In my last post, I argued for the study of the Scriptures in their original languages as a means of detecting the significance of linguistic nuance, and how such nuance can inform allegorical and homiletical interpretations of the Biblical text (see pt. 1 here).
This entry will conclude my written thoughts (for now) on that topic; in what follows, specific examples of what I have dubbed “etymological allegory” shall be provided as I attempt to show how crucial the original Hebrew text of the Old Testament and its Greek translation were to the specific interpretations of many early post-Biblical commentators on Scripture. As it will become evident shortly, some of the homiletical meanings gleaned by the Church Fathers and early Rabbis are imperceptible to those who read them without a sufficient understanding of the original languages that the commentators worked with.
For those who missed my first entry on this subject, I define an “etymological allegory” as an alternative spiritual, homiletical, or properly allegorical interpretation of a written passage that is derived by proposing that a linchpin word within an excerpt should be understood according to one of its alternative definitions, not simply the definition that makes the most literal sense according to the context of the passage. Etymological allegory is not an official interpretive category, but it is a helpful name to put on a historical exegetical phenomenon that was practiced by many early expositors of the Hebrew Bible.
Now before we dive into the examples alluded to above, please take note of the following:
1. Two verses comprise the foundation for this post’s exploration into early Jewish and Christian Biblical exegesis. They are Leviticus 1:2 and 2:1:
“Speak to the sons of Israel and say to them, ‘When anyone ( אָדָם ) of you brings an offering to the Lord, you shall bring your offering of livestock from the herd or the flock.'” (Lv. 1:2)
“Now when anyone ( נֶפֶשׁ ) presents a grain offering as an offering to the Lord, his offering shall be of fine flour, and he shall pour oil on it and put frankincense on it.” (Lv. 2:1)
2. Further, two words within these two verses are the focal point of each interpretation:
Hebrew: אָדָם (adam – man, mankind), and נֶפֶשׁ (nefesh – soul, life, person, etc.)
Greek Translation: ἄνθρωπος (anthropos), and ψυχὴ (psuché)
3. Finally, the examples of Scriptural exegesis featured below are taken from two sources:
Leviticus Rabbah – An early Rabbinic homiletical commentary on Leviticus
Theodoret’s The Questions on the Octateuch – A work of Eastern Patristic exegesis
Leviticus Rabbah
Within the confines of Lv. 1:2; 2:1, it is quite clear by means of context that both of the words under consideration are most simply understood as “person,” or “human being.” For this reason (and once again), I consider etymological allegory: any interpretation of those verses which seeks to benefit from a definition other than that which is most contextually obvious—especially if it results in a homiletical, properly allegorical, or even an esoteric explanation of the passage.
It is a discussion that merits far more treatment than what can be provided here, yet in the words that follow, I make two offerings that begin to detail both this concept and that of the magnitude enjoyed by the inspired natures of the Masoretic Text and the Greek Septuagint. I begin with the Midrash Rabbah. Commenting upon Leviticus 1:2, the early homiletic Rabbinic corpus puts forth:
“R. Berekiah said: Man ( אָדָם ) alludes to the first Adam. The Holy One, blessed be He, said to Israel: ‘Let your offering be like the offering of Adam, who, since all things were in his ownership, offered not anything acquired by robbery or violence; and if you act accordingly, It shall please the Lord better than a bullock, etc. (Ps. LXIX, 2)” [i]
The excerpt above is an excellent illustration of etymological allegory; it is an example that reintroduces the opening sentences of the first chapter of Leviticus through the redefining of אָדָם (adam) according to its signification of a proper name—Adam—not its more common rendering informed by the context encircling it. Using the mouthpiece of Rabbi Berekiah, the Midrashic compiler establishes here a firm connection between moral stipulation and that of proper ritual worship. It is a teaching which hinges solely upon the Hebrew word under examination; ergo, without this linguistic foundation on which to build, the author would be unable to show the profound lesson in proper intent with regard to religious devotion that he seeks to demonstrate.
Adam, the first human, along with his female counterpart, “were given dominion over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth;” [ii] God decreed that ownership of all Earth’s life would be granted to these persons who were made in His holy image. Since all beasts belonged to Adam, he could not plunder a neighbor’s herd—even if had wanted to—nor a neighbor’s flock, and knowledge of this very fact should bring a reader to reconsider the purpose behind the divine author’s inclusion of “אָדָם” over “אִישׁ” (ish – man, husband) and even “נֶפֶשׁ” in Leviticus 1:2.
Rabbi Berekiah teaches that: just as Adam was without option with regard to stealing a sacrificial animal to offer unto the Holy One, blessed be He, so should those among Adam’s offspring conduct themselves; they should act and think as if they too were devoid of such an option. In addition, according to the Midrashic exposition, if one should offer a legitimate sacrifice, culled from the ranks of his own herd, such an offering is more pleasing in the eyes of the LORD than Adam’s (i.e. better than a bullock).
