Job

by Samuel E. Balentine

Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary. Smyth & Helwys, Macon, Ga., 2006. 750 pp. $65.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-1­5731-2067-8.

OF THE MAKING OF COMMENTARIES there seems to be no end, and one often wonders if the reduplication of effort on the part of so many senior scholars is the best use of intellectual capital. But there can be no question that Samuel Balentine’s commentary on Job represents a major contribution, not only to studies of the book of Job but also to the project of renovating the biblical commentary as a locus for intellectually serious hermeneutical work.

The Smyth and Helwys Bible Commentary Series sets out an ambitious agenda for its authors, asking them to engage not only the standard range of historical-critical methods but also aspects of the history of interpretation, including the theological tradition, literature, visual arts, and popular culture. Above all, the emphasis is hermeneutical. While such a com­prehensive agenda is commendable as a general goal, the book of Job lends itself exceptionally well to this approach, and in Balentine the project finds an interpreter brilliantly equal to the daunting task.

By and large, Balentine situates his reading of Job within the range of interpretive options that are representative of contemporary Joban scholarship. One will not find here radical challenges or strikingly novel frameworks for interpreting the book. And indeed, that is not really the task of commentary writing. In this volume, however, are many new and creative exegetical insights and juxtapositions with other biblical texts. Balentine takes a moderate approach to the issue of the history of the composition of the book of Job (e.g., the prose tale as probably the oldest part, the Elihu speeches in chs. 32–37 and perhaps the wisdom poem in ch. 28 as later additions, the third cycle as a difficult but intelligible part of the original design of the book). As he notes, although each addition to the book may have been intended to address perceived difficulties, each nevertheless ends up increasing the tensions. Balentine lets exegetical judgment guide him in his decisions about how to read these sections within the book as a whole. He lets Elihu remain as an “intruder,” a later addition to the book, though he grants him a full and thoughtful interpretation. But the rest of the book he reads as a tensive but intelligible whole, however it may have historically come to be. Thus he decides to interpret ch. 28 as Job’s words (though clearly describing other interpretive options). While I am still not persuaded by this interpretive option, Balentine makes the strongest case yet for what these words mean for understanding Job as a character and for the developing issues of the book if they are spoken by Job himself. Similarly, Balentine opts not to treat the transi­tion from the poetry to the concluding prose at 42:7–9 as a sharp fracture line in the book, but rather “as the conclusion to the whole story” (p. 708). Balentine rejects the notion that the prose tale represents simply a return to the status quo ante and instead sees it as reflect­ing and effecting several transformations. Thus it serves as a genuine conclusion, signaling a resolution of key issues. Yet if these characters return to inhabit the world of the prose tale, none of them—including God—is quite the same as he was in chs. 1–2.

Balentine’s interpretation of the conclusion is mediated through his understanding of what occurs in the divine speeches and Job’s response to them in 42:1–6. What happens there is the culmination of an issue that Balentine sees as having run like a red thread through the dialogues: an examination of the nature and meaning of human existence. Indeed, it is one of the signal strengths of Balentine’s commentary that he shows how deeply dialogical the book really is. Although many perceive the friends, Job, and God to be talking past one another, Balentine carefully demonstrates that certain core issues are repeatedly addressed from a variety of different perspectives. Moreover, he gives each one its due, exploring what needs to be taken seriously, even in positions that may have little appeal for the contemporary reader. The dialogue about the status, roles, and responsibilities of humans in the cosmos emerges as the most central of these extended conversations. Thus Balentine sees the animals in the divine speeches as oblique but provocative moral exemplars and God’s harsh address to Job in 40:6–14 as “challenging Job to live still more boldly into the role that God has spe­cially created for human beings ...to participate in the governance of the world with the pride and courage that derives from being charged with responsibilities that are only a littler lower than God’s” (p. 682), a legitimately “proud” role that finds its surprising analogue in Job’s fellow creatures Behemoth and Leviathan. Thus Job’s final, syntactically ambiguous words in 42:6 are his acknowledgment of his transformed understanding of humanity (i.e., “dust and ashes”). If Job is thus transformed, Balentine suggests (though he does not develop the idea in full) that God, too, is transformed through the encounter with Job, subtly acknowledging through the double restoration of Job’s possessions that humans have a right to call God to account for injustice and responding to a prayer that Job prays not only for his friends but also for God (pp. 715–17; see also p. 573).

