Robert Alter, at 84 years old, has translated the Old Testament. I first read Robert Alter’s book at Peter Leithart’s recommendation, in high school. I hated it at the time, due to its convoluted language and acceptance of higher criticism. During college, I came to like it quite a bit more, and post-college I loved it, though I still differed with his agnostic critical stance, and indeed I still do. Nevertheless, I came to respect Alter because he generally didn’t force the text to sound like it was about something that it was not. Beale is great, but let’s admit it, his “creation as temple” stuff is weird. Leithart and Jordan routinely go beyond what the text can bear. They also unintentionally made me have to grapple with the oddities and, frankly, difficulties of Biblical revelation—namely the fact that the Old and New Testaments often seem to be about different things, and the New Testament fulfillment of the Old Testament is very very odd and seems exegetically irresponsible. Make no mistake, Biblical theologians and things like the Bible Project are very right about a lot of things, but you sometimes feel that they are taking peripheral ideas in the text and foregrounding them. Ditto to a lot of modern literary criticism. With Alter, I felt like he kept the text about the characters, as they revealed themselves through speech and action, and as they made the choices that led them to their final fate. And so I set sail through his commentary.
I did not read the translation, which I don’t respect. I appreciate going closer to the Hebrew, but there’s so much stuff that is redundant, so reading it is like reading your Bible, and Alter throws in words that are highly distracting all over the place. The most prominent example is that while the KJV says that the law of the Lord is sweeter than the honeycomb, Alter goes with “bees’ quintessence.” Yeah, no.
So it is to the notes and introductions I go. The introduction to each book of the Pentateuch was extremely well done. I felt like I didn’t just have a description of things I already knew, but that each introduction hinted at the flavor and themes of the books as a whole, a thing too rare among conservatives.
I think Alter has hit the hammer on the head concerning Genesis: “The Creation story repeatedly highlights the injunction to be fruitful and multiply, while the Patriarchal Tales, in the very process of requently echoing this language of fertility from the opening chapters, make clear that procreation, far from being an automatic biological process, is fraught with dangers, is constantly under threat of being deflected or cut off.” I believe, moreover (and I think Beale and Leithart see this, though I haven’t got a quote), that the births of Isaac, Jacob, and the twelve and their proliferation in Egypt are all foreshadowings of a renewed creation.
Beyond that, in his comments on Genesis, there are countless gems that you can find (for instance, angels were probably great snakes or dragons or griffins). But the things I remember and think about all the time are the way he describes Abraham’s courtesy and decorum and the tension of his silence as he walks up Mount Moriah; Jacob’s tense and ambitious restlessness and lifelong grief over Rachel which is not neatly resolved at the end of the narrative; and Joseph’s hubris and mysteriousness as he deals with his brothers. Biblical characters are actually quite ambiguous at times: they reveal fully-rounded personalities, sometimes in two or three sentences, but we are not always privy to their motives and can guess at them. It is possible that Joseph is testing his brothers, uncertain whether they have changed or not, and darkly waiting to see how they will respond. It is also possible he is a moral reformer, putting them face to face with their guilt, hopeful that it will bring them to repentance. We are not told how he feels when he sees them bowing to him, whether it is bitterness, triumph, vengefulness, shrewdness, fear for Benjamin, or a mixture of all of the above.
Exodus is great because Alter rightly notes that the building of the Tabernacle echoes the creation account. He doesn’t go as far as the Biblical theologians, but he acknowledges cosmic symbolism. My favorite note of his here is that Moses is often called “the man, Moses.” For all Moses’s legendary status and the distance the author puts between us and him, he remains finally a man with deep insecurities.
I really loved how Alter talked about Leviticus: he observes that the four elements of Leviticus are oil, water, fire, and blood. That’s cool. He also rightly gestures to Mary Douglas and says that there is a cosmic theme. Numbers through Joshua were meh.
