The Chiastic Structure Of The Farewell Discourse In The Fourth Gospel, Part 1

By Wayne A. Brouwer

[Wayne A. Brouwer is Associate Professor of Religion, Hope College, Holland, Michigan.]

Abstract

While scholars recognize John 13–17 as a unique literary unit within the Fourth Gospel, various difficulties in these chapters distract from their cohesive integrity. Some have recognized that a chiastic reading of the Farewell Discourse may help resolve these difficulties. However, there is wide disagreement as to whether chiastic readings that span several chapters are valid. The first part of this two-part series argues that it is indeed possible to read longer biblical passages as macrochiasms and outlines a set of criteria to govern such readings. The second article in this series will apply these criteria to the Johannine Farewell Discourse.

The Art Of Chiasm

Broadly defined, chiasm is the use of a balance of words, phrases, or themes around a pivotal center idea, provided that the order of these words, phrases, or themes is inverted in the second half. Because of this movement of the text, the key words in defining chiasm are parallelism, symmetry, and inversion.

Ian Thomson says that “chiasmus may be said to be present in a passage if the text exhibits bilateral symmetry of four or more elements about a central axis, which may itself lie between two elements, or be a unique central element, the symmetry consisting of any combination of verbal, grammatical or syntactical elements, or, indeed, of ideas and concepts in a given pattern.”[1] In Thomson’s definition, chiasm requires at least four phrases or literary elements clearly related to one another. His reason is clear: if a pericope has only two symmetric phrases, the result is simple parallelism. There is no way to know if a reflexive movement of thought happens between the parallel ideas. Similarly, if a pericope has three phrases, with the first and the third in symmetric parallelism, the whole literary unit is not necessarily a chiasm. Chiasm occurs only when there is a movement away from and then back to the parallel words or phrases. It is the reflexive mirroring—left to right, right to left; up to down, down to up; in to out, out to in; or other similar movement—that is required for chiastic thought.

While all agree with Thomson on this minimal requirement for assessing chiastic development, there are different perspectives regarding the axis or centering element itself. For Thomson, the centering element of a chiastically developed pericope may be either a unique, unparalleled phrase or merely the literary break between two sets of reflexively paralleled phrases.[2] For most, however, a unique, unparalleled central element of the pericope must be present in order for chiasm to occur.[3] In fact, the prominence and axis character of the central element of a passage has long served as a clue to identifying chiastic development.

Indeed, it is the unique vine and branches teaching of John 15:1–17, surrounded as it is by repetitions of words, phrases, and similar ideas, that has intrigued scholars and suggested to more than several that chiastic developments may be at work in the Johannine Farewell Discourse as a whole. Many words, phrases, and ideas are repeated throughout the discourse. What becomes increasingly striking on a close reading is the seemingly careful positioning of repetitions and mirrorlike inversions that take place between parallel themes as the discourse unfolds.

Chiasm In John’s Farewell Discourse

It appears that the repetitive and reflexive elements of the Johannine Farewell Discourse fit together in a large chiasm bounded by expressions of spiritual intimacy with God (the foot-washing episode of chapter 13 and the prayer of chapter 17) and channeled toward the challenge to “abide” in Jesus at the center (15:1–17). It could be diagramed as follows:

A. Gathering scene (Focus on unity with Jesus expressed in mutual love), 13:1–35

B. Prediction of the disciple’s denial, 13:36–38

C. Jesus’s departure tempered by assurance of the Father’s power, 14:1–14

D. The promise of the παράκλητος (“Advocate”), 14:15–26

E. Troubling encounter with the world, 14:27–31

F. The vine and branches teaching producing a community of mutual love, 15:1–17

Eʹ. Troubling encounter with the world, 15:18–16:4a

Dʹ. The promise of the παράκλητος (“Advocate”), 16:4b–15

Cʹ. Jesus’s departure tempered by assurance of the Father’s power, 16:16–28

Bʹ. Prediction of the disciples’ denial, 16:29–33

Aʹ. Departing prayer (Focus on unity with Jesus expressed in mutual love), 17:1–26

Read in this way, John 13–17 takes on a different character than it would if understood primarily as a linear discourse. For one thing, the vine and branches teaching of 15:1–17 becomes the apex of its development, proclaiming the dominant theme of spiritual unity with Jesus (summarized repeatedly by the phrase “abide in me”) that shapes and pervades the surrounding material. Also, the themes of betrayal, Jesus’s leaving, the promise of the Spirit as “Advocate,” and the character of the disciples’ interaction with the world, initially stated in chapters 13 and 14, become paired in a meaningful way with their counterparts in chapters 15 and 16. Each of these themes becomes an extension of the “Abide in me!” instruction of 15:1–17 and explicates its significance.

Finally, with this chiastic reading of the discourse, the foot-washing scene serves as a prelude to the discourse proper (13:1–35) and a counterpart to the prayer of chapter 17. If union with Jesus is the organizing theme of the discourse, the disciples enter the discourse through a visible expression of Jesus’s desire for their intimacy and leave with a spiritual expression of that same desire.

