Diwa 38 No. 2

CONTENTS
77-90

Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

in the Era of Paradigm Shift
91-112
Tamars Determination for Progeny in Genesis 38:

An African Perspective
Romualdo E. Abulad, SVD
Mary Jerome Obiorah, IHM
113-118 A Note on Critical Wisdom in the Old Testament

Randolf C. Flores, SVD

Book Review
119-139 Eugene Salgado Elivera, Morality of the Heart: Moral
Theology in the Philippine Setting

Dionisio M. Miranda, SVD

Thesis Abstract
140-144 Vu, Peter. Intertextual Reverberations in Pauls Concept
of Dikaiosu,nh Qeou/ in Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26
Diwa: Studies in Philosophy and Theology
Diwa is a refereed journal published twice a year by the

Graduate Schools of Divine Word Seminary, Tagaytay City
and Christ the King Mission Seminary, Quezon City
Philippines
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Editors
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Randolf Flores, SVD, SSL

Felix Ferrer, SVD, SThD
Antolin Uy, SVD, PhD
Wilfredo Saniel, SVD, SThL
Edgar Javier, SVD, SThD
Leonardo Mercado, SVD, PhD, SThD
Raymun Festin, SVD, PhD
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Contributors (Diwa 38, no. 2)

1. ROMUALDO E. ABULAD, SVD is former chair of the philosophy
department of the University of San Carlos (Cebu City). He holds a doctorate
in philosophy from the University of Santo Tomas (Manila, 1978) and is a
leading scholar in Filipino philosophy.
2. MARY JEROME OBIORAH, IHM is a professor of Scripture at the
University of Nigeria (Nsukka, Enugu State, Nigeria). She obtained a
licentiate in Sacred Scripture in 1999 and a doctorate in Sacred Scripture
in 2004 both from the Pontifical Biblical Institute (Rome), the first African
woman to obtain these degrees. She was also an expert at the Synod on the
Word of God (2008).
3. RANDOLF C. FLORES, SVD teaches Old Testament and Biblical
Hebrew at Divine Word Seminary, Tagaytay City. He holds a licentiate in
Sacred Scripture (SSL) from the Pontifical Biblical Institute, Rome (1999),
is past president of the Catholic Biblical Association of the Philippines or
CBAP (2008-2011), and is editor of Diwa.
4. DIONISIO M. MIRANDA, SVD obtained his doctorate in moral
theology from the Accademia Alfonsiana ni Rome (1984) and worked as
a missionary in Paraguay from 1978-1981 before joining the faculty of the
Divine Word Seminary (1984-2006). He wrote five books, all pioneering
studies in Inculturation and Filipino Moral Theology. He is the current
president of the University of San Carlos in Cebu, City.
Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

in the Era of Paradigm Shift
ROMUALDO E. ABULAD, SVD
Christ the King Mission Seminary

Quezon City, Philippines
very September 8, Catholics celebrate the birth of Mary, our Mother,

the mother of our Lord, Jesus, by whose birth we are made children of
God and thus heirs to the Kingdom. Saying that is a mouthful, enough
for a Richard Dawkins or a Christopher Hitchens to gape in amazement.
What? In this day and age you still believe in a myth like that? In a way, we,
SVDs, have no choice but to believe it, for part of the package when we join
the Society is to accept the vision of the Founder who, no doubt by design,
brought our congregation to life on the day the Virgin was supposed to have
been born. What, a virgin? You, believers, are making contradictory claims.
On the one hand, you tie us all to the myth of original sin, inherited from
Adam of unknown times, and now you are enjoying a holiday and setting one
of your own, a woman at that, free from your own man-made myth. Are we or
are we not all tainted by Adams fall? You, believers, better make up your mind.
The good thing is that the Church has made up its mind and proclaimed the
Immaculate Conception as a dogma, which implies an open admission that
this is something beyond proof and evidence. Or, as a naughty atheist would
most probably put it, a dogma is meant to seal our lips, to keep our mouth shut.
Perhaps for some of us, todays atheism might be a non-issue and is
better not taken up at all. That would however be regrettable, for in fact
contemporary spirituality, as I see it, could not ignore contemporary atheism.
Doing so would leave much of our theology not only irrelevant but also
uninteresting, not only uninteresting but also irrelevant. Indeed, when one
goes the round of bookstores worldwide, one does not find much that is
attractive on the religious shelves. That situation, in my opinion, is not true of
philosophy, where one can find title after new title that one would still like to
buy; philosophy still produces many good and genuinely challenging works,
something however which cannot be said of theology.1 The most interesting
1
This impression is contrary to Stephen Hawkings statement that philosophy is dead,
see Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow, The Grand Design (New York: Bantam Books
Trade Paperbacks, 2010), p. 5. Philosophy has not kept up with modern developments in
78
Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90
volumes on spiritual subjects, it seems to me, are the ones by either atheists or
esoterics, the kind that has made the non-classic Dan Browns The Da Vinci
Code so mightily popular a decade ago.2
Allow me to make a controversial conjecture. My surmise is that our
brand of theology has already run its course, has exhausted itself and is
probably in no further position to extend its scope. The ongoing contention
that philosophy is the handmaid of religion is a key to this state of affairs.
The philosophy meant here, as religions handmaid, has its classical roots
among the Greeks. The medieval scholastics, notably Thomas Aquinas,
no doubt based their theologia on that philosophia which, Heidegger once
said, sounds Greek.3 This philosophy has already served its purpose and
the body of doctrines, theoretical as well as moral, which the Church has
evolved therefrom is currently either statically and dogmatically held or
subject to wholesale attack and criticism. Philosophy suffers little, used as
it is to devastating critique throughout its history, but theology is another
thing. Supported as it is by Greco-Roman concepts, its Jewish origins have
to reckon with that decline of (belief in God in) the Westotherwise more
positively known today as paradigm shift.
I would like us to focus on this very popular term which we owe to
the American philosopher of science, Thomas Kuhn.4 Speaking of scientific
revolutions, Kuhn may not have been aware of the universal experience of
that radical shift of perspectives simultaneously running across societies and
disciplines. As early as the turn of the twentieth century, Friedrich Nietzsche
declared the death of God,5 that concept of God evolved from Greek
metaphysics, the first cause, causa prima, or, in biblical terms, the creator.
That was a great event, says Nietzsche.
science, particularly physics, ibid.

2
Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code (NY: Doubleday Random House, 2003).
3
We ask, What is philosophy? We have uttered the word philosophy often enough.
If, however, we use the word philosophy no longer like a worn-out title, if, instead, we
hear the word philosophy coming from its source, then it sounds thus: philosophia. Now
the word philosophy is speaking Greek. The word, as a Greek word, is a path. Martin
Heidegger, What is Philosophy?, trans. Jean T. Wilde and William Kluback (Conn.: College
& University Press, 1956), p. 29.
4
Thomas Kuhn, Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: The University of Chicago
Press, 1970).
5
Nietzsches declaration that God is dead! is found in at least two of his main works,
Also sprach Zarathustra and Die frliche Wissenschaft. In this paper we shall use the following
translations: Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (England: Penguin Books,
1961) and The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage Books, 1974).
R. E. Abulad, Atheism as a Prophetic Voice
79
Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we
ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?
There has never been a greater deed; and whoever is born
after usfor the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher
history than all history hitherto.6
The death of God is the demolition of that without which every being
loses its origin, its raison detre. Thomas Aquinas used that concept in his
justly famous cosmological argument,7 the concept too of a most perfect
being,8 which is equivalent to the God of St. Anselms ontological argument.9
This equivalence of the cosmological and ontological arguments became
even clearer in Kants presentation of the proof as one and the same proof, a
proof of pure reason.10 Such a proof is devoid of content, thus incapable of
extending what we know. Thoughts without contents are empty, intuitions
without concepts are blind.11 At best, our proof for the existence of God leads
to an antinomy, where both thesis and antithesis conclude in a stalemate.12
Here knowledge must give way to belief.13 When Nietzsches Zarathustra
meets the hermit in the wilderness on his way to the village, he incredulously
wonders, Could it be possible! This old saint has not yet heard in his forest
that God is dead!14
It is not an accident that I am speaking of Nietzsche in almost the same
breath as Kant. Initially I would cite Nietzsche as the father of postmodernity.
Not much later, however, I revised my opinion and transferred the title to
Kant.15 Indeed, there are others who could have been given the honor, but no
Nietzsche, The Gay Science, Book III. 125, p. 181.
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Part I, Question 2, Article 3.
8
God as the most perfect being is most evidently contained in the third way of St.
Thomass Quinquae Viae.
9
St. Anselm, Proslogium, Chapter II.
10
. . . the physico-theological proof rests on the cosmological, and the cosmological on
the ontological proof of the existence of one original Being as the Supreme Being; and, as
besides these three, there is no other path open to speculative reason, the ontological proof,
based exclusively on pure concepts of reason, is the only possible one, always supposing that
any proof of a proposition, so far transcending the empirical use of the understanding, is
possible at all. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, Ideal of Pure Reason, Section VI,
trans. F. Max Mller (New York: Doubleday Anchor Books, 1966), p. 418.
11
Ibid., p. 45.
12
Ibid., pp. 324-325.
13
I had therefore to remove knowledge, in order to make room for belief (ibid., p.
xxxix).
14
Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Prologue 2; p. 41.
15
All of them I consider the pioneers of postmodernismKant, Nietzsche, Marx,
Heidegger, and a few more. But of them only Kant is the father. . . Kant is the father of
6
80
Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90
one (it seems to me) came earlier than Kant. Perhaps Hume would do, except
that he belongs to a school, the school of empiricism, and thus his cannot
qualify to be the ultimate critique of reason, not the all-destroyer that Kant
came to be known, thanks to Moses Mendelssohn.16 Indeed, Kant may be
considered as the culmination of Descartes universal doubt,17 which turned
out to be less than universal in scope. It took Locke to demolish innate ideas,18
Berkeley the concept of substance,19 and Hume the concept of cause.20 Kants
famous waking up from his dogmatic slumber, thanks to Hume,21 initiated
the great decade of silence during which the critique of pure reason was being
conceived. With Kant should have ended modernity, if not for the continuing
attempts to salvage the cause of reason by Hegel at the turn of the nineteenth
century and by Husserl at the turn of the twentieth century.22 Coming on the
heels of both philosophers, however, are two points in which the tide finally
turned, with the existentialist and Marxist revolts after Hegel and the final
transition beyond phenomenology by Martin Heidegger.23 With Heidegger
we have finally crossed the threshold of modernity, never again to revert to
the classical position.24
postmodernity, first of all, because in terms of chronology he is the oldest of them. Romualdo
E. Abulad, Kant as the Father of Postmodernity, a lecture delivered at the Zeferino
Gonzalez Quadricentennial Lecture Series, held at the UST Martyrs Hall, University of
Sto. Tomas, on February 19, 2011.
16
Moses Mendelssohn Gesammelte Schriften Jubilumsausgabe, Vol. 3, 2. Cited in Allan
Arkush, Moses Mendelssohn and the Enlightenment (Albany, NY: State University of New
York Press, 1994), p. 69. Here the reference is to the all-crushing Kant.
17
Ren Descartes, Key Philosophical Writings, trans. Elizabeth S. Haldane and G.R.T.
Ross (Hertfordshire: Wordsworth, 1997). Not to be missed are his Meditations on First
Philosophy, Discourse on Method and Principles of Philosophy.
18
John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Book I.
19
George Berkeley, Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous (Indianapolis: BobbsMerrill Library of Liberal Arts, 1977).
20
David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (Indianapolis: BobbsMerrill Library of Liberal Arts, 1977).
21
I openly confess that my remembering David Hume was the very thing which many
years ago first interrupted my dogmatic slumber and gave my investigations in the field of
speculative philosophy a quite new direction. Immanuel Kant, Preface to Prolegomena to
Any Future Metaphysics, trans. Paul Carus and revised by James W. Ellington (Indianapolis:
Hackett Publishing Company, 1977), p. 5.
22
I consider Hegel and Husserl as the twofold culmination of modernity. Both tried
to salvage the scientific project initiated by Descartes, with Hegel concluding with the
Universal Geist and Husserl with the individual transcendental ego. That both nonetheless
describe their method as phenomenology I read to be a vindication of Kant.
23
After Hegel came three reactions: Marx; Romanticism (Schleiermacher); and
Existentialism (Nietzsche and Kierkegaard); after Husserl came the high point of the
existentialist revolt with Martin Heidegger.
24
Martin Heidegger, Contributions to Philosophy (From Enowning), trans. Parvis Emad
81
The time of systems is over,25 says Heidegger, This amounts to an

