Chapter 2.
The Literary Qualities of the Bible

Some people are very uncomfortable in calling the Bible "literature." They react like frightened children who tiptoe and whisper in the church sanctuary, afraid that someone might scold them if they say or do the wrong thing. Others act like brazen teenagers who race down the dark aisles of the church at midnight and shriek while wrecking the whole place in acts of senseless vandalism. Their attitude toward the Bible is as if it were nothing but a musty old book full of fables and lies.

Hidden in every adult, we are told, is a little child. Can he or she transcend the child, and find a happy medium somewhere between the extremist views of the untouchable sacred and the flagrantly secular of our modern technological age? The authors propose that the answer is "Yes," which brings us to the purpose of this chapter—to transcend the child within us and, as an adult, look at the Bible, not as a nursery rhyme, but as a mature literary work of tremendous merit.

In What Sense Can the Bible be Called Literature?

Let us start by stating that the Bible is a book. Of course it is not merely a book, to be treated exactly like all other books. But it is a book that we can read, study, and understand as we understand other great literary works. Indeed, it ranks as a book with other literary works because it contains imaginative written material that has been received as a whole book by generations of people of many races, cultures, and languages.

This book began with the separate scrolls of the Hebrew Bible. For some two thousand years the Hebrew Bible has been considered as one book with a fixed canon of accepted scrolls and works. As the early Christians adopted their unique gospels, history, letters, and apocalypse, they came in time to view them along with the Hebrew Bible as an expanded collection of sacred writings. This union of Old and New Testaments became a book that influences millions of people because of its special place, but is nevertheless a book of literature.

Some might question this pairing of the Old and New Testaments in a single book. The Jewish people's reaction in particular to seeing the name "New Testament" alongside an "Old Testament" (their Hebrew Bible or "Tanach" renamed) is certainly understandable. The Berkley Hebrew and Comparative Literature Professor Robert Alter astutely writes that "there is surely no warrant to imagine that the ancient Hebrew writers composed their stories and poems and laws and genealogical lists with the idea that they were providing a prelude to another set of texts, to be written in another language centuries later" (The World of Biblical Literature 48). He might have added that original Hebrew writers never imagined that their stories and poems would be included years later into a Hebrew canon of sacred scriptures.

But it is impossible to undo history. The fact is that the New Testament writers felt they were indeed writing a continuing story that built on the Hebrew Bible and carried its meaning forward. It is also a fact that the early councils of the Christian church perceived similar structure and spiritual meaning in the old Hebrew Bible and the new sacred writings, which they endorsed by canonizing them. Moreover, the general public agreed with them in the way the new Bible, containing the Old Testament and the New Testament, was perceived. And perception is reality.

Part of the basis of this perception was the tremendous influence the expanded Bible of Old Testament and New Testament had on other literature during and since the Middle Ages. It would be illogical, as Northrop Frye writes, for such a book to have "so specific a literary influence without itself possessing literary qualities" (The Great Code xvi).

That the Bible does possess many outstanding literary qualities should be obvious to a Bible reader who is familiar with other works of literature. This great book is like an anthology of different kinds of literature, as Robert Alter points out, "including historiography, fictional narratives, lists of laws, prophecy in both poetic and prose, aphoristic and reflective works, cultic and devotional poems, laments and victory hymns, love poems, genealogical tables, etiological tales, and much more" (The World of Biblical Literature 49). We can add that narrative, poetry, letters, biography, and history abound throughout the Bible. Additionally, the Bible contains hundreds of literary allusions, images, types, figures of speech, metaphors, similes, allegories, parables, and short stories, plus endless instances of other literary conventions and artistry (see Figure 1).

We simply can not read the Bible attentively without encountering a multitude of its literary qualities and characteristics. As Alter states,

We see everywhere the evidence of literary craftsmanship. The writers are obviously intent on telling us about the origins of the world, the history of Israel, God's ethical requirements of mankind, the cultic stipulations of the new monotheistic faith, the future vistas of disaster and redemption. But the telling has a shapeliness whose subtleties we are only beginning to understand" (The World of Biblical Literature 53).

Why have people been reluctant to deal with this enormous avalanche of testimony that the Bible is a work of literature? Possibly the problem was created by both friends and enemies of the Bible. Pious believers in the eternal truth of the Bible often concentrate solely on reading the Bible devotionally and interpreting it theologically. As a consequence, they fear literary criticism of the Bible, lest it threaten their faith and the faith of their children. On the other hand, enemies of religious faith charge the Bible with obscurantism, inconsistency, fallacy, and needless repetition. Their bias blinds them to the literary qualities just catalogued and to an important literary principle which we now must address.

