Part 3
Finally we must in passing touch upon the critical solution of the problem in hand. The divisive critics say that in the original version of the story the three sons of Noah were Shem, Japhet, and Canaan, and that this was afterwards changed into the present enumeration. This, of course, requires the deletion of the words 'Ham the father of'
in vs. 22, and further of the words 'Ham is the father of Canaan' in vs. 18. These words were subsequently added, according to this theory, when the family relationships of Noah were altered. The curse upon Canaan consists in his being degraded to servitude to his brethren. This recurs as a refrain in the sequel to the blessings of Japhet and Shem.
The second member of the prophecy relates to Shem. Here the use of the name Jehovah seems significant. In point of fact this name contains in itself the blessing bestowed upon Shem. It lies in this, that God in the capacity of Jehovah, the God of redemption, gives Himself to this part of the race for religious possession and enjoyment. It is a berith-formula, meaning far more than that the Shemites will worship Jehovah. This is the first time in Scripture that God is called the God of some particular group of mankind. It is so extraordinary a thing as to inspire the patriarch to the utterance of a doxology: 'Blessed be Jehovah, the God of Shem'. Resolved into its explicit meaning it would read: 'Blessed be Jehovah, because He is willing to be the God of Shem.'
The third member of the prophecy is of more uncertain interpretation. It reads: 'God enlarge Japhet, and let him live in the tents of Shem'. One point of uncertainty is the meaning of the verb (yapht, a play on the sound of the name Japhet). Is this to be taken locally or metaphorically? The former makes it refer to extension of territory, the latter understands it of enlargement, i.e. increase of prosperity. A second point of uncertainty relates to the question, who is the subject of the clause 'let him dwell'. Is this meant of God or of Japhet? The two questions are interlinked. If the subject of the second clause be Japhet, then it is but natural to understand the first clause of enlargement of territory. To dwell in the tents of some tribe or people is a common way for describing conquest of one tribe by another. For Japhet to dwell in the tents of Shem implies conquest of Shemitic territory by Japhetites. On the other hand, if 'him' in 'let him dwell' relates to God, then we should have to paraphrase as follows: May God give large prosperity to Japhet, but let Him bestow
upon Shem what far transcends all such temporal blessedness, let Him (i.e. God) dwell in the tents of Shem. In that case a contrast is drawn between the objective gifts bestowed upon the Japhetites, and the personal self-communication of God upon the Shemites. The territorial rendering of 'enlarge' carrying with it the reference of 'him' to Japhet deserves the preference. The use of the name Elohim favours it, since it is not of Elohim but of Jehovah that such a gracious indwelling is predicated. Understanding it of Japhetites overrunning Shemitic lands, we should not, however, allegorize the statement, as though a spiritual dwelling together between Shemites and Japhetites were referred to. A real political conquest is intended. But ultimately such physical conquest will have for its result the coming of a religious blessing to Japhet. Occupying the tents of Shem he will find the God of Shem, the God of redemption and of revelation, there. The prophecy, both in its proximate political import and as to its ultimate spiritual consequences, was fulfilled through the subjugating of Shemitic territory by the Greeks and Romans. For this blessing became one of the most potent factors in the spread of the true religion over the earth. Delitzsch strikingly remarks: 'We are all Japhetites dwelling in the tents of Shem'.
[2] The table of the nations
As a piece of word-revelation this does not properly belong to the period with which we are dealing. It is something incorporated into the Mosaic account, from whatever source derived. Nevertheless, in so far as it throws backward its light upon the procedure of God at the post-diluvian time, we are justified in using it for the elucidation of the events of the latter. The table anticipates somewhat in that it speaks of nations, families, tongues, the origin of which distinction is not described till chap. 11. The table of the Shemites comes last, although genealogically this was not the sequence to be expected, which proves that this is not a piece of secular genealogy. It is a chapter belonging to the genealogy of redemption. The idea embodied in the table is that, while for the proximate future the Shemites will constitute the race of redemption, yet the other nations
are by no means permanently dismissed from the field of Sacred History. Their names are registered to express the principle that in the fulness of time the divine interposition meant to return to them again, and to re-enclose them in the sacred circle.
[3] The division of tongues [11:1–9]
The building of a city and tower was inspired first by the desire to obtain a centre of unity, such as would keep the human race together. But the securing of this unity was by no means the ultimate purpose of the effort. Unity was to afford the possibility for founding a gigantic empire, glorifying man in his independence of God. The latest criticism finds here two myths woven together, one describing the building of a tower for preserving unity, the other relating to the building of a city for gaining renown. But this, while resembling the explanation just given, misses the inner connection between the two projects. The tower was for the sake of the city, and there is no need of dissection. God interferes with the execution of this plan, not so much, or at least not only, from opposition to its impious spirit, but chiefly from fidelity to His promise, that the sinful development of humanity will not again issue into a repeated catastrophe on the scale of the deluge. If this were not to happen, the progress of sin had to be checked. If the whole of humanity had remained concentrated, the power of sin would likewise have remained united, and doubtless soon again have reached stupendous proportions. Hence it was next necessary to break up the unity of the race. As Delitzsch has observed: 'the immoral and irreligious products of one nation are not equally destructive as those of an undivided humanity', and 'many false religions are better than one, since they paralyse one another'.
It is true that in the abstract the unity of the race, unbroken by national distinctions, is the ideal. Had sin not entered, this would undoubtedly have been the actual state of things, as it will become so in the final eschatological dispensation [cp. Gal. 3:28]. But for the present intervening period this is not the will of God. Nationalism, within proper limits, has the divine sanction; an imperialism that
would, in the interest of one people, obliterate all lines of distinction is everywhere condemned as contrary to the divine will. Later prophecy raises its voice against the attempt at world-power, and that not only, as is sometimes assumed, because it threatens Israel, but for the far more principal reason, that the whole idea is pagan and immoral.
Now it is through maintaining the national diversities, as these express themselves in the difference of language, and are in turn upheld by this difference, that God prevents realization of the attempted scheme. Besides this, however, a twofold positive divine purpose may be discerned in this occurrence. In the first place there was a positive intent that concerned the natural life of humanity. Under the providence of God each race or nation has a positive purpose to serve, fulfilment of which depends on relative seclusion from others. And secondly, the events at this stage were closely interwoven with the carrying out of the plan of redemption. They led to the election and separate training of one race and one people. Election from its very nature presupposes the existence of a larger number from among which the choice can be made.