Still, there is a great difference between the simple reflexivity that might be found in several lines of poetry and the extended narrative of the Johannine Farewell Discourse. Thomson, in fact, would not allow one to consider five chapters of biblical text as holding the possibility of chiastic development. Thus, this article will probe more deliberately into the character of chiasm and the viability of what is sometimes called “macrochiasm” in distinction from the “microchiasm” defined above, looking at possible origins of chiasm and the manner in which it functions in storytelling and narrative development. Examples in Matthew and Ruth offer support for investigating John 13–17 in part 2.

Identifying Chiasm

Thomson suggests both a two-step method by which to assess the evidence for chiasm in a text and a series of carefully delineated guidelines for testing the hypothesis. The first stage in Thomson’s investigation is “to identify a pattern which is potentially chiastic.”[4] This means that the reader pays attention to repetition of vocabulary and syntax and seeks the possible inverse paralleling of common words and ideas. Are there triggers in the text that give the reader a reason to pause for a second appraisal, seeking larger patterns of recurring movement? Is there a sudden shift of an idea back along the path recently taken? Do the extremes of a passage reiterate a single idea in some reflexive form?

Second, according to Thomson, the suspected chiasm must be put to a critical test. The procedure requires movement through the following specific steps:

1. Note whether there is a critical shift at the center of the suspected chiasm that clearly returns the thought back along the path recently taken.
2. Check for the possibility of a “frame passage” that either introduces or concludes a chiastic passage (or perhaps both), clearly setting the chiasm apart from its larger literary environment.
3. Analyze the passage to determine possible subunits of chiastically aligned elements that are themselves parallel in structure.
4. Extrapolate thematic relationships, realizing that these most often occur at the extremes of the passage and possibly also at or near the centering element.
5. Check whether there is a clear balance of length between the elements of the chiasm that occupy the first half of the design and those that follow the midpoint.
6. Assess the significance of the central element of the passage for the meaning or impact of the passage as a whole. There is most often a heightening and clarification of the main point of the narrative or poetic implication in the central element itself. The center, rather than the beginning or ending, holds the interpretive key.[5]

In response to the increased interest in chiastic studies in recent years, Thomson expresses wary skepticism toward simplistic exegetical efforts that find a plethora of chiastic development throughout biblical texts. He posits several limitations to help scholars looking for chiasm to maintain a necessary academic rigor.

For one thing, he holds to the view that chiasm is strictly a device of words and phrases, and not of themes.[6] Clark suggests, however, that themes might be chiastically arranged in a literary passage, even where the vocabulary and grammar may not appear so.[7] Thomson, though, calls this “chiasmus by headings,”[8] where the reader, rather than the author, views the larger contours of a literary unit and determines a recurrence of themes and ideas. “This produces a potentially circular argument,” says Thomson. “Headings are interpretatively selected to create or bolster a chiasmus; it is then argued from the chiasmus that the selective choice of heading reflects the true interests of the author!”[9] According to Thomson, there must be a clear correspondence of terms, mirrored across a central axis, in order for chiasm to be present.

This leads to the second of Thomson’s limitations. As he puts it, the “chiasmus will begin and end at a reasonable point.”[10] In his estimation chiasm is generally limited to short passages where clear reflexivity is immediately accessible. The longer the passage, even where repetitions and regressions and inclusios are evident in the broader sweep, the more difficult it is to pin down either chiastic intent or the benefits of a chiastic reading.

Thomson is astute in these points. It is important that the paralleled elements of a passage emerge from the passage itself and are not imposed on it by the modern interpreter. Also, length certainly plays a crucial role; the longer a passage is, the harder it becomes to determine whether, or in what clear manner, chiastic design pervades the whole.

What is not immediately apparent, however, is the basis for Thomson’s rejection of any chiastic correspondence between themes and ideas that might not exactly repeat certain words or phrases in the paired sections of the chiasm. After all, microchiastic parallelism in poetry often uses different terms to refer to a single thing or idea. It seems probable that, in a similar manner, paired sentences or paragraphs reflecting on common ideas or actions might use different terms or phrases to give shape to these considerations in macrochiastic developments.

In the same way, there seems to be no clear basis for Thomson’s adamant limitation of chiastic length to roughly fifteen verses. He offers no reason for denying chiasm to pericopes that extend beyond that arbitrary maximum other than his skepticism at some of the lengthy and seemingly contrived chiastic outlines proposed by some scholars.

In essence, Thomson rigorously develops criteria for assessing microchiasm while denying the possibility of macrochiasm as a literary device. At issue is whether chiasm is a literary device at work exclusively in relatively brief expressions of reflexive poetic parallelism and quickly told tales, or if it also functions on a broader level to shape multiple literary panels. Evidence of microchiasm in biblical poetry and short narrative is well documented.[11] Research into the possibility of identifying macrochiasm in longer, multiple-panel biblical passages abounds[12] and requires careful reflection on the relationship between the devices of rhetorical technique and the thought patterns at work in crafting narratives.

The discussion focuses on whether a type of pervasive chiastic thought process was at work in certain cultures of antiquity that may have resulted, over time, in broadening the range of use of chiastic reflexivity in literary expression. Was it possible for writers within those cultures to think chiastically when developing ideas or narratives, thus producing macrochiastic patterns in passages that extend beyond several lines of poetry or single-panel stories? Although no treatise on chiasm exists in the literature of antiquity, some scholars have speculated on the manner in which chiasm functioned in preliterate societies, as well as the function of chiastic development in literate cultures of antiquity.