Balentine’s reading of Job is immensely powerful, and this brief summary of some of its major points does not adequately convey the exegetical richness of his interpretation. Yet there is something that gives me pause. The book emerges from Balentine’s reading as disconcert­ingly “useful.” Although he acknowledges the sublimity of the divine speeches, the emphasis seems to be on the speeches as providing lessons for Job to learn about himself. God encour­ages Job’s participation in their mutual task of just governance. But does this interpretation blunt the edge of a wilder, more terrifying encounter—one that may not be quite as amenable to theological ethics? Does it fall prey to the temptation to “put Leviathan on a leash”? This is the same critique, in fact, that I would make of my own earlier (pre-2003) work on Job. The tension between addressing the legitimate needs of an interpretive community and being able to bring to that community something more disturbing than perhaps even the interpreter wishes to hear is one of the most difficult aspects of Joban interpretation. I suspect that Balentine and I simply disagree about the exegesis of the text, but the meta-issue is important in its own right.

Thus far, I have been discussing Balentine’s commentary as though it were an ordinary commentary—but it is far more than that. One of the features that distinguishes the Smyth and Helwys commentaries is the use of extensive artwork and of sidebars. The sidebars may provide additional critical information (e.g., analyses of the structure, ancient Near Eastern context, discussion of textual problems) or the complementary or divergent views of other scholars, but Balentine often uses them to include poetry and excerpts from novels and lit­erary essays that bear on the issue in question. Sometimes Balentine comments on the excerpts. At other times he simply lets them speak for themselves. It is as though Job were visited not just by the three friends named in the text, but by a whole host of more congenial friends he never knew he had—friends like Emily Dickinson, Shakespeare, John Updike, Robert Frost, Mark Twain, and Langston Hughes. Balentine gestures the reader toward further conversa­tions with these poets and writers, drawing Job squarely into dialogue with a wide swath of the western literary tradition, often in unexpected ways.

While the sidebars enormously enrich the commentary, they do remain, as their physical location indicates, somewhat marginal to the work of the commentary itself (some are not even in the book but only on the accompanying CD). The sections entitled “Connections,” however, are more central, and here one recognizes fully the extraordinary accomplishment of Balentine’s commentary. In too many commentaries, hermeneutical engagement is thin, slapdash, theologically trite, and not much related to the preceding exegesis. Balentine’s herme­neutical work deftly teases out the deep issues of the text and draws out the implications of what the biblical text is talking about for related explorations in philosophy, ethics, theology, popular culture, and life itself. How refreshing to see a biblical scholar engage Martha Nussbaum on the moral significance of the emotions, Elaine Scarry on beauty and justice, or George Steiner on the perils of reading Kafka, and on and on. Yet for all the intellectual breadth and seriousness of these discussions, they are eminently accessible and deeply evocative for the pastoral tasks of preaching, teaching, and pastoral care. Balentine’s commentary stands as a model for what commentary writing could and should be. Even more, what he has accom­plished has profound implications for what theological education should be doing to equip the interpreters of Scripture.

Carol A. Newsom
EMORY UNIVERSITY
ATLANTA, GEORGIA

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The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus

by Amy-Jill Levine

HarperSanFrancisco, San Francisco, 2006. 250 pp. $24.95. 978-0-078966-4.

AMY-JILL LEVINE HAS WRITTEN an important book about the Jewishness of Jesus and the anti-Jewishness of the Christian church. The Misunderstood Jew is informative, provocative, practical, and accessible; it should appeal to a wide spectrum of readers. Levine is Professor of New Testament at Vanderbilt University, and she is an Orthodox Jew. The novelty of her vocation—a Jewish NT professor at a Protestant divinity school—thrusts her into certain limelights and contributes to her becoming a popular figure with the national media. But novelty serves only to attract initial attention and then one must deliver the goods, which Levine has done time and time again in her media presentations, in her public speaking, and now in a publication that includes some of her best material.

About a third of the book is devoted to helping Christians understand certain aspects of their own Scriptures better. Levine reviews the stories of Jesus and the teachings of Paul, explaining various matters from a Jewish perspective. She demonstrates that both Jesus and Paul were often more traditionally Jewish than Gentile Christian readers perceive, and she offers many specific insights that enhance the meaning of various texts. She also exhibits a good eye for homiletical potential. She notes, for instance, the delicious irony of Christian readers responding to the parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector (Luke 18:9–14) by thinking, “Thank heaven I am not sanctimonious, like that Pharisee.”

The rest of the book deals with the potentially more difficult subject of anti-Jewish themes that occur in Christian teaching, preaching, liturgy, and within the canon of the NT itself. Her treatment of this topic is especially helpful for two reasons. First, Levine’s analysis is free of “reverse polemics.” She recognizes that most Christians are persons of good will who have no overt intention of saying or doing things that would be offensive to Jewish people, much less things that would encourage anti-Semitism. She acknowledges with generosity the efforts that many Christian denominations and individuals have made to correct mistakes of the past, and she couches her criticisms in a constructive manner that is hospitable and, thus, easier to accept.

Second, Levine does not just go after the “easy targets” for whom avoiding anti-Jewish subtleties may not be a pressing concern, but also exposes the deficiencies of those Christians who may think that they have been sensitized to these issues and obtained a certain sophis­tication in dealing with them. It will be a rare reader who does not find him or herself under her indictment at one point or another.

Levine discusses, for instance, the propensity for feminist studies to make Jesus a liber­ator of women by exaggerating the marginalized status of women in Second Temple Jewish society. Likewise, liberation theology sometimes portrays Jesus as the champion of the oppressed by castigating the Jewish religion as inherently oppressive. Pacifists talk about how the Jews could not accept Jesus because they were expecting a “warrior messiah.” Levine questions, historically, the accuracy of these portrayals and, theologically, the necessity of Jesus being unique or even exceptional in these respects.

In one brief portion of the book, Levine discusses ways in which advocates of Palestinian rights sometimes employ anti-Jewish stereotypes that are unfair and counter-productive. She singles out Palestinian theologian Naim Ateek as one who is particularly guilty of doing this, documenting the allegation with selected quotes from Ateek’s writings and speeches. This section of the book has drawn ire from a number of left-leaning Christians who have sought to defend Ateek (and the Palestinian movement in general) with claims that Levine confuses anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism. Her position, I think, is more nuanced: she strives in the book to make clear that she has no intention of dismissing “the legitimate claims of the Palestinian people” (p. 183), but wants to challenge language and imagery used in support of those claims that are not ultimately helpful. She has sought to reiterate this point through public statements since the book’s publication: “The end does not justify the means; while an intent may be to do good, the rhetoric used may nevertheless be toxic” (Christian Century, [February 20, 2007], 67).

Levine also discusses a number of practices that seem to be in vogue among Christian churches or theologians who want to improve Jewish-Christian relations: the movement toward speaking of “the Hebrew Scriptures” rather than “the Old Testament”; the trend toward trans­lating Greek Ioudaioi as “Judeans” rather than as “Jews” in certain polemical NT texts; the practice in many Christian churches of celebrating the Eucharist in the context of a seder meal on Maundy Thursday. These, she concludes, are all bad ideas; they may be well-intentioned, but they create more problems than they solve.

Not many readers will agree with Levine on all of her points. She nevertheless engages her readers in faithful conversation about significant issues, and there is no instance in which her points are facetious or unworthy of further consideration. The book is easy to read and accessible to laity; it would make an excellent resource for congregational study groups.
There are instances in which I question her exegesis. She insists (see especially p. 218) that one reason more Jews did not follow Jesus is that he required his followers to leave their homes and families for the sake of the kingdom of God (Luke 18:29), sell their possessions and give the money to the poor (Luke 18:22), and become “eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom” (Matt 19:12). But there is no reason to believe that Jesus demanded such things of all those he considered to be disciples (as Matt 19:11 makes explicit). We hear of many people who had apparently accepted the claims and teaching of Jesus but had not become transient paupers for the kingdom—Mary of Bethany comes to mind (Luke 10:38–42; John 12:1–8).
Likewise, Levine takes Matt 5:31 and 19:9 to mean that “Jesus of Nazareth forbade divorce, and he similarly forbade remarriage after divorce” (p. 140). But Jesus’ words in those passages are intended to shift discussion from “what is allowed” to “what God would want.” His claim is that divorce and remarriage is as repugnant to God as adultery, even when it is conducted with the due process that Torah requires. Such a claim, with which Jesus thinks Moses would concur (Matt 19:8), implies no conclusion that divorce or even remarriage must therefore be forbidden outright. His answer to the Pharisees’ question, “Is it lawful to divorce?” (Matt 19:3) was essentially, “Yes, but that’s not the question you should be asking.”

All things considered, The Misunderstood Jew goes a long way toward helping Christians and Jews to quit bearing false witness against each other. More positively, it may help us to learn from each other’s traditions, benefit from each other’s strengths, and appreciate each other’s shared testimonies to the reign of God.

Mark Allan Powell
TRINITY LUTHERAN SEMINARY
COLUMBUS, OHIO

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