[4] The election of the Shemites to furnish the bearers of redemption and revelation
Here the question must be raised: Was there any inherent fitness in the Shemites to serve this task? The answer is in the affirmative. Two traits come under consideration, the one belonging to the sphere of psychology, the other to the sphere of religious endowment. In connection with the former the following may be noted: The Shemites have a predominantly passive, receptive, rather than active or productive mentality. At first this temperament may have been universally human, as best suited to a primitive stage of knowledge. But at this point, where humanity separates into its great branches, and the racial dispositions become diversified, it seems to have been particularly inherited and cultivated among the Shemites. The form thus originally assumed by the truth secured the possibility of its
translation into the mental world of other groups of the race. It is true, we, as non-Shemites, experience considerable difficulty in understanding the Old Testament Scriptures. But much greater would have been the difficulties of the Hebrew mind in apprehending a revelation given in Greek forms of thought. At the same time the Shemites must have possessed this mental predisposition in a moderate degree. The ease with which the Arabs and Jews have assimilated the Indo-Germanic type of civilization, and the large contribution made by them to the progress of scientific and philosophic thought, prove that they carry within them a twofold capacity, that of receiving the truth in its concrete shape, and that of translating it into other abstract forms of apprehension.
In connection with the antecedent religious endowment the following points may be noted:
(a) The French writer Renan at one time endeavoured to reduce this religious endowment to a psychological one. Observing that the three great monotheistic religions have sprung up on Shemitic soil, he set up the hypothesis of a monotheistic instinct as characteristic of this racial group. Renan did not look upon this instinct as superior, but felt inclined to connect it with a lack of imaginative power. At the present day this theory is entirely discredited. In the prevailing school of criticism a widely different explanation of the origin of monotheism is current. It arose at a comparatively late point in the history of Israel, viz., in the period of the prophets, from about 800 to 600 B.C. The manner of its origin was thus: these prophets had begun to perceive that Jehovah was supremely ethical in his character, which perception was a result of the prospect that the national and religious existence of Israel was about to be sacrificed to the principle of retributive righteousness. Eliminating the element of national favouritism (grace) from the conception of God, and retaining as its content only the idea of strict justice, they were led to perceive, since the core of Jehovah's Deity lay in this, that the gods of the heathen, who lacked this qualification, were not truly gods, which perception practically amounted to monotheism, although it took a
considerable time for this germinal idea to assume shape and to ripen.
But, apart from these totally different constructions of the critical school, Renan's hypothesis breaks down before the fact that numerous groups of Shemites appear far from monotheistic at a time when instinct certainly should have made some approach towards the end in view. Edomites and Moabites were Shemites of as pure stock as the Hebrews, yet neither of them became monotheistic in the long time they lie open to our observation in the Old Testament. Passing on from the nearer kinsmen of Israel to the remoter Assyrians, we find them possessed of a rich civilization, but none the less given over to a most luxuriant type of polytheism. The Arabs, to be sure, became in the end fanatical monotheists, but they had borrowed their monotheism from the Jews and the Christians. Nor is this all. The children of Israel themselves continued for a long time to feel the attractions of polytheism, after they had long enough known monotheism (on the critical view) to have become thoroughly imbued with it. Jeremiah complains [2:9–11] that Israel is more inclined to change its God than the heathen nations. It is not difficult to explain this. The pagan nations had no desire to change, because their religion was the natural expression of their disposition. Israel persistently struggled to throw off the yoke of Jehovah's service, because the old pagan nature of Israel felt is as a yoke. From the standpoint that the Shemites had an instinct for monotheism all this becomes entirely unexplainable.
(b) After all this has been taken into account, it should none the less be noted, that there appears among the smaller groups a certain uniformity of religion. All the deities, however great their number, are more or less modifications of the same fundamental conception. This may be readily seen from the synonymy of the names of the deities. And these names are found with slight variations of form among all the Shemitic tribes.
(c) Significant in this connection is also the element that seems to lie uppermost in the Shemitic religious consciousness. This is the element of submission, cp. the word 'Islam', meaning this very thing. This is, of course, an idea that is essential to all religion, but it is not everywhere developed with equal strength. Without it religion can never become the supreme factor in the life of the religious subject, which it must be in order to act as a great historic force. The Shemites have become leaders in the world of religion, because religion was the leading factor in their life, no matter whether for good or for evil.
(d) Still another feature worth considering here is what has been called 'tribal particularism'. By this is meant the worship of one god by some particular tribe in tribal relations. It does not exclude belief in the existence or right to worship of other gods in other circles, or even in the same circle, in other relationships. This is not monotheism, of course, but it is a pronounced form of tribal monolatry.
(e) These peculiarities of Shemitic religion stand at the farthest remove from every pantheizing form of a tendency towards unification elsewhere observed, and on the surface seemingly like it. Great emphasis is placed upon the personal character of the relationship between the god and his worshipper. The name for the Shemitic religious subject is ebed (servant), and an intensely practical personal name it is. Personal devotion to the deity is the keynote of this service. Negatively the same thing reveals itself in the careful distinction upheld between God and nature. The exaltation above nature of the deity, that which is called in religious terminology the 'holiness' of the gods (well to be distinguished from ethical holiness), is an outstanding trait. Where thus the transcendent power and majesty of the deity is felt, the temptation is much lessened to confound God with the world or draw Him down into the realm of nature or matter. Ordinary pantheistic monism may easily tend in precisely the opposite direction. The unity holding the individual gods together may become nothing but the impersonal life
of nature. Here monism and polytheism are not only reconcilable but mutually promotive of each other. Drawing down the deity into the processes of nature leads to the introduction of sex into the life of the divine. From this results a theogony and the consequent multiplication of gods. There seems reason to believe that, wherever such traits appear in Shemitic religion, they are not an ancient Shemitic inheritance, but the result of corrupting influences introduced from without. In Arabia, where the Shemitic tribes lived most secluded, such features were even at the time of Mohammed exceedingly rare. We learn in the records of the time of three goddesses only, and these were not brought into sexual relations with the male gods. In the mind of Israel there always remained a consciousness that the grosser, sensual elements of idolatry were foreign, not only to the legitimate religion of Jehovah, but also to the ancient Shemitic inheritance.
(f) Finally, we must observe that such religious race-dispositions were not self-produced through evolution, on the one hand, nor sufficient of themselves, on the principle of evolution, to produce the higher religion of the Old Testament. It is plain that the traits on which we have dwelt lie rather on the line of a downward than of an upward movement. Outside of Israel we find them in historic times not on the increase, but decidedly on the decrease. Within Israel itself we can trace the downward drift of this natural Shemitic faith, not merely in the struggle with alien influences, but also in a gradual internal decline. What existed, and continued to keep alive, was the remnant of a purer knowledge of God, preserved from extinction by God Himself.
As to the other point, that the higher religion of the Old Testament is not a simple evolution from low beginnings, it is sufficient to point out, that nowhere else in the Shemitic world has a similar higher type of religion made its appearance, except in Israel. The only reasonable explanation for the uniqueness of Israel in this respect is that here another factor was at work, the factor of supernatural revelation.
The connection of subsequent revelation and this ancient Shemitic religion is shown in the two oldest and most common divine names, El and Elohim. The Biblical usage in regard to the word 'name' differs considerably from ours. In the Bible the name is always more than a conventional sign. It expresses character or history. Hence a change in either respect frequently gives rise to a change of name. This applies to the names of God likewise. It explains why certain divine names belong to certain stages of revelation. They serve to sum up the significance of a period. Therefore they are not names which man gives to God, but names given by God to Himself.
