Biblical Portraits of Exile

A philosophical reading

Abi Doukhan

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9780367881542
• eBook ISBN: 9781317174394
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

Exile constitutes one of the most central experiences in the Bible, notably in the book of Genesis. The question has rarely been asked however as to why exile plays such an important role in the lives of Biblical characters. Biblical Portraits of Exile proposes a philosophical reading largely inspired by the philosophy of Emmanuel Levinas of the experience of exile in the book of Genesis. Focusing on the 8 central figures of exile Adam, Eve, Cain, the sons of Shem, Abraham, Rebekah, Jacob and the sons of Levy the book draws out the ethical and redemptive implications of exile and thereby paves the way for a renewed description of the human subject, one that situates ethics at its very core.

1 Eve

The undoing of a woman

DOI: 10.4324/9781315569314-2

Introduction

The figure of Eve has mostly been read in the history of biblical interpretation as a fallen figure responsible for the downfall of man and the origin of the curse which was to befall the whole earth.¹ This reductive and unfair portrayal of Eve has thankfully been countered by a number of modern interpretations. Modern feminist interpretations have achieved much in rediscovering the hidden potentialities in Eve. For example, Sun Ai Lee Park’s poetic re-reading of Genesis 3 unveils in Eve’s partaking of the forbidden fruit a key moment of her individuation.² Other feminist commentators such as Phyllis Trible see Eve’s behavior as demonstrating initiative and decisiveness.³ These feminist interpretations do much to restore woman’s dignity in the face of massive historical condemnation.

While I recognize the invaluable contribution of these feminist readings of Eve in restoring her character and dignity, I cannot help but feel somewhat uneasy with this interpretation. Indeed, although offering a more balanced vision of what happened in Genesis 3, such interpretations seem to go against the biblical intention which consists in finding fault with Eve’s behavior. The question is, of course, what does this fault consist of? Modern feminist interpretations have done much to laud Eve’s stance of independence and initiative. Such a stance seems to constitute a priori a moment of liberation of woman from her heretofore secondary and relative position to man. Eve is praised by feminist commentators for her refusal to figure as the “second sex,” as Simone de Beauvoir would put it. Indeed, Eve shines in the story for her centrality and proactiveness, moreover, she emerges as the first philosopher, the first being to desire wisdom!

Eve’s individuation as a woman thus seems to coincide with her partaking of the fruit—her emergence as a central, speaking, and proactive being all figure as moments of this individuation. The question arises, however, as to what genuinely constitutes the structure of individuation, and whether centrality and proactiveness can be understood as moments of this individuation. What feminist interpretations seem to overlook is that the centrality of Eve comes at a price, inasmuch as it seems to coincide with the obliteration of man’s centrality, proactiveness and capacity for discourse. The thinking, speaking, proactive Eve finds herself, at the end of her individuation, alone in the world. Such a stance might be pleasing to the modern conception of subjectivity as central, solitary, and masterful, but it emerges, problematically, in the total absence of reference to an other While Eve finds herself, she loses the other.

It is this problem that this chapter proposes to address. In the face of the Western/Cartesian conception of the self as central, proactive, and masterful, I would like to uncover an alternative structure of subjectivity that figures in the biblical narrative—one that is, on the contrary, de-centered, exilic, and vulnerable. In Genesis 3, Eve’s stance coincides with the Western conception of subjectivity of centrality and masterfulness. This is why she is praised by modern interpretations. The biblical narrative takes issue, however, with this stance and strikes Eve with the punishment of pain and exile. She is expulsed from paradise and condemned to a life of hardship, pain, and submission. Such a punishment seems very harsh indeed and it is difficult not to see there a return of patriarchy in the narrative.⁴ Indeed, why such a heavy punishment? Why exile? Why so much pain?

The purpose of this chapter will be to understand the significance of exile in Eve’s life. This exile is, in fact, not only given to her at the end of chapter 3, but finds itself interwoven, arguably, in the very substance of her being. We shall see that within the very core of the femininity ascribed to her by the creative act lies an exilic orientation to the other: she is to be man’s helper. We shall also see that it is, however, precisely this calling that Eve relinquishes at the moment of her temptation for the more self-serving goals of wisdom and knowledge. But one might protest: what is wrong with seeking wisdom? More importantly, is not the moment of temptation crucial for the individuation of woman as a person with her own desires and aspirations? These questions are important ones and necessitate a closer analysis of this moment of individuation on the part of woman. Only then will we be equipped to understand the raison d’être of the curse ascribed to woman. Indeed, far from debilitating the woman, I shall argue that the curse has a redemptive purpose: that of reminding her of her exilic calling as for-the-other.

