A Rhetorical Use of Point of View in Old Testament Narrative

By Robert B. Chisholm Jr.

[Robert B. Chisholm Jr. is Professor of Old Testament Studies, Dallas Theological Seminary, Dallas, Texas.]

Many interpreters of Scripture assume that a narrator’s report of an event reflects an omniscient, divine perspective and that a limited, nondivine perspective is confined to quotations (of characters other than God). However, a close analysis of narrative texts makes it clear that this assumption, while a useful general hermeneutical principle, does not account for all the data. Occasionally a narrator wrote from the limited viewpoint of one of the characters or of a casual observer. In some cases such statements are correct so far as they go (the truth, but not the whole truth). In other cases they are incorrect when viewed from a larger perspective and, if taken at face value, can lead to erroneous interpretive and theological conclusions.[1]

Formal Signals Of A Shift In Perspective

Narrators sometimes interrupt the main line of the discourse with a clause beginning with וְהִנֵּה, “and look.”[2] Occasionally this construction formally signals the use of a limited perspective. For example, to describe how Boaz woke up, the narrator wrote, “Look! There was a woman lying at his legs” (Ruth 3:8). The statement is correct so far as it goes, but it is also more vague than one might expect. After all, readers know the woman was Ruth, because the narrator had mentioned her (vv. 6–7), but he heightened the dramatic effect by assuming Boaz’s perspective and thereby inviting readers to experience the event as Boaz did.[3]

A narrator can also signal the use of a limited perspective through an intertextual link with a passage that provides a fuller perspective. This is seen in the Exodus account of the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart. In this narrative several verses say that Yahweh was the one doing the hardening, while others depict Pharaoh as hardening his own heart. Still others simply observe that Pharaoh’s heart was hard.[4] In seeking to harmonize the various statements, some give priority to divine hardening, while others affirm that Pharaoh first hardened his own heart.

However, a close reading of the narrative indicates that in each case (with the possible exception of 8:30–32; see also 9:7) Yahweh was behind the hardening. This is directly stated from 9:12 on, but it is indicated in a subtle manner before this. Though Yahweh announced His intention to harden Pharaoh’s heart (4:21; 7:3), He is not actually said to have hardened Pharaoh’s heart until 9:12. Before this Pharaoh hardened his own heart (8:15, 32; 9:34) or his heart is described as hardened (7:13, 22; 8:19; 9:7, 35). However, Moses signaled Yahweh’s involvement by appending to these statements (with the exception of 8:32 and 9:7) the words “as the Lord had said.” Four times these words are preceded by a reference to Pharaoh’s refusal to listen to Moses and Aaron (7:13, 22; 8:15, 19), which alludes back to 7:3–4, where the Lord announced that He would harden Pharaoh’s heart with the result that Pharaoh would not listen to Moses and Aaron. On one occasion the statement “as the Lord had spoken” follows the words “he did not let the sons of Israel go” (9:35), which alludes to 4:21, where the Lord announced that he would harden Pharaoh’s heart with the result that “he will not let the people go.” The reminder “as the Lord had said” refers to God’s declaration that He would harden Pharaoh’s heart, causing the king to reject Moses and Aaron’s demand that he release the people. Thus the references to Pharaoh hardening his heart or to his heart being hard reflect a limited perspective, which is qualified by the intertextual link to the larger theological perspective provided in the prologue to the plague account.[5] The limited perspective is true, but not the whole truth. The intertextual link provides the fuller picture that is hidden to the casual observer.

Unmarked Shifts In Perspective

Unfortunately for modern interpreters, biblical narrators do not routinely signal when they are employing a limited perspective. In the original oral context in which these stories were heard perhaps narrators signaled a shift in point of view by voice intonation or facial gesture. Modern interpreters, who possess only the written text, must rely on broader contextual clues to know when this literary device is being utilized.