There is further to be distinguished in the Bible a three-fold significance of the term 'name' in its religious connections. First it may express one divine characteristic. That which we call an attribute, the Old Testament calls a name of God. Such an adjectival designation may easily pass over into a proper name. God is holy; that is His name. But it becomes a nomen proprium when the prophet speaks of Him as 'The Holy One of Israel'. Next, the name of God can stand abstractly and comprehensively for all that God has revealed concerning Himself. This is 'the name of God'. In this sense it is simply equivalent to Revelation, not, of course, as an act, but as a product. This use applies to both General and Special Revelation. God's name is glorious in all the earth. The pious trust in the name of God, they make it a high tower. In the third place, the name of God comes to stand realistically for God Himself. The name is equivalent to God in Theophany. Of this we shall speak later.
The name El is probably derived from the root ul meaning 'to be strong'. So El first meant 'strength', then 'the strong One'. Another etymology makes El come from alah, 'to precede', which would yield 'leader' or 'commander'. According to still others El is from the same root as the preposition el. It would then signify 'the one who stretches himself out towards things'. Or, 'the One to whom others go out for help'. This, however, is rather too abstract. When explaining that it signifies power we should be careful to take power in the
dynamic sense, because another name seems to express the element of authority.
Originally El must have been in frequent use. It still occurs as an appellative in the phrase: 'It is in the el (power) of my hand' [Gen. 31:29; cp. Prov. 3:27; Mic. 2:1]. Gradually El was supplanted by Elohim. In some of the later writings of the Old Testament it does not occur at all. In the Song of Moses [Ex. 15], it is used several times. The later period employed it chiefly in poetry. It also continued to be used in theophoric names, or poetic designations of God. El occurs in the Old Testament somewhat more than 200 times.
The derivation of Elohim is uncertain. It may come from a Shemitic root with the basic meaning of 'to fear, to be perplexed, and so, to seek refuge'. From that, there is but one step to the notion 'dread', and this would be objectified in the sense of 'the One to be dreaded', or 'the One to whom one comes in fear or dread'. A rather novel theory is based on the observation that El has no plural, and Elohim no singular, so that Elohim is considered the regular plural formation of El. There is, however, another singular to Elohim, viz., Eloah, which, to be sure, occurs only in poetic writings, and may, therefore, be an artificial form to supply the lacking singular. Some critics consider this plural a remnant of polytheistic usage, going back to a period in which the people knew many divinities, not only one God. Against this tells the fact that Elohim occurs only among the Hebrews, and such a plural form for a single deity is not found among other Shemitic tribes. Israel, being the only Shemitic nation that developed monotheism, would scarcely have, alone of all others, retained such a trace of original polytheism. Elohim is simply a plural expressing majesty, magnitude, fulness, richness. Probably God was named Elohim, because the fulness of His might extended in every direction. The plural need have no more polytheistic flavour than the Greek word theotes (feminine) proves all original Greek deities to have been females. Elohim is not used in theophoric names. The Hebrew sometimes has to use it as a true numerical plural, e.g. when speaking of pagan gods. In such a case, however, it
is always construed with a plural verb, whereas in a case of reference to the true God it takes a singular verb. The name Elohim occurs in the Old Testament more than 2,500 times.
SEVEN:
REVELATION IN THE PATRIARCHAL
PERIOD
CRITICAL VIEWS
The first question to be raised is, whether the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, are historical characters. Historians holding the evolutionary theory assert that the descent of families or nations from one man is everywhere else in the field of history a pure fiction. On this view the question becomes urgent, how did these figures arise? The problem involves two elements, one as to the rise of the incidents and characters in the narrative, the other as to the origin of the names.
Common to most explanations of the critical school is the view that the incidents and character-descriptions arose out of a self-portrayal and self-idealization of the later people of Israel, during the time of the kingdom. The Israelites had a strong consciousness of their own distinctiveness as regards other people. So in these stories they mirrored themselves.
In regard to the origin of the names there is no such unanimity of opinion. According to some the names are tribal names, and the
relation of cognateness among these figures reflects tribal relationships. The movements ascribed to the patriarchs stand for tribal movements and migrations. The utmost of historicity conceded from this standpoint is that, for example, Abraham may have been the leader of a tribe named after him. While this destroys the historicity of the patriarchs in the traditional sense, it is considered by many a hyper-conservative position, because it still allows a legendary basis of facts. Dillman, who was reckoned a conservative scholar, took this position.
A second view is much more extreme. Its representatives are found mainly among the Wellhausen critics; especially Stade has worked it out. According to him, the names Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, had nothing to do originally with Hebrew genealogical history, but are names of Canaanitish figures. They were borne by Canaanitish demigods, considered by the Canaanitish tribes as their ancestors, and worshipped as such in different places. When Israel occupied the land they began to worship at these places as the Canaanites had long worshipped there, including Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in their own list of deities. Gradually learning to feel at home in Canaan, they soon came to feel that these sacred places belonged to them, and that therefore the gods worshipped in them must be Hebrew, not Canaanitish. In order to express this and create a sort of legal title for it from history, they framed the fiction that their own ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, had previously been in the Holy Land and consecrated these places. Thus Abraham was assigned in the narrative of Genesis to Hebron, Isaac to Beersheba, Jacob to Bethel.
Thirdly, it has also been attempted to explain these names from Babylonian antecedents. Sarah was the goddess of Haran, Abraham a god of the same place: Laban, the moon-god. The four wives of Jacob are the four phases of the moon. The twelve sons of Jacob are the twelve months of the year; the seven sons of Leah are the seven days of the week; the number of men with which Abraham defeated the invaders, 318, constitutes the number of days in the lunar year.
THE HISTORICITY OF THE PATRIARCHS
In answer to these various constructions we must first of all emphasize that the historicity of the patriarchs can never be, to us, a matter of small importance. The religion of the Old Testament being a factual religion, it is untrue that these figures retain the same usefulness, through the lessons that can be drawn from their stories, as actual history would possess. This prejudges the answer to the fundamental question, what religion is for. If, on the Pelagian principle, it serves no other purpose than to teach religious and moral lessons from example, then the historicity is no longer of material importance. We can learn the same lessons from legendary or mythical figures. But, if according to the Bible they are real actors in the drama of redemption, the actual beginning of the people of God, the first embodiment of objective religion; if Abraham was the father of the faithful, the nucleus of the Church; then the denial of their historicity makes them useless from our point of view. The whole matter depends on how we conceive of man's need as a sinner. If this be construed on the evangelical principle we cannot without serious loss of religious values assign these given figures to the region of myth or legend. If we are ready to be satisfied with the religious and moral tenor of the stories, then the conclusion is inevitable that the historical existence of Jesus likewise has become a negligible matter. Still further: if the patriarchs were not historical and some reality might still seem desirable, it would be difficult to tell why this should begin with Moses. If there be no historicity before that, then the process of redemption loses itself in a prehistoric mist at its beginnings. The only logical position is that, if a history of redemption is needed, it should begin with Adam and Eve.