essential transformation of the human from rational animal (animal rationale)
to Da-sein.26 Since then philosophy has ceaselessly been experimenting on a
new language, no longer based on the logic of reason and where the principle
of non-contradiction no longer holds full sway. Heidegger himself calls it
poiesis, citing as his support Kants reference to a third stem of knowledge
which he eventually identifies as the imagination,27 no longer merely scientific
but also poetic, post-rational and thus post-classical, post-enlightenment,
post-modern. When you read philosophers like Deleuze, Baudrillard and
Derrida, to name just three, you know you are no longer treading the classical
pathway. Their path has been secured by the Heidegger of Beitrge, but also
the Philosophical Investigations of Ludwig Wittgenstein.28 Whatever radically
social element we find here is thanks to Karl Marx, whose name we should
also include among the postmodern pioneers. As Sartre conveniently puts it,
Marxism (is) the one philosophy of our time which we cannot go beyond...
If only for this continuing urgency of a liberating Marxism, there is no way
one can say that philosophy has outgrown its usefulness.
It is perhaps only appropriate that this handmaid of religion, philosophy,
should be ahead of its mistress in the risky path of postmodernity. Postmodern
language is no longer confined to its Greco-Roman, rationalistic roots.
Sociology and anthropology have already made much headway in mining
the linguistic resources of tribal and indigenous societies, where myth and
poetry mix with reason and technology. The Gnostic gospels are back in the
harness, too, and the oriental religions have no doubt already regained their
respectability. Christianity, it might be said, is no longer the dominant religion.
It is, in fact, the crisis in the Christian West brought about by the irreversible
secularization of the world that ushered in the Second Vatican Council in the
1960s.29 This is, officially, the entry of the church to postmodernity which,
and Kenneth Maly (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999).
25
Ibid., p. 4.
26
Ibid., p. 3.
27
Both in the introduction [actually, in the prefaceAbulad] and in the conclusion
to the Critique, Kant provides a characterization of the two fundamental sources that goes
beyond their mere enumeration. Martin Heidegger, Kant and the Problem of Metaphysics,
trans. James S. Churchill (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1965), p. 41. The
two references referred to here are found in Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, A15=B29 and
A835=B863; Mller, pp. 18, 532.
28
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, trans. G.E.M. Anscombe (Oxford:
Basil Blackwell, 1968). But also Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 7, trans. D. F. Pears and B. F.
McGuinness (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1966).
29
Some of the classic works of the secular or death-of-God theology are: Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, ed. Eberhard Bethge (London: SCM Press, 1968);
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Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90
not surprisingly and not irresponsibly, had been delayed by further attempts
to reinstate tradition in the post-Vatican papacy. The recent withdrawal of
Benedict XVI and the subsequent election of Francis I are, to me, two sides
of the same coin announcing the complete transition of the church to the
postmodern age. These great individuals of the contemporary church are, I
hope, the spiritual instruments in the direction of Catholicisms paradigm
shift, a move perhaps somewhat already overdue in the midst of the great
changes that had been radically affecting the world in all its aspects since
Nietzsches death in 1900.
Why is it no longer possible for Christian theology and spirituality to
remain as before? The case of a lay woman Catholic who amassed billions
from the public coffers while contributing handsomely to churchmen willing
to say masses for her is not an isolated instance. Rosaries, like attendance at
Eucharistic celebrations, are favorite symbols of external religiosity. Even the
Vatican is not immune to scandals, as everyone knows. We all need what in
philosophy is equivalent to the critique of pure reason, which is none other
than a self-critique.30
That radical critique toward self-transformation is the paradigm shift
called forth by the gospel: Repent. The Kingdom of God is at hand.31 The
Kingdom is here, and if we fail to experience it, the reason is because the
required transformation of our self has not yet taken place. Whoever has
experienced in his/her own self this radical repentancemetanoiathat
accounts for the new person, the new wineskin,32 need not say out loud
his/her experience of the Kingdom in the midst of our suffering world. This
experience is not confined to the domain of rational concepts, which includes
what we call theology. There is a new theology a-brewing, blown by the winds
of postmodernity, whose language may be any language for as long as it
proceeds from a new self, a new consciousness, what Heidegger calls Dasein.
John A. T. Robinson, Honest to God (London: SCM Press, 1969); Harvey Cox, The Secular
City (England: Penguin Books, 1966); Gabriel Vahanian, The Death of God (New York:
George Braziller, 1967); Paul Tillich, The Shaking of Foundations (England: Penguin Books,
1966); Leslie Dewart, The Future of Belief (New York: Herder and Herder, 1968); and others.
The secularization movement is one major impetus for the Second Vatican Council.
30
That Kant has Socrates in mind is clear from his definition of the critique of pure
reason as a powerful appeal to reason to undertake anew the most difficult of its duties,
namely, self-knowledge (ibid., p. xxiv).
31
Turn away from your sins, because the Kingdom of heaven is near! (Matt 4:17;
Mark 1:14).
32
People do not pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins burst, the wine
spills out, and the skins are ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and in that
way both are preserved (Matt 9: 17).
83
Dasein speaks in any language, and any languagegranted that it comes

from Daseinissues from our authentic selfhood. Here there is no room for
hypocrisy, with which todays church still abounds.
There is then a lot of things to do still. What is the shape of the churchs
contemporary mission? How should we respond to it? What risks do we face
as we give flesh to the paradigm shift in our faith response? There is nothing
half-hearted in the change we need to make if we seriously want to turn the
tide in favor of religion today. The good thing about todays atheism is that
we can glean from what they say precisely what authentic religion should not
be, thus pointing the way, even if negatively, in the direction of our spiritual
renewal. Let us then listen attentively, if randomly, to some of the things they
would like to say.
In The God Delusion, Richard Dawkins defines the God Hypothesis
as follows: there exists a superhuman, supernatural intelligence who
deliberately designed and created the universe and everything in it, including
us.33 Against this he advocates an alternative view: any creative intelligence,
of sufficient complexity to design anything, comes into existence only as the
end product of an extended process of gradual evolution.34 This immediately
brings us to the popular debate between creationism and evolutionism, and
perhaps most of you will agree with my personal stance which sees nothing
irremediably antagonistic between these two views. Why, if there is God,
should not evolution be also the case? Or why, if evolution is a fact, shouldnt
God be responsible for it? The two need not be mutually exclusive, we say.
But Dawkins would reply that this does not make the God hypothesis any
less than a mere hypothesis. God in this sense continues to be a delusion and,
as he would like to show, a pernicious delusion.35 I am not attacking any
particular version of God or gods, he says, I am attacking God, all gods,
anything and everything supernatural, wherever and whenever they have
been or will be invented.36
A discussion of this sort has clearly an epistemological target, something
which should have already been adequately solved by the moderns. If we
continue to make a problem of it, the reason could be that either we have
not learned our lesson well enough, in which case we are just slow learners,
or else as a species we have not evolved far enough to see the true state of
Richard Dawkins, The God Delusion (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company Mariner
Book, 2008), p. 52.
34
Ibid.
35
Ibid.
36
Ibid., p. 57.
33
84
Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90
things. We can agree with Dawkins that entities that are complex enough
to be intelligent are products of an evolutionary process.37 There is no reason
why, like all things else, the cognitive process has not evolved gradually
until we reach a certain clarity of insight. Dawkins would like to give us the
impression, in the first part but also in much of the later part of his book,
that he has exhausted all proofs for Gods existence and has found them
all wanting. One may or may not agree that Dawkins has fully done his
homework here, but even if he had, he could only conclude that the God
Hypothesis is untenable (and that) God almost certainly does not exist.38 I
underline almost certainly; that is not good enough to be a certainty. The
atheistic position, epistemologically speaking, is as much a quantum leap as
the theistic option.
Kant did not arrive at the Antinomy of Pure Reason from out of the
blue; at least two centuries of ceaseless and rigorous reflection preceded his
critique, itself unimaginable without almost two millennia of epistemological
refinement. By 1781 Kant could claim to have arrived at certitude, but the
certitude of one who, following Socrates, knows that one does not know.39
The trouble with much of todays atheism, including that of Dawkins, is that
it fails to sustain itself in that crucial state of intellectual balance where it
succumbs to neither thesis nor antithesis. That difficult balancing act is not
impossible. When Pope John Paul II described Buddhism as atheistic,40 he
was not exactly wrong, although he was not exactly right either. Buddhism is
Ibid., p. 98.
Ibid., p. 189.
39
In the Preface to the first edition of the Critique of Pure Reason, Kant says that with
regard to certainty, I have pronounced judgment against myself by saying that in this kind
of enquiry it is in no way permissible to propound mere opinions, and that everything
looking like a hypothesis is counterband, that must not be offered for sale at however low
a price, but must, as soon as it has been discovered, be confiscated (Kant, Critique of Pure
Reason, p. xxv). As to the second edition, he says, I have found nothing to alter, which is due
partly to the long-continued examination to which I had subjected them, before submitting
them to the public, and partly to the nature of the subject itself (ibid., p. xliii). That Kant
has Socrates in mind is clear from his very definition of the critique of pure reason as a
powerful appeal to reason to undertake anew the most difficult of its duties, namely, selfknowledge (ibid., p. xxiv). His conclusion, that all we know is how things appear to us and
never things in themselves, is likewise reminiscent of Socrates: Its principles are principles
for the exhibition of phenomena only; and the proud name of Ontology, which presumes
to supply in a systematic form different kinds of synthetical knowledge a priori of things by
themselves . . . must be replaced by the more modest name of a mere Analytic of the pure
understanding (ibid., p. 193).
40
Buddhism is in large measure an atheistic system. John Paul II, Crossing the
Threshold of Hope, trans. Jenny McPhee and Martha McPhee (New York: Alfred A. Knopf,
1994), p. 86.
37
38
85
a heterodox school which defies the ancient religious tradition of Hinduism,