In Genesis 32:24, for example, the narrator simply stated that Jacob wrestled with “a man” (אִישׁ). By the end of the episode it is clear that the narrator knew more than this. Jacob’s foe was no mere man. However, in verse 24 the narrator was intentionally vague as he masked the truth for dramatic effect. By using the language of appearance, he enabled his readers to experience the event through Jacob’s eyes.[6]

In a less obvious example, according to Judges 1:19 the men of Judah, despite being accompanied and energized by the Lord Himself, were unable to defeat the people of the plains, because the latter “had iron chariots” in their arsenal.[7] However, one wonders, Since when have chariots been able to thwart God’s purposes and power? After all, the Lord destroyed the Egyptian chariots in the Red Sea (Exod. 14:23–28; 15:4). He promised to give the Canaanite chariots into Israel’s hands and instructed Joshua to burn them (Josh. 11:4–6, 9). Later Joshua assured the tribe of Joseph that the Canaanite iron chariots would not prevent them from conquering the plains (17:16–18). Judges 4–5 records how the Lord demolished the iron chariots of Sisera. But according to Judges 1:19 the army of Judah was unable to overcome iron chariots, even though the Lord was with them. In its larger literary context the passage cannot mean what it at first seems to say, for there is more here than meets the eye. A few verses later the author explained that the people’s failure was due to spiritual compromise and idolatry (2:1–5). Thus 1:19 must reflect the people’s limited and warped perspective, not the author’s own interpretation. The author was toying with his audience here. With tongue-in-cheek, as it were, he signaled that something was wrong. Expecting his readers to object, he prepared the way for the real explanation for Israel’s partial success.[8]

Exodus 4:24–26 may provide another example of this rhetorical use of limited perspective. Here Yahweh attacked Moses as he was traveling to Egypt.[9] The narrator explained that God “sought to kill” Moses (וַיְבַשׁ הֲמִיתוֹ).[10] Fortunately for Moses, Zipporah’s quick thinking placated Yahweh’s anger, prompting Him to leave Moses alone. What is the meaning of the statement “he sought to kill him”? Elsewhere when the verb בִּשׁ is collocated with an infinitive construct, it carries the nuance “seek an opportunity” (Gen. 43:30; 1 Sam. 19:2),[11] “try, attempt” (Exod. 2:15; Deut. 13:10; 1 Sam. 19:10; 2 Sam. 20:19; 21:2; 1 Kings 11:40; 19:10, 14; Jer. 26:21), or “intend, desire” (1 Sam. 14:4; 1 Sam. 23:10; 1 Kings 11:22; Esth. 3:6; 6:2; Pss. 37:32; 40:14; Eccles. 12:10; Zech. 6:7; 12:9).[12]

Was God really trying or intending to kill Moses? If one reads the episode in isolation, it would seem that Yahweh was on a mission to kill him, but if this was the case, then He seems to be a demonic, malevolent figure whose actions contradicted His earlier promise to Moses.[13] Individual episodes of a story, however, should not be read in isolation. The larger literary context of the passage tells how Yahweh commissioned Moses to go to Egypt on a redemptive mission and promised him His protective presence. Would this same God seek to kill Moses? Furthermore, if Yahweh wanted to kill Moses, one would expect Him to succeed, given the display of power seen in His plagues on Egypt. Here an appeal to literary perspective is useful. The passage may well have been written from Moses’ limited perspective. Yahweh was indeed angry and unleashed His wrath on Moses, so much so that Moses must have felt as if God were trying to take his life. The narrator wrote from Moses’ perspective so that his audience might feel the terror experienced by Moses and appreciate the importance of the issue (apparently the necessity of circumcision as a sign of the covenant) that prompted the outburst. Understood in this way, the statement becomes hyperbolic.

Ruth 2:3 provides another likely example of the rhetorical use of point of view. Here the narrator wrote that Ruth “just happened by chance” (וַיִּקֶר מִקְרֶהָ, author’s translation; see Eccles. 2:14–15) to arrive at Boaz’s field in her quest to find food for herself and Naomi. While there is room in the worldview of that culture for seemingly chance occurrences (e.g., 1 Sam. 6:9), it is unlikely that the narrator believed Ruth arrived at Boaz’s field by sheer coincidence. Throughout the book the author developed a pattern of divine providence in which prayers were offered to Yahweh and then were answered in the course of events, often through the instrumentality of worthy characters (Ruth 1:9; 2:12, 20; 3:10; 4:11–12, 14–15). From the narrator’s vantage point God’s hand, however invisible it might be, was always guiding events. For this reason it is likely that the statement in 2:3 reflects Ruth’s perspective. One can imagine the narrator winking at the reader as he wrote this. Rather than promoting a theology of chance, the narrator was highlighting God’s sovereign control of human affairs. And by reflecting Ruth’s perspective he showed that this encounter with Boaz was not something Ruth or Naomi engineered. From Ruth’s perspective she randomly picked a field, but God was steering her to the right one. Bush correctly observes that the statement “signifies that Ruth, without any intention to do so, ended up gleaning in the field that belonged to Boaz.”[14] Likewise Block writes, “By excessively attributing Ruth’s good fortune to chance, he forces the reader to sit up and take notice…. The statement is ironical; its purpose is to undermine purely rational explanations for human experiences and to refine the reader’s understanding of providence. In reality he is screaming, ‘See the hand of God at work here!’ “[15]