Northrop Frye explains in Words With Power why such critical value judgments have no relevance to kerygmatic books like the Bible and the Koran (119). The reason is because both groups have skipped one of the first tasks of literary critics: to determine the form of verbal communication which is before them. To describe the form he finds in the Bible, Frye uses the New Testament term "kerygma," meaning "proclamation." He explains that this term describes a verbal feature that has affinities with rhetoric and poetry, yet is not quite either.

The New Testament kerygma, or proclamation, goes beyond ordinary rhetoric and to "the other side of the poetic." This is what Frye means when he says that many critical value judgments when applied to religious books like the Bible and the Koran are not valid because they "have no relevance to the kerygmatic" type of literature. Thus there are limits to literary criticism when applied to the Bible. Frye writes: "To get to whatever the verbal mode of the Bible may be we have to go through the territory of literature; but we also have to go out of it on our way to something else" (100-101). In other words, we miss part of the benefit if we don't treat it as a work of literature, though a special kind of literature.

Frye's concept of the importance of kerygma, or proclamation of the Good News, as wedded to the idea of going through the territory of literature to understanding the meaning of the Bible, offers help to both literary and religious readers. A literary reader does not have to be a believer to appreciate the beauty of the Bible. But a believer does need to know how to find his or her way through the territory of literature to understand the full meaning of the Bible.

How is the Bible Like Other Literature?

We mentioned that the Bible is much like an anthology of literature. This is because it contains 66 books of different kinds of literature, with various genres within each of the books. Each book may be predominantly one kind of literature or another, such as poetry, history, biography, narrative, or a letter.

Poetry

The Hebrew poetry of the Old Testament has the following recognizable literary characteristics:

1. Parallelism, or a balanced thought rhyme, within successive elements of a verse or a section of a poem or psalm;
2. Metrical units, or patterns making up a line of poetry recognized by the number of accented syllables in the original language; and
3. Recurring refrains grouped in larger patterns like stanzas.

An illustration of parallelism occurs in Psalm 19:1:

"The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork." (RSV)

For an example of metrical units, turn to wisdom literature, like Job 14:1-2, with the accented syllables marked thus:

mán that-is-bórn of-a-wóman is-of-féw dáys, and fúll-of-tróuble. He-cómes-fórth like-a-flówer, and-wíthers; he-flées like-a-shádow and-contínues nót. (RSV)

It is interesting that the Old English poets similarly used a poetic line with four accented syllables and an indefinite number of unaccented syllables.

The prophetic book of Isaiah contains much poetry as well as prose. The passage from 9:2 to 10:19 is beautiful Hebrew poetry, part of which contains the well-known passage in verses 6 and 7, which begins:

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given …"

The recurring refrain,

"For all this his anger is not turned away but his hand is stretched out still."

concludes stanzas at the end of verses 12, 17, 21 (in chapter 9), and again at 10:4.

These three poetic characteristics—parallelism, metrical units and recurring refrains—are much like forms of poetry found with certain variations, in most languages.

For example, consider poetic variation in Anglo-Saxon poetry, as in the poem "Widsith:"

"Widsith spoke, his word-hoard unlocked."

The second part of the line is much like Hebrew parallelism: it furnishes no additional information and adds nothing to the meaning, but simply repeats the thought in a parallel expression. Compare, for example, the verse in Proverbs about a good wife:

"She stretches out her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy."

An Old Testament reader who is familiar with poetic literary techniques will notice other devices that must have been deliberately and skillfully employed by the writers. One of these is acrostic patterns, which can be quite complex. In Psalms 34:1-21 the verses begin with the letters of the Hebrew alphabet in the normal pattern, except for verse 22. Psalms 9 and 10 form a single poem (and are designated as a single psalm in the Septuagint Greek version of the Old Testament), with an acrostic pattern in which pairs of verses begin with successive letters of the Hebrew alphabet. Here the pattern as we have it today is not quite perfect, but it may have been perfect at one time and have been imperfectly copied and transmitted to our oldest available manuscripts.

Lamentations (chapters 1, 2, and 3) contains examples of alphabetical acrostics in which three lines or phrases begin with the same successive letter of the alphabet. The most artistic acrostic is the famous Psalm 119, in which there are 22 sections (corresponding to the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet), with each section consisting of eight stanzas, and all verses in each section beginning with the same letter of the Hebrew alphabet.