Origins Of Chiasm

In spite of the limits Thomson places on the length of chiastic passages, he believes that chiastic patterns of thinking grew out of the practices of oral recitation and memorization in both the formal and informal training processes of ancient Near Eastern cultures. He notes that “even Greek itself at one time was sometimes found written from left to right in one line and from right to left in the next.”[13] It is his contention that chiasm is a communicative technique of the “cultural environment”[14] that gave rise to the Scriptures of the Hebrew and Christian traditions. He even conjectures that this “ambilateralism” was responsible for a broadened use of chiasm beyond the shorter reflexive parallelism of poetry.[15]

Bailey suggests that chiasm has its roots in the storytelling practices of preliterate cultures. Bailey grew up in and later studied the communication habits of several cultures in the Mediterranean world. Based on extensive research into methods of storytelling and formal instruction, particularly in communities of low and moderate literacy rates, he finds chiasm still common in the communication patterns of orally attuned societies of the modern Middle East. Further, he sees comparable conventions of storytelling in ancient and contemporary narratives.[16]

Bailey believes that chiasm naturally evolved among peoples who transmitted identity and history through repeated ballads and heroic tales. He claims that oral recitations are often governed by what he calls the “inversion principle,” which moves an oral narrative to a climax in the middle and then returns the events to a status quo that resembles life and situations as they were near the beginning of the story. There is in such storytelling a tendency for thought processes to come full circle.[17]

Bailey offers a number of reasons for this tendency.[18] First, chiastic inversion (repetition of terms and ideas across a midpoint) and inclusio (returning to an original expression or its variation to bring a tale to completion) aid in memorization.[19] With its balance of related words, themes, and sentence structure, chiasm organizes and connects the elements of a prose or poetic recitation.[20] Where details of a story must be carried along from generation to generation in the mind rather than on paper, this becomes important.[21]

Second, chiastically developed thought is primarily inductive rather than deductive.[22] No thesis is stated at the beginning to be aided and supported by syllogistic logic. Instead, the narrative approaches its “point” by way of steps of measured anticipation.

Third, there is inherent artistic beauty to chiastically ordered communication.[23] The skill of the storyteller is at stake. Both a well-told story and the apparent sagacity of its teller are products of practice and repetition. Dahood observes that chiasm is a form of poetic artistry that gives variety to the language of the Psalms.[24]

If Bailey is correct (and unfortunately there has been little research either to confirm or deny his hypotheses), the purpose of chiasm in communication is not limited to playful or artistic reflexive parallelism in several lines of poetry. Chiasm might also be considered a general pattern of thought processes in which the elements of a narrative might be arranged as easily in reflexive parallel composition as in linear arguments, whether deductive or inductive.

Given this perspective on the purpose and function of chiasm, the distinction between micro- and macrochiasm is useful only as a way to differentiate the length of chiastic developments. Some consist primarily in direct verbal parallels and are primarily found in a few short lines of poetry; these are identified as microchiasm. Longer passages that develop repeated themes in a reflexive manner are called macrochiasms. Thomson’s criteria for assessing chiasm are sufficient for the rapid interchange of microchiasm and its direct verbal correspondences between lines or short sections, yet the whole range of chiastic reflexivity is not contained in microchiastic expressions.

Thomson’s work with microchiastic studies invites a similar attention to precision and consistency in macrochiastic investigations. It suggests, further, that if there are literary movements in a text longer than fifteen verses that appear to function in reflexive parallelism similar to that of words in microchiasm, these literary movements need to be governed and assessed by criteria that explain both thematic and conceptual parallels as well as grammatical and verbal parallels between the halves of the chiasm.

Extending The Reach: Criteria For Macrochiasm

Porter and Reed do not believe that supposed macrochiasms identified by other scholars are legitimate analyses, since, as they assert, “to date a convincing set of criteria for how to identify chiasm has not been developed.”[25] Porter and Reed rightly argue that unless objective and measurable criteria are established it will be impossible to use macrochiasm in a standardized way as an interpretive tool in biblical or classical studies. Their challenge for someone to produce such criteria was already answered, however, in theses put forward by Blomberg nearly a decade prior to their request.[26] Concerned that “chiastic outlines have become so fashionable among biblical scholars” without scholarly consensus regarding the “detailed criteria which hypotheses of extended chiasmus must meet in order to be credible,” Blomberg proposes “a fairly rigid set of criteria” for assessing explorations in macrochiasm.[27]

Blomberg finds sufficient documentation of the extensive use of chiasm in the literature of antiquity to move present scholarship beyond a skeptical stance regarding its existence.[28] Further, he believes that chiasm “underlies numerous portions of Scripture where it has not usually been perceived,”[29] since “it was used far more widely in the ancient world than it is today.”[30]

He then outlines his criteria for macrochiasm in nine points:

1. There must be a problem in perceiving the structure of the text in question, which more conventional outlines fail to resolve. . . .
2. There must be clear examples of parallelism between the two “halves” of the hypothesized chiasmus, to which commentators call attention even when they propose quite different outlines for the text overall. In other words, the chiasmus must be based on actual verbal repetitions or clear thematic parallels in the text which most readers note irrespective of their overall synthesis. . . .
3. Verbal (or grammatical) parallelism as well as conceptual (or structural) parallelism should characterize most if not all of the corresponding pairs of subdivisions. . . .
4. The verbal parallelism should involve central or dominant imagery or terminology, not peripheral or trivial language. . . .
5. Both the verbal and conceptual parallelisms should use words and ideas not regularly found elsewhere within the proposed chiasmus. . . .
6. Multiple sets of correspondences between passages opposite each other in the chiasmus as well as multiple members of the chiasmus itself are desirable. A simple ABAʹ or ABBʹAʹ pattern is so common to so many different forms of rhetoric that it usually yields few startlingly profound insights. . . .
7. The outline should divide the text at natural breaks which would be agreed upon even by those proposing very different structures to account for the whole. . . .
8. The center of the chiasmus, which forms its climax, should be a passage worthy of that position in light of its theological or ethical significance. If its theme were in some way repeated in the first and last passages of the text, as is typical in chiasmus, the proposal would become that much more plausible.
9. Finally, ruptures in the outline should be avoided if at all possible. Having to argue that one or more of the members of the reverse part of the structure have been shifted from their corresponding locations in the forward sequence substantially weakens the hypothesis.[31]

Blomberg’s criteria for macrochiasm show great care and insight. They retain the emphasis on strong parallelism and reflexivity present in Thomson’s criteria for microchiasm, as well as the emphasis on the central element and the clear limits of the chiastic passage. At the same time, they recognize the possibility of “conceptual (or structural)” parallelism (criterion 3), which is an essential element of macrochiasms, stretching beyond the simple verbal reflexivity and parallelism of microchiasms.

Blomberg shows how these criteria function in an assessment of 2 Corinthians 1:12–7:16. He outlines the passage in the following manner:

A 1:12–22—the Corinthians can rightfully boast in Paul

B 1:23–2:13—grief and comfort over the painful letter; hope for forgiving the offender

C 2:12–13—looking for Titus in Macedonia

D 2:14–4:6—a series of contrasts—belief vs. unbelief, centered on Christians as the letters of the living God, in glory being transformed into his image . . .

E 4:7–5:10—surviving and triumphing despite every hardship . . .

F 5:11–21—the theological climax: the ministry of reconciliation

Eʹ 6:1–10—surviving and triumphing despite every hardship . . .

Dʹ 6:11–7:4—a series of contrasts—belief vs. unbelief, centered on Christians as the temple of the living God, in light being transformed into his holiness

Cʹ 7:5–7—finding Titus in Macedonia

Bʹ 7:8–13a—grief and comfort over the painful letter; joy after forgiving the offender

Aʹ 7:13b–16—Paul can rightfully boast in the Corinthians[32]

When reviewing this literary development against Blomberg’s nine criteria for the assessment of macrochiasm, all points are met. Blomberg also reviews briefly a number of chiastic analyses of other passages. These conform to all, some, or a few of the criteria and thus show varying degrees of success or failure in providing beneficial interpretations.[33]

Porter and Reed see a “conflict” between the first criterion and the common concerns of criteria 2 and 6. They assume that no scholar could acknowledge parallel developments in a passage and then not provide some satisfactory structure for organizing the materials of the whole.[34] That, of course, has not been the case in a number of New Testament passages, most notably the book of James, where much effort has been given to ascertaining meaningful structure for the commonly perceived repetitive and parallel elements, usually with inconclusive results.[35]

Further, when responding to Blomberg’s seventh and ninth criteria (requiring any chiastic interpretation of a text to follow natural literary breaks), Porter and Reed assume that if the breaks in a text are natural, chiastic interpretation is not necessary.[36] As Blomberg has demonstrated in his review of 2 Corinthians 1–7, this is simply not the case: “Although every division in the proposed chiasmus appears as a major or minor break in the Nestle-Aland Greek NT and is supported by various commentaries,”[37] no other analysis of textual development has proven widely agreeable. It is, in fact, because “Paul’s logic contains regular transitional paragraphs which can easily be taken as either concluding a previous thought or beginning a new thought” that no suitable linear understanding of the passage has emerged.[38] Similarly, common recognition of literary shifts in the Johannine Farewell Discourse has not brought a common sense of structure and has, for some, suggested investigation into chiastic ordering of these passages.

Blomberg’s criteria for assessing macrochiasm appear to provide a reasonable and thorough measure by which to determine the possible existence and scope of chiastic paralleling in biblical and other texts. To date no assessment criteria exceed Blomberg’s in either specificity or cohesiveness. Some, like Porter and Reed or Thomson, might argue against Blomberg that chiasm exists only in passages of twelve to fifteen lines at maximum and limit chiastic reflexive parallelism to exact verbal or grammatical repetitions. If, however, as many others allow, chiastic reflexivity can also occur on a macro level of paralleled concepts and structures in narrative development, Blomberg’s criteria are specific enough to guard against the excesses of imposing such outlines on the text rather than reading them from the actual content of each passage.