As to the theory of self-idealization, we observe that this in no wise accounts for all the facts. One would, of course, a priori expect some resemblance between ancestors and descendants. But the resemblance postulated on such a basis does not by any means cover the elements of the description as a whole. Resemblance between
people and patriarch is greatest in the case of Jacob. It is not nearly so great in the cases of the two others. Then there are differences between the patriarchs and Israel in more than one respect. The patriarch Abraham rises far above the highest point the nation ever reached. Faith was never characteristic of Israel as a nation. On the other hand, the narrative dwells on certain weaknesses and sins of the patriarchs, not merely as regards Jacob, but also as regards Abraham. Wellhausen observes that in the documents J and E the patriarchs are represented as standing under an excessive control of their wives. These women, in his view, appear more liberally endowed with character than their husbands. But, one might ask, how could the manly, warlike Israelites of the time of the early kingdom have found their ideals expressed in such figures? Nor is there perfect agreement in customs. We are told that Abraham married his half-sister, and such action was not customary among Israel in later times.
Neither can the names be satisfactorily explained from a personification of tribes. Jacob, it is true, stands as a regular name for the people; Isaac very rarely is put to such use; but Abraham occurs nowhere as a tribal name. Wellhausen admits this, but seeks to explain it on the ground that Abraham was a creation of the poetic fancy, and as such drew to himself all the material for idealization and embellishment that existed, leaving little for the adornment of Isaac and Jacob. This, however, refutes itself, because, in case Abraham were the latest creation, he would have been the poorest and least decorated figure, Isaac and Jacob having pre-empted all the existing material.
The mythological derivation of the names from Babylon is a theory not yet ripe for serious historical discussion. Gunkel, the most brilliant advocate of Babylonian influence upon the Old Testament, admits this to be so. He grants that so far all attempts to derive the names of the patriarchs from the Babylonian pantheon have proved failures. Nowhere does the Old Testament contain a trace of worship addressed to the patriarchs; on the contrary, it emphasizes that they
were not proper objects of cult-address. Cp. Isa. 43:27, 'Thy fathers sinned, and thy teachers have transgressed against me'; and Isa. 63:16, 'For thou art our Father, though Abraham know us not, nor Israel acknowledge us'.
THEOPHANIES
A distinction must be drawn between the form and the content of revelation in the patriarchal period. As to the form, we notice that it is gradually gaining in importance, as compared with the past. Formerly it used to be simply stated that God spake to man, nothing being said as to the form of this speech, nor as to whether it was accompanied by any appearance. Now for the first time more or less circumstantial description of the form appears. On the whole we may say that revelation, while increasing in frequency, at the same time becomes more restricted and guarded in its mode of communication. The sacredness and privacy of the supernatural begin to make themselves felt.
To Abraham at first revelation came after the earlier indefinite fashion. In Gen. 12:4 Jehovah 'speaks' to him, but no sooner has he entered the promised land than a change of expression is introduced. In Gen. 12:7 we read that Jehovah 'appeared' unto Abraham (literally, He 'let himself be seen by Abraham'). Here is something more than mere speech. The emergence of a new element is also recognized by the building of the altar, for the altar is a shrine or house of God. In Gen. 15:13 we have again the indefinite statement that Jehovah 'said to Abraham'. But in Gen. 15:17 a visible manifestation, a theophany, takes place. In the form of the smoking furnace and the flaming torch God passes by. The theophany here assumes the character of something fearful. In chapter 17:1 we read again that Jehovah let Himself be seen by Abraham; and that this was a theophany follows from the statement of vs. 22, 'And he left off talking with him, and God went up from Abraham'.
From the life of Isaac the theophanies all but disappear, although we read in Gen. 26:2, 24 that Jehovah let Himself be seen by Isaac. In the life of Jacob they return, but with decreasing frequency as compared with the life of Abraham. In Gen. 28:13 we read of Jehovah speaking to Jacob from the top of the ladder, but this was in a dream. Yet in Gen. 35:9 we read, 'And God appeared unto Jacob again, when he came out of Padan-aram, and blessed him' [cp. Gen. 48:3]. Still more marked is the absence of theophanies from the life of Joseph.
As stated above, altars were frequently built in places of theophany, indicating a consciousness that the place had in some sense become the seat of God's presence. The patriarchs returned to these places, to call there upon the name of God. [Gen. 13:4; 35:1–7].
We notice in the next place that most of these theophanies were confined to definite localities, all of which lay within the borders of the land of promise. There is here a beginning of the attachment of Jehovah's redemptive presence to the land of Canaan. To be sure, the critics, while recognizing the significance of the facts, explain them on the different principle that the stories of theophany were later framed to give divine sanction to ancient shrines. But this does not agree with the fact that there were some theophanies without the subsequent erection of an altar [Gen. 17:1]; and again, we read of the erection of an altar where there is no mention of any preceding theophany [Gen. 13:18; 33:20]. It is true that some of these places later became popular shrines, but this is perfectly explainable from the remembrance of the ancient theophanies remaining in the minds of the people. The patriarchal history did not grow out of the locality; on the contrary, the sacred character of the locality originated from the history.
Specialization of the time of revelation is also observable. Jehovah appeared to the patriarchs at night [Gen. 15:5, 12; 21:12, 14; 22:1–3; 26:24]. In the night the soul is withdrawn within itself, away from
the experiences and scenes of the day. Thus the privacy of the transaction is guarded.
The same effect, to a stronger degree, is obtained where the revelation occurs in the form of a vision. The word 'vision' has both a specific and a generalized use. The original meaning is that of receiving revelation by sight instead of by hearing, although, of course, within the frame of the vision hearing of an inner kind is included. Because in ancient times the visionary form was the prevailing one, vision easily became the general term for revelation, and retained this sense, even though afterwards revelation had become more differentiated in form [cp. Isa. 1:1]. Sometimes the body was abnormally affected, or was detached from the inner sense by which hearing took place. The seeing in such cases was an inner sight, a seeing without the help of the bodily eye, yet none the less a real, objective seeing. In the patriarchal history the term 'vision' occurs twice [Gen. 15:1; 46:2]. In the latter place we read that God spake 'in the visions of the night'.