Three other poetic devices are more difficult to illustrate in an English translation, as their use corresponds so much more closely to the Hebrew language. These characteristics include alliteration (words or syllables which begin with the same consonant), assonance (repetition of the same vowel sound), and onomatopoeia (use of words which sound like what they describe). In the Bible, as in other literature, these devices are used in prose as well as poetry.

Readers of Shakespeare seldom miss the splendid poetry that is interwoven in the tragedies and comedies, nor should readers of the Bible miss the poetry it contains. That poetry makes the Bible like other literature that contains poetry.

If poetic devices used in the works of Homer or Shakespeare help qualify them as literature, then the poetic devices used in the Bible must earn it equal literary status. But poetry is only one sector of the overall body of what we call "literature." The other, or course, is narrative, or prose.

Prose

An excellent source for information about Old Testament narrative is The Art of Biblical Narrative, by Robert Alter. Although the book has apparently not been discovered by many Christian Bible students, it is referenced by a few evangelical writers, professors, and teachers. All Christians as well as uncommitted searchers after truth can learn much from this Jewish scholar and authority on the Hebrew Bible. Some of the ideas in his book serve as a springboard for this section.

Alter uses the term "prose fiction," stating that "prose fiction is the best general rubric for describing biblical narrative" (24). By this he means what Herbert Schneidau and others have called "historicized prose fiction," which "moves steadily away from the motives of legend and myth" (Sacred Discontent 215). As Alter presents his illuminating illustrations from the biblical text of historicized prose fiction, he writes,

Let me hasten to say that in giving such weight to fictionality, I do not mean to discount the historical impulse that informs the Hebrew Bible. The God of Israel … is above all the God of History.… The point is that fiction was the principal means which the biblical authors had at their disposal for realizing history." (32)

Alter has focused our attention on the interweaving of factual historical detail with legendary "history," including archetypal fictions of the founding fathers of the Jewish nation, and fictionalized versions of known historical figures. He suggests that in the book of Ruth, she and Naomi and Boaz are fictional inventions, probably based on little more than names preserved in the national memory. Therefore Alter and others would classify the book of Ruth as historicized fiction.

Likewise, Alter believes that much of the material in the stories about David in the Bible is historicized fiction, or a mixture of history and fiction. Accordingly, the writer has felt free to "invent interior monologue for his characters; to ascribe feeling, intention, or motive to them when he chooses; to supply verbatim dialogue for occasions when no one but the actors themselves could have had knowledge of exactly what was said" (34-35).

What about New Testament narrative? The book of Acts is usually considered a prime example of exact narrative. Surely Luke would not have shaped his accounts of what happened. Or would he? Or did he? In fact, the book of Acts presents some sharp differences with the life of Paul as presented in Paul's own letters.

For example, Luke pictures Paul in Acts as a law-abiding Jew, and Luke tries to emphasize the close relation between Christianity and Judaism. However, some of Paul's ideas and writings, (especially his statements about the law) appear to threaten the links between Christianity and Judaism. Christopher Tuckett, a noted New Testament lecturer at the University of Manchester, feels that "Luke's account (written forty years after the events took place) is a self-conscious attempt to 'correct' the picture of Paul" (Reading the New Testament 130).

Thus, it is possible that writers of the New Testament narratives, as well as the Old Testament writers, have shaped the traditional material to their own purposes. This tendency of writers to shape "historical" material is found in all narrative literature, and would make the Bible's prose similar to the prose of other literature.

How is the Bible Different From Other literature?

The Gospels Are Different

There is much to be said about the four Gospels in the New Testament as literature, because they provide a variety of literary forms. They contain the same poetic and rhythmical parallelism found in Old Testament Hebrew poetry. They also include numerous instances of similar plays on words as in the Old Testament.

However, when we examine the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, we must recognize that they are a special new genre, or sort of literature. Sometimes we would like to call these Gospels biography, but they don't quite fit the usual definition of biography. It's true that the ancient world had writings known as biographies, but the Gospels are different. Unlike the Hellenistic biographies of the same period, the Gospels do not give us information we would normally expect from a regular biography of Jesus of Nazareth. They tell us very little about his background, his childhood, education, or his physical or psychological growth. This is why it appears that the Christian writers developed a new genre or type of writing to relate their story of the ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus (Tuckett 130).