Judges was great: Gideon resembles Moses in his doubting. Jephthah is a tragic Joseph figure, cast out by his brothers, but whose fate is more like Agamemnon: doomed to sacrifice his daughter. His name means “to open” and Jephthah opens his mouth in a rash vow and later on sets the trap for the Gileadites by having them pronounce shibboleth. God pays more attention to Samson’s mother is given the first vision and she believes, but her husband is akward and often sidelined by God. Samson is always associated with fire. He is a powerful but uncontrollable figure, even by himself. He is led by his eyes. The story of Micah and his idol comes at the end of the book, but since Moses’s grandson features in it, it happened much earlier. The cutting of the body at the end of the book is symbolic of the division of the tribes. The battle with Benjamin echoes the attack on Ai, but with catastrophic results. The tribe that refuses to come at the end is Jabesh-Gilead, Saul’s tribe.
Ruth is good: Alter rightly recognizes that it is idyllic, with even mere farm hands greeting one another in blessing. He also notes that the name Orphah means back of the neck—the last thing Naomi sees of her daughter-in-law. Alter makes the more questionable claim that the author of Ruth was writing to justify a more accepting attitude towards Gentile converts, as opposed to the strictness of Ezra and Nehemiah. He gets the Tamar echoes: Ruth, like the earlier matriarch, is trying to get a child through Levirate marriage, in a way. One point that this book brings up, and it is very significant to conservatives like me, is that whoever Naomi’s sons were, their names were certainly not Mahlon and Chilion. This is not a problem, but people like me sometimes get nervous when we admit that names were adjusted after the fact for the purposes of narrative decoration. More on this below.
Alter's notes on Samuel are his best and his worst commentary. Alter’s basic interpretation is that David is a shrewd and politically Machiavellian opportunist who keeps his motives to himself. This kind of thing leads Alter into some unnecessarily poor readings. For instance, he reads Samuel as an irascible character who deliberately dupes Saul by delaying his arrival. Yet the Samuel of the text is portrayed favorably. Still, Alter gets many of the characters right. He is right to note that David begins as a charismatic leader who has to keep his secrets to himself and gets entangled very early on in polygamy. This poisons his life and after the sin with Bathsheba, he never recovers fully and is always an emotionally broken king whose reign is saved by the shrewd and ruthless Joab. Alter is fun to read in this book because he makes you realize how pitiful Saul is, how hostile and false Absalom is, and how well drawn all the characters are in this book.
The book of Kings was just plain fun and full of loads of insights. We really don’t get to know Solomon like we do David, and his character exists to be both the founding father and the corrupter of the nation. I really enjoyed the bits on Elijah and Elisha, and Alter observes that Elijah is the first-miracle worker and even that he’s kind of the closest prophet to Jesus! Usually Alter maintains a sharp distinction between the Testaments and contradicts New Testament readings (more on this later). Elijah is the first prophet to be known for his miraculous healings. One of my favorite notes is that when Elishah goes after Elijah he burns his plow: “Elisha’s turning the wooden plow into firewood is a sign that he is definitively putting behind him his life as a farmer to assume the role of prophet.” I also noticed this time that Elijah’s selection of Elisha and his later appointing of him as successor brackets the death of both Ahab and his son Ahaziah. While Elijah goes up to heaven in chariots of fire, Ahab’s son falls from a lattice and his messengers tell Elijah to come down. Up and down play key roles in that story. The ending comment on the restoration of Jehoiachin in Babylon is great: “This detail is probably a deliberate reminiscence of the Joseph story: when Joseph is freed from prison, he is clothed by Pharaoh in fine garments … This concluding image … seeks to intimate a hopeful possibility of future restoration: a Davidic king is recognized as king, even in captivity, and is given a daily provision appropriate to his royal status. As he sits on his throne elevated above the thrones of the other captive kings, the audience of the story is invited to imagine a scion of David again sitting on his throne in Jerusalem” (2.613).
Esther was fantastic, though the most insightful stuff was often the most bawdy stuff. Alter persuasively argues that the king is a bit of a fop and that he suffers from insecurity about his sexual prowess (women are said to come and go every day; Alter thinks the presumption is that the king would not actually lie with them). The scepter is a phallic symbol, and the king gets mad at Haman because he sees him on the same couch as Esther and there’s more than a little insecurity. The role of the eunuchs in a story of sexual comedy is duly exploited. He notes that Mordecai is clothed in royal garments, just like Joseph. One of the more tricky questions that he raised were the really epic notes in this story: the Persian empire seems impossibly wealthy, and there seems to be no reason for decrees to be irrevocable, according to Alter. I was not really shaken by this though, since Calvin said that Esther and Job might be allegories.
