Hail and Well Met

One of the books that became a major influence on how I approach the Bible is The Art of Biblical Narrative by Robert Alter. A professor of Hebrew and Comparative Literature at UC Berkeley, Alter sees the OT with the eyes of a literary critic, subjecting the biblical texts to the kind of critical analysis one might apply to the works of Shakespeare. The texts display literary artistry and are not simply cobbled together from various sources.

In chapter 3 of the book, Alter speaks of something I’ve written about in previous articles, how the same story gets told two or three times, sometimes with the same characters:

Three times a patriarch is driven by famine to a southern region where he pretends that his wife is his sister, narrowly avoids a violation of the conjugal bond by the local ruler, and is sent away with gifts. Twice Hagar flees into the wilderness from Sarah’s hostility and discovers a miraculous well and that story itself seems only a special variation of the recurrent story of bitter rivalry between a barren, favored wife and a fertile co-wife or concubine. That situation, in turn, suggests another oft-told tale in the Bible, of a woman long barren who is vouchsafed a divine promise of progeny, whether by God himself or through a divine messenger or oracle, and who then gives birth to a hero. (p. 49)

Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear

Alter provides a modern-day example that particularly stuck with me over the years. Think of the gun-slinging hero in Westerns, able to draw and outshoot the bad guys before they can even pull their triggers. In a similar analogy I used way back when I began my blog five years ago, suppose that centuries from now, only a dozen Western movies have been preserved. In all but one, the hero has such a “hyperreflexive arm”. In the one exception, the hero has a withered arm and has taught himself to shoot from a rifle slung over his back.

Alter imagines that, having studied the surviving samples of 20^th-century Western cinema, future scholars might hypothesize these are all derivations of one original story of a hero with lightning reflexes. The oddball story of the rifleman with a withered arm would be a variant from a different source tradition.

Unlike these imaginary scholars of Western cinema studies, we who have seen untold number of Westerns from the Lone Ranger to Matt Dillon know that the image of the quick-on-the-draw gunfighter is a convention in that genre. When you have a major departure from the convention, the uniqueness tells you something about the character or story. In this case, it might be the hero’s determination to overcome a physical handicap or the rifle provides some advantage over the typical six-shooter.

Alter calls these conventions “type-scenes” and identifies several in the Bible: “the annunciation … of the birth of the hero to his barren mother; the encounter with the future betrothed at a well; the epiphany in the field; the initiatory trial; danger in the desert and the discovery of a well or other form of sustenance; the testament of the dying hero” (p. 51).

Betrothal type-scenes

Alter spends the rest of the chapter discussing a particular convention he calls the “betrothal type-scene” in which the hero of the story meets his future bride at a well in a foreign land. He draws water for the “girl” (how she is usually referenced) who then rushes home bringing news of the stranger. The stranger is invited to a meal, after which the betrothal between the stranger and the girl is finalized. 

I’ll skip over the first betrothal type-scene in Genesis for now and return to it later. In the second example (Gen 29:1-20), Jacob, escaping from his brother’s wrath, arrives at a well in a foreign land. Rachel arrives to water her flock but a large stone covers the well’s mouth. Jacob moves the massive stone and waters her flock. After Jacob informs Rachel that he is her kinsman, she runs to tell her father, Laban. The closed well is a metaphor for Rachel’s closed womb and Jacob’s labor in moving the stone foreshadows the various obstacles he will need to overcome in securing his bride and making his fortune. Stones also feature prominently in the Jacob cycle of stories.

The third example comes from Exodus (2:15b-21) where Moses, escaping from Pharaoh’s wrath in Egypt, arrives by a well in Midian. Zipporah and her six sisters come to water their flock but are driven off from the well by shepherds. Faced not just with an inanimate obstacle but with enemies, Moses drives off the hostile shepherds and waters the flock of Zipporah and her sisters. How Moses rises to the challenge is entirely appropriate for someone who has killed an Egyptian taskmaster, will later face off with Pharaoh to liberate his people, and become Israel’s military commander for the next forty years. That the tale is briefly told is typical of how the Torah doesn’t dwell on Moses’ personal life.