The essence of womanhood

The Lord God said,

“It is not good for the man to be alone.

I will make a helper suitable for him.” …

So the Lord God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep;

And while he was sleeping,

He took one of the man’s ribs

And then closed up the place with flesh.

Then the Lord God made a woman

From the rib he had taken out of the man,

And he brought her to the man.

Genesis 2:18, 21–22 (NIV)

What is striking upon reading about the creation of woman in the second narrative of Creation (Gen. 2:21–22) is the blatant passivity of woman at every stage of her creation. Although both man and woman undergo creation, God’s role in woman’s creation is much more pronounced and necessitates three action verbs on the part of God: “he took,” “he made,” and “he brought her” (Gen. 2:21–22). There is thus a three-fold passivity on the part of woman during the work of creation versus only two moments of passivity for man (“[he] formed” and “[he] breathed” [Gen. 2:7]). Moreover, man is right away ascribed a central position in the world. He is “to work” and “take care of” the world (Gen. 2:15). Likewise in his relationship to woman, the man’s role is active. He is to “leav[e] his father and mother” and “[be] united to his wife” (Gen. 2:24). The woman, on the other hand, is not given any such activities.⁵ She is not, in the second narrative of creation, required to position herself in the world and is never invited to rise above her condition of passivity as Adam is.

This is interesting and gives rise to a number of reflections: indeed, it seems in this whole passage that, although Adam rises to a certain degree of individuation with regards to his creator through the invitation given him to rule and master the universe, Eve never reaches the same level. This lack of individuation on her part is further accentuated by her silence throughout the stages of her creation. Both God and Adam speak. God speaks her into being and Adam speaks upon meeting Eve (which is in itself an interesting phenomenon: as though Adam’s individuation occurred only upon meeting Eve). Eve, on the other hand never speaks. She is, furthermore, never spoken to. While God commands Adam to not eat of the tree, he does not reiterate the command to Eve. Adam speaks upon encountering Eve, but does not address her. He only speaks of her: “bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (Gen. 2:23).

This lack of discourse as far as Eve is concerned is extremely disturbing. Her silence is all the more striking insofar as everyone around her seems to be talking. It is as though she does not exist as a separate, individuated being worthy to be addressed. This lack of discourse betrays this lack of individuation on her part inasmuch as discourse constitutes a way of welcoming another’s perspective, that is, of acknowledging them as a subjectivity. Indeed, discourse is what allows the other to emerge as a person, that is, as an other separate and distinct from the self. One does not speak to objects but only to subjects. To be addressed is thus to be recognized as a subject, as someone who can, in turn, address me, unlike the material and inert objects of the world. The fact that Eve is never engaged in any discourse, whether from man or from God, seems to imply that she is not yet seen as a subject worthy of being spoken to, that is to say, as a distinct other in the context of creation.

It is no small wonder, then, that upon being addressed by the serpent, woman seems to come alive. All of a sudden, she is addressed, talked to, spoken to. Her place in the world is acknowledged. And for the first time, Eve speaks. One cannot help but see in the scene of temptation a key moment in the individuation of woman. The serpent seems to be the only one in the world who, up to this point, has addressed her, in other words, has acknowledged her as a face, as an other, and as a person. And she, for the first time, becomes aware of her own desires and aspirations distinct from a preordained design ascribed to her. Indeed, one can read the moment of temptation and the fall of woman as a blatant refusal of her preordained passive and silent essence. The question remains, however, as to whether this refusal on the part of woman genuinely elevates her to individuation or whether something else is not at play beneath the figures of discourse?

While many feminist interpreters see the moment of the temptation and the fall as a necessary stage towards the woman’s individuation as a woman,⁶ one might wonder, however, whether this event does not, on the contrary, constitute the loss of woman’s femininity. This, however, remains to be argued. One must first understand what really constitutes woman’s femininity. One must come to a deeper understanding as to the significance of woman’s passivity and of woman’s silence, both of which are profoundly problematic notions inasmuch as woman’s silence and passivity have heretofore been associated with man’s domination over woman. Woman is traditionally understood as holding a passive role with regards to man’s actions and decisions in the face of which she is required to hold her peace. The question arises, however, as to whether this is the brand of passivity that has been given to the woman upon her creation.