I didn’t learn as much from the Psalms, and what was particularly challenging is that Alter really doesn’t see Messianic prophecies here. I am going to have to think about this a bit more. I do remember enjoying some of his comments on my favorite Psalms. He sees Psalm 90 as attributed to the man Moses because it’s concerned with mortality. One obvious mistake that Alter makes is that he unnecessarily sees the wisdom books as in tension. He sees Job, Ecclesiastes and some Psalms as presenting a pessimistic view of the fate of the righteous, while on the other hand he sees a good-versus-evil triumphalism in Pslams and Proverbs. But my Mom is a better reader of texts: they’re not specific promises that everything will work out in this life, but general statements that a lot of the time righteousness pays off, which is not contradicted by the fact that the world is a messed up place, with deep injustice emanating from the halls of power.
His material on Proverbs was actually one of my favorite bits. Oddly enough, though Alter sees only a single bit of sexual innuendo in the Song of Solomon, he sees lots and lots of innuendo in Proverbs. Reading his comments, I was both encouraged by how the Bible talks a lot more than we usually think about the importance of sex for the young, and I learned that in pre-modern socities without pornography, actual fornication and adultery are far more prominent. Alter also really makes me doubt whether the beginning and ending of Proverbs are meant to match: they do both contain women, but that could easily have been done by a later redactor. Indeed, we know for a fact that Proverbs was redacted.
My favorite bit from Ecclesiastes was Alter’s argument that gathering stones and rolling them away might be a sexual reference. Alter also re-translates “money answers all things” as something more like ‘everybody is stressed out over money’. His introduction to Song of Solomon fights hard against allegorical readings, and I am in some ways very sympathetic to this. Possibly the most interesting detail was that moms were expected to explain the birds and bees to their daughters, and so the woman’s request for the man to come into her mother’s chamber evokes this. Alter also brought home to me how jarring the passages where the woman meets the watchmen are: love is as strong as death, and risks it, in these bits.
Alter was strongest on the first bits of Isaiah, and I really enjoyed having an interlocutor on this book, because it’s a difficult one to understand. He rightly notes that the first two chapters are kind of like those musical opening pieces that give you the high points of the rest of the musical performance. Alter notes echoes of the Exodus in Isaiah’s prophecies of restoration. Though Alter rejects Isaiah 9 as being about an Incarnation of God as man, he admits this is “an ideal king from the line of David who will sit on the throne of Judah and oversee a rule of justice and peace. The most challenging epithet in this sequence is ‘el gibor, which appears to say ‘warrior-god.’ The prophet would be violating all biblical usage if he called the Davidic king ‘God,’ and that terms is best construed here as some sort of intensifier” (2.651). The trickiest thing for me is that this doesn’t seem to be in the Psalms, even if it is in the prophets. More difficult for some will be his comments on the suffering servant. He rightly notes that Isaiah and Israel are both identified as God’s servant (2.786). He thus reads the suffering as the ignominy of Isaiah being disbelieved and Israel going into exile. I am afraid that I agree and slowly came to this reading with some trepidation, but it makes the most sense of the text as the original audience would have understood it. It is not particularly Messianic; Douglas Wilson agreed that it was a type when I mentioned it.
Alter likes Jeremiah more than the other prophets, and says that Ezekiel was a misogynistic psychopath. I am not kidding: he says that when people hang out in the desert and don’t eat a lot, they see weird and vivid things in their delirium. He peppers the commentary with stuff like this. On the more productive end, he sees that Jeremiah explicitly channels Job and that Daniel is like Joseph. He also acknowledges that Lamentations is deep stuff. He also likes Jonah and it’s large compassion even for the beasts of Nineveh. He sees the description of the city as a three days’ journey as a sign of its fictional status.
More could be said, but the best thing about Alter is that he has you meditate on the Biblical characters and their flaws and failures and quirks: you are just like them, and thinking about that is good for you.