Elizarus and Rebekah at the Well (1670s) byJohann Carl Loth. The name of Abraham's oldest and most-trusted servant isn't given in Gen 24, but earlier in Gen 15:2 Abram laments that without a son, "Eliezer of Damascus" will be his heir.

Rebekah takes charge

Now that we have reviewed a couple of examples, let’s return to the first betrothal type-scene (Gen 24:10-61) and see how it differs from the simpler stories we just examined.

The main difference is that it is Abraham’s servant – instead of Isaac – who travels to the foreign land. The servant showers Rebekah with gifts that her brother is quick to notice. This is revealing of Laban’s grasping nature and why he will later become one of Jacob’s obstacles.

Alter says this is the only example in the Bible of a surrogate meeting the future bride. This is fitting because Isaac is a passive and shadowy figure in Genesis. We last saw him about to be sacrificed at God’s request. He’s not mentioned again until this betrothal episode, and then he only appears at the end to take Rebekah as his wife. Isaac appears in Gen 26 but these are recycled stories (wife-sister, treaty with Abimelech, dispute over wells, and origin of the name of Beersheba) from the Abraham cycle. Isaac plays a part in Gen 27 in which Jacob steals his blessing from Esau, but by then Isaac is old and blind.

The other major departure is that Rebekah draws water for the stranger (= the servant) instead of the other way around. The number of actions (11 verbs in the four verses of vv. 16-20) Rebekah takes (drawing water, filling her jar, pouring, giving drink, etc.) are emblematic of the dominant role she later plays (taking, cooking, dressing, giving) in the story of securing the blessing for her favored son, Jacob (Gen 27). As the most-controlling of all the matriarchs, it is appropriate that she dominates her betrothal scene.

Jesus the Bridegroom

Being a professor of Hebrew literature, Robert Alter limits his analysis to the OT. But if we include the NT, we see something that looks like a betrothal type-scene in the story of Jesus meeting the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4:1-42. Once again we have a stranger (Jesus) in a foreign land (Samaria) who is sitting beside Jacob’s well about noon when a Samaritan woman arrives to draw water. A conversation ensues, after which the woman leaves her water jar behind and returns to the city to inform its citizens of the stranger she just met. Moved by her testimony, they invite Jesus to stay with them for a couple of days.

A major difference in this version is that, instead of a maiden, we have a five-times married woman. There is no actual exchange of water, although the subject of water is the lynchpin of the dialogue that ensues in which Jesus contrasts the stagnant water of the well with his living water (the gift he has to offer). The episode ends not with a betrothal contract but with the townsfolk coming to believe in Jesus.

Understanding the literary conventions puts the modern reader of the Bible in the mind of the originally intended audience. When we watch a Western and see the hero face off with the bad guy on a dusty street in front of a saloon, we expect a shootout. Similarly, when the ancient audience saw the hero arrive at a well in a foreign land, they expected he would meet his future wife there. Knowing how the scene is supposed to play out, the audience – modern or ancient – revels in any twists from the standard convention. As the saying goes, “God is in the details.”

The Gospel According to Mary Magdalene

About a year ago I read a movie review of Mary Magdalene, directed by Garth Davis (Lion). I was busy that weekend but thought I’d check it out the following weekend. After a one-week run at theaters in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, the closest theater still showing it was in San Antonio. A five-hour road trip was not in cards, so I resolved to catch it on cable and finally had that opportunity when it recently appeared on Showtime.

My impressions were that it is an amazingly quiet movie, hushed tones, very understated. As would be expected of a movie focused on a female character, it is a feminist movie in that Mary defies cultural rules imposed on women and is treated as an equal to the male disciples. The movie is a little revisionist because Mary is not presented as a reformed prostitute (how she is typically portrayed in popular media) or the wife of Jesus (a major theme of Dan Brown’s book The Da Vinci Code). But mostly the movie is a re-envisioning of the gospel story as seen through the eyes of one of Jesus’ female disciples.