The first man could not steal, for all was his. How then could this man be rewarded when he had no alternative? If God was glorified in Adam’s offering, how much more so is he honored by a follower who gifts Him a sacrifice achieved by honorable means? Truly, the worshiper who wrestles with and overcomes temptation and fights adversity, sacrificing much to and for his Creator, this man stores up treasures in the world to come.
Theodoret of Cyrus
In his Questions on the Octateuch, Theodoret, the once bishop of Cyrus, wrestles with a familiar lexical dilemma:
“We should also point out that he used the term ‘man’ of the one offering an animal: ‘If a man among you offers a gift to the Lord, he shall offer from the cattle, from the oxen, or from the sheep.’ On the other hand, he referred as ‘soul’ to the one who offered the fine flour, ‘If a soul makes a gift of a sacrifice to the Lord, his gift will be of fine flour.’ It is the rational being that offers the irrational beast, the animate soul that offers the inanimate object.” [iii]
In this concise, yet not-so-clear passage, the author begins by taking note of the peculiar difference between the two verses in Leviticus (1:2; 2:1), and he concludes by offering a proverbial statement worthy of its own expository process. Theodoret, who wrote The Questions in Greek, reproduces here the Septuagint’s renderings for “man” (ἄνθρωπος/anthropos) and “soul” (ψυχὴ/psuché), and he hones in on the latter’s association with the transcendent aspect of man to construct—albeit with extreme brevity—an ethical teaching which capitalizes on the juxtaposition of those two complimentary yet contending Greek words.
The last line isn’t explained, nor is it easily understood, however, if I have perceived it correctly, the keys to its insight lie quite close at hand; an examination of Theodoret’s general understanding regarding the sacrificial system shall prove to be fruitful for comprehension. “I suppose not even a fool would deny that God is without need,” [iv] the bishop remarks in his inquisitive commentary; here, Theodoret proposes the belief that ritual sacrifice was deemed necessary not on account of a lack afflicting the Holy One, blessed be He, but as an instructional method through which His children might learn the tenets of orthodox monotheism.
For quite some time, Israel suffered under the yoke of Egypt, and during their unrivaled stint of anguish, God’s holy nation surely became familiar with the idolatrous religious practices of their captors; the Sons of Abraham witnessed the worship of an array of proposed deities who’s semblance likened to that of irrational beasts. Ergo, the LORD found it expedient to institute the sacrificial system as a worthy vehicle for His adoration. Since the Egyptians paid sinful homage to certain gods of theirs depicted as cattle, sheep, and the like, the temporal counterparts of those selfsame idols were commanded to be broken and bled before the one true God, the King of the Universe. Theodoret clarifies:
“Of those defied, He assigned the tamest to sacrifice and declared the others unclean, His purpose being to prevent them from deifying those they abhorred as unclean and from taking as gods those they sacrificed, so that they would adore only the one to whom they sacrificed the animals.” [v]
In the mind of the bishop of Cyrus, the Greek translation of Leviticus does not falter when retaining the connotations of the Hebrew original. Certainly, according to him, the two contrasting words of ἄνθρωπος and ψυχὴ were divinely appointed for an intended purpose; that is, to instruct readers in the ways of God’s righteous jealousy. For it is the “rational being” who sacrifices the “irrational” creature; the rightful place of lowly beasts resides, not above, in the heavens, but under the dominion of he who is created in the image of heaven’s Creator. [vi]
Consequently, base animals, along with all those who possess their likeness (i.e. the deities of Egypt), are unfit for human devotion and worship. If Theodoret’s ethical exposition had ended with “irrational beast,” a significant Biblical truth would have been expounded, yet the bishop continues: it is the “animate soul that offers the inanimate object” before his Lord. At the dawn of reality, we human beings were gifted with the breath of life; therefore, man enjoys a profound supernatural element which brazen idols do not; just as man is greater than the members of the flock and of the herd, he is likewise beyond that of lifeless objects—they are also unfit to bow before.
The essence of the sacrifices performed at the Jerusalem Temple, as understood by Theodoret, promoted the idea that humanity must not give way to its idolatrous inclinations; through action (i.e. the performance of sacrifice), it is a lesson that echoes the very words of the prophet Isaiah. He writes: “They have no knowledge, who carry around their wooden idol and pray to a god who cannot save.” [vii] In his Questions on the Octateuch, The bishop of Cyrus, teases out a lesson in virtue through etymological allegory; by rereading Leviticus 2:1 according to an alternative rendering of ψυχὴ—and considering it in tandem with Lv. 1:2’s ἄνθρωπος—Theodoret effectively discovered applicable truths which are now lost to us readers who examine the verses solely in English.
[i] Freedman, H, and Maurice Simon. Midrash Rabbah Vol. IV: Leviticus. Soncino Press, 1951, 25.
[ii] Gn 1:26 KJV
[iii] Theodoret. The Questions on the Octateuch Vol 2. Edited by John Petruccione. Translated by Robert C. Hill, Catholic University of America Press, 2007, 11.
[iv] Ibid., 5
[v] Ibid.
[vi] Gn 1:26
[vii] Is 45:20b
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