The Parables are Different

The Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke include some sixty parables of Jesus, which he used as his favorite method of instruction. Parables are fictional stories that are intended to stir the imagination toward further thought about the subject. One description of the typical New Testament parable has been given by C.H. Dodd: "A metaphor or simile drawn from nature or common life, arresting the reader by its vividness or strangeness, and leaving the mind in sufficient doubt about its precise application to tease it into active thought" (Parables of the Kingdom 16). Parables, therefore, fit into a conception of literature by deliberately setting out to exploit the imaginative use of language and to stir the imagination.

Sharing another characteristic of most literature, parables can take on multiple universal meanings. But here is where the parables of Jesus differ. Most of the parables of Jesus teach only one main point. Minor details are not offered to present several other or subordinate meanings. These parables were not created for critics and sharp readers to speculate about multiple meanings. They were created as part of his total teaching, and a reader who seeks meanings outside of that context will fail to find the intended meanings.

Parables not only teach the essential message of Jesus, but also describe his methodology. In these two respects the parables of the New Testament were similar to literary forms used by other teachers of the time. This is not to say that they are true copies of contemporary parables, because we find significant differences when we compare them with the form and use of parable in apocryphal and pseudepigraphal writings of the intertestament period.

For example, the pseudepigraphal writer of the book of Enoch presents a form of parable which is essentially a vision of a future revealed only to those with elite knowledge of divine mysteries. Parables of that form deal with subjects such as the future state of the righteous and the wicked, the secrets of the heavens, the judgments of God, and the angels. They are almost always used to bridge the gap between this earthly world and the heavenly world and between the troubled present and the glorious future.

Alternatively, although the parables of Jesus often also concern secrets of Heaven, they are set within the scope of prayer for God's will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. It is possible that the evangelists may have sometimes altered the wording of the parables themselves and the context in which they were originally spoken. Nevertheless, unlike in the book of Enoch, they are based on the actual substance of the teachings of Jesus.

There are, of course, other differences between the literature of the Bible and other secular literature, but this discussion of the Gospels and Parables serves to illustrate some of the typical points of comparison. To go into a detailed discussion or all of the differences would be beyond the scope of this book.

The Greatest Difference

To this point, this discussion has centered on present-day scholarship about the literary qualities of the Bible. Although much more could be said on this subject, we must move on to the single greatest difference between the Bible and other literature. This tremendous difference is the very thing that has led some writers to conclude that the Bible should not even be called literature. This quantum leap is what theologians speak of when they refer to the Bible as the inspired Word of God.

The Bible must have a divine aspect as well as a human aspect, or it would not have survived as it has and maintained the tremendous influence it has over the hearts, minds, and lives of so many intelligent persons throughout the centuries. Let us now squarely face this issue.

The rabbis declare that the Hebrew Bible is the Word of God, and the Christian church likewise has traditionally maintained that both the Old Testament and the New Testament are the Word of God. Not only rabbis and church fathers, but also church councils and renaissance reformers, for various reasons, and in reasoning along different lines, came to this position. Both Jewish and Christian biblical scholars and theologians taught for many centuries that the Bible is both the Word of God and the work of men.

These traditional beliefs were jolted as the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries brought the rise of rationalism. This was accompanied with an expansion of science, philosophy, and learning in the age of biblical archaeology and contemporary literary studies. The result was a change in the entire area of biblical studies. With new information and sources of knowledge, fresh theories were proposed, with convincing arguments and evidence, about the authorship and nature of the Bible.

Then in the 1940s a British university professor and Bible scholar named H. H. Rowley spoke for many Christian believers who wanted to go beyond the date and documentary authorship issues, and to find new ways of understanding an abiding significance of the Bible. Many had no arguments against recognizing the human efforts and processes that went into the writing, copying, editing, composing, translating, and transmitting the Bible. In fact, they had great admiration and respect for the Bible as a book, but they found their knowledge of the mechanics of its production to be unsatisfying. Rowley sensed that scripture readers wanted to understand the Bible primarily as a religious book, and before anything else as God's Word to man. In this search, Rowley's book The Relevance of the Bible was a great and timely service.