What do we know about Mary Magdalene?

The NT sources don’t tell us a whole lot about Mary Magdalene:

• Had seven demons driven from her (Lk 8:2)
• Among the women who travelled with Jesus and financially supported his ministry (Lk 8:1-3)
• Among the women who witnessed the crucifixion (Mt 27:55f; Mk 15:40f; Jn 19:25)
• Went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body and found the tomb empty (Mt 28:1-8; Mk 16:1-8; Lk 24:1-11; Jn 20:1-3)
• Witnessed the risen Jesus and told the apostles about it (Mt 28:9-10; Jn 20:14-18) 

Obviously, filling out a 2-hour movie will require some creative license.

While implied in her name, the NT does not explicitly state Mary comes from the city of Magdala in Galilee. This was a fairly large city of some 40,000 people, most of them Gentile, and was a main fishing and export center in the region.

Also, you will note that nowhere in the gospels is Mary referred to as a prostitute. That was a later invention of Pope Gregory the Great (d. 604), conflating stories of the sinful woman who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears (Lk 7:36-50) and Mary of Bethany who anointed his feet with perfume (Jn 12:1-8).

Outside the NT, Mary appears prominently in some Gnostic gospels. In these, she symbolizes the Gnostic church and is opposed by Peter who represents the apostolic church. As one whom Jesus loved more than any other, she was given secret knowledge directly by Jesus that was not handed down through the apostles.

Poster from the 2018 UK release of Mary Magdalene

The portrait of Mary in Mary Magdalene

The movie begins with Mary (Rooney Mara) working hard in the family’s fishing business and unhappy with the idea of an arranged marriage to a local widower. Her strong opposition to the union convinces her family she has a demon. After traditional exorcisms almost kill her, one of her brothers calls in Jesus (Joaquin Phoenix), who happens to be passing through town, to heal her. After a brief chat with Mary, Jesus declares, “There are no demons here.”

Mary is captivated by Jesus’ preaching and healings. She abandons her family to be baptized by him and becomes his first female disciple. When she tells Jesus that the women of Magdala were too afraid to be baptized by the male disciples, Jesus begins to preach to women as well and Mary baptizes the women who come forward to follow Jesus.

When Mary hears Jesus speak of the kingdom of God, she instinctively understands it is something we bring about through our actions while the male disciples believe that Jesus will overthrow Roman domination in order to bring about a new world. Jesus pairs up Mary with Simon Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor) and sends them out to preach. They arrive in a village in Samaria where the Romans have massacred most of the populace. Peter is ready to leave the starving survivors to their fate but Mary cares for them in their dying moments and Peter realizes the power of mercy.

After Jesus initiates a riot in the Temple, all the male disciples expect Jesus will inaugurate a revolt against the Romans. But when Jesus fails to carry forward the expected revolution, Judas (Tahar Rahm) tries to force his hand with disastrous consequences.

Mary holds a lonely vigil outside Jesus’ tomb and, in the morning speaks to the risen Jesus. She tells the male disciples that Jesus appeared to her and told her the kingdom they all worked for is here already, within us. While Peter believes she had an experience of the risen Lord, he sees it as a sign that Jesus will return some day, bringing the true kingdom. Peter cannot accept that Jesus chose her as the recipient of a “special message” when all the men were chosen to build the one church, with one message. Rejected by the men, Mary will not remain and stay silent, so she goes off on her own.

How does the movie compare to what we know about Mary?

Portrayed as a poor fisher woman, Mary is not a woman of means capable of providing for Jesus and his disciples out of her own resources. Wealthy women did exist in that time. For an example of this, I think of Paul’s first known Christian convert in Europe, Lydia of Thyatira (Acts 16:11-15), a financially independent woman with a business, house, servants, and so on. A large cosmopolitan city like Magdala would have provided more opportunities for a Jewish businesswoman than the small village depicted in the film.

