Welcome to the One Great Story!. George B. Thompson
the presence of more than one story line or tradition. Walter Brueggemann, for instance, distinguishes between the “primal narrative” that is revealed in Deuteronomy and Joshua, (and then is picked up in the New Testament Gospels), an “expanded narrative” revealed in Gen 12–50 (Abram/Sarai through the death of Joseph), and a “derivative narrative” that includes Judges through Nehemiah and the New Testament Acts of the Apostles. See Brueggemann, The Bible Makes Sense, chapter 3.
This book highlights elements that are common to these three narratives.
2. For a longer discussion of these conclusions, see McDonald, Formation of the Bible, 21–25.
3. For a brief, easy-to-read introduction to oral traditions in today’s world, see Sample, Ministry in an Oral Culture, chapters 1 and 2.
4. See the summary of oral tradition in McKenzie, “The Hebrew Community and the Old Testament,” 1073–74.
5. These other translations include:
—The Message: “Are you going to get stingy because I am generous?”
—New American Bible: “Are you envious because I am generous?”
—New International Version: “Or are you envious because I am generous?”
—New Jerusalem Bible: “Why should you be envious because I am generous?”
—Revised English Bible: “Why be jealous because I am generous?”
6. McDonald, Formation of the Bible, 21–25.
7. The distinction between a text’s “meaning” (which does not change) and its “significance” (the relationship of that meaning to something else) is a critical distinction, one that I have found very helpful for preaching. A scholarly discussion of this argument is found in Hirsch, Validity in Interpretation, (see, for example 8–9, 62–63, and 140–43), which I adapted for my STD dissertation, “The Beckoning of Scripture: Meaning and Significance in Biblical Interpretation.”
8. An academic summary of Paul Ricoeur’s use of the term “second naïveté” is found in Mudge’s essay, “Paul Ricoeur on Biblical Interpretation,” esp. 6, 21–29.
Chapter 2
The Story Begins
Call, Creation, and Promise
“ . . . and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”
—Gen 12:3c
Flames threw eerie shapes onto the blue-grey sky, as the women cleaned pots and utensils and the children gathered eagerly around the camp’s main fire. Behind them, the men and older boys were securing the tents, flocks, and herds. Every night watch had been assigned, and each boy knew how vital it was to the voyaging clan that their animals be protected from wild predators. A few stars had begun to twinkle as the young ones settled in. Toddlers sat on laps of older siblings, and a few white-haired women quietly patrolled the circle. Muffled giggles, prankish glances, and wayward elbows quickly ceased, however, as the gathered audience sensed the approach of the one for whom they were waiting.
Roundish in appearance, bent over, with an untamed mane of receding hair matched only by a flowing beard stretching almost to an undefined waistline, one gnarled hand tightly grasping a slightly bowed but sturdy stick, it was as though a magnetic field followed the doddering figure into the center of the circle, not too close to the fire itself. Suddenly still and silent, the children were holding their breath. The figure by the fire now came alive, eyes wide open, head turning from one side of the gathered circle to another, growing in their mind’s eyes to larger than life itself. Then, in a voice that sounded like heaven’s, he spoke deliberately:
“A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, . . . ” (Deut 26:5).
By the time that the old man had finished speaking, the youngest ones were asleep in someone’s arms, and discreet yawns could be detected around the circle. Women signaled to the children from their respective tents, and the spellbound assembly dispersed across the camp almost without a sound. If you had been there, you would have seen how their faces gave off a serene glow. Once again, they had heard from whence they came. Once again, they were reminded who they were—and whose.
“Tell Us a Story”
It is not difficult to imagine such a scene, is it? In days of old, long before social media or television, or radio, or telegrams, or newspapers, or pamphlets, or books, or even hand-printed scrolls—in those days, long ago, people learned many things through storytelling. As I have studied the Bible across many years, I have come to appreciate the power of story. I have realized that, even with all of the academic reading that I have done, what sticks with me most is a good story. Now, I understand more clearly how the medium of storytelling weaves the Bible together—how the strength of what we might sometimes think of as “the message” of the Bible depends on narrative. Now, I can imagine Hebrew nomads transmitting to their children a sense of their identity and purpose by telling a story, their Story—which eventually became The One Great Story.
The medium of storytelling weaves the Bible together.
In many respects, this Story begins not with accounts of the creation of the world, but with a childless couple who might have thought that when they had settled down in a place named Haran, their travels were over (Gen 11:30–32). The man’s father, Terah, had taken the couple—Abram and Sarai—and a few other members of his family with him, from their hometown of Ur. Apparently the plan was to put down roots elsewhere but, instead, they stayed in Haran. Then Terah died.
Sometimes we want to ask the Bible questions that it simply does not answer—the way that a news reporter digs for more details about a breaking story. We are tempted to try to fill in what seem to us to be gaps in the story line, gaps that would help to satisfy our curiosity about what is going on. There are many places in the Bible where we could ask questions like these, and the transition from Terah’s death to what happens next is one of those places. Did Abram and Sarai enjoy living in Haran? They seem to have prospered during the time there (Gen 12:5, 13:2). Did they feel welcome in a place that was not home? Were they bound by custom to remain with Terah as long as he was alive?
When we study biblical stories, it is important to be careful about “reading into” the text something that is not there. Much of the time, the Bible does not provide comment on the inner thoughts and feelings of characters as they decide and act. It was enough, to those responsible for the story as it appears in the text, merely to move to the next episode of Abram’s and Sarai’s life. Terah died in their adopted town of Haran, and—before you know it—God comes into the picture.
“Go,” the LORD said to Abram and Sarai. And so, The One Great Story begins—with a call from God to a childless couple who still must have been grieving their patriarch’s death. It was no small thing, this call from God. The two of them were to leave just about everything familiar and everyone they knew, to venture to a place as yet unknown. This call came with a big carrot dangling on a stick, too: the LORD said that the two of them would give birth to a people of distinguished repute. Not only this, but their pledged high regard would do something good for other peoples, too: “ . . . and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen 12:3c).
God had high hopes for Abram and Sarai. And, again, without any fanfare or stream-of-consciousness commentary, the story continues. They go, Abram and Sarai, taking Lot, the nephew, their servants (slaves?), and “all the possessions