such as "unutterably" or "weakened"; the second sentence used concrete
descriptions "wrinkled" or "buckling". The secret to writing poetry is
to write concretely, letting the reader participate in the discovery
of the poem. No one wants to be told what to think, but everyone wants
to share the excitement of a discovery. Poetry is participatory, it
focusses on the feelings, on the co-discovery of truth. It is
generally not analytic detached generalizations, but emotional
involved particulars. That does not mean poetry can not talk about
universal truths, rather it permits the reader to discover the
universal truth on his own.
In order to be concrete, I usually have to use more words. The
particulars are important and take longer to say. I may have to be
repetitive, saying the same thing in slightly different ways to make
sure that my point is clear. Poetry may even appear intentionally
indirect, as it attempts to make a surprise ending a real surprise for
the reader. The key point is that concrete language is used to force
the reader to participate, to make the story subjectively real, and
not just objectively correct.
Allegory and Metaphor
In my example above, I tried to convey the emotions of this person by
indicating his facial and bodily responses. I picked an easy example,
because we are all accustomed to reading emotions in others
actions. But suppose I had wanted to convey a much more difficult
concept, say, God's love for humans. What kind of image could I use?
Would it even be appropriate to say, for example, "God's chest swelled
as he patted Adam on the head"? Somehow it seems demeaning to
anthropomorphize God, to make him have the gestures of a human
being. Yet conveying his love seems to be the never-ending task of the
prophets, the priests, and the Levites. How did they accomplish this?
Moses' example is a good one because he tried just about everything he
could think of to teach the people about God's love. He wrote laws. He
wrote history. He wrote homeschooling texts, commanding that parents
teach this to their children. He wrote litanies for the people to
recite. And he wrote songs, Psalm 90 and 91. In Moses' own words he
says (RSV):
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High,
who abides in the shadow of the Almighty,
will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress;
my God, in whom I trust."
For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler
and from the deadly pestilence;
he will cover you with his pinions,
and under his wings you will find refuge;...
God, feathers? What is Moses talking about? But once you have seen a
mother hen, at the first sign of danger, collecting her yellow fuzz
ball chicks under her wings, the image becomes crystal clear: God is
protecting us who are helpless from the marauding hawks circling
above. This is an analogy, or a metaphor, that uses a well-known image
to convey an abstract concept. It is a miniature discovery, a small
participation on the part of the reader, but nonetheless useful in
poetry. The danger, of course, is that metaphors wear out
quickly. What used to be a clever picture can turn into dead technical
language. Who associates "ruthless" anymore with a Moabite woman? So
occasionally the difficulty in reading old poetry, such as Job, is in
pruning the dead metaphors to rediscover again the living sap of
emotion in the words.
Alliteration, Assonance, Acrostics and other "ah" words
Poetry, like music and songs, was meant to be heard. History, like the
Congressional Record, was only meant to be read. If one actually read
out loud the first 9 chapters of Chronicles, it would have great
soporific effect. I can only get through them by either speed reading
or decorating it with a highlighter pen. Poetry, (excluding some
modern efforts such as e.e. cummings), should be read out loud. It was
part of the oral tradition, handed down like melodies from generation
to generation. And like music, poetry--the language of the heart--is
meant to be memorized. Why else would we say that memorization is
"learning by heart"?
Now anyone who has had summer greek or a music/literature appreciation
course, will know all about mnemonic devices. My music teacher even
taught them to us (rather then letting us learn it on the street),
telling us that symphonies could be easily distinguished so that if
the bass line was rumbling "Beet-ho-ven Beet-ho-ven" it was clearly
the 5th, whereas if the strings were saying "Mozart's in the closet,
let him out, let him out, let him out" then it was undoubtedly the
40th. So it is in poetry; I never lose my place in the middle of the
line, its remembering how that next line begins that was so
difficult. If the writer had every line beginning with the same sound,
or successive letters of the alphabet, then I can jog my memory and
spill out the next line.
Unfortunately, that is an aspect of poetry that doesn't translate
well. I never could manage to keep more than a few of the 176 verses
of Psalm 119 in my brain, though I reportedly had a relative who had
memorized the whole thing in Hebrew. Privately I think its all the
mnemonic devices that helped him; every 8 verses starting with a
successive letter in the Hebrew alphabet. But we should neither
begrudge the poetry nor the people for using these mnemonic devices,
we can just be grateful that we didn't have to memorize Job to study
it.
Hebrew Parallelism
The most obvious trait of Hebrew poetry, and one that appears to our
western eyes as a distracting habit, is the tendency for the author to
repeat himself, to say everything twice. Once is okay, twice is
forgivable, but three times is downright annoying. In my youth I
decided to accomplish the Christian equivalent of a pilgrimmage to
Mecca, I would read the Bible cover to cover. Somewhere between Job
and Isaiah I can remember fading rapidly, reading every other verse to
relieve the monotony. Why, I wondered, does the Bible have to be so
boring? Can't they say what they mean the first time?
The answer, I hope, is obvious; I wasn't reading it out loud. Hebrew
parallelism is designed to be concrete, to be mnemonic, to enhance a
metaphor, it was meant to be memorized. How many times have you forgotten
a line in a song but remembered the rhyme at the end? "Roses are red,
violets are blue, uh mm mm mm, and so are you." I really have no idea what
was in the third line of the original, but we were awfully creative in
grade school. In the same way, Hebrew parallelism was as ubiquitous as
English rhyme, and came to be the defining characteristic of Hebrew
poetry.
This was providential, because several thousand years separate us from the
author, and many words have lost their meaning in the intervening millennia.
But due to Hebrew parallelism, we can often reconstruct the flow, depending
on that valuable repetition to lead us over the river of ignorance. If you
get out a KJV and compare it with a recent translation of Job, you will find
many examples of KJV translators applying what my Latin teacher called,
"creative translation". Fortunately in the 4 centuries since the KJV, we
have uncovered many ancient documents that revealed the meaning of some
of these obscure words, so by all means obtain a modern translation of Job
before undertaking this study.
Summary
Thus poetry is written in a way to convey
feelings, not by summarizing them for our quick perusal, but by
forcing us to relive them, to participate in the rediscovery of the
subjective, emotional truth. This form of discovery was meant to be
heard, to be recited, to be memorized. So in addition to concrete
language and metaphor, it used mnemonics, gimmicks to jog the memory
and keep the story flowing. These tricks of parallelism and acrostics
are really no different than our English rhyme, and in contrast to
English poetry, manage to survive 3000 years of translation in
language and time.
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Copyright © 1997 Rob Sheldon