The movie gives short shrift to Mary’s role in Jesus’ crucifixion and burial. Knocked out at Jesus’ arrest, she arrives in time to see him carrying his cross, but is too overwhelmed with grief to follow. She eventually makes it to the foot of the cross as Jesus breathes his last and helps with the burial. Given these are the moments when Mary first appears in the gospels, this choice of the writers or director here is rather surprising. Perhaps they felt this was well-trod ground quite sufficiently covered in other movies about Jesus?

There is a Gnostic flavor to Mary’s claim to the male disciples that she received a special revelation from the risen Jesus, but the message she presents in the movie is a completely orthodox one. We, the audience, should know that in time Peter and the others will receive their own vision of the risen Lord and will eventually come around to understand the gospel as Mary presents it to them. But for the less biblically literate among us, the movie’s presentation could be seen as elevating Mary at the expense of the male disciples.

The movie ends with a postscript stating that in 2016, the Vatican formally identified Mary of Magdala as “apostle of the apostles”. This is a reference to a proclamation that elevated her July 22 memorial day to that of feast day, the same as the other apostles in the Church calendar.

In closing, I offer the opening prayer for the Feast Day of St. Mary Magdalene:

In the garden He appeared to Mary Magdalene, who loved him in life, who witnessed his death on the cross, who sought him as he lay in the tomb, who was the first to adore him when he rose from the dead, and whose apostolic duty was honored by the apostles so that the good news of life might reach the ends of the earth.

Our Homeboy Jesus

If you have ever watched one of those movies “based on a true story,” you may have noticed a disclaimer in the end credits that goes something like this:

This is a dramatization inspired by certain actual events. Some of the names have been changed and some of the events, dialogue and chronology have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes.

It’s a fact of life that the motion picture medium is different from the written word. An author can explain background at length on the printed page in ways not available to the director in a two-hour movie. So the script writer will reshuffle events and combine characters to tell the story in a fashion that will be intelligible to an audience who has little or no familiarity with the original events.

Inspired by Actual Events

Luke takes that approach with the Third Gospel. It opens (1:1-4) with an acknowledgement of the existence of other gospels (“many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events”) and explains “I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account.” He will incorporate the pre-existing material into his own work, but Luke feels he has a free-hand to shape the material to suit his theological needs because his sources did the same.

Biblical scholars know that one of Luke’s sources was the gospel of Mark. We’ve seen how Luke follows Mark’s structure in beginning his account of the public ministry with John the Baptist and Jesus’ baptism, followed by Jesus being tempted in the desert. Here is where Luke departs from Mark’s chronology. After the temptation in the desert, Mark announces the arrest of John the Baptist and Jesus’ return to Galilee (Mk 1:14). Over the course of the next few chapters, Mark documents the calling of the first disciples and various healings and parables. It is not until chapter 6 that Mark recounts Jesus’ return to Nazareth where he is rejected (6:1-6). Matthew follows Mark’s chronology and doesn’t report Jesus’ rejection in Nazareth until halfway through his gospel (13:54-58).

In contrast, Luke goes his own way in placing Jesus’ rejection in Nazareth (4:16-30) as the kickoff of his public ministry. Why? One reason seems to be that Luke wants to use this scene to highlight two themes of his gospel: Jesus as fulfillment of the OT and Jesus as the “sign to be contradicted” promised in Simeon’s prophecy (Lk 2:34). A second reason is that it portrays Jesus as “teacher,” another favorite theme for Luke (Jesus is described as “teacher” 13 times in the gospel).

Fictionalized for Dramatic Purposes

Luke takes the barebones of the Marcan account (“he began to teach in the synagogue and many who heard him were astonished”) and fleshes it out with details: Jesus stood up to read, was given the book of Isaiah, reads the passage (a composite of Isaiah 61:1-2 and 58:6), gave the book to the attendant, and sat down with all eyes fixed upon him. ). In the synagogue, the reading of Scripture would be done standing while the interpretation would be done while seated. Luke builds the tension as the audience – both in the synagogue and readers of the gospel – wait to hear Jesus say, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Initially, his audience seemed impressed and ask, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” One gets the impression of “hometown boy makes good.” After this, though, the episode gets a little incoherent.