Applying The Criteria: Matthew 3:1–4:17

Blomberg’s criteria prove useful, for instance, in assessing Breck’s description of Matthew 3:1–4:17. Breck believes that this passage was developed from “two originally independent units (3:1–17; 4:1–17) worked together into a chiastic pattern.”[39] He relies on thematic correspondence rather than verbal parallels in the chiastic movement he identifies:

A (3:1f): John ࢐ “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

B (3:3): Isaiah’s prophecy concerning John.

C (3:4–6): John in the wilderness.

D (3:7–10): Pharisees and Sadducees come to be baptized.

E (3:11ab): Jesus is mightier than John.

F (3:11c): “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.”

Eʹ (3:12): Jesus will execute final judgment.

Dʹ (3:13–17): Jesus comes to be baptized.

Cʹ (4:1–11): Jesus in the wilderness.

Bʹ (4:12–16): Isaiah’s prophecy concerning Jesus.

Aʹ (4:17): Jesus ࢐ “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand.”[40]

A number of literary cues support Breck’s chiastic interpretation of this passage. First, Matthew draws on both the continuity and discontinuity between John and Jesus in terms of message and personal style.[41] Second, the prophecy of Isaiah stands as the lead element in John’s story, explaining his ministry (Matt 3:3); a similar prophecy from Isaiah summarizes what Jesus has previously accomplished (4:15–16). These reviews stand near the extremes of the larger narrative. Third, Matthew 3:1 and 4:17 form an effective inclusio binding the flow of the narrative together and setting these scenes off from those that precede as well as those that follow. Fourth, John’s announcement about Jesus’s unique character and mission is clearly the testimonial highlight of the passage and thus belongs at center stage. In other words, the heightened significance of the pivotal element in the chiastic structure fits well with the declarations as developed in the Gospel at this point.

At the same time, when measured by Blomberg’s criteria for macrochiasm, Breck’s analysis leaves many gaps. For one thing, the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness (4:1–11) is hardly parallel to John’s chosen wilderness lifestyle (3:4–6). When Breck identifies these sections as similar in theme or content he ignores the general consensus of scholarship that views it otherwise, violating Blomberg’s second criterion. Jesus enters the wilderness as a place alien and foreign, while John makes the wilderness his home. John thrives on the substance of the wilderness, while Jesus endures the threat of the wilderness. In addition, the length of these passages and the actual terminology used in each are very different, thus working against Blomberg’s third and fourth criteria. “John in the wilderness” comprises three verses that describe a place, while “Jesus in the wilderness” is eleven verses of dialogue and action.

Again, the interaction between John and the Pharisees and Sadducees who come seeking baptism (3:7–10) is dissimilar to that between John and Jesus at his baptism (3:13–17) in tone, wording, and overall intent. John is antagonistic toward the Pharisees and Sadducees but subservient toward Jesus; the coming of the Pharisees and the Sadducees to John results in a diatribe against them that comprises nearly the entire section identified by Breck, while the baptism of Jesus includes short dialogues and a number of character movements and actions. Jesus’s baptism becomes, within the passage, a consecration for divine service, while the arrival of the Pharisees and Sadducees plays to the rejection theme woven throughout the Gospel.[42]

These matters of exegesis diminish the need to read the passage in chiastic terms and limit the strength of a “centered” passage to hold or summarize the meaning of the whole (Blomberg’s eighth criterion). More than that, they point to the need for clear criteria by which to interpret the nature of the correspondence between paralleled elements of passages where macrochiasm is suspected, but where the clear correspondence of repeated terms or phrases is absent. This is particularly important in the ongoing quest for chiasm, especially in longer passages of both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament. It takes strong literary glue to hold lengthy narratives together in true chiastic form. Still, as many have shown, the glue is not impossible to find.

Extending The Criteria: Ruth

What is the length to which a passage may be held together by chiastic development? The Johannine Farewell Discourse, after all, comprises five chapters. Is it even conceivable that a passage of such length may find its best interpretation through a chiastic reading?

A number of passages in the Hebrew Bible give evidence of chiastic flow over a rather lengthy narrative development.[43] One of the longest examples of chiastic development is found in the book of Ruth.[44] The book unfolds the story of a desolate widow named Naomi through several shifts in scene. The figure of Naomi stands in for the plight of Israel during the time of the judges (1:1). Elimelech, her husband, uproots the family, leaving behind their inheritance to sojourn as aliens in a foreign culture. Experiencing the (implied) judgment of God against her, she attempts to return to the context of covenantal blessedness. The misfortunes of Naomi’s family have made full restitution seemingly impossible, however, because, as a woman, she cannot inherit the land of her husband. Yet suddenly, in the person of Boaz, a hero is found who will champion her cause. In collaboration with Ruth he acts out the necessary redemptive designs that will restore Naomi’s position in her homeland. The story recounts the salvific acts that allow Naomi, the embittered loser in life, to once again be blessed within her community.