The mention of the night-time leads us to think here of visions specifically so-called. In Gen. 15, the matter is much more complicated. Here also the night-time is repeatedly spoken of [vss. 5, 12, 17]; and undoubtedly vss. 12–17 describe a real visionary experience. In vs. 1 the word 'vision' occurs: 'The word of Jehovah came unto Abram in a vision, saying.…' Now the question arises; how much of the following occurrences does this cover? Does it relate to vss. 1–12, or is it used by way of anticipation of vss. 12–17? The latter is difficult, because the participle 'saying' links what immediately follows it closely to the expression 'came in a vision' [vs. 1]. And a chronological difficulty also arises if vss. 2–12 are to be understood as plain unvisionary discourse. The marking of the points in time at which the several items happened is such as to be hard to conceive in ordinary waking experience. In vs. 5 it is night, for stars are shining. In vs. 12 the sun is 'just going down'. In vs. 17 'the sun went down'. In a vision the ordinary laws of the sequence of time do not hold good. Consequently to place the whole disclosure in a vision removes the
chronological difficulty, and enables us to consider the whole as a continuous narrative, the discrepancies of time notwithstanding. On this view the vision does not begin with vs. 12; the seeing of the starry heavens in vs. 5 already belongs to it. And yet the 'deep sleep' and the 'horror of a great darkness' [vs. 12] so unmistakably describe the phenomena of a vision coming on, that we shall have to speak of a vision within a vision, something like the play within the play in 'Hamlet'. Still, the difficulty is not decisive. The sleep and the horror of a great darkness may perhaps stand for a heightened abnormal psychical state within the already abnormal visionary state as such. If the above, however, should appear too complicated, a simple, though drastic, remedy is afforded by understanding the word 'vision' in vs. 1 as meaning generic revelation. To be sure, this does not remove the chronological difficulty between vs. 5 and vs. 12; for this it will be further necessary to place an interval of at least one day between the two points of time mentioned.
With revelation as a night occurrence the dream-form is naturally given, for dreams belong to the night. But still another motive is obviously involved. In dreaming, the consciousness of the dreamer is more or less loosened from his personality. Hence dreams were preferably used as a vehicle of revelation where the spiritual state was ill-adapted for contact with God. In this way the unfit personality was to some extent neutralized, and the mind was a mere receptacle of the message. Heathen persons receive revelation through this medium [Gen. 20:3; 31:24; 40:5; 41:1]. Within the chosen family, dreams were utilized likewise where the spirituality of the person was immature or at a low ebb [Gen. 28:12; 31:11; 37:5, 9]. It should be noted that the divine provenience or truthfulness of the revelation is not affected by its coming in the form of a dream. The same terms are used as in other modes of revelation: God comes in a dream, speaks in a dream [Gen. 20:6; 28:13; 31:24]; the same applies to visions [Gen. 15:1; 46:2]. God has the direct access to the dreamlife and complete control over everything entering into it.
THE ANGEL OF JEHOVAH
The most important and characteristic form of revelation in the patriarchal period is that through 'the Angel of Jehovah' or 'the Angel of God'. The references are: Gen. 16:7; 22:11, 15; 24:7, 40; 31:11; 48:16 [cp. also Hos. 12:4, with reference to Gen. 32:24ff.].
The peculiarity in all these cases is that, on the one hand, the Angel distinguishes himself from Jehovah, speaking of Him in the third person, and that, on the other hand, in the same utterance he speaks of God in the first person. Of this phenomenon various explanations have been offered. To explain, two critical views come under consideration. Some have proposed to render the word mal'akh as an abstract noun, meaning an embassy, a mission, which Jehovah despatched from Himself after an impersonal fashion. The reason for this conception is supposed to have lain in the primitive belief that Jehovah, who had so long dwelt at Sinai, could not in person depart from this place, but that, nevertheless, desiring to accompany His people on their journey to Canaan and during their abode in the holy land, He could send an influence from Himself to do what He was unable to do by personal presence. According to this view, the conception is very ancient, dating back at least to the entrance of Israel upon the holy land.
The second attempt considers the formation of the figure of the Angel as due to the late Jewish idea of the exaltation of God. It was thought unworthy of God to come into such close contact and intercourse with the earthly creation as the naive old stories related of Him. Hence the stories were rewritten from this semi-deistical point of view, and all traits and actions of this kind were represented as having been exhibited or performed by an intermediate being of the angel-class. On this understanding the figure is of late origin, as late as the emergence of this deistical way of thinking about Jehovah.
A common objection lies against both of these theories. It is this, that if the design had been to safeguard the non-removability from Sinai or the inappropriateness of mixing with the creature, then the writers or redactors would have been apt to exercise great care not to
leave any instances, where the objectionable features occurred, uncorrected. As it is, side by side with the novel mode of Angelrevelation, theophanies of the old disapproved-of type continue to happen in the narrative. Something in the nature of a subsequent correction in the production of the figure cannot have taken place. Besides, on the second theory, we should expect instead of 'the Angel of Jehovah' the other phrase, 'an Angel of Jehovah'. The objection, that before a proper noun the preceding noun standing in the construct state becomes inevitably determinate, in other words that it would be impossible to make 'Angel of Jehovah' indeterminate, even though it may have been intended so, does not hold good. The Hebrew has a way of saying 'an Angel of Jehovah'. All that is necessary is to insert the preposition lamed between Angel and Jehovah: 'an Angel to Jehovah'. If the intention had been to keep God and the creature apart, those interested in this would never have allowed the Angel to speak like Jehovah, for this would have obscured the very fact desired to bring out.
Of the two views discussed, the one neglects the distinctness between the Angel and God, the other neglects the identity between both. The problem is how to do justice to both. There is but one way in which this can be done: we must assume that behind the twofold representation there lies a real manifoldness in the inner life of the Deity. If the Angel sent were Himself partaker of Godhead, then He could refer to God as his sender, and at the same time speak as God, and in both cases there would be reality behind it. Without this much of what we call the Trinity, the transaction could not but have been unreal and illusory. But it is not legitimate to infer from this that the proximate purpose of such a mode of revelation was to reveal the truth of the Trinity. A thing can be based on some reality, without which it could not possibly occur, and yet serve to inculcate another fact or truth. Only in a later period and in an indirect way were the Angel-theophanies made to render service for the disclosure of the Trinity. At the time of their first occurrence this could not have been done, because the supreme interest at that time was to engrave deeply upon the mind of Israel the consciousness of the oneness of
God. Premature disclosure of the Trinity would in all probability have proved a temptation to polytheism. For a long time the Deity of the Messiah and the personality of the Holy Spirit were kept more or less in the background.
But, if not the truth of the Trinity, then what was the purpose for which this new mode of revelation was inaugurated? The purpose was twofold: the one not altogether new, the other a new departure. The former we may designate the 'sacramental', the latter the 'spiritualizing' intent. By the 'sacramental' intent we understand the desire of God to approach closely to His people, to assure them in the most manifest way of His interest in and His presence with them. This sacramental intent had underlain all the theophanies from the beginning. It was not first introduced through the appearances of the Angel of Jehovah. Only, without these appearances it could not have been realized in the old simple way without endangering another principle, that of the spiritual nature of the Deity. When God walked with men and ate and drank with them, and in bodily fashion spake with them and listened to them, the instinctive conclusion that these things were the result of His nature, lay extremely near. And yet in reality they had no necessary connection with His nature, but were sacramental condescensions on His part. As such they were indispensable. But necessary as this sacramental condescension was, it was equally necessary that the spiritual nature of God be preserved as its background. And this was accomplished by conveying the impression, that behind the Angel speaking as God, and who embodied in Himself all the condescension of God to meet the frailty and limitations of man, there existed at the same time another aspect of God, in which He could not be seen and materially received after such a fashion, the very God of whom the Angel spoke in the third person. Through this division of labour between God and His Angel the indispensable core of the theophany was saved. The spiritualizing intent was auxiliary to the sacramental one. The Angel is truly divine, for otherwise He could not have discharged the sacramental function of assuring man that God was with him. But the visible, physical
form of meeting this need is not due to the nature of God. The nature of man, chiefly his sinful nature, calls for it.