This, then, is the crucial difference between the Bible and other literature. No other literature claims to be at the same time the word of God and the words of men. The Hebrew Bible and the New Testament—while perceived by so many to embody the word of God—bear literary features of structure and form which compare favorably with other sacred and secular literature of similar genre. It is not necessary or desirable to minimize the distinctions between the Bible and secular literature. Neither should it be assumed that because the biblical text is ancient and different in some respects from modern literature, it is therefore crude or simple. As Alter points out, ancient narrative often demonstrates great complexity, subtlety and literary art (21).

What is at Risk by Treating the Bible as Literature?

There can be risks for all readers, whether they are agnostics, moderate Christians, or fundamentalists. But the risks do not necessarily entail terrible consequences. Agnostics who study the Bible objectively as literature may become more comfortable with religion, yet not feel forced to make any religious commitment. Meanwhile, moderate Christians who agree to treat the Bible as literature will risk nothing more than losing their fears and anxieties. They may discover that the world will not come to an end when they first examine the Bible using literary principles and techniques.

Those likely to have the toughest time coming to grips with the concept of the Bible as literature are fundamentalist Christians. They may perceive terrible consequences, and, as we noted at the beginning of this chapter, perception is reality. In their minds, the risk of losing their faith can be very real, and the farther they lean toward dogmatic legalism, the more threatening is the risk. Because their spiritual security is tied up in protecting their beliefs, it becomes an all or nothing proposition.

Thus they fear that if they admit that the Bible was written by unknown writers rather than by the traditional authors, then they can no longer believe in the Bible at all. They fear that if they admit that there are errors, contradictions, or inconsistencies in the Bible, they can no longer believe in any of it. They are afraid that if persons whom they have believed all their lives to be real historical individuals are accepted as allegorical figures, their faith will be destroyed. They are extremely anxious that if any part of the Bible is shown to be the word of men rather than the true Word of God, they not only can no longer believe in any of the Bible, but also can no longer be a member of any church. Ultimately, they fear that if they should grant that some part of the Bible may not be verbally inspired and inerrant, they will be guilty of apostasy.

No one should treat lightly these concerns of extremely conservative evangelicals or fundamentalists, for if their fears were valid they would indeed be very serious. And if they sincerely believe in those fears, they perceive the risks to be genuine and very grave. Consequently, many fundamentalist believers may never be able to treat the Bible as literature. Thus, when they read the Bible they will find themselves chewing on what seems to them an unevenly baked piece of cake without the benefit of frosting.

The tragedy is that some extremely conservative evangelicals may absorb just enough of skeptics' allegations to cause them to shed their faith and flee their churches. If they learn only enough to challenge some of their beliefs, but not enough on which to build a more secure faith, they could be trapped by the dictum, "a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing." The solution to that would be to invest enough time and effort to learn more fully. Instead of just tearing down their old religious beliefs, they would need to rebuild. In short, they might adopt Frye's concept of going through and beyond the territory of literature for understanding the meaning of the Bible. The greatest risk would be in stopping short of success when it is almost in their hands.

The next greatest risk would be to accept the Bible as mere literature without going beyond literature to reclaim it as a unique religious book which has in some way come from a divine influence through the minds and hands of human beings. This assumption that the Bible is nothing but literature would be to fall in the reductionist trap. The key theme of a reductionist theory is that if "A" is in some way equivalent to "B", then "A" must be nothing but "B". This line of reasoning will not work if applied to many subjects, and certainly not when applied to the Bible. Although the Bible undeniably has many literary qualities, and it can profitably be studied as literature, it cannot be reduced to mere literature.

If a fundamentalist believer should become a casualty of reductionism, he will have gone from the one extreme to another, and indeed fallen prey to his greatest fear. Moreover, he will have missed the point. Yes, the Bible undeniably has many literary qualities, and it can profitably be studied as literature. But no, it cannot be reduced to "mere literature," for the same reasons that the Sermon on the Mount can not be reduced to a mere speech.

The Limits of Literary Analysis

Let no one say that there are no limits to a literary analysis of the Bible. Like textual criticism, historical criticism, form criticism, and every other human system of biblical criticism, literary criticism, too, has its limits. That is one reason why the terms literary analysis, or the literary approach to biblical studies, are more useful in this study than the term criticism. Accordingly, we endorse most of George Steiner's critique of The Literary Guide to the Bible and Amos Wilder's review of Steiner's critique in The Bible and the Literary Critic.