and thus refuses to take the sacred writings of the Vedas and the Upanishads
as indispensable. The language of Buddhism is suffused with negative
references, such as anatta which literally means non-self and nirvana which
is a state of nothingness or emptiness. That, I suppose, is what makes the late
pope regard Buddhists as atheists. The fact that the Buddhists themselves
reacted vehemently against such a reference is indicative of some degree of
inaccuracy on the part of the pope.
To explain this further, we may recall that Hinduism itself has one
orthodox school, Vedanta, whose crowning achievement challenges us to
apprehend something beyond the scope of thought, speech and language.
For as long as we can speak of Brahman, which is the equivalent of our
concept of God, we have not yet achieved the highest degree of realization.
The God which we can prove and talk about is something which we still
need to go beyond. This, I dare say, is the beyond of Nietzsche, which is
why the book Beyond Good and Evil is subtitled Prelude to a Philosophy
of the Future.41 Once this is understood, there is no reason why one may
not also comprehend Nietzsches metaphysics of eternal recurrence, which
no less than Heidegger equates with his (Heideggers) own new view of
metaphysics.42 Whereas classical metaphysics strives at conceptual absolutes,
of which the highest is God as the first uncaused cause, the new metaphysics
breaks open that absolute ground, keeps that ground swaying and shaking,
makes it in fact groundless, or godless.43 Our pope mistakes this to be an
atheistic position and attributes it to Buddhism, something which we may
not necessarily take against him for there is indeed hardly any other adjective
appropriate to it. However, if that groundlessness or godlessness is to be
conceived as a form of atheism, it is one that contemporary religiosity cannot
do without. Very inconspicuously, Heidegger speaks of this stance as that of
the genuine believers (Heideggers italics): It is only through the ones who
question that the truth of be-ing becomes a distress. They are the genuine
41
Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future, trans.
Walter Kaufmann (New York: Random Vintage Books, 1966).
42
Martin Heidegger, Nietzsche, in 2 vols., trans. David Farrell Krell (New York:
HarperCollins, 1991).
43
This is what is meant by Heidegger when he describes the task of philosophy as
follows: to restore beings from within the truth of be-ing (Contributions to Philosophy,
p. 8). We must risk a projecting-open of be-ings essential swaying as enowning, precisely
because we do not know the mandate of our history (ibid., p. 9). The nearness to the last
god is silence (ibid.).
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Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90
believers, because, in opening themselves up to what is ownmost to truth,

they maintain their bearing to the ground.44
This supposedly atheistic position of what many consider to be one of
the worlds greatest religions today is perhaps one reason for its ever growing
popularity, even among those who have no intent to be card-bearing
Buddhists. Godlessness is intrinsic to Buddhist thought, which justifies John
Paul II, but this is the kind of godlessness which is equivalent to the mystical
experience of the dark night of the soul of St. John of the Cross and, quite
recently, Mother Teresa.45 The absence of God is crucial to secular theology,
most evident in the separation of the prodigal son from his father.46 This
alienation is not exactly a negative experience if we recall that Heidegger
attributes such an experience only to genuine believers. Keeping this in
mind, we begin to make sense of Henri Bergsons contention in his last work,
The Two Sources of Morality and Religion, that the future of religion belongs
to the mystic.47 Mysticism is perhaps the other side of atheism in the same
way that the Hindu Brahman and Maya are just different faces of the same
proverbial coin. In the secular city of the postmodern age, we have to live in
the full consciousness that, with respect to God, we have to be satisfied with
a mere antinomy of pure reason and there is no way to be absolutely certain
one way or the other. That is why in this matter we have merely to follow the
lead of Kant, for whom knowledge must give way to faith.48 The wonder of
it all is why, if there is God, he seems to have refused to grant everyone the
gift of faith. For, if I recall my theology right, faith is not a one-way street
traversed freely by human effort alone; rather, it is at the same time driven
by grace, a free gift from God, if there is one. Why, if God is so wise and
almighty, has not he seen to it that faith is gifted to everybody so that we
shall no longer be troubled by contending parties even sometimes to the
point of foolishly eliminating each other?
Ibid., p. 10.
The dark night of the soul is popularized by John of the Cross through his mystical
works, especially the work with that title. The posthumous works of Mother Teresa indicate
her own experience of the dark night or the absence of God through the decades that she
served faithfully her mission in Calcutta.
46
Luke 15:11-32.
47
But in whatever form we imagine the relation between the two currents, the one
intellectual, the other extra-intellectual, it is only by placing ourselves at the terminal point
that we can call the latter supra-intellectual or mystic, and regard as mystic an impulsion
which originated in the mysteries. Henri Bergson, The Two Sources of Morality and Religion,
trans. R. Ashley Audra and Cloudesley Brereton (New York: Doubleday Anchor Books,
1956), p. 220.
48
Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, p. xxxix.
44
45
87
Indeed, as I read the popular works of todays atheists, I cannot help

getting the impression that, although they try hard to falsify our theoretical
arguments for God and religion, their dislike of us emanates more genuinely
from practical, largely humanistic, grounds. Sam Harris, for one, speaks for
everybody when he declares intolerance to be intrinsic to every creed.49
Most glaring instances of religious intolerance include the Crusades, the
Inquisition, the Holocaust, the Muslim terrorism of today and the violence
between Christians in Ireland. Perhaps no religion has its hands clear of
blood. In the name of religion, so much wrong against humanity, some
incredibly atrocious, is being committed each day. Hitchens goes so far as
to contend that religion poisons everything,50 sparing neither children nor
adults, and replete with hypocrisies in social and sexual matters. Add to this
the psychological argument strongly advanced by Sigmund Freud, according
to which religion is a childish defense against the fear of the father, and the
case against religion becomes invulnerable. It does not help that the Church
keeps on shielding conservative elements from its well-meaning critics; there
is little left to attract our secular youth to the faith.
There is no way faith and religion can make any more sense to the atheists
of today; they can see nothing at all that is good coming as a result of faith
and religion. Call this radical atheism; they mean to advocate nothing less
than that. They think that whatever is good for humanity today and the
future is possible only if we will be able to completely outgrow our religiosity.
The future has to be atheistic if it is to prevail. For our part, we do not
question the sincerity and honesty of their position, and we indeed have
much to strike our breast about insofar as we are ourselves the source of
much of the unpopularity of todays religion. There is every reason to believe
that atheism and morality are not mutually exclusive, that one can be a good
person despite ones not believing in Gods existence and, conversely, that
one can be pious and yet involved in morally questionable deals. Everything
that we stand for now needs a relentless and thorough review, similar to
what Kant did for epistemology in his critique of pure reason. Kant himself,
as soon as his theoretical critique breaks down, proceeds to the critique of
practical, including moral, reason, and when even that fails goes on to a third
critique, which however issues in the same result. By the time Kant is done
with his work, there is no doubt at all about the status of the ideas as simply
thatideas. They cannot be constitutive of knowledge but may be used only
Sam Harris, The End of Faith: Religion, Terror and the Future of Reason (New York: W.
W. Norton, 2004), p. 13.
50
Christopher Hitchens, God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything (New York:
Twelve, 2007).
49
88
Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90
regulatively, that is, for purposes of life. In respect of God, then, it cannot be
said that we know that he exists, but only that we believe in God for reason
of its practical usefulness in our life.
What if, such as in our days, the practical usefulness of the idea of God
as a perfect being no longer carries much weight? The paradigm shift in the
realm of spirituality requires that we do not even speak of God anymore; nay,
that we do not even utter the name, making it impossible for us henceforth
to mention his name in vain. Radical in every sense, this age of the spirit
blows where it wills. Intelligence and atheism are no longer seen as mutually
exclusive. The amount of intelligence today, beautiful as it is good, never mind
if sourced from belief or unbelief, is enough ground to convince ourselves
that this is not the time for God to devastate the universe. For the sake of this
amount of intelligence, God will spare us yet, endlessly willing to await its
logical conclusion. There is no reason why we should exclude evolution in the
order of things; the grand design need not be a work of one instance.
This state of affairs, however, brings in its trail consequences which make
it difficult for the established church to respond quickly and radically. The
changes this calls for goes beyond anything we can easily respond to. Some
of the challenges we are already experiencing today can give us an estimate of
the resistance to change this entails. Many of the changes that will take place
in the future are unimaginable today and sound like they belong to science
fiction, the sort of vision Stephen Hawking is speaking of when he refers to
goldfish in curved goldfish bowls.51 The alternative is the devastation of the
world, seen as an evil Sodom and Gomorrah that deserves the end of times,
an alternative that is (for me at least) inappropriate of a God exceedingly just
and merciful, the God whose definition is Love.52
Do not be afraid, Jesus repeatedly tells us.53 I heard that said too by
great churchmen, in whose case however I am inclined to see more fear than
courage, mostly fear arising from the disinclination to accept any crack in
the established hierarchy and in its creedal and ritual infrastructure. If we
continue in this way, if we persist in our fear to let go of our unshakeable
traditional beliefs, the church will lose the chance it has of exerting appropriate
leadership in this postmodern, postclassical age. Do not be afraid includes
the courage to let go of our most revered treasures. Whoever would save
Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow, The Grand Design (New York: Bantam
Book Trade Paperbacks, 2010), p 39.
52
Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is Love (1 John 4: 8).
53
Courage! Jesus told the disciples during a stormy night at sea, It is I. Dont be
afraid! (Matt 14:27; Mark 6:50; John 6:29).
51
89
his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.54
This piece of wisdom belongs to the oldest traditions of men and women,
equivalent to the Hindus neti, neti and Lao Tzus aphorism.55 If Christianity
will choose to ignore the proverbial writings on the wall, the other great
religions and philosophies will most certainly seize the day and take the
much-needed leadership, and I do not think that God will make a howl of it;
only Dostoevskys Great Inquisitor will.56
And the Word became flesh, says the Prologue to Johns gospel. God
became man, became like us in all things but sin, but like us in all things
nonetheless. He is thus truly a human person and became so through a
woman. The atheist will not understand that, no matter how much of a genius
he is, no matter how morally irreproachable he is. I do not think that atheism
is enough guarantee that one will go to hell, if at all there is hell, for there
is nothing to prevent an atheist from either intellectual or moral excellence.
If God allows for atheism, it must be for a purpose. And we should thank
todays great atheists, including Nietzsche, Freud and Marx (Paul Ricoeurs
masters of suspicion57), for their contribution to our understanding of things.
Our being religious is no guarantee of heaven, either. Christ himself says
that not all who say Lord, Lord will enter the kingdom of God.58 In this,
todays atheists are correct, that none of our beliefs and rituals are enough to
save us; in fact, many times they have been instrumental in our committing
atrocious acts against our fellow human beings.
What can save us? This is a question for each of us to answer, and no
one can answer it for another. Catholics, however, have one great consoling
thought, that they have a mother who can show them the way. It is the way
Matt 17:25. Also, Those who try to gain their own life will lose it; but those who lose
their life for my sake will gain it (Matt 11: 39).
55
Neti, neti is taken from the story of Svetaketu in the Chandogya Upanishad. Seeing
how proud of his knowledge Svetaketu has become, his father called him and instructed him
about that by which we hear what cannot be heard, by which we perceive what cannot be
perceived, by which we know what cannot be known (Sixth Prapathaka, First Khanda, 3; in
The Upanishads, trans. F. Max Mller, Dover Publications, New York, 1962; p. 92). Among
the Chinese, it is Lao Tzu who may be cited as saying, One who knows does not speak; one
who speaks does not know [Tao Te Ching, 128, trans. D. C. Lau (England: Penguin Books,
1974), p. 117].
56
Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Great Inquisitor, in Notes from Underground and The
Grand Inquisitor, trans. Ralph E. Matlaw (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1960).
57
Three masters, seemingly mutually exclusive, dominate the school of suspicion:
Marx, Nietzsche and Freud. Paul Ricoeur, Freud and Philosophy: An Essay on Interpretation,
trans. Dennis Savage (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1970), p. 33.
58
None of those who cry out, Lord, Lord, will enter the kingdom of God but only the
one who does the will of my Father in heaven (Matt 7:21).
54
90
Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90
of virginity, here taken to mean barrenness, in the same way that Sarah was
barren when she became pregnant with Isaac and Elizabeth was barren when
she bore John. One has to be barren in order to be full. Neither Adam nor
Eve knew virtue before they had eaten of the fruit of the tree of good and
evil, for virtue implies its opposite, which is vice. If all is good, then nothing
will be evil, and then there will be no need for dialogue, for dialogue is called
for only when there is a need to search for the truth. People who already
know the truth will brook no opposition; they cannot stand the challenge of
an antithesis. Thus, people who have known no evil, who are perfectly good
and wise, will find it difficult to engage in a dialogue with sinners, go down
to the level of those who are not like them. One has to be barren in order to
be made full.
The lady knew no man, and so it was a man she had to bear. They
had to be as equal as possible because they both had to be instrumental
in the redemption of sin. The virgin birth is a big joke to atheists, but not
to postmodern humans who have gone through the travails of all history,
reaching a point where reason betrays its limits and thus paradoxes make
sense. Atheists are left with only nature and their natural lights with which
to understand things, and what great understanding they can exhibit to have.
The great divide among men is not between Christians and non-Christians,
but between atheists and believers; there is no way to reconcile them except
by that kind of faith which cannot be induced either by self or others. The
quarrels, at times unreasonably violent, between and within the various faiths
arise from a misunderstanding which hopefully will be evolutionistically
resolved in a foreseeable future. What should survive all this, however, is
the difference between faith and non-faith. The only way atheists will be
convinced about religion is if they are not able to wipe out totally all traces
of faith from the face of the earth, and if believers themselves get converted
into the foolishness of wrong-doing, not according to strict human-made
tables of morality but according to the advances of consciousness toward
that point beyond good and evil where, as Rousseau puts it, the will is such
that it cannot err. This is the point where postmodernity means to bring us,
and this requires a paradigm shift in everything about man and woman, a
paradigm shift in the very essence of being human. Whoever understands
this, understands also that there is a new type of spirituality that this calls
for, a type of spirituality some of whose models we can here identify by
nameSt. Therese of the Child Jesus, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, St. Arnold
Janssen, to name just three. These are icons we may imitate today, but not
without understanding who they are and what they stand for. The challenge
is for us to know them intimately as the saints of postmodernity.
Tamars Determination for Progeny in