While there are many analyses of this drama, it appears from the balance of the terms and phrases and the careful crafting of the scenes that a chiastic ordering is present:

A Naomi becomes destitute (1:1–5)

B Deliberations on the road regarding Ruth’s and Naomi’s future (1:6–18)

C Conversation at home about harvest, want, and plenty (1:19–22)

D Reaping a good harvest (2:1–17)

E Premonitions of salvation (2:18–23)

F The announcement of “homecoming” (3:1)

Eʹ Premonitions of salvation (3:2–6)

Dʹ Reaping a good harvest (3:7–15)

Cʹ Conversation at home about harvest, want, and plenty (3:16–18)

Bʹ Deliberations on the road regarding Ruth’s and Naomi’s future (4:1–12)

Aʹ Naomi becomes fulfilled (4:13–17)

The genealogy at the end of the story is not intrinsic to the narrative. Rather, it outlines the manner in which this time of the judges, characterized by destitution, finds its transition into the era of the kings, characterized by fulfillment. The star of the genealogy is David, who will deliver his people in a manner analogous to that in which Boaz acted heroically on Naomi’s behalf.

The story is told with amazing care.[45] The introduction (1:1–5) and the conclusion (4:13–17) are identical in length—71 words each in Hebrew. There are four clearly defined interior literary panels (1:6–22; 2:1–23; 3:1–15; 3:16–4:12), each functioning as a single “act” in the drama, and each further structured with two separate but related scenes.[46] Furthermore, the supporting cast is also balanced. Although Naomi’s story drives the action, typifying the movement of the nation of Israel during these days, the real determiners of action in the story are Boaz and Ruth. Each of these figures is paired with a complementary foil: Boaz is aware of a closer relative who has both the responsibility and the opportunity to take on Naomi’s case, yet refuses to do so; similarly, Orpah, Naomi’s other daughter-in-law, turns back to the family and traditions of Moab rather than journey with Naomi into the unknown as Ruth does. Again, when Naomi enters Bethlehem, her old home-town, she is immediately surrounded by a group of women who speak in chorus. This women’s chorus appears again with Naomi in the closing scenes. Similarly, when Boaz is in the public arena, he is surrounded by a troupe of male elders who witness the deeds taking place.

At the heart of it all, in this reading, is the declaration of 3:1: “Naomi her mother-in-law said to her, ‘My daughter, I need to seek some security for you, so that it may be well with you.’ “This is the quest of Naomi in the drama of the book: a search for security to bring gain out of a situation of great loss and the uncertainty of chaotic times. But it is also the need of Israel in those very times. Thus, the chiastic center of the narrative serves also as the focus or goal of the tale as a whole, giving religious shape to the rationale behind the action of each of the dramatic personae.

It is evident from this summary that there is progression and balance to the tale of Ruth. It also appears that the declaration at the center serves well to highlight the overall meaning of the story. In addition to this narrative development, other elements of the story seem to confirm these intended patterns of literary design.

The book shows a reflexive interaction of themes. The mirroring of public and private scenes in each act and its chiastic partner is just one indication. Act I begins with a scene in a public place (on the road) (1:6–18) and ends in the private scene of Naomi at home (1:19–22). In a mirror-like reversal, Act IV begins with the private scene, again in Naomi’s home (3:16–18), and concludes in a public place (in the gate of the city which is, interestingly, on the road) (4:1–12). Similarly, the first scene in Act II happens in the public arena of the harvest fields (2:1–17), while its concluding scene is back in the privacy of Naomi’s home (2:18–23). Act III deals the scenes in reverse: beginning in Naomi’s home (3:1–6), it moves to culmination back in the harvest fields (3:7–15).

As noted earlier, both the introductory literary panel (1:1–5) and the conclusion (not including the epilogue) (4:13–17) contain exactly 71 words in Hebrew. But this clear balance in the economy of telling the story goes much further. The literary panel of Act I (1:6–22) contains 253 words in the Hebrew text; its mirror literary panel, Act IV (3:16–4:12), is composed of 263 Hebrew words. The inner literary panels, Act II (2:1–23) and Act III (3:1–15) are less equally balanced in terms of words used (368/204), probably due in part to the differences in location and circumstances. The public scene in Act II (2:1–17) takes place during the daytime, when Boaz and Ruth are surrounded by the chorus of workers who participate in the dialogue. The public scene in Act III (3:7–15), however, is a nocturnal affair and involves only Ruth and Boaz.

There is a clear repetition of Hebrew words in parallel literary panels. In the introduction, for example, Naomi loses her sons (יְלָדֶיהָ, 1:5); in the conclusion, she gains a son (אֶת־הַיֶּלֶד, 4:16). In the first act, Naomi is “empty” (רֵיקָם, 1:21), and in the fourth she will no longer be so (אַל־תָּבוֹאִי רֵיקָם אֶל־חֲמוֹתֵךְ, 3:17). In Act II Boaz is identified as a “kinsman” (מוֹדָע, 2:1), an appellation that is repeated in the following act (3:2). Similarly, in the second act Boaz remarks that Ruth has taken refuge under the wings (כְּנָפָיו) of the God of Israel (2:12); in the next (and parallel) act, it is Ruth who declares that she desires to take refuge under Boaz’s “wings” (כְנָפֶךָ, 3:9). Boaz is introduced in Act II as a worthy person (גִּבּוֹר חַיִל אִישׁ, 2:1), a title given then by Boaz to Ruth in the paralleling of Act III (אֵשֶׁת חַיִל, 3:11). Other examples abound.[47]

The continued parallels between the inner acts are striking. In each Ruth exposes herself at personal risk (from the other harvesters in Act II; from Boaz in Act III); in each Boaz invites Ruth to remain under his protection and pronounces a blessing upon her; in each Boaz gives food to Ruth. Again, these examples could be multiplied.