In the Marcan source, the reaction of the Nazarenes is more along the lines of “who does he think he is?” They call him “the carpenter, the son of Mary” and take offense with him. That’s when Jesus says, “A prophet is not without honor, except in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house.” The implication is that his immediate and extended family also rejected him (in Mark’s gospel, Jesus’ family thought he had lost his mind) and Jesus marveled at the lack of belief in Nazareth.

The rejection in Nazareth makes sense in the context of Mark (and Matthew) because this occurs after Jesus has already spent considerable time touring Galilee preaching and healing. But in Luke, no miracles or healings have yet been reported. His initial reception in Nazareth seems quite receptive.

“Well, that escalated quickly.” Jesus is Rejected in his Hometown, woodcut from Images of Scriptural History (1593) planned by Jerome Nadal, S.J. 

Things Get Ugly

That’s when we see material that only appears in Luke’s version of the story. Jesus cites a proverb (“Physician, heal thyself!) and discerns the crowd desires to see him perform miracles like he did at Capernaum. But Luke has not reported any miracles performed in Capernaum! This is a giveaway that this passage originally occurred later in the ministry and, although Luke moved it to the beginning of the ministry, he didn’t bother to eliminate the inconsistency.

It’s at this point (v. 24) that Jesus delivers the “no prophet without honor” line from Mark except Luke leaves off the part (in italics in the quote above) about the prophet being rejected by his kin since, in Luke’s gospel, the family of Jesus were believers. Vv. 25-27 are also lines only found in Luke as Jesus compares himself to the prophets Elijah and Elisha who were sent to help non-Israelites.

In the final verses (28-30) we finally see those in the synagogue filled with rage, determined to throw him off a cliff. Because Nazareth wasn’t built on a cliff, this may be an example of Luke’s fuzzy geography, or he may have wanted to foreshadow the crucifixion. Luke’s vague description of Jesus’ escape (“he passed through the midst of them and went on his way”) should not be considered a miracle because that would have given the Nazarenes the miracle they were hoping to see.

Looking back on how Jesus’ message was received over the course of forty years, Luke summarizes the gospel message in this passage. Jesus was rejected by his own but found acceptance among Gentiles. Jesus proclaimed himself as the fulfillment of OT promises, but provoked the fury of his co-religionists. Initially drawing crowds eager for the next miracle, the same crowds turned against him and sought to destroy him. Jesus escaped with his life this time because his hour had not come, but the clock is ticking.

The Crooked Line of Descent

Matthew’s gospel is the first book of the NT and the very beginning of Matthew (1:1-17) is one of those boring genealogies that we’re used to seeing in Genesis. Just as the use of genealogies in Genesis served the purpose of linking Abraham to Noah and to Adam, Matthew uses a genealogy to link Jesus to Abraham. In v. 17 Matthew explicitly divides his list into three parts:

1. From Abraham to David
2. From David to the Babylonian Exile
3. From the Babylonian Exile to Jesus

The words Matthew uses (“book of the genesis”) to introduce his genealogy in v. 1 hearken back to the toledot formula we saw at the beginning of each of the genealogies in Genesis. He also specifies that Jesus Christ (= messiah) is both son of David and son of Abraham. By tracing Jesus’ descent through the Davidic line of kings, Matthew emphasizes the sonship of David, an important theme in the first chapter of his infancy narrative. By tracing descent back to Abraham, Matthew is also stressing his second theme that Jesus is the realization of God’s promise to Abraham by whom “all nations of the earth shall bless themselves” (Gen 22:18). This promise will be fulfilled when the magi come to pay homage to the Christ child.