Genesis 38: An African Perspective
MARY JEROME OBIORAH, IHM
University of Nigeria
Nsukka, Nigeria
Introduction
aptivated would even a casual reader be by this intriguing narrative

in Genesis 38 that tends to suspend the Joseph Story introduced in
chapter 37. The abruptness of the Judah and Tamar episode has been
a point of interest to many Old Testament scholars, whose opinions on the
position of Genesis 38 could be grouped into two broad views. First, there
are those1 who see Genesis 38 as having no point of convergence with the
entire book of Genesis, especially chapters 37-50. Others,2 on the other hand,
recognize both overt and subtle echoes of the themes of Genesis, particularly
chapters 37-50, in chapter 38.3 The Midrash, Bereshit Rabba (84:11,12), on
1
E. A. Speiser, Genesis, vol. 1 of the AB (New York: Doubleday, 1964); H. Gunkel,
Genesis (Gttingen: Vandenhoeck, 1977); Gerhard von Rad, Genesis: A Commentary, vol.
1 of OTL (London: SCM Press, 1972), pp. 356-357; J. A. Emerton, Some Problems in
Genesis XXXVIII, VT 25 (1975), pp. 338-361; J. A. Emerton, An Examination of a Recent
Structuralist Interpretation of Gen XXXVIII, VT 26 (1976), pp. 79-98; George R. H.
Wright, The Positioning of Genesis 38, ZAW 94 (1982), p. 523; Walter Brueggemann,
Genesis (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 307; Claus Westermann, Genesis 37-50: A
Commentary (London: SPCK, 1986), p. 49; Jan William Tarlin, Tamars Veil: Ideology at
the Entrance to Enaim, Culture, Entertainment and the Bible, ed. George Aichele, JSOT 309
(Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), pp. 174-181.
2
Robert Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative (New York: Basic Books, 1981), pp. 3-12;
Steven D. Mathewson, An Exegetical Study of Genesis 38, BSac 146 (1989), pp. 373-392.
Gordon Wenham, Genesis 16-50, WBC 2 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1994), pp.
363-365; Graig Y. S. Ho, The Stories of the Family Troubles of Judah and David: A Study of
their Literary Links, VT 49 (1999), pp. 514-531; Anthony J. Lambe, Judahs Development:
The Pattern of Departure Transition Return, JSOT 83 (1999), pp. 53-68; Wilfried
Warning, Terminological Patterns and Genesis 38, Andrews University Seminary Studies 38
(2000), pp. 238-305; Joan E. Cook, Four Marginalized Foils Tamar, Judah, Joseph and
Potiphars Wife: A Literary Study of Genesis 38-39, Proceedings, Eastern Great Lakes and
Midwest Biblical Society 21( 2001), pp. 115-128; Paul R. Noble, Esau, Tamar, and Joseph:
Criteria for Identifying Inner-biblical Allusions, VT 52 (2002), pp. 219-252.
3
D. A. Viljoen A. P. B. Breytenbach, Genesis 38 binne die Josefverhal: n Literer-
92
Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112
Genesis 38 perceives and evaluates the close link between this text and the
event narrated in Genesis 37: The Holy One Praised be He said to Judah,
You deceived your father with a kid. By your life, Tamar will deceive you
with a kid ... The Holy One Praised be He said to Judah, You said to your
father, haKKer-n. By your life, Tamar will say to you, haKKer-n.4
If the words cited above from Bereshit Rabba underscores and legitimizes
the position of Genesis 38 in its immediate context, which is the Joseph
Story, one in addition finds some common motifs of the book of Genesis
in this text. Conspicuous in Genesis is the fate of the younger child against
the elder. Abels offering was preferred to his brothers, Cain (Gen 4:1-5);
Isaac bestowed his first and choicest blessing on Jacob instead of on his elder
brother Esau (Genesis 27); Joseph and not Reuben, the eldest son, was the
beloved of their father Jacob (Genesis 37); Ephraim and not Manasseh was
the first in Jacobs parting blessings (Gen 48:8-22). In Genesis 38, Zerah who
thrust his hand first could have been the first born but he withdrew to the
womb and made way for his younger brother, Perez (vv. 27-30).
Genesis 38 continues the family history of Jacob introduced in Gen
37:2 in these words: lleh TleDT ya`qB rendered in the New Revised
Standard Version (NRSV) as This is the story of the family of Jacob.5 In
Genesis, the term TleDT plays an important part in the structure of the
book.6 It occurs ten times, besides the repetition of Gen 36:1 in 36:9,7 and
at strategic points in the narratives (2:4; 5:1; 6:9; 10:1; 11:10; 11:27; 25:12;
25:19; 36:1; 37:2). This stereotyped formula introduces a major section in the
book of Genesis. In Genesis 37, it marks the beginning of the family history
of Jacob. If the section of Genesis 3750 had been considered as the story of
the development of Jacobs generations, the age-long debate on the place of
Genesis 38 would not have arisen. The narrative on Judah and Tamar is part
sociologieseperspektief (The placing of Genesis 38 within the Joseph Narrative: A Literarysociological perspective), Hervormde Teologiese Studies 58 (2002), pp. 1795-1827, add a third
view which states that Genesis is dialectically related to the Joseph Story. According to them,
Genesis 38 reflects a polemical southern perspective on the Kingdom of Judah as opposed to
the northern perspective on the Kingdom of Israel.
4
This is taken from Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, 11.
5
Compare NKJV: This is the history of Jacob; New American Version with codes:
These are the records of the generations of Jacob; TOB: Voici la famille de Jacob; the
translation in the NJB (This is the story of Joseph) does not reflect the Hebrew.
6
The Hebrew word, Tldt is a feminine plural noun from the verbal root ylD, to
bear, bring forth, beget.
7
The variation in the second part of each of these verses should not be overlooked. In
36:1b, a kind of parenthesis clarifies who Esau was. Further clarification is supplied in 36:9;
the Edomites are the progenies of Jacobs brother, Esau.
M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny
93
of this family story of Jacob, the generations of Jacob understood from the
etymology of Tldt. Tamar, though an outsider, played an important part
in this family history.
Tamar entered Jacobs family history through Judah, the fourth son of
Jacob and she was ill-fated at the beginning. Her husband, Er, died childless
and she respected the tradition that advocated levirate marriage. Her
brother-in-law, Onan, instead of fulfilling the duty of a faithful brother-inlaw, decided to apply coitus interruptus. He died, leaving the widow without
children, especially a male child. The father-in-law, whose duty it was to care
for the widow and if possible to provide a brother-in-law for her, advised
her to remain a widow in her fathers house. Tamar, whom the narrator in
Genesis 38 projected as the heroine in the narrative, artfully achieved her
quest for having children and contributed significantly to the development
of Jacobs family. Her importance in this family history lies in the fact that
kingly ancestry in Jacobs descendants is traced through her son, Perez.8
Tamars patient endurance after two attempted marriages in Jacobs
family, apparent neglect or injustice on the part of Judah, and the
determination for posterity that incited her questionable action in the story
are akin to the situations of many African women, particularly Igbo women
in the south-east Nigeria that form the setting of this paper. Just like in
ancient Israel, childlessness among Igbo families is considered a misfortune.
Levirate marriage and similar practices are employed in order to maintain
the continuity of ones family tree. Women play an important part in this for
they utilize their femininity in all possibilities so as to assert their presence in
their new homes and perpetuate the family history. Therefore, employing a
simplified narrative method, our interest in this paper is Tamars tenacity that
made her the heroine in this narrativeher firmness of character comparable
to that of Igbo women who find themselves in a similar predicament.
1. Narrative Study of Genesis 38