In the incarnation of our Lord we have the supreme expression of this fundamental arrangement. The incarnation is not the result of any inherent necessity in God. The contrary view, though widely spread, has a pantheizing background. We need God incarnate for redemptive reasons. The whole incarnation, with all that pertains to it, is one great sacrament of redemption. And yet even here special care is taken to impress believers with the absolute spirituality of Him who has thus made Himself of our nature. The principle at stake has found classical expression in John 1:18: 'No man has seen God at any time; God only begotten, who is in the bosom of the Father, He has declared Him'. Because the whole fact of the Angel's appearance stood from the beginning in the service of redemption, it is but natural that the execution of important movements of redemption should be assigned to Him. Immediately after the giving of the berith He appears on the scene [Gen. 16:7]. Delitzsch well observes: 'The end and object of these appearances is to be judged by their commencement'. We shall see most clearly in the Mosaic period that the divine carrying out of the berith is on the whole entrusted to His Angel. He guards those in particular whose lives and labours are most intimately connected with the berith. Jacob says [Gen. 48:15, 16]: 'The God before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac did walk, the God who has fed me all my life long unto this day, the Angel who has redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads'. Cp. also Mal. 3:1, 'the Angel of the berith'. Not only in nature, but also by function, is the Angel of Jehovah distinguished from ordinary angels.
The form in which the Angel appeared was a form assumed for the moment, laid aside again as soon as the purpose of its assumption had been served. Usually, but not always, it was a human form. Some have thought that the Angel was during the Old Testament dispensation permanently posssessed of such an appearance-form. This would run contrary to the variableness of the form in which the manifestations took place. It would also anticipate the incarnation, in
which the new feature is precisely that the Second Person of the Godhead assumes a form which remains permanently His own [John 1:14]. A still more serious error is the idea that from all eternity this Person in the Godhead possessed a material form fit to bring Him within reach of the senses. This is inconsistent with the spirituality of God, and would have made the Angel-revelation result in the very misunderstanding which it was intended to preclude.
Finally, in regard to the much-mooted question, whether the Angel was created or uncreated, a clear distinction between the Person and the form of appearance suffices for answer. If, as above suggested, the Angel-conception points back to an inner distinction within the Godhead, so as to make the Angel a prefiguration of the incarnate Christ, then plainly the Person appearing in the revelation was uncreated, because God. On the other hand, if by Angel we designate the form of manifestation of which this Person availed Himself, then the Angel was created. It is the same in the case of Christ: the divine Person in Christ is uncreated, for Deity and being created are mutually exclusive. Nevertheless as to His human nature Jesus was created. The only difference in this respect between Him and the Angel is that under the Old Testament the created form was ephemeral, whereas through the incarnation it has become eternal.
We deal with the elements and principles of revelation contained in the life of each of the three great patriarchs successively. What the three have in common is treated in the discussion of Abraham, so that under the head of Isaac and Jacob only the new material connected with each is examined.
THE PATRIARCH ABRAHAM
[1] The principle of election
The first outstanding principle of divine procedure with the patriarchs is the principle of election. Hitherto the race as a whole had been dealt with. Or, as in Noah's case, there had been election of
a new race out of an old one given over to destruction. Here one family is taken out of the number of existing Shemitic families, and with it, within it, the redemptive, revelatory work of God is carried forward. This is the tremendous significance of the call of Abraham. Where, after this, revelation is sporadically addressed to those outside the limits of election, the reason is that they have entered into contact with the chosen family. Thus the whole course of the special work of God is confined within the narrow channel of one people. Deists and all sorts of Rationalists frequently argued from this to the incredibility of Scriptural supernaturalism. If, they argued, God had gone to the trouble of introducing such a process of supernaturalism, He would have certainly taken pains to make it universal. Looked at closely, this argument proves a reflex of the general spirit of cosmopolitanism abroad in those times, and which is but one of the unhistorical conceptions of Rationalism. Because the God of Rationalism was at the bottom simply the God of nature, and nature is universal, therefore His self-disclosure must be as wide as nature. No account is had of the abnormal features of a state of sin, nor of the unique exigencies of a procedure of redemption. No distinction is felt between the beginning and early stages of the divine work and its later maturing. It should have been created allfinished, incapable of further progress from the outset. And, owing to this false perspective, or rather lack of perspective, the proximate narrowing and the ultimate universalizing are not kept in mind as mutually conditioning each other.
It must be acknowledged that election has also a permanent significance, of which we shall presently speak. But first of all, its temporal, instrumental purpose comes under consideration, and this is what the Rationalists failed to observe. The election of Abraham, and in the further development of things, of Israel, was meant as a particularistic means towards a universalistic end. Nor is this merely a later theological construction, made from looking back upon the finished process; from the outset there were, accompanying the narrowing steps, indications of an ultimate service to be rendered, by the election just beginning, to the cause of universalism. The very
fact of Canaan being chosen for the abode of the sacred family was an indication of this kind. For although, compared with Mesopotamia, Canaan was a place of relative seclusion, and this entered as one motive for putting the patriarchs there, nevertheless archaeological research of recent times has shown that in itself Canaan was by no means a land lying isolated, aside from the great commerce and international life of the ancient world. It was actually a land where the lines of intercourse crossed. In the fulness of time its strategic position proved of supreme importance for the spreading abroad of the Gospel unto the whole earth.
The ultimate universalistic intent is also signified in the meeting between Abraham and Melchizedek. Melchizedek stood outside the circle of election recently formed. He was a representative of the earlier, pre-Abrahamic, knowledge of God. His religion, though imperfect, was by no means to be identified with the average paganism of the tribes. Abraham recognized the El 'Elyon, whom Melchizedek worshipped, as identical with his own God [Gen. 14:18, 19]. He gives him the tithe, and receives from him the blessing bestowed in the name of El 'Elyon, both actions of religious significance.