Indeed, while the creation of Eve discloses feminine essence as essentially passive, this passivity is interrupted in the rapport with the man. Far from having been given a passive role in the face of man, one realizes upon reading the biblical passage, that she has been given an active role: That of the ezer [help-meet]. When in relation to man, the woman has not been created to be passive, but, far to the contrary, to actively engage in the role of the ezer, which contains a redemptive connotation. The passivity of woman is thus not to be understood in connection to man. Her passivity is not related to man. Far to the contrary, in her relationship to man, she is given an active, even redemptive role. To understand woman as passive with regards to man is a false interpretation of the biblical text and traces its roots rather to the Greek view of woman as constituting matter and man the form.⁷

How, then, are we to understand the passivity of woman? Our passage shows passivity as the very structure of woman’s rapport with God. This is emphasized in the three-fold action that God performs not only to bring her to life but also to relate her to Adam: “[h]e took,” “[he] made,” “he brought her.” Not only is woman’s essence relative to a divine action, but her destiny as a partner for man is also dependent on divine intervention. In that, she differs profoundly from Adam, who although deriving his essence from God’s actions, finds that his destiny rests in his own actions: he is to work and take care of the earth, as well as leave his parents to unite to his wife. The man is thus required, upon his creation, to position himself in the world. This gives rise to an interesting distinction: while Adam is commanded to take an active stance in the world, Eve retains the passive stance of dependence upon God’s actions. She is not commanded, in the second narrative of creation, to “work,” or “take care of” the earth. The only actions ascribed to her are in the passive tense, as initiated by God: she is “taken,” “made,” “brought” to man. Thus, while Adam is required to act on his own, she finds herself through and through acted by God. In other words, what seems to characterize woman, in distinction to man, is an intrinsic capacity to yield to divine design. Woman, from the beginning, is attuned to God, and maintains the inherent receptivity of her created state throughout her individuation.

One might wonder, however, at what can be described as an act of violence on the part of God towards woman. Whereas man is allowed to rise above his passive condition of creature and spoken to as a rational, separate being, woman is never given this privilege. She remains creature, she remains matter to be acted upon and never seems to rise up to the level of her form-giving (and name-calling) husband. Whereas man is commanded to act and position himself in the universe, woman is described as acted upon in a way that seems to forfeit any attempt on her part to act on her own and to position herself in the universe. Woman is thus defined as an intrinsic attunement to otherness, to a design other than her own and beyond herself. What seems to constitute the femininity of woman is this attunement or sensitivity to divine wisdom. But does this attunement constitute woman as a lesser being? Is she less of a person inasmuch as she never reaches the degree of individuation that Adam reaches as a separate and positioned being?

It depends on one’s definition of individuation and subjectivity. In a Western framework, where subjectivity is defined as independent and separate, as the center of the world and the origin of all meaning, as for example, the Cartesian subjectivity, Eve seems to impersonate a lesser subjectivity, having not yet reached a full degree of autonomy. Yet, one can wonder whether the passivity of woman necessarily signifies an inferior, still un-individuated state on her part or whether this passivity does not precisely constitute her elevation or dignity among the created beings. Indeed, is not subjectivity characterized, far to the contrary, by its capacity to transcend itself and relate to a dimension of exteriority beyond itself, that is to say, by its capacity for exile? Is this not how Edmund Husserl, the great thinker of consciousness, defined the subject as always oriented, turned towards an other than itself? What characterizes the subject, thus, is its capacity to relate, to be sensitive to otherness, to a dimension beyond itself.

Subjectivity finds itself in this context redefined from substance to subject, from enrootedness in its essence to an exile beyond its own essence. Whereas Adam is called to position himself in the world as a central being, Eve’s destiny seems to call her ever beyond her own natural substance to a destiny willed not ...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Half Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Table of Contents
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• 1 Eve: the undoing of a woman
• 2 Adam: the expulsion from Paradise
• 3 Cain: the exile east of Eden
• 4 Shem: the temptation of sedentarization
• 5 Abraham: the return to Eden
• 6 Rebekah: the journey of womanhood
• 7 Jacob: the exclusion from the birthright
• 8 Levi: the priestly calling of exile
• Conclusion
• References
• Index