Paucity of textual problems in the Hebrew text of Genesis 38 and its
intrinsic literary style make this narrative easily readable. Our critical survey
of the text highlights the narrative techniques employed by the narrator.
Scholars who operate with the Documentary Hypothesis in the study of the
Pentateuch attribute Genesis 38 to the Yahwistic source.
8
Graig Y. S. Ho, The Stories of the Family Troubles of Judah and David, pp. 514-531,
rightly argues that Genesis 38 and the Book of Ruth are meant to prove Davids genealogical
link with Judah.
94
Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112
1.1 Some Observations on the Text of Genesis 38

A temporal clause, wayh B`t hahiw, (it happened at that time ...)
that occurs only three times in the Hebrew Bible introduces this narrative;
the remaining two occurrences of this phrase are in Gen 21:22 and 1 Kgs
11:29. In all these, the clause introduces a major narrative and a turn of event
in a wider story; it indicates that some considerable time has elapsed after the
previous event. Gen 21:22 continues the Abraham Cycle with a story which is
not a direct continuation of the preceding event. Similarly, 1 Kgs 11:29 turns
a new leaf in the narrative when it introduces the rebellion of Jeroboam. In
Gen 38:1, some years must have passed from the time Joseph was taken to
Egypt before Judah left Jacobs family to live with the Canaanites. In these
three texts, the event ushered in by the clause forms an integral part of the
wider story.
The expression weyaBBm in v. 8 is from the root yBm. The verbal form
in our text is piel imperative masculine singular. As a verb this root occurs
only in piel pattern and only in our text and in Deuteronomy 25, where it
occurs twice (cf. vv. 5 and 7). This verbal use of the root has been explained
as an example of a denominative piel from an agentive noun;9 the noun is
yBm, brother-in-law. It is from the connotation of this noun that one
derives the sense of the verb in its context, thus the translation perform
the duty of brother-in-law. The command was directed to Onan whom
it behooved to perform the duty of a brother-in-law in a levirate marriage
system.
For some philological interest, attention might be drawn to the rare
form of infinitive construct of the peh-nun verb, nTn, in v. 9; the writer used
netn instead of the usual Tt. The form with holem as we have in our text,
occurs only here, and in Num 20:21 as netn.
In v. 17b, Tamar employs an ellipsis of apodosis10 when she responds to
Judahs promise of a kid from his flock: im-TiTTn `rbn `ad lehek, if
you give me a pledge until you send. The omitted apodosis, I will consent,
is understood in the context. Such an omission occurs so that we may not
stop to think of, or lay stress on, the word omitted, but may dwell on the
Cf. Bruce K. Waltke M. OConnor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax

(Winona Lake, Indiana: Einsenbrauns, 1990), p. 413.
10
Paul Jouon T. Muraoka, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (Subsidia Biblica 27; Roma:
Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 2006) # 167r. See further examples in Exod 32:32; Num
5:20.
9
95
other words which are thus emphasized by the omission.11 In her ellipsis of
the apodosis, Tamar wished to underline the pledge she asked of Judah.
In v. 26, there is an example of a comparison of exclusion in Judahs just
judgment of Tamars action: cdeqh mimmenn. In this type of comparison,
the subject alone possesses the quality connoted by the adjective or stative verb,
to the exclusion of the thing compared.12 In our text, we have a verb from the
root cDq with the following meanings in the qal pattern, as it is used in this
context: be in the right, be right, have a just case, carry ones point, be
vindicated, be just, be righteous. When we apply this type of comparison
to Judahs verdict, one observes that he is actually saying that only Tamar is just,
not he; thus the rendition of his cdeqh mimmenn as She is in the right, not
I.13 With this declaration, as if in a court, the narrator underscores Tamars
victory; her action was justified. Her father-in-law provides more facts to this
effect: ... since I did not give her my son Shelah (v. 26).
1.2 Structure of the Text
The story in Genesis 38 is developed in five interrelated scenes (1-11; 1219; 20-23; 24-26; 27-30)14 which are marked by some expressions relating
to measured time. In Scene 1 (vv. 1-11), the narrator begins the story with
the temporal clause wayh B`T hahiw. This scene relays how Judah was
separated for some time from the rest of his brothers. All the principal actors
in the story are also introduced. It may not be necessary to split this scene into
two (vv. 1-5 and 6-11) as G. Wenham has done in his commentary.15 Rather,
we see v. 6 as a continuation of this initial story of Judahs family, even though
Tamar is mentioned for the first time in this verse. Judah married and had
three sons, Er, Onan, and Shelah. He got a wife, Tamar, for Er. Er died and
Onan was not keen to continue the marriage; he also died. Tamar, who had
no child from either of these two brothers, is presented as unlucky and illfated. The scene ends with Tamars separation from Judahs nuclear family
and going back to her fathers house. It corresponds with the inception of the
E. W. Bullinger, Figures of Speech Used in the Bible Explained and Illustrated (Grand
Rapids, MI: Baker House, 2003), p. 1.
12
Waltke OConnor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax, p. 265.
13
For further examples of similar comparison of exclusion, see Gen 29:30; Ps 52:5; Hos
6:6; Job 7:15; Prov 17:1.
14
Anthony J. Lambe, Genesis 38: Structure and Literary Design, The World of Genesis:
Persons, Places, Perspective, ed. Philip R. Davies and David J. A. Clines, JSOTSup. vol. 257
(Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), p. 102, proposes also a five-part structure but
different from ours. He calls his own five phases of development: Equilibrium vv.1-6; Descent
vv. 7-11; Disequilibrium v.12a; Ascent vv.12b-26; Equilibrium vv. 27-30.
15
Wenham, Genesis 16-50, p. 363.
11
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Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112
story that presents Judahs separation from his fathers house. Two verbs of
motion, yrD, to descend predicated of Judah in v. 1, and hlK for Tamar in
v. 11 form an inclusion in this scene. Tamar left the house without husband,
children, and with less hope for the future. This desperate condition prepared
for the next step she took in the second scene.
Scene 2 begins from v. 12 and ends in v. 19. Just like in the preceding
scene, this one commences with another form of temporal clause, which
relates to the first scene. The clause reads: wayyirB hayymm, in course
of time. A long time passed between the moment Tamar left Judahs house
and the time when the event in the second scene took place. Sequences of
death in Judahs house in Scene 1 ended in this second scene with the death
of Judahs wife. Outstanding in the scene is the encounter between Judah and
Tamar. She disguised herself and deceived her father-in-law. Judah promised
to give her a kid from his flock in recompense for the sexual intercourse; in
addition to this, Tamar demanded for his marks of identity (signet, cord and
staff). There is again another inclusion in this scene. At the beginning of
the scene, Judah concluded the period of mourning his wife. In v. 19 Tamar
put on again the garment of her widowhood. The two ends of the scene are
also marked by Tamar putting off her widows garments in v. 14 and putting
them on in v. 19. Her condition continued but will soon be over, for in the
subsequent scene, she will not only be taken back to the family of Judah, but
she will also be the heroine of this family history.
In Scene 3 (vv. 20-23), Judah wanted to fulfill his promise to Tamar but
did not succeed. The envelop figure, formed by Ged, kid and the verb slH,
to send, at the beginning and at end of this scene, indicates its focus, which
is an attempt to fulfill the promise of a kid by Judah. Tamar disappeared
physically from the scene; but was present in the minds of Judah and his
friend who were earnestly searching for her.
Scene 4 (vv. 24-26) begins again with time indication: wayh Kemil
Hdcm, about three months later, that is, three months after the encounter
between Judah and Tamar on the way to Timnah. The same expression,
wayyuGGad, hophal pattern from the root nGD, be reported, be told, used
to convey to Tamar Judahs departure to Timnah in v. 13, is also employed
in v. 24 to report to Judah about the illegal pregnancy of Tamar; the first is
in Scene 2 and the second is in Scene 4. Another relationship between these
two scenes is that the deceit in Scene 2 is now unveiled in Scene 4. In Scene
2 when Judah saw Tamar, he thought she was a prostitute, znh (v. 15).
In Scene 4, Judah was told that his daughter-in-law had played the whore,
zneth (v. 24). In Scene 2, Tamar conceived, waTahar, by Judah (v. 18); in
97
Scene 4, Judah was told that Tamar conceived, hrh (v. 24). Furthermore,
in Scene 2, Tamar demanded from Judah his signet, cord and staff, and he
gave them to her. These three personal objects reappear in Scene 4; Judah got
them back from Tamar, not secretly as he wanted in Scene 3 but publicly as
part of Tamars plan.
The temporal clause in Scene 5 (vv. 27-30) reads: wayhi Be`t which
calls to mind a similar phrase in Scene 1: wayhi B`t hahiw. Tamar,
who did not bear children from the two sons of Judah, and who lost two
attempted marriages through the death of Judahs two sons in Scene 1, has
in Scene 5 twins fathered by her father-in-law. She was without hope in
Scene 1 because of the death of the husband and the brother-in-law through
whom she could have had children. In Scene 5 her hope was fulfilled; she
had two sons. Therefore, the reversal of life conditions links the two scenes.
In addition, births and giving names to new born are also common to both
scenes. The story can be summarized in the following scheme with Tamar in
the limelight in all the scenes:
Scene I (vv. 1-11) Judahs line in danger and Tamar in despair
Scene II (vv. 12-19) Tamars concealed encounter with Judah
Scene III (vv. 20-23) Earnest search for Tamar
Scene IV (vv. 24-26) Tamars concealed encounter with Judah