First Samuel 11:15 may provide another example of the literary device of limited perspective. “All the people went to Gilgal and confirmed Saul as king in the presence of the Lord.” This wording is consistent with the use of the word “king” in the immediately preceding and following contexts. The people asked Samuel to give them a king like the other nations (8:5). By this they meant a military leader with a standing army (vv. 19–20; 12:12). Though the Lord viewed this as a rejection of His kingship, He instructed Samuel to comply with their request (8:7, 9, 22; 12:1). He also told Samuel to warn the people that such a king would carry out oppressive policies (8:9–18).[16] At Saul’s public anointing Samuel reminded the people of their request for a king (10:19). When Samuel presented Saul to the people, they cried out, “Long live the king!” (v. 24). In chapter 12 Samuel referred to Saul as king (vv. 1–2, 12–14, 17, 25). The prevalent use of the term “king” to refer to Saul makes one think that the statement in 11:15 is a straightforward description of what had transpired.

However, there is more here than is apparent at first. It is evident in 9:16–17, which records a private revelation given by the Lord to Samuel, that the Lord was not about to give the people a king exactly like the kings of the other nations. Here He referred to Saul not as “king,” but as a “leader” (נָגִּיד), a term suggesting that Saul would be “designated” by God.[17] Samuel also employed this term when he anointed Saul privately (10:1). The Lord emphasized that He was not relinquishing His authority over Israel. Four times in 9:16–17 God referred to them as “My people,” thereby indicating that the theocratic boundaries would be maintained.[18] Furthermore at Saul’s public anointing Samuel stated certain rules, referred to as “the regulations of kingship” (מִשְׁפַּט הַמְּלֻכָה), which were written on a scroll and placed in the Lord’s presence (10:25). At first glance one might equate this phrase with the “procedure [or ‘custom’] of the king” (מִשְׁפַּט הַמֶּלֶך) mentioned in 8:9. In this case the scroll might serve as a perpetual reminder of the Lord’s earlier warning, a sort of “I-told-you-so” document to be brought out when the people complained about the king they once wanted so badly (see 8:18). However, it is more likely that the phrase in 10:25 refers to the rules of kingship, probably those recorded in Deuteronomy 17:14–20, which anticipated the events recorded in 1 Samuel 8–12.[19] According to these rules God’s king, in contrast to other kings, was not to create a large army, make foreign alliances, have many wives, or accumulate great wealth (Deut. 17:15–17). He was to be a spiritual leader who promoted God’s Law by word and example (vv. 18–20).

In this case Samuel probably placed the scroll before the Lord as a reminder that God would hold the king and nation accountable for adhering to the regulations in the Law. The Lord’s authority over the nation and their new king is declared in no uncertain terms (1 Sam. 12:12–15, 20–25), and the people admitted that asking for a king was sinful (v. 19).

To summarize, the Lord acceded to the people’s request for a king like the other nations. He gave them a king who would serve as a military leader and permitted that king to have a standing army. However, He did not allow the king to be like the pagan kings in all respects. God refused to surrender His authority and demanded that the king live up to the Deuteronomic ideal, which placed significant restrictions on the royal leader. From God’s perspective this “king” was really a divinely designated leader functioning under divine authority in a theocratic framework. In light of this the Lord’s and Samuel’s references to Israel’s new “king,” as well as the narrator’s reference to Saul’s coronation in 11:15, reflect the people’s perspective more than the divine perspective.

Ambiguity In Detecting Shift In Perspective

Sometimes it is difficult to know when the technique of limited perspective is being utilized. Berlin argues that Ruth 3:6 contains an example of this literary technique. Here Naomi expressed her concern to find Ruth a husband. She instructed Ruth to wash, dress up, and go to the threshing floor, where Boaz was winnowing grain. After Boaz had finished his evening meal, Ruth was to take note of where Boaz was sleeping. She was to uncover his legs and then lie down there. At that point Boaz would tell Ruth what to do. Ruth expressed her intention to do all that Naomi told her. The narrator then noted that Ruth “did according to all that her mother-in-law had commanded her to do.” But did she? Berlin argues that Ruth misunderstood Naomi’s intentions. “Ruth has misunderstood. Naomi sent her on a romantic mission but she turned it into a quest for a redeemer.”[20] In support of her position Berlin suggests that there “is a slight dissonance between the giving of the instructions and the way they were carried out.” She points out that Ruth waited until Boaz fell asleep and then silently crept up and uncovered Boaz’s legs, rather than confronting him before he went to sleep.[21] But what of verse 6, where the narrator specifically wrote that Ruth followed Naomi’s instructions completely? Berlin concludes that the narrator “is adopting Ruth’s point of view here—Ruth really thought that she was following instructions.”[22]