Artificial Tree

Matthew’s construction is highly artificial. Luke (3:23-38) also provides a genealogy of Jesus. Unlike Matthew who works forward from Abraham, Luke works backwards from Jesus all the way to “Adam, son of God.” A quick comparison of the two genealogies show them diverging after David, with Matthew tracing Jesus’ descent through Solomon and Luke through a non-regal son, Nathan. This poses a problem for biblical inerrantists. A popular explanation is that Matthew cites Jesus’ genealogy through Joseph while Luke documents Mary’s genealogy. It is true that Matthew is focused on Joseph while Luke focuses on Mary, but Luke writes “Joseph, the son of Heli” and Matthew says “Jacob the father of Joseph.” They are both clearly describing Joseph's line of descent.

Matthew says that there were fourteen generations in each of his three parts, but that’s only true of the second section. In both the first and last parts there are fourteen names, but only thirteen generations. Oops! And to get fourteen generations in the second part, he had to skip over several kings. According to the OT Joram was not the father of Uzziah; there were three additional generations between these two kings. More problems for inerrantists.

Jesus' family tree. The genealogy of Jesus according to Matthew lists an assortment of known and unknown names and links Jesus to Abraham and the rest of the OT.

From Abraham to David

The first section has some familiar names, beginning with the patriarchs of Genesis: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Judah. Anyone familiar with the OT stories would know of the covenant made with Abraham and his act of faith in being willing to sacrifice Isaac. But the patriarchs also behaved badly at times. Jacob cheated his elder brother out of his birthright and Judah and his brothers sold Joseph into slavery. Perhaps Matthew wants to remind the reader of that by specifically mentioning “Judah and his brothers.” Matthew also said that Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar. It’s very odd in a genealogy to mention the mother. We’ll return to this later.

From David to the Babylonian Exile

Starting at the high point in Israel’s history with David and Solomon, we pass through a series of kings that ends with the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonians and the end of the monarchy. David gets mentioned more than anyone else in the OT. Yet he sinned by taking Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite, and then arranging for Uriah’s death when Bathsheba became pregnant. Matthew alludes to that incident in citing David as “the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah.” With the exception of Hezekiah and Josiah, all the other kings in the list were corrupt, incompetent or idolators. Although they were God’s representatives on earth, the kings listed in the second section were hardly exemplars of faith.

From the Babylonian Exile to Jesus

The final section covers the period from the exile in Babylon to the return and occupation by first the Greeks and then the Romans. It lists mostly unknown names. We don’t know where Matthew got these names and they don’t match the few post-exilic names that are documented in 1 Chronicles 3:19-24. Just as the line of Jesus’ descent goes through rich and powerful kings, it also wends its way through poor and powerless unknowns. If the names and stories we know in the other section are any judge, then the final section has its mix of saints and sinners – mostly sinners – as well.

What about the Women?

Scattered through Matthew’s genealogy are a few names of the mothers who made their contribution to the line of descent. From Genesis, we know of Sarah, Rebekah, and Rachel, but those are not names Matthew cites. Instead, he gives us Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and “the wife of Uriah” (Bathsheba). Why mention these women and not the others?

The one thing these women seem to have in common is that there was something irregular or scandalous about them. For example, Tamar’s husbands died before she had a child. As father-in-law, it was Judah’s duty to give her children. When he shirked his duty, Tamar took matters into her own hands and disguised herself as a prostitute. Rahab actually was a prostitute who aided the spies sent into Jericho. Ruth was a Moabite who literally threw herself at the feet of Boaz to get him to marry her. Bathsheba’s story has already been mentioned. Matthew is using these case studies in scandalous relationships to prepare us for the similarly irregular nature of the birth of Jesus.

The Big Picture

The big picture Matthew is drawing indicates that God has a plan, but that plan does not proceed apace without some twists and turns. God has to work with fallible human beings. We are not simply subject to fate, but retain our free will. Similarly, God is free to choose whom he will. It is not always the oldest son or the favored son who appears in the line of succession. Sometimes, the actions of women carry great import in moving the plan forward. 

The genealogy is Matthew’s way of saying that God writes straight with crooked lines, acting through a collection of saints and sinners, the powerful and the powerless to bring about the fulfillment of his promise to Abraham in Jesus Christ.