revealed
Scene V (vv. 27-30) Stability and restoration in the family

through Tamar
The story revolves around this heroine whose patience and tact restored
life to Judahs family. The next section of this paper studies each of these
scenes stressing Tamars significant role in the house of Jacob, symbolically
represented in this story by Judah.
1.3 A Close Reading of the Text
Our analysis of each scene of this narrative takes into consideration,
with the aid of salient narrative techniques employed in the text, the central
role of Tamar in Judahs family history. Her story in this family belongs to
what L. Ryken categorizes as the heroic narrative.16 She started with a tragic
situation, but she risked her reputation and life in order to reverse this tight
16
Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan
Publishing House, 1985), pp. 75-86; the author enumerates four major types of stories viz.
the heroic narrative, the epic, the comedy, and the tragedy.
98
Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112
spot. Each of the five scenes elucidates her singular contribution in setting
aright a family line that appears to be in jeopardy.
1.3.1 Judahs Line in Danger and Tamar in Despair (vv. 1-11)
The brevity of the narration time17 in comparison to the actual narrative
time18 in this first scene could be a clue as to the function of these first
eleven verses. Every event, which in real life could have required many years
to evolve, is narrated in a very few words and in quick succession. Judahs
descent (cf. the root yrD, to go down) from Timnah to the Shephelah where
Adullam was situated19 is narrated in just one verse (v. 1). His new location
would have been at a lower elevation than Hebron (3,040 feet above sea
level), and thus the statement that Judah went down is appropriate.20 The
reason for this journey, why he separated from his brothers, turned towards
(nh `ad) a certain Adullamite, and how this Adullamite, Hirah, became his
friend, seems not so important for this narrative; otherwise, the details would
have been fully supplied. Furthermore, the birth of his three sons with the
unnamed daughter of the Canaanite, Shua, is narrated as if they were born
in a few hours (vv. 3-5). All these events that preceded the coming of Tamar
are part of the prelude to the narrative. In vv. 1-5 Judahs nuclear family is
already established with his three sons, Er, Onan and Shelah. Judahs wife,
whose name is not mentioned, simply gave birth to the sons and gave names
to them, with the exception of the first one.21 The narrator does not say
much about Judahs wife, because the initial tragedy in the story began with
Judah and his sons. All that the storyteller has said so far are from external
perspective, that is, observations from and by an external observer whose
interest is simply to list facts.22
In the words of J. L. Ska, Our Fathers Have Told Us: Introduction to the Analysis of
Hebrew Narratives, Subsidia Biblica 13 (Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico, 1990),
p. 7, Narrative time is the duration of the actions and the events in the real story. It is
measured in units of real time (seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, centuries,
millenaries...)
18
Narration time is the material time necessary to convey the story; it is measured in
words, sentences, lines, verses, paragraphs, passages, chapters, etc.; cf. ibid., p. 8.
19
See Yahanan Aharoni et al., The Carta Bible Atlas (Jerusalem: Carta, 2002), p. 57.
20
John H. Walton et al., The IVP Bible Background Commentary: Old Testament
(Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2000), p. 69.
21
In v. 3 the naming of Er was not done by Judahs wife but probably by Judah himself;
note the verb in the Masoretic Text, wayyiqr. Some manuscripts harmonize this with
similar verbs in vv. 4 and 5, waTTiqr and perhaps because of the fact that in the OT the
naming is often done by the mother and not by the father (cf. Gen 4:25; 30:11; 30:13; 30:20;
30:24; 38:4; 38:5; Judg 13:24; 1 Sam 1:20; 2 Sam 12:24). In the Hebrew Bible, the father
named a new born son only in Gen 38:2, Exod 2:22 and 1 Chr 7:23.
22
Ska, Our Fathers Have Told Us, p. 69.
17
99
Tamar enters this story from v. 6 as the wife of Judahs first son, Er. The
narrator says nothing about her family background. Her first experience was
the sudden and inexplicable death of her husband (v. 7).23 It suffices in the
narrative to say that he was evil (ra`) before the Lord, and the Lord killed
him. Could it be a purposeful choice of words on the part of the narrator
that the name (`r) of the first son of Judah is a reversed form of the Hebrew
word for evil (ra`)? After this unexpected death that left Tamar childless and
marked the beginning of her despair, she still nurtured some hope because
she had a brother-in-law and levirate marriage was being practiced. Judahs
injunction in v. 8, which was the first direct speech in the narrative confirms
this tradition and states the nature of surrogate marriage at that time. He
addressed his second son, Onan as follows:
B el eset aHik
weyaBBm th
wehqm zera`le Hk
Go to your brothers wife
so that you may perform for her the duty of a brother-in-law
and raise up offspring for your brother24
Levirate marriage which Tamars father-in-law proposed was one

remedy for the disruption of inheritance caused by the premature death of
a man before he had produced an heir.25 It was a common practice in the
ancient Near East, noted especially in Hittite Law 193, Ruth 4, and a detailed
explanation of the practice in Deut 25:5-10.26 Childlessness is the underlying
problem and the reason for this practice which subjects a woman to the
decisions of the male members of her late husband. This gives one a glimpse
of the plight of widows; Onan aggravated that of Tamar by his action.
Onan, Tamars brother-in-law, the levir, instead of obeying his father,
calming the tension that was looming in the family, and giving hope to his
brothers wife, opted for coitus interruptus.27 He died because he did not obey.
23
Er could also have sent a letter to the editor of Genesis complaining of the editors
significant omission of the detailed reason for his sudden death as in the work of Susan Shaw,
Letters to the Editor of Genesis, in First Person: Essays in Biblical Autobiography, Biblical
Seminar 81 (London / New York: Sheffield, 2002), pp. 25-46.
24
See above our explanation of the denominative verb from the root yBm.
25
Walton et al., The IVP Bible Background Commentary, p. 69.
26
The practice of levirate marriage and relevant study of these texts are presented later
in this paper.
27
See Gale A. Yee, Oooo, Onan! Geschlechtsgeschichte and Women in the Biblical
World, in Are we amused? Humour about Women in the Biblical World, ed. Athalya Brenner,
100 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

The narrator gives the reason for Onans action in these words: But since
Onan knew that the offspring would not be his ... (v. 9). Grelot has argued
that Onans behavior was an act of ritual magic to produce fertility, and that
the Lord killed him because of this attempt to assure fertility by magic.28 In
our opinion, and as it is clear from the context, Onan did not want to father
issues for his brother; fertility by magic seems out of place here.
In many biblical narratives, the narrators are presented as omniscient.
They know even the secret thoughts of the actors. In our text, the narrator
knows the unvoiced intention of Onan. In addition to this, there is an
internal perspective in the narrative at this point.29 The narrator speaks like
an insider and no longer like an outsider who simply states facts. He knows
the inner working of events, even the secret thoughts and intentions of the
actors. Onans death heightens Tamars despair; she has lost two chances of
bearing children in the same family. Judah was left with his third son, who,
perhaps had not attained the age of marriage. Levirate marriage, though
allowed, is sometimes hard to practice. It is clear that there was a problem in
Judahs family surrounding the application of this norm.30
The second direct speech in the narrative comes again from Judah; he
speaks to Tamar: Remain a widow in your fathers house until my son Shelah
grows up (v. 11). The narrators comment in vv. 11b and 14, and Judahs
confession in v. 26 show that Judah did not want to take further risk of losing
his third son; therefore, his words to Tamar, who tacitly consented, are a
tactful way of dismissing her from the family. It is also possible that she was
accused of being the cause of the death of the two sons.31 In the narrative,
Bible in the Twenty-First Century Series 2 (London / New York: Clark, 2003), pp. 107118, who argues that this is the origin of onanism which refers to coitus interruptus and
masturbation.
28
P. Grelot, Le peche de Onan (Gen xxxviii, 9), VT 49 (1999), pp. 143-155. Note that
Grelot arrived at this interpretation by changing the Hebrew l l to lo l; he also reads
lebilT as introducing a result clause instead of purpose. His translation of v. 9 is When
Onan realized that he would have no posterity, he corrupted (his seed) in the earth (as an act
of ritual magic to produce fertility), and thus gave no posterity to his brother.
29
Ska, Our Fathers Have Told Us, pp. 69-70.
30
Thomas Kruger, Genesis 38 ein Lehrestuck alttestamentlicher Ethik, Konsequente
Traditionsgeschichte: Festschrift fur Klaus Baltzerzum 65. Geburtstag; ed. Rudiger Bartelmus
et al. (Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 126; Fribourg: Editions universitaires, 1993), pp. 205226.
31
C. F. Keil F. Delitzsch, Biblical Commentary on the Old Testament, vol. 1: The
Pentateuch (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1949), p. 340, comments thus on Judahs
instruction to Tamar: The sudden death of his two sons so soon after their marriage with
Thamar [sic] made Judah hesitate to give her the third as a husband, thinking, very likely,
according to a superstition which we find in Tobit iii. 7 sqq., that either she herself, or
M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny 101
the reason for Judahs decision is introduced with the phrase Ki mr (v.
11), which Ska suggests that it be translated because he thought, instead
of because he said. He perceives here a narrative technique called interior
monologue and an internal focalization.32 His argument is that Judah did
not make his intention known to Tamar, he said it to himself.33 Bearing the
plight of many widows who had very little contribution to make in order to
protect their interest, Tamar went to live in her fathers house (v. 11). The
first scene ends with the dismissal of Tamar from Judahs family. Like in
similar situations in the life of many widows, her patience and long-suffering,
intrinsic to femininity, sustained her. Nothing is said about the reaction of
her mother-in-law who was probably alive when Tamar left Judahs house.
Levirate marriage was possible but there was difficulty in its practice.
It seems Tamar was more determined than Judah to perpetuate the family
line. Weisberg observes that the only character thoroughly committed to
the consummation of some sort of levirate union is Tamar.34 Her levirs
behavior coupled with Judahs decision to dismiss her from the family, as well
as the ruse she employed in Scene 2, project her as the only person in Judahs
nuclear family who was so determined to remedy this unlucky situation.
1.3.2 Tamars Concealed Encounter with Judah (vv. 12-19)
In the second part of the story, Tamar had an opportunity to actualize
her intention. She risked her reputation with one single purpose: posterity in
her late husbands house. She was compelled to do this because, she saw that
Shelah was grown up, yet she had not been given to him in marriage (v. 14).
In this part of v. 14, the narrator adopts internal perspective; he narrates
from her point of view. Tamar saw injustice on the part of her father-in-law
who refused to provide a levir for her. The action she now took was her last
resort, degrading though it was; there was no other better option.
How did Tamar know she would succeed? Naturally, a widower would
have more sexual appetite than a man whose wife is still alive. This could
marriage with her, had been the cause of her husbands death.
32
Ska, Our Fathers Have Told Us, p. 70.
33
Many modern translators agree with this as can be shown from their translations of
Ki mr in v. 11: The NRSV, for he feared (cf. English Standard Version [2001]); NJB,
for he was thinking; NIV, for he thought; Portuguese Modern Language Translation
(2005); Einheitsbersetzung (1980) (German); NASB (NAS [1977] and NAU [1995]). There
are also some who translated for he said; cf. TOB, NKJV; La Sacra Bibbia Nuova Riveduta
(1994) (Italian).
34
Dvora E. Weisberg, Levirate Marriage and the Family in Ancient Judaism (Waltham,
MA: Brandeis University Press, 2009), p. 28.
102 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