Is this a case of the narrator using the technique of limited perspective? Berlin’s distinction between Naomi’s sending Ruth on a “romantic mission” and Ruth’s “quest for a redeemer” may create a false dichotomy. Naomi did indeed stress Ruth’s need for a husband (v. 1), but she also reminded Ruth that Boaz was their relative (וֹמדַעְתָּנוּ, v. 2). Berlin distinguishes this term from וֹגּל, “family protector,” which Naomi used earlier to describe Boaz (2:20). But is this distinction overdrawn? Naomi’s words may be intentionally oblique, perhaps because she realized that her request demanded a great deal from Ruth. After all, if Ruth simply wanted a husband, she could have chosen any of the men of the town (3:10). In fact Boaz seemed pleasantly surprised that she picked him, and he regarded her choice as an act of loyalty to her deceased husband. It seems quite likely that Ruth, being aware of Boaz’s relationship to the family and apparently of Israelite custom as well, understood the implications of Naomi’s proposal and realized that a near-kinsman marriage was intended. Did Naomi expect Ruth to uncover Boaz’s legs before he fell asleep, as Berlin suggests? This seems unlikely. To be able to uncover his legs, she would have to wait until he was asleep, for otherwise he would have sensed her approach and probably sat or stood up, making it difficult to perform the symbolic action.

Another feature of the text that might support Berlin’s view is Ruth’s forthright challenge to Boaz. Ruth immediately confronted Boaz with his duties as a family protector, rather than waiting for him to tell her what to do. Actually Ruth’s behavior is true to form. As elsewhere (1:16–18; 2:2) Ruth actively pursued Naomi’s well-being.[23] While Ruth certainly carried out Naomi’s instructions more aggressively than her mother-in-law apparently intended, Ruth’s words reflected Naomi’s wishes. So one can agree with the narrator that Ruth did all that Naomi told her to do, though she did add her own signature to the encounter![24]

Shift In Perspective On A Larger Scale

In the Book of Esther the narrator utilized the point-of-view technique on a larger scale. In fact this technique dominates the book. It is well known that the name “God” does not appear in the book. Despite this omission many contend that God’s providence is a central theme of the book. Yet if this is the case, one would expect some reference to His guiding hand. At this point a consideration of literary point of view proves helpful. Likely the author deliberately suppressed the divine presence because he wanted to use a literary technique that reflected the limited perspective of the exiles, who lived in an environment where God seemed to be absent. By making God invisible and focusing on the characters’ role in the deliverance of the exilic community, the author also emphasized the importance of human responsibility in the outworking of God’s purposes.[25]

As characters stepped forward and assumed responsibility, apparent coincidences unfolded in such a way that the exiled community was preserved from annihilation at the hands of hostile enemies. As the story reaches its conclusion, one must ask, Did the Jews simply live a charmed life, or is there more to it than mere good fortune? From the perspective of an observer living in exile, God was apparently nowhere to be found. Yet the unfolding of events, especially Esther’s being in the right place at the right time, suggests that this perspective is limited and in need of enhancement.

Even when God is invisible, the very structure of events reveals His presence. This is the point of the book. By utilizing a literary perspective that reflects the reality of life in exile, the narrator made this point more powerfully than if he had imposed an omniscient perspective on the story. In short, rather than giving his audience a theological interpretation of the events recorded, he forced them to seek an answer for themselves to the question posed by the mysterious coincidences of history. Reflection on the latter can lead to only one reasonable conclusion: Despite appearances, God was with His followers, even in that distant, remote place!

Summary

Hebrew narrators sometimes utilized a literary technique in which they assumed the limited perspective of a character or observer, rather than an “omniscient,” divine perspective. This technique is employed for rhetorical purposes. It is sometimes marked formally, but more often one must rely on contextual clues to detect it. For this reason one cannot always be certain where it appears. Recognizing the presence of this technique is essential to the proper interpretation of certain puzzling texts. Discerning its presence may also be the clue to understanding why God is seemingly absent from the Book of Esther.