And not only indirectly or typically was this principle brought out; in the most explicit form at the very beginning Abraham was told that in him should 'all the families of the earth be blessed' [Gen. 12:3]. There is some uncertainty as to the exact rendering of the words standing in the Hebrew for 'shall be blessed'. In some passages where later the same divine promise is repeated [Gen. 22:18; 26:4] the species of the verb employed is the Hithpael. This admits of no other than the reflex rendering: 'in thee the nations of the earth shall bless themselves'. In other passages the Niphal species is found [Gen. 12:3; 18:18; 28:14]. The Niphal can be either passive or reflexive. It has been proposed, for the sake of uniformity, to make the sense in all passages the reflexive one. The English Versions, on the other hand, have forced the two passages where the Hithpael occurs, to bear a passive meaning, which is against the grammar. Both Peter and Paul,
quoting the promise in the New Testament, translate passively 'shall be blessed' [Acts 3:25; Gal. 3:8]. So did the Septuagint before, without discrimination of readings in the original. The quotations by the Apostles necessitate the retaining of the passive force in the Niphal passages. Still the reflexive sense in the other places also is not void of religious import. Reflexively translated, the statement means that the nations of the earth will make proverbial use of Abraham's name in invoking upon themselves good fortune: 'Wish that we were as blessed as Abraham'. Delitzsch goes so far as to vindicate for this the full spiritual sense inhering in the passive on the following ground: If the nations of the earth make Abraham's name a formula of blessing, then they thereby express themselves desirous of participating in his destiny, and under the divine plan of salvation it is so arranged that to the desire for the blessing the inheritance of the blessing is joined. In other words the proverbial use of the patriarch's name after this fashion would be equivalent to the exercise of faith. It is doubtful, however, whether this can be maintained, since naturally in the case of the wishers the desire would relate to temporal prosperity. Besides, in Gen. 12:2, 3, where the promise appears for the first time, the context indicates that a distinction is drawn between the lower and the higher aspect of the matter. In fact here three things are distinguished; first we have 'be thou a blessing', which is actually the proverbial use; then the promise continues, 'I will bless them that bless thee, and him that curses thee will I curse', which describes a determination of the lot of outsiders according to the attitude assumed by them towards Abraham; finally the closing words read, 'and in thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed'. Here evidently the third part of the promise is climacteric and must reach beyond the first and the second.
The history of the patriarchs is more universalistic than that of the Mosaic period. When the people were organized on a national basis and hedged off from other nations by the strict, seclusive rules of the law, the universalistic design was forced somewhat into the background. Further, through the conflict between Egypt and the
Hebrews the real relation to the outside world became one of conflict. In the patriarchal period the opposite to this was true. Little was done to make the life of the people of God, even in an external religious sense, different from that of their environment. No ceremonial system on a large scale was set up to stress a distinction. Circumcision was the only rite instituted, and since this was also practised by the surrounding tribes, even it did not really differentiate. And positively also the principles on which God dealt with the patriarchs were of a highly spiritual nature, such as would make them universally applicable. Paul has a profound insight into this universalistic purport of patriarchal religion. His main contention with the Judaizers was that they insisted upon interpreting the patriarchal period on the basis of the Mosaic period. The reasoning [Gal. 3:15ff.] is in substance as follows: through the diatheke with Abraham the relation between God and Israel was put on a foundation of promise and grace; this could not be subsequently changed, because the older arrangement remains regulative for later institutions [vs 15], and the law was by no less than 430 years later than the Abrahamic berith. The revealed religion of the Old Testament in this respect resembles a tree whose root system and whose crown spread out widely, while the trunk of the tree confines the sap for a certain distance within a narrow channel. The patriarchal period corresponds to the root growth; the freely expanding crown to the revelation of the New Testament; and the relatively constricted form of the trunk to the period from Moses to Christ.
We must not forget, however, that election forms also a permanent feature in the divine procedure, and consequently remains, although with a different application, in force at the present time, no less than in the days of the Old Testament. In regard to individuals, the divine saving grace is always a differentiating principle. There is a people of God, a chosen people, a people of election, as truly today as in the time of the patriarchs. Of this likewise Paul was intensely conscious. We find him in the Epistle to the Romans reasoning in what at first sight appears to be a self-contradictory manner. On the one hand, as
between Jew and Gentile, he upholds the principle of universalism, and proves it from the patriarchal history [Gal. 4:22ff.]; on the other hand, as between Jew and Jew he insists upon discrimination; not all who are descended from Abraham are children of God and of the promise [Rom. 9:6ff.]. The elective principle, abolished as to nationality, continues in force as to individuals. And even with respect to national privilege, while temporarily abolished now that its purpose has been fulfilled, there still remains reserved for the future a certain fulfilment of the national elective promise. Israel in its racial capacity will again in the future be visited by the saving grace of God [Rom. 11:2, 12, 25].
[2] The objectivity of the gifts bestowed
The second distinctive feature of God's revelation to the patriarchs concerns the objectivity of the gifts which it bestows. We have here the beginning of a factual religion, a religion attaching itself to objective divine interpositions on behalf of man. Not that the inward, subjective aspect is lacking, but only that it is developed in close dependence on the external support. God does not begin with working upon the inward psychical states of the patriarchs, as though they were subjects for reform—an unbiblical attitude which is, unfortunately, characteristic of too much of modern religion. He begins with giving them promises. The keynote is not what Abraham has to do for God, but what God will do for Abraham. Then, in response to this, the subjective frame of mind that changes the inner and outer life is cultivated.
Closely connected with this feature is another, the historicalprogressive character of the religion of revelation. In it the allimportant thing is that God has acted in the past, is acting in the present, and promises to act in the future. Those who live under it always look back into the past, that is to say, their piety has a solid basis of tradition. Even when desiring to make progress they do not believe in the possibility of real, healthy progress without continuity with the past; they love and revere what has gone before, and dare to
criticize the present in the light of the past, as well as in the light of reason, where it is necessary. Their contentedness is not of the superficial kind, such as would interfere with profound expectation from the future. At the same time they do not depend for the progress in the future on their own acquired potencies or powers, but on the same supernatural interposition and activity of God, which have produced the present out of the past. Biblical religion is thoroughly eschatological in its outlook.
Above all it is, as it was already with the patriarchs, a religion of modesty, for modesty is in religion as elsewhere a fruit that grows on the tree of historic reverence only. The specific difference in this point between Biblical religion and pagan religions, particularly nature-religions, is easily observable. Nature-religion revolves around the thought of what the deity is for all men and under all circumstances. It presents to the worship of its devotees a face the same yesterday, today, and for ever. There is no action of the deity here, no history, no progress.
The objective action of God was for the patriarchs interlinked with the three great promises. These were first, the chosen family would be made into a great nation; secondly, that the land of Canaan would be their possession; thirdly, that they were to become a blessing for all people.