have been the reason for the information given about the death of Judahs
wife in v. 12. Tamar probably knew that she could lure Judah to have sexual
intercourse with her. In addition to this, it has been noted that the hard and
dirty work of shearing sheep was accompanied by a festival that was noted
for hilarity and much wine-drinking.35 It is also possible that Tamar, having
stayed for some years in Judahs house, knew that her father-in-law could
have extra-marital affairs, especially with professional prostitutes. In fact,
according to the narrator, Judah thought Tamar was a znh, prostitute
(v. 15). In v. 15, the narrator exhibits his omniscient character of being able
to penetrate into the thought of Judah. The participial form znh (from
znh) as it is used in this context designates a woman who has sexual
intercourse with someone with whom she does not have a formal covenant
relationship.36 Prostitutes accepted payment for their services, and perhaps
had some distinctive mode of dressing. Tamar covered her face, probably as
part of this dressing or simply to avoid being identified by Judah. Furthermore,
she planned her action by standing at a crossroad, typical of professional
prostitutes (cf. Jer 3:2; Ezek 16:25).
Prostitutes accept payment for their services, and Tamar appropriated
this practice in order to achieve her aim. Before she agreed to Judahs offer
of a kid from his flock,37 she made sure that her client would not escape any
consequence that would ensue from their union. She demanded for a pledge
and insisted that this should be all marks of identity that Judah had: his
personal seal, cord and staff. There was no way Judah could deny his action,
because Tamar had essential things that would point him out. The three
were a kind of ancient Near Eastern equivalent of all a persons major credit
card.38 Tamar stripped him of all his insignia. The seal is a distinctive means
of signing a document in the ancient Near East,39 and a personal one like
Judahs was a sign of a rich person. The staff is a symbol of authority; it serves
as a walking aid, animal goad and weapon.40 Thus, she carefully prepared,
in this only extended dialogue in the story (vv. 15-18), for the subsequent
scene in this narrative. The agreement completed, the narrative proceeds
in three quick verbs (the end of v. 18)he gave, he lay, she conceivedto
Tamars single-minded purpose, which, from her first marriage, has been to
Mathewson, An Exegetical Study of Genesis 38, p. 378. For examples of this in the
OT, see 1 Sam 25:4, 8, 18, 36; 2 Sam 13:23, 28.
36
TDOT vol. IV (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1980), s.v., znh, p. 100.
37
Westermann, Genesis 37-50, 53, notes that in Greece and elsewhere a kid is the
hetaera sacrifice in the service of the goddess of love (cf. Judg 15:1).
38
Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, p. 9.
39
Walton et al., The IVP Bible Background Commentary, p. 70.
40
Ibid.
35
become the channel of the seed of Judah.41 Biblical narratives often focus
on the essential. Judah was not alone when he saw Tamar; he was with his
friend Hirah the Addulamite (cf. v. 12). Hirah made no contribution to the
dialogue; but he would be useful in attempting to redeem Judahs pledge to
Tamar.
1.3.3 Earnest Search for Tamar (vv. 20-23)
Judah had to fulfill his promise to Tamar and get his identity marks
back. Hirah his friend became an intermediary between the two persons.
Tamar, who was not a professional prostitute as Judah thought she was,
knew what she had planned to do. Judahs insignia would remain with her
until her new condition manifested and the people raised eyebrows at her.
Therefore, Hirah would search for her in vain, for he would not see her. She
had gone back to her normal life of a widow by putting on the garments of
her widowhood (v. 19). When Hirah went to look for her and did not see
her, he did not dare to ask the people for a professional prostitute, znh,
but for qedh, a consecrated person, a cult prostitute. The people did
not have any such woman in their midst. The direct speech of the people,
No prostitute has been here (v. 21) was reported in the same way to Judah
(cf. v. 22). Such repetition could have served the purpose of heightening the
tension because of the valuable materials Judah gave Tamar as pledge. What
happened to the kid Hirah carried from Timnah to Enaim? This also was not
important for the narrator.
Tamar had achieved her hearts desire, and she had strong facts on her
side. She was neither a professional prostitute, znh, nor a cult prostitute,
qedh. She was a wise woman deprived of her right (cf. v. 14b), but was
determined to have posterity in her husbands house, in spite of indifference
on the part of those who should have been more solicitous than she.
E. Goodfriend has argued that qedh in our context is merely a synonym
of znh.42 This view seems to be the basis for the translation of qedh as
prostitute, without any other qualification, in a good number of modern
translations.43 There are also some versions that render qedh as temple
prostitute.44 Ringgren notes that, though both terms appear synonymous
Alter, The Art of Biblical Narrative, pp. 8-9.
Elaine A. Goodfriend, Prostitution (OT), ABD vol. V (New York: Doubleday,
1992), p. 507. Similarly in H. Ringgren, qDs, TDOT vol. XII (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans,
2003), p. 542, although he acknowledges the difficulty in taking the two words as synonyms
in this context.
43
Cf. NRSV, NKJV, NJB, La Sacra Bibbia Nuova Riveduta (1994) (Italian), Portuguese
Modern Language Translation (2005).
44
The NASB (NAS [1977] and NAU [1995]); NIV.
41
42
104 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

in the contexts in which they are used in the OT, the activities of persons
to which the terms refer are different, qedh, performed certain cultic
functions.45 Therefore, Hirah could have applied this to Tamar, for some
reasons of politeness, when he was searching for her among her people.
He did not see her, because she was neither a professional prostitute nor a
temple prostitute. Such did not exist among his people. Judah himself was
ready to forfeit his insignia in order not to incur insults from the people
(v. 23). However, the moment of discovery was imminent for Tamar was still
considered as his daughter-in-law, and her pregnancy outside wedlock was
then evident.
1.3.4 Tamars Concealed Encounter with Judah Revealed
(vv. 24-26)
Three months were enough for neighbors to know that Tamar had
played the whore (v. 24). Since she was still the daughter-in-law of Judah,
it was reported to him. His immediate reaction was not just to punish her
by stoning her to death, according to the prescription in Deut 22:23-24, for
prostitution was a capital crime, but to burn her alive. Burning a woman
alive in cases of prostitution was a sentence reserved for a daughter of a priest
who engaged in prostitution, and for incest (Lev 20:14). Judah prescribed
the death sentence of incest for Tamar, without knowing that he was also
involved in this action. In point of fact, it was incest; in condemning Tamar
to death by burning, he revealed this incestuous act without knowing.
Perhaps, the narrator intentionally formed the story this way to create more
awesome feelings in the audience, who, at this point in the narrative knows
more than Judah.
What was going on within Tamar when she heard of the death sentence
from her father-in-law? She must have felt triumphant waiting for the
glorious moment of anagnorisis (discoveries) and perhaps peripeteia (reversal
of fortune).46 She had prepared for this moment when she asked Judah for
all his insignia. Those three identity marks would serve their purpose at the
moment of revelation. Indeed, they did serve their purpose, for they were
clear evidence that Judah was responsible for the supposed whoredom that
now tainted Tamars image.
With a well-calculated comparison of exclusion (v. 26) Judah exonerated
Tamar. She was innocent in her deceit, and he was unjust in neglecting her.
In the Rabbinic Midrashim, Judahs confession is seen as both positive and
Ringgren, qDs, 542.
See Ska, Our Fathers Have Told Us, p. 71.
45
46
negative.47 It is positive in the sense that he was honest in admitting his

weakness; thus an example of heroism for which he had his reward. On
the other hand, it is viewed negatively as a reluctant or forced admission
of sexual impropriety. It has been observed that Judahs confession in v. 26
is his recognition that Tamar, not he, has carried out the will of God in
propagating Jacobs family.48 This is reminiscent of similar acknowledgment
in Gen 44:18-34, where the same Judah delivered a speech acknowledging
divine providence in the reversal of the fate of his brother Joseph. Ravid
calls Judah a tragic hero, comparable to Aristotles tragic hero or victim of
circumstances that awakens feelings of pity and fear in readers.49 He was
deceived and humiliated; he accepted these in good faith and proclaimed his
perpetrator righteous. Shields avers that Tamars deceit was meant to open
Judahs eyes to his duty of providing a levir for her.50 Judah failed in his
duty and Tamar deceitfully made him the levir for the good of his family.
Her heroism lies partly in this thoughtful plan and diligence with which she
executed the plan.

1.3.5 Stability and Restoration in Judahs Family

through Tamar (vv. 27-30)
The final scene of this narrative is rightly called a reversal of fortune,

peripeteia. Tamar was instrumental in the stability and restoration of Judahs
lineage. First, there was stability in the highly tensed condition of levirate
practice in Judahs house, which plunged him into indecision. After the
death of his two sons, he did not take further risk of allowing Tamar to enter
into marital relationship with his third and remaining son, even when this
son has reached the age of playing the role of levir to Tamar (cf. vv. 14 and
26). Levirate marriage could have solved Tamars problem at the initial stage
of her life in Judahs family; but it did not. With the birth of twin brothers,
she calmed the raging wave in her husbands house.
Second, there was a kind of reversal in the death of the two sons of Judah,
Er and Onan. Tamar gave him back two sons, not from any other man but
47
C. E. Hayes, The Midrashic Carrier of the Confession of Judah [Genesis xxxviii,
26], Part II: The Rabbinic Midrashim, VT 45 (1995), pp. 174-187.
48
Cf. R. J. Clifford, Genesis 38: Its Contribution to Jacobs Story, CBQ 66 (2004),
pp. 519-532.
49
Dalia Ravid, The Tragic Effect of the Story of Judah and Tamar (Genesis 38), Beit
Mikra 47 (2002), pp. 257-266 (Hebrew).
50
Mary E. Shield, More Righteous than I: The Comeuppance of the Trickster in
Genesis 38, Are we amused? Humour about Women in the Biblical Worlds, ed. Athalya
Brenner, Bible in the Twenty-First Century Series 2 (London / New York: Clark, 2003), pp.
31-51.
106 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

from Judah himself. It was not in two births but in one. The continuation of
Judahs lineage was more direct. He got back his two sons through Tamar.
Through Tamar, a marginalized woman, the divine promises and plan were
projected.51
Third, there was reversal in the fate of Tamar. From a childless widow,
she became a mother of two sons. There was no need for further marriage
or to seek a levir for her. In fact, the narrator intimates concerning Judahs
relationship with her after the birth of the twins: And he did not lie with
her again (v. 26).
Fourth, there was reversal in Tamars status in Judahs family. With the
birth of her sons, she became a full-fledged member of her husbands house.
She was no longer marginalized and subtly dismissed from the family. She
had to leave her fathers house triumphantly back to Judahs house. Indeed,
the narrator simply relayed only the necessary things and did not say all that
happened. The important message has been communicated; human beings
cannot thwart Gods plan. This is also explicit in Judahs brother, Joseph,
when he moved from the status of a slave to an important post in the land
of his slavery. In the case of Tamar, the bonds which closely unite distrust,
deceit and death become the bonds that unite courage, truth and life.52
Our study of Genesis 38 has to some extent elicited some outstanding
qualities in the life of Tamar, which are behind her heroic role in the narrative.
Her patience, submissiveness to tradition, tenacity in difficult situations,
prudence in choosing means of achieving her aim, courage in executing her
well-calculated but risky plan, love and loyalty to the family of her husband,
are some of the features that are intrinsic to feminine nature. Women who
are able to recognize, develop and utilize these innate qualities thrive in spite
of unpredictable and unhappy experiences of gender inequality practiced in
the guise of tradition.
2. Reading Genesis 38 in Africa