These literary critics agree upon applying the skills of secular literary criticism to the Scriptures. They, like Helen Gardner and others, inquire, however, about the limits of literary criticism. They question whether literary criticism should be limited to "aesthetic categories" (4). Alter had earlier taken the position that it is unusual for any society's literature to be purely aesthetic. He asserted that the original emphases of the Old Testament are "theological, legislative, historiographic and moral." While he states that the Hebrew Bible "exhibits certain literary embellishments," he demonstrates that the primary emphasis is not aesthetic (6).

But how far beyond the aesthetic should literary criticism of the Bible extend? We have stated that all literary criticism has limits, but does this book called "the Bible" have its own unique limits? Many distinguished literary critics believe so. Steiner, for example, cites at least two dimensions of the Bible which he feels are beyond the reach of literary criticism. Other critics believe that there are some areas in which the unique nature of the Bible as a religious and theological work places it outside the reach of secular literary criticism.

Wilder, for example, grants the point that there are heights and depths of awe and mystery in the Bible that "transcend the reach and modalities of literary criticism" (8). However, he goes on to challenge Steiner to consider the possibility that Steiner needs to clarify those dimensions of the Bible which he calls so transcending. Wilder asserts that more thought, study, and work needs to be done along this line, stating that the present stage of literary criticism as applied to the Bible "leaves much out of account" (10).

Nevertheless, Alter argues that this is no cause for the entire method of literary analysis to be thrown out as a valid approach to biblical studies. In fact, it would be easy to justify the continued use of literary analysis in biblical studies if the critics would widen the definition and range of literary analysis to include not just the aesthetic area but indeed "all that pertains to language … sociocultural, attitudinal, moral and ontological."

We are thus led back to Alter's position as stated so clearly and supported so strongly in The Art of Biblical Narrative—that the Bible is, indeed, literature, and truly great literature, to which the tools and approaches of literary analysis can profitably be applied. While recognizing the reservations of some critics, the theme of this book is in strong agreement with this conclusion.

Is There any Special Value in Treating the Bible as Literature?

The simple answer to this question is, "Yes, the special value is in gaining a tool to help us understand and enjoy the Bible." Everyone who seriously reads the Bible either for spiritual inspiration or for educational purposes should quickly see the value in any tool that would improve chances for a better understanding of what the Bible says. Additionally, everyone who seeks a better understanding of the message of the Bible should appreciate any tool, method, or technique that also adds to the sheer enjoyment of the reading. The joy of reading and the joy of learning go hand in hand. If you cannot answer affirmatively the simple question "Am I having fun?" in relation to your Bible reading, you probably will not continue reading unless you are driven to it by some psychological compulsion.

If literary art plays a substantial role in the shaping of the poetry and narrative prose of the Bible, as Alter, Frye, and many others convincingly argue, it is reasonable to assume that a knowledge of literary analysis would immensely aid us in a better understanding of what the Bible says. This kind of literary analysis, as Alter points out, "has illuminated the poetry of Dante, the plays of Shakespeare, the novels of Tolstoy" (11-12). Why then shouldn't the same kind of literary approach to the Bible prove just as illuminating?

It is unfortunate that scholarly literary studies of the Bible have not kept pace with other types of biblical analysis. Many biblical scholars have in the past two hundred years been very interested in sources, archaeology, and in cutting up and patching together various ancient biblical documents. But not all of them have not been equally diligent about reading the various books as a whole and asking the right questions about their literary nature and meaning. Many college and seminary professors have failed to appreciate fully what Alter perceptively states, quoting Joel Rosenberg, "The Bible's value as a religious document is intimately and inseparably related to its value as literature."

If we expect to get the right answers about the meaning of much of the Bible, we must, of course, ask the right questions. Some of these questions, which Alter suggests about biblical narrative are the following (20-21):

• Why does the narrator ascribe motives to or designate states of feeling in his characters in some instances, while elsewhere he chooses to remain silent on these points?
• Why are some actions minimally indicated, [and] others elaborated through synonym and detail?
• What accounts for the drastic shifts in the time scale of narrated events?
• Why is actual dialogue introduced at certain junctures, and on what principle of selectivity are specific words assigned to characters?
• In a text [often] so sparing in epithets and relational designations, why are particular identifications of characters noted by the narrator at specific points in the story?
• When does literal repetition occur, and what are the significant variations in repeated verbal formulas?

These are only a few of such questions that a thoughtful Bible reader must ask. It certainly is not irreverent or disrespectful to ask them if the answers lead to a better understanding of the Bible. Appealing to this concept, Alter hazards the following promise regarding the value of a literary approach to the Bible:

The religious vision of the Bible is given depth and subtlety precisely by being conveyed through the most sophisticated resources of prose fiction.… A literary perspective on the operations of narrative may help us more than any other [perspective] to see how this perception was translated into stories that have had such a powerful, enduring hold on the imagination (22).