Even the introduction and the conclusion to the tale have striking parallels. The names of Mahlon and Chilion, Naomi’s first sons, appear only in these extreme literary panels. More than that, the order of their names is reversed in the conclusion (4:9) from that given in the introduction (1:2).

Obviously, some creative hand has worked carefully to arrange the smaller details of the story such that there appears to be a larger chiasm that envelops the entire narrative. Given the tendency toward expressing a large number of details within several of the literary panels of the story in a chiastically reflexive manner, it seems as if the inclination toward chiastic storytelling may have become operative when bringing together the multiple panels of the tale as a whole.

When Blomberg’s criteria for assessing macrochiasm are applied to this suggested development of the book of Ruth, there is confirmation on all nine points:

1. Many scholars have suggested outlines of the story; none has found universal acceptance.[48]
2. As outlined and described, there are clear examples of parallelism that are widely recognized by scholars.
3. There are both grammatical and conceptual parallels between the reflexively paired sections of the book.
4. Repetition of catchwords and specific phrases highlights the parallelism of the various sections.
5. The introduction and conclusion of the book of Ruth use both verbal and conceptual parallels not found elsewhere throughout the rest of the chiasm.[49]
6. The literary development is compound and complex, supporting chiastic movement over the length of the book.
7. The outline noted here makes use of widely recognized breaks in the text, as suggested also by the chapter breaks that have been inserted in the text.
8. In Naomi’s words at the center of the chiasm (3:1) is summarized the plight of desolation experienced by Naomi and Ruth, as well as the necessary outcome required and produced by the movements of the story.
9. The outline is consistent and progressive, with no ruptures to detract from clear chiastic development.

The examples from Matthew 3:1–4:17 and Ruth show that Blomberg’s criteria are useful for both disproving and supporting macrochiastic readings of relatively lengthy passages.[50] Blomberg’s criteria should therefore also help determine whether a chiastic reading of the Farewell Discourse in John 13–17 is valid. The second part of this article will explore this possibility and suggest that a chiastic reading of John 13–17 provides a new and important step in the continuing analysis of the passage.