[3] The promises are fulfilled supernaturally
Next to the objectivity of these three things promised, we notice as the third important feature of the revelation, that it emphasizes most strongly, both in word and act, the absolute monergism of the divine power in accomplishing the things promised; otherwise expressed, the strict supernaturalism of the procedure towards fulfilling the promises. This explains why, in the life of Abraham, so many things proceed contrary to nature. Not as though contrariness-to-nature possessed any positive value for its own sake. The contrariness is simply chosen as the most convenient practical means for
demonstrating that nature was transcended here. Abraham was not permitted to do anything through his own strength or resources to realize what the promise set before him. With reference to the third promise this was excluded by the nature of the case. But in regard to the other two it might have seemed as if he might have contributed something toward the end in view. In point of fact he attempted to proceed on the principle of synergism in proposing to God that Ishmael should be considered the seed of the promise. But this was not accepted for the reason of Ishmael's being the product of nature, whereas a supernatural product was required [Gen. 17:18, 19; Gal. 4:23]. Abraham was kept childless until an age when he was 'as good as dead', that the divine omnipotence might be evident as the source of Isaac's birth [Gen. 21:1–7; Rom. 4:19–21; Heb. 11:11; Isa. 51:2]. The last mentioned explains the divine philosophy of this, to the naturalistic standpoint, so strange course of action: 'Look unto Abraham your father, and unto Sarah that bare you; for when he was but one I called him, and I blessed him, and made him many'. In connection with the second promise we can observe the same thing. Abraham was not allowed to acquire any possession in the land of promise. Yet he was rich and might easily have done so. But God Himself intended to fulfil this promise also without the co-operation of the patriarch; and Abraham seems to have had some apprehension of this, for he explains his refusal to accept any of the spoils from the king of Sodom by the fear lest the latter should say, 'I have made Abram rich' [Gen. 14:21–23].
THE DIVINE NAME 'EL-SHADDAI'
This supernaturalism in God's dealing with the patriarchs finds expression in the characteristic divine name for the period. This is the name El-Shaddai. In this full form the name is found six times in the Pentateuch, and once in Ezekiel. The passages are: Gen. 17:1; 28:3; 35:11; 43:14; 48:3; Ex. 6:3; Ezek. 10:5. To the six Pentateuch references a seventh may have to be added if the reading in Gen. 49:25 be changed from eth-Shaddai to El-Shaddai. The shorter, possibly abbreviated, form (Shaddai) occurs more frequently in the
other books of the Old Testament. In Job it occurs more than 30 times, and has there been regarded as a symptom either of the antique character of the story, or of its having been written in the style of an older period. In either case it reveals a consciousness of the high age of the name. Further, the name in this shorter form is found twice in the Psalter [68:14; 91:1]; three times in the prophets [Isa. 13:6; Joel. 1:15; Ezek. 1:24]; and once in Ruth [1:21].
Various etymologies have been proposed, some of them quite unworthy of the occasion of its occurrence. Nöldeke finds in the ending ai the possessive suffix, which would yield the meaning 'my Lord'. But the word is never used in address to God, and God uses it of Himself. Where men use it, it is of God in the third person. Others propose to connect the name with a somewhat similar word meaning 'demons' in Deut. 32:17 and Psalm 106:37, two contexts speaking of Israel's idolatry in the wilderness. But the word there is differently vocalized (shedim). There is also a naturalistic interpretation according to which it would mean 'the thunderer'. Our choice seems to lie between the two following etymologies: (a) the word is made up of the note of the relative sha and the adjective dai, 'sufficient', thus meaning 'He who is sufficient', either to Himself or to others. This is to be found in the later Greek versions, which render hikanos. (b) Or it may be derived from the verb shadad, meaning 'to overpower', 'to destroy'. On this derivation the name would mean 'the Overpowerer', 'the Destroyer', or 'the All-powerful One'. This is the view of some of the translators of the Septuagint. In that version it is often rendered ho Pantokrator, 'the All-Ruler'.
The second of these two derivations deserves the preference. It best explains the appearance of the name in patriarchal history. God is there called El-Shaddai, because through the supernaturalism of His procedure He, as it were, overpowers nature in the service of His grace, and compels her to further His designs. Thus the name forms a connecting link between El and Elohim, on the one hand, and Jehovah, the Mosaic name, on the other hand. If the former signify God's relation to nature, and Jehovah is His redemptive name, then
El-Shaddai may be said to express how God uses nature for supernature. A clear connection between the verb shadad and Shaddai is observed in Isa. 13:6 and Joel 1:15. In the Psalter passages and in Ruth the omnipotence and sovereignty of God are clearly emphasized. The conception also fits into the general tenor of Job and Ezekiel.
FAITH AS FOUND IN PATRIARCHAL RELIGION
It is but a reflex of the supernaturalism in the objective sphere, that in the subjective field of patriarchal religion the idea of faith suddenly springs into prominence. This constitutes the fourth important aspect of the doctrinal significance of our period. Gen. 15:6 is the first explicit Biblical reference to faith. Broadly speaking, faith bears a two-fold significance in Scriptural teaching and experience: it is, firstly, dependence on the supernatural power and grace of God; and secondly, the state or act of projection into a higher, spiritual world. Of late it has been treated in the latter sense by preference, and sometimes with an obvious design to minimize its soteric importance. The psychology of faith has been studied, from the theological standpoint not always felicitously, because the Biblical data have not been carefully ascertained. It may be useful to know something about the psychology of faith, but it is of far greater importance to understand its religious function in redemption, and unless the latter is apprehended, the psychology is apt to turn out, from the Biblical point of view, sheer foolishness.
To the Biblical writers faith is not a common denominator to which after some hazy fashion every religious sentiment and aspiration can be reduced. For the reason indicated, faith was in Abraham's life the chief religious act and frame of mind. His whole life was a school of faith in which the divine training developed this grace from step to step. Even at the beginning there was a heavy demand on the patriarch's faith. He was called upon to leave his country, kindred, father's house. And God at first did not name the land of his destination. 'The land that I will show thee' was its sole description.
As Heb. 11:8 tells us: 'He went out, not knowing whither he went'. The statement in Gen. 12:7, that God would give him that particular country, came as a surprise to him. From Gen. 15 we learn that there was at one and the same time in Abraham a relatively mature faith, and an intense desire to have the insufficiency of his faith relieved by further assurance. When God promised that his posterity should be numerous as the stars, he believed and it was reckoned to him for righteousness. But with reference to the promised inheritance of the land he doubted.
There is fine psychological observation here. Faith and a desire for more faith frequently go hand in hand. The reason is that through faith we lay hold upon God, and in grasping the infinite object, the utter inadequacy of each single act of appropriation immediately reveals itself in the very act. It is the same in the Gospel: 'Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief' [Mark 9:24]. The climax of the training of Abraham in faith came, when God asked him to sacrifice Isaac, his son. Here again the terms descriptive of the surrender asked are multiplied to bring out its greatness: 'Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest, even Isaac'. Correspondingly here the strongest terms of divine asseveration are used in restating the promise [Gen. 22:2, 16–18], It ought to be remembered that Isaac was surrendered to God not merely as an object of paternal affection, but as the exponent and instrument and pledge of the fulfilment of all the promises, which thus appeared to perish with his death.
Abraham's faith offers a good opportunity for analysing the ingredients of faith in general. At first sight it seems to take its point of departure from belief, assent to the veracity of a statement. This then would be followed by trust, as a second act called forth by and based on the belief. In point of fact, however, this sequence is not quite in accord with the psychological process. The matter to be assented to through belief is, in religion, and was in Abraham's case particularly, not something mentally demonstrable, or axiomatically certain before all demonstration. There entered into it a personal factor, viz., the trustworthiness of God, who made the declaration of