By continuing this pattern of thought, we can begin to see that reading the prose narrative sections of the Bible as literature can only make them become more meaningful to us. But what about the poetic sections? What special value does Biblical poetry hold if we use this same literary approach?

In any literary theory, one of the first assumptions which a poetry reader makes is not to take poetry literally, at least not in the sense people normally understand that word. But Northrop Frye suggests that "The primary and literal meaning of the Bible is its poetic meaning. It is only when we are reading as we do when we read poetry that we can take the word "literal" seriously, accepting every word given us without question" (The Great Code 61). The two operative words in this statement are, first, the word "is" in "the literal meaning is the poetic meaning," and second, "word" in the phrase "accepting every word as given." Foundational to this line of reasoning is Frye's assertion that "metaphor is not an incidental ornament of Bible language, but one of its controlling modes of thought" (54).

When the psalmist says,

"The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures,"

we naturally interpret these words poetically. There is no physical shepherd or material green pasture here. There are words, English words translated from Hebrew, which are metaphorical and poetic. And this, Frye explains, is the primary meaning of the passage. The primary sense is the real meaning and at the same time the metaphorical or poetic meaning.

This illustrates a crucial difference between poetry and history. The difference, as Frye points out, is that history makes particular statements about people and events, and poetry does not (46). Therefore one can criticize a history writer for inaccuracy in such particular statements, whereas it is inappropriate to criticize a poet in the same way. Poetry is concerned with the universal rather than with the particular. It tends to show how something always means or illustrates such-and-such a thing rather than how it actually happened at a certain time and place. This is not to say that we should read the entire Bible as poetry. Large parts of the Bible clearly are not poetry and should not be read or understood as poetry.

But, on balance, most people probably tend to read too much of the Bible as actual history or literal narrative rather than as a combination of part fiction, myth, legend, metaphor, or poetry, along with some actual, factual, or historical basis or framework. And when they miss the metaphorical meaning they often misunderstand the literal meaning as well.

It probably was easy for ancient people to comprehend and relate to the metaphorical and other literary devices so prevalent in their day. But many of these devices and literary conventions have changed, and literary techniques once so common to them are foreign and lost to us. It is not that they were not familiar with metaphors or myth, or that we have just recently discovered these. It is more that we have become used to making such a distinction between metaphor and history, whereas the ancients were hardly aware of such distinctions. To them, myth was literal history, and the literary metaphor was actual fact. For us, effort is required to learn how thus to read the Bible for maximum understanding and pleasure.

We have to relearn these literary devices as ancient people thought about them. The good news is that even the reeducation can be fun and pleasurable. And once we become acquainted with the new but old literary approaches, reading and studying the Bible will be sheer joy. We may have to pause in the reading to blot away a tear or to muffle a chuckle, but we shall never be bored when reading.

And during the process of relearning how to view, read, understand, and appreciate our new revised Bible, we shall discover that we can all shake off some of our shackles and our anxieties. We shall delight to find that in viewing the Bible as literature we lose some of our intolerance, rigidity, legalism, bondage, and insecurity. We gain enormous freedom in joining millions of others who revere the Bible and still read and study it as great literature and more. And finally, we might discover that reading the Bible according to the principles of literary analysis immeasurably increases love and appreciation for the Bible, while at the same time it provides another tool for better understanding and a fresh source of enjoyment in life.

Can you imagine being a reader of literature and one day discovering a brand new, old literary piece? Whether you had read the book as a religious work once, or dozens of times, or had never read it, wouldn't matter. By reading it as literature, you could go beyond faith. You could soar freely, unconcerned about whether you understand the literal meanings of obscure verses and phrases. You could understand, puzzle over, or skip sections with meanings that in the past have been argued to the point of bloodshed and beyond.

You wouldn't have to tiptoe through the pages, fearful that if you smudged one somebody would scold you for somehow soiling God's words. Nor would you be tempted to race brazenly through the book, ripping and tearing as you go, trying to convince yourself that it is filled with musty old lies. You would simply be soaking up the enjoyment of real literature, written by people greater than life, during a great evolutional phase of Western philosophical and religious thought. And returning to it as a religious book would simply be a matter of turning a page and saying a prayer.