Notes

1. Ian H. Thomson, Chiasmus in the Pauline Letters (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995), 25–26.
2. Thomson, Chiasmus, 25–26.
3. Cf. Nils Lund, Chiasmus in the New Testament: A Study in the Form and Function of Chiastic Structures (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1992), 40–41; John Breck, The Shape of Biblical Language: Chiasmus in the Scriptures and Beyond (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1994), 33–35.
4. Thomson, Chiasmus, 33.
5. Adapted from characteristics listed in ibid., 27–28.
6. Ibid., 30–31.
7. David J. Clark, “Criteria for Identifying Chiasm,” Linguistica Biblica 5 (1975): 63.
8. Thomson, Chiasmus, 30.
9. Ibid., 31.
10. Ibid., 29.
11. Cf. Umberto Cassuto, “The Chiastic Word Pattern in Hebrew,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 38 (1976): 303–11; Umberto Cassuto, “The Function of Chiasmus in Hebrew Poetry,” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 40 (1978): 1–40; A. di Marco, “Der Chiasmus in der Bibel,” Linguistica Biblica 36 (1975): 21–79; 37 (1976): 49–68; 44 (1979): 3–70; J. T. Willis, “The Juxtaposition of Synonymous and Chiastic Parallelism in Tricola in Old Testament Hebrew Psalm Poetry,” Vetus Testamentum 29 (1979): 465–80.
12. Cf. Peter F. Ellis, Matthew: His Mind and His Message (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1974); Peter F. Ellis, Seven Pauline Letters (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1982); Peter F. Ellis, The Genius of John (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1984); M. Philip Scott, “Chiastic Structure: A Key to the Interpretation of Mark’s Gospel,” Biblical Theology Bulletin 15 (1985): 17–26; Charles Talbert, “Artistry and Theology: An Analysis of the Architecture of Jn 1, 19–5, 47, ” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 32 (1970): 341–66; John W. Welch, Chiasmus in Antiquity: Structures, Analyses, Exegesis (Provo, UT: Research Press, 1999).
13. Thomson, Chiasmus, 21. He notes extant manuscripts containing copies of Solon’s laws written in this fashion, known as βουστροφηδόν.
14. Ibid., 22.
15. Thomson, Chiasmus, 22–24. Cf. H. L. Marrou, A History of Education in Antiquity (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1956); Augustine Stock, “Chiastic Awareness and Education in Antiquity,” Biblical Theology Bulletin 14 (1984): 23–27.
16. Kenneth E. Bailey, Poet and Peasant; and Through Peasant Eyes: A Literary-Cultural Approach to the Parables in Luke, combined edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 28–37.
17. Ibid., 49.
18. Ibid., 30–37. See also Thomson, Chiasmus, 30–35.
19. Bailey, Poet and Peasant, 31–32; Thomson, Chiasmus, 75.
20. Bailey, Poet and Peasant, 35; Thomson, Chiasmus, 30–35.
21. Bailey finds chiastic development in many parables of Jesus. He believes that this arose from the techniques of storytelling in Jesus’s culture and was aided by the oral tradition that carried the teachings of Jesus before they were written down. Bailey, Through Peasant Eyes, xiv–xx.
22. Bailey, Poet and Peasant, 74–75; Thomson refers to this as a type of “structuring device” in lectio continua or scriptio continua. Thomson, Chiasmus, 35.
23. Bailey, Poet and Peasant, 75n54. Cf. Thomson, Chiasmus, 34; Nicholas H. Ridderbos and Herbert M. Wolf, “Poetry, Hebrew,” in The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986), 895.
24. M. J. Dahood, Psalms, Anchor Bible 16 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965), xxxiii.
25. Stanley E. Porter and Jeffrey T. Reed, “Philippians as a Macro-Chiasm and Its Exegetical Significance,” New Testament Studies 44 (1998): 221.
26. Craig Blomberg, “The Structure of 2 Corinthians 1–7, ” Criswell Theological Review 4 (1989): 3–20; cf. A. Boyd Luter and Michelle V. Lee, “Philippians as Chiasmus: Key to the Structure, Unity and Theme Questions,” New Testament Studies 41 (1995): 89–101.
27. Blomberg, “Structure,” 5.
28. Besides Welch, Chiasmus in Antiquity, Blomberg points to the “voluminous catalog” of A. di Marco, Il chiasma nella Bibbia (Torino: Mariettie, 1980).
29. Blomberg, “Structure,” 5.
30. Ibid. Cf. Thomson, Chiasmus, 36: “The fact that modern readers of New Testament Greek may struggle to identify a chiastic structure may say more about the modern cast of mind than about the presence and relevance of chiasmus. It may well be, therefore, that the readers (or even the hearers) of a particular epistle of Paul’s would be aware of the presence of chiasmus because of a much more highly developed consciousness of chiastic patterns resulting from its prevalence in the languages of their day.”
31. Blomberg, “Structure,” 5–7. Luter and Lee adopt these criteria as the basis for their investigation of a chiastic structure to Philippians, though their examples of “clear parallelism between the two ‘halves’ of the chiasm” (criterion 2) are not convincing. At best, their statement of the divisions of the text seems somewhat arbitrary (criterion 7), and the use of the Pauline “travelogue” in Philippians 2:17–3:1 as the “climax” of the chiastic development (criterion 8) presents a strange twist on the usual interpretations of the letter. Indeed, rather than disproving the value of Blomberg’s criteria for chiastic assessment they have affirmed it, indicating the manner in which it appears to undermine their own attempt at macrochiastic analysis. See Luter and Lee, “Philippians as Chiasmus,” 89–101.
32. Blomberg, “Structure,” 8–9.
33. Ibid., 7–8.
34. Porter and Reed, “Philippians as a Macro-Chiasm,” 221.
35. Cf., e.g., Peter H. Davids, The Epistle of James: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 22–29. Interestingly, Davids suggests that a type of chiastic ordering may be helpful in finding a meaningful relationship between the parallel themes and terms occurring in the letter.
36. Porter and Reed, “Philippians as a Macro-Chiasm,” 220.
37. Blomberg, “Structure,” 9–10, 14.
38. Ibid., 14.
39. Breck, Shape, 125.
40. Ibid.
41. Cf. Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 42–43.
42. Cf. Jack Dean Kingsbury, Matthew: Structure, Christology, Kingdom (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 165–66.
43. Another example of macrochiastic development is found in the story of the Flood in Genesis 6:10–9:19. For extensive details and support, see Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 1–15, Word Biblical Commentary 1 (Waco: Word, 1987), 155–58. See also B. W. Anderson, “From Analysis to Synthesis: The Interpretation of Gen 1–11, ” Journal of Biblical Literature 97 (1978): 23–39.
44. Cf. Stephen Bertman, “Symmetrical Design in the Book of Ruth,” Journal of Biblical Literature 84 (1965): 165–68; Edward F. Campbell Jr., Ruth, Anchor Bible 7 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1975), 15–16.
45. Cf. Campbell, Ruth, 10–18.
46. Act I (1:6–22): scene 1 (1:6–18), scene 2 (1:19–22); Act II (2:1–23): scene 1 (2:1–17), scene 2 (2:18–23); Act III (3:1–15): scene 1 (3:1–5), scene 2 (3:6–15); Act IV (3:16–4:12): scene 1 (3:16–18), scene 2 (4:1–12).
47. Cf. Campbell, Ruth, 13–17.
48. Cf. Jacob M. Myers, The Linguistic and Literary Form of the Book of Ruth (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1955), 32.
49. E.g., the names of Naomi’s husband and sons (these latter names in reversed order in the conclusion).
50. For further use of Blomberg’s criteria in affirming or denying macrochiastic readings of other biblical passages, see Wayne Brouwer, The Literary Development of John 13–17: A Chiastic Reading, Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series 182 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000).