Many would agree with Weisberg that levirate is central to the narrative
in Genesis 38.53
51
Joan E. Cook, Four Marginalized Foils Tamar, Judah, Joseph and Potiphars wife:
A Literary Study of Genesis 38-39, Proceedings, Eastern Great Lakes and Midwest Biblical
Society 21 (2001), pp. 115-128.
52
Cf. Andre Wenin, La ruse de Tamar (Gn 38): uneapproache narrative, Science et
Esprit 51 (1999), pp. 265-283.
53
Weisberg, Levirate Marriage and the Family in Ancient Judaism, 28.
The story is one of the few places in the Old Testament (cf. Deut 25:510; Ruth 3-4) that convey the practice of levirate marriage in ancient Israel.
We share her view in this paper, as we begin in this second part of our work
to read Tamars story from the perspective of many African childless widows
who are often left to the mercy of the male members of their husbands
families. The situations of childless widows in both cultures have much in
common.
Go in to your brothers wife and perform the duty of a brother-in-law
to her; raise up offspring for your brother (Gen 38:8). This injunction from
Judah to his second son after the death of his first son reveals a common
practice in their time. The law to which he was referring is delineated in Deut
25:5-10:
When brothers reside together, and one of them dies and has no
son, the wife of the deceased shall not be married outside the
family to a stranger. Her husbands brother shall go in to her,
taking her in marriage, and performing the duty of a husbands
brother to her, and the firstborn whom she bears shall succeed to
the name of the deceased brother, so that his name may not be
blotted out of Israel. But if the man has no desire to marry his
brothers widow, then his brothers widow shall go up to the elders
at the gate and say, My husbands brother refuses to perpetuate
his brothers name in Israel; he will not perform the duty of
a husbands brother to me. Then the elders of his town shall
summon him and speak to him. If he persists, saying, I have no
desire to marry her, then his brothers wife shall go up to him in
the presence of the elders, pull his sandal off his foot, spit in his
face, and declare, This is what is done to the man who does not
build up his brothers house. Throughout Israel his family shall
be known as the house of him whose sandal was pulled off.
Lev 18:16 and 20:21 seem to contradict this law. However, the texts of
Leviticus could be attributed to some different law. The major difference, in
our opinion, is that Deuteronomy focuses on giving a solution to a difficult
situation in marriage, while the two texts of Leviticus concentrate on the
problem of incest. Perhaps, this could explain the apparent contradiction in
the books.
According to the levirate law, childlessness on the part of a widow has a
way out, provided the woman is not barren. Her husbands brother should
take her as a wife and the firstborn from this union belongs to the deceased.
The text, as it is, leaves its readers with some puzzles: what does it mean to live
together? If the first born belongs to the union between the widow and the
levir, to whom do possible subsequent issues belong? What are those things
108 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

that can make a man desire not to marry his brothers widow? Perhaps, all
these lacunae in the law are purposely left to further interpretations and
applications when need arises. The important thing is that the childless
widow was not allowed to marry outside the family in order to avoid loss of
property to the family.54
Genesis 38 and Ruth 34 narrate instances in the OT where the levirate
marriage was put into practice. In Ruth, the levir was a distant relation. This,
probably, gives a clue as to the meaning of brothers residing together of
Deut 25:5. It is possible that brothers in this law was not necessarily of the
same parents; it could be a near relation as in the case of Ruth. In Genesis
38, it was all centred on nuclear family, and there was serious problem in
practicing the law. Tamar cleverly set the situation aright.
An interesting aspect of the law in Deut 25:5-10 is that the woman was
given some authority to fight for her right. It was her responsibility to declare
to the elders the levirs refusal to fulfill his duty. Her action put a tag on
her brother-in-law. Since levirate was an act of charity to the dead, one who
refused to perform this charitable work was treated accordingly. In Genesis
38, Tamar was not given an opportunity to expose Onan; the Lord fought
for her, for he put Onan to death (v. 10). The death of Onan, however, did
not deter her from being a strong advocate of levirate marriage, a character
which the image of the woman in Deut 25:5-10 depicts. Weisberg avers that
biblical texts portray women as strong advocates of levirate marriage and
other unions that promote the continuity of the patriarchal family.55 Tamar
risked her life to perpetuate Judahs lineage; although Jarschel sees in the story
an epitome of oppression of women and womens strong resistance to fight
for their survival and dignified existence.56 We perceive, rather in the story of
Tamar a strong determination to have progeny in her husbands house. Reyes
has also discovered in the narrative the importance of descendants, especially
in Tamars role.57 It is this aspect of womens contribution that likens them to
their counterparts in Africa, particularly the Igbo of the southeast Nigeria.
Reading the story of Tamar today among some Igbo women would sound
old fashioned, because of many positive evolutions in the society. Levirate and
Duane L. Christensen, Deuteronomy 21:10-34:12, WBC 6B (Nashville: Thomas
Nelson Publishers, 2002), p. 608.
55
Weisberg, Levirate Marriage and the Family in Ancient Judaism, p. 27.
56
Haidi Jarschel, Para que la memoriahistorica de la Resistencia de lasmujeres sea
guardada ... Genesis 38, Revista de Interpretacion Bblica Latino-Americana 32 (1999), pp.
35-43.
57
Jose Manuel Suazo Reyes, El Triunfo de Tamar, Qol 32 (2003), pp. 145-170.
54
related practices are seen only in some remote villages because the number
of women who are steadily becoming aware of their rights increases daily.
This can be attributed to some reasons. First, education, which many women
have embraced, exposes them to many facts about human life. Second, the
advent of Christianity has contributed immensely in liberating women from
enslavement engendered by some undue traditions.
In spite of these, many Igbo women of southeast Nigeria are still subjected
to some practices that are against human freedom and dignity befitting
a human being created in the image and likeness of God (Gen 1:26-27).
Every female child naturally grows to leave her parental home and join a lifepartner in another village or town. Hence, the possibility of encountering
some difficulties as in the case of Tamar faces every woman. One of such
setbacks in having a fulfilling married life is childlessness, which can exist
because of barrenness of the woman, or natural impediment on the part of
her husband. In either condition, the greater burden falls on the woman.
Obstacle to this union could also stem from premature death of the man
before the woman conceives. A young widow, as in the case of Tamar, has
to survive in one way or another in her husbands house. Another difficulty
could be from a general Igbo preference for male children to female ones. A
woman finds herself in a tight corner if she has only girls.
Complex, indeed, are the varied ways and means Igbo employ to relieve
the family of these forms of misfortune. Each locality has its customs, which
the people apply, especially if these have been in practice for a considerable
length of time. Women play an important role in this. First, when, for
instance, a woman has only female children, she can persuade her husband
to marry another wife that could give the family a male child. Second, if
the woman is barren and she is a widow, she can bring in another woman
and make special arrangement for her to have issues in the name of the late
husband. Third, a young widow, who has no levir or a willing next of kin to
perpetuate the name of the husband, can move outside the immediate kindred
of her husband to have children that will bear the name of her late husband.
Fourth, if the husband is impotent, the woman, with his permission and
special arrangement, can have children from another man for her husband.
In all these, the womans actions are not considered inappropriate. Their
intention is to perpetuate the families of their husband, and their efforts are
appreciated.
Situations like that of Tamar are tackled according to customs and
traditions of the people. Many parts of Igbo land practice some forms of
levirate marriage as stipulated in Deut 25:5-10, especially if the widow is
110 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

not being accused of having killed her husband. Levirate marriage, nkuchi
nwunye, which means inheriting a wife or taking a wife in anothers stead,58
is possible in Igbo land because of some factors in the marriage system of a
greater part of this people. First, patrilocal system of marriage is practiced in
many parts of Igbo land and levirate marriage thrives where a woman has to
leave her parents home to join her husbands family. Second, Igbo concept of
marriage makes levirate marriage easy to apply as one of the solutions for a
childless young widow. Aghaji explains the concept in these words:
Among the Igbo, marriage creates a bond between the family of
the husband and that of his wife; it also creates a union of a wife
on the other hand and the family of her husband on the other
so that, in effect, she is the wife of that family. This situation
is known as collective aspect of the marriage transaction or the
alliance between family groups since it is the spouses families
and not the spouses themselves that negotiate and conclude the
marriage.59
With this understanding of marriage in view, a wife in the family is

addressed by the members of her husbands family as our wife. The death
of a husband does not necessarily bring to an end his marriage to his wife. A
widow surely does not cease to be a member of her husbands family merely
because of her husbands death.60 Levirate becomes easy, when so desired
by her brothers-in-law, if her husband dies childless or without a male child.
Third, the status of women in Igbo society as part of family property creates
a good atmosphere for levirate. Generally, a woman is not free to decide
her fate when her husband dies; the male members of the family make the
decision for her, just as in the case of Tamar. Most Igbo widows, like Tamar
would patiently stay in their husbands families and abide by the levirate
law, if there is a levir, because of similar loyalty, love and determination for
posterity that motivated Tamar.
Thanks to Christianity and education, Igbo women are gradually
channelling these naturally endowed qualities to the growth and development
of society61 instead of allowing themselves to be subjected to unjustifiable
Celestine A. Obi, Marriage among the Igbo of Nigeria, (2011), http://www.codewit.
com/igbomarriage2.php.
59
J. C. Aghaji, Trends in Igbo Marriage and Divorce, paper presented at the workshop
on Igbo Culture at the Institute of African Studies, University of Nigeria, Nsukka (April 4-7,
1977), p. 16.
60
Ibid.
61
Roseling Ijeoma Okorji, Women and Culture of Peace in Nigeria: The Igbo Ethnic
Group Appraisal, Ikenga International Journal of African Studies vol. 9 (2007), p. 188.
58
customs. Christianity advocates marriage between a man and a woman; the

consummation of this union is reserved solely to these two, as long as they live
together and are not legally separated. It unreservedly condemns any form of
extra-marital affairs and considers it adultery. Furthermore, many educated
Igbo