Notes

1. Yairah Amit asserts that the biblical narrator is consistently reliable and “always right” (“‘The Glory of Israel Does Not Deceive or Change His Mind’: On the Reliability of Narrator and Speakers in Biblical Narrative,” Prooftexts 12 [1992]: 204-5). Meir Sternberg affirms that the biblical narrator “is absolutely and straightforwardly reliable” (The Poetics of Biblical Narrative [Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1987], 51). True, biblical narrators generally spoke from an “omniscient,” divine perspective; however, narrators sometimes chose, usually for rhetorical effect, to speak from a more limited perspective.
2. See Francis Brown, S. R. Driver, and Charles A. Briggs, A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1907), 244. Sometimes the construction is preceded by a verb of seeing (including חָלַם, “to dream”). It can be followed by a verbless clause, a perfect, an active participle, or a passive participle.
3. See Adele Berlin, Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative (Sheffield: Almond, 1983), 91–92.
4. For a list of these texts see Robert B. Chisholm Jr., “Divine Hardening in the Old Testament,” Bibliotheca Sacra 153 (October-December 1996): 411-12.
5. God Himself employed a limited perspective in Exodus 7:14, as did Moses in 8:29.
6. When did Jacob actually realize that his adversary was God (or at least God’s representative)? Many assume that Jacob discovered early on in the struggle that his adversary was God and that Jacob therefore demanded a blessing. The request for a blessing, then, was the culminating point in Jacob’s developing relationship with God. He finally grabbed hold of the promised blessing. However, is there another way to read the episode? Perhaps Jacob did not suspect the adversary was God until the adversary renamed him (Gen. 32:28). Jacob may have thought he was wrestling with a mere “man” (v. 24). According to this scenario the story unfolds as follows: The “man” sought to leave as dawn approached, because, as explained later, he was actually God and did not wish to be seen face-to-face in daylight (Exod. 33:20). Jacob’s request for a blessing might suggest that he suspected the adversary was God, but this does not necessarily follow. Having wrestled with the adversary all night, Jacob may have been concerned that the adversary would seek to harm him again or perhaps curse him. The best way to circumvent such a development was to make the adversary pronounce a blessing on him, thereby ensuring protection for Jacob in the future. When the adversary asked for Jacob’s name, apparently he was looking for the information he needed to formulate a blessing with specificity. But then the adversary gave Jacob a new name, explaining that Jacob had wrestled with God. This clue as to the adversary’s identity prompted Jacob to seek verification—”Tell me your name” (Gen. 32:29). The adversary refused to comply, though He did grant the blessing. At this point Jacob was convinced that the adversary was none other than God Himself.
7. The Hebrew text reads, “though not to conquer the residents of the plain.” It is likely that the verb יָכְלוּ has been accidentally omitted after the negative particle (see Josh. 15:63; 17:12). In its original form the text may have read כִּי וֹּא יָכְלוּ לְהוֹרִישׁ, “though they were not able to conquer,” or perhaps כִּי וֹּא יָלֹכל לְהוֹרִישׁ, “though he [Judah] was not able to conquer.” The use of the collective singular in verses 18–19a favors the latter. For discussion of the textual issues see Barnabas Lindars, Judges 1–5 (Edinburgh: Clark, 1995), 45; and Robert H. O’Connell, The Rhetoric of the Book of Judges (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 447.
8. See Barry Webb, The Book of Judges: An Integrated Reading (Sheffield: JSOT, 1987), 90. Failing to detect the literary irony and obviously troubled by the apparent implications of the statement, the Targum reads here, “because they sinned, they were not able to drive out” (O’Connell, The Rhetoric of the Book of Judges, 447). Jacobus Marais fails to recognize the rhetorical role of perspective in this passage. He contends that Judges reflects various fields of reference. He suggests that Judges 1:19 (“Yahweh is not expected to overcome every stumbling block”), may represent “a human perspective on Yahweh and his influence on history, or it may be a perspective born from the human experience that Yahweh’s presence does not guarantee an ideal history.” He adds, “Whichever way one looks at it, it is clear that the premise of this text is not the logic of an almighty deity” (Representation in Old Testament Narrative Texts [Leiden: Brill, 1998], 80).
9. The syntax of the Hebrew text of Exodus 4:24 is ambiguous; it reads, “and the Lord attacked him and sought to kill him.” The referent of the pronominal suffixes is not entirely clear. So scholars have debated whether the object of the attack is Moses or his son, whose circumcision placated the angry Deity (v. 25). Lawrence Kaplan even argues that the text is purposely ambiguous, being structured so “as to point in both contradictory directions, to allow for and to compel both interpretations, despite their being mutually exclusive” (“ ‘And the Lord Sought to Kill Him’ (Exod. 4:24): Yet Once Again,” Hebrew Annual Review 5 [1981]: 70). However, as the text stands, Moses must be the object of the attack. Moses was specifically mentioned earlier in the narrative framework of this pericope (vv. 18–21), while there is no reference to a son as an individual in the immediately preceding verses (Bernard P. Robinson, “Zipporah to the Rescue: A Contextual Study of Exodus IV 24–6, ” Vetus Testamentum 36 [1986]: 455). Verse 20 refers to Moses’ “sons,” but not a “son.” If, as many suggest, Moses’ transgression was his failure to circumcise his son, this would explain Zipporah’s action and the presence of Moses’ son in the account.
10. Normally in this construction one expects to see the preposition -לְ prefixed to the infinitive construct (see Exod. 2:15; 1 Sam. 19:2; 2 Sam. 20:19; 1 Kings 11:40; Ps. 37:32). However the elliptical form is attested elsewhere (Jer. 26:21).
11. Nahum M. Sarna understands the idiom in the sense of “be on the verge of” in Genesis 43:30 (and in Exod. 4:24) (Exodus [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1991], 25). “Seek an opportunity” is preferable, however, because it reflects the volitional element conveyed by the word.
12. With the infinitive הָמִית, “to kill,” all three of the suggested semantic notions of the verb are attested. It is often difficult to distinguish between the notions of volition (“intend, desire”) and action (“try, attempt”).
13. In this regard see David Penchansky’s treatment of this text in What Rough Beast? Images of God in the Hebrew Bible (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1999), 67–79.
14. Frederic W. Bush, Ruth, Esther, Word Biblical Commentary (Dallas, TX: Word, 1996), 104 (italics his).
15. Daniel I. Block, Judges, Ruth (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 1999), 653.
16. The expression “procedure of the king” in 1 Samuel 8:9 refers to the manner in which the typical king ruled.
17. See Lyle M. Eslinger, Kingship of God in Crisis: A Close Reading of 1 Samuel 1–12 (Sheffield: Almond, 1985), 304–5.
18. Ibid., 305-6.
19. See Ralph W. Klein, 1 Samuel, Word Biblical Commentary (Waco, TX: Word, 1983), 100.
20. Berlin, Poetics and Interpretation of Biblical Narrative, 90.
21. Ibid., 90-91.
22. Ibid.
23. See Robert L. Hubbard Jr., The Book of Ruth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 213.
24. For an instructive parallel see 2 Samuel 11:18–24, where Joab sent a messenger to David with a battle report from Rabbah. Joab warned the messenger that David might get angry when he heard the report, and so Joab told the messenger what to say in that case. His final instruction to the messenger was, “If it happens that the king’s wrath rises. .. you shall say ‘Your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead also’ “ (vv. 21–22). The messenger, obviously concerned about the possibility of the king becoming angry, did not wait for David to ask any questions. To his report he appended the words “your servant Uriah the Hittite is dead,” without waiting for a response from the king. The narrator declared, “So the messenger departed and came and reported to David all that Joab had sent him to say” (v. 22). Like Ruth 3:6 the statement is technically correct, despite the fact that the messenger creatively adapted Joab’s instructions. The Septuagint reads differently here. According to the Greek version, the messenger gave David Joab’s report, David got angry, and then the messenger added Joab’s explanation. In this version the messenger’s encounter with the king plays out just as Joab envisioned. However, it seems likely that the Greek version is a deliberate attempt to harmonize the report of the messenger’s encounter with David with Joab’s speech to the messenger. For a defense of the Greek text as original see P. Kyle McCarter Jr., II Samuel, Anchor Bible (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1984), 283; and A. A. Anderson, 2 Samuel, Word Biblical Commentary (Dallas, TX: Word Books, 1989), 155.
25. In this regard Raymond B. Dillard and Temper Longman III observe, “The doctrine of divine sovereignty is fundamental to the book of Esther, but it is not a kind of fatalism. For where God’s actions and purposes are not transparent, the importance of human obedience and faithfulness becomes the more apparent” (An Introduction to the Old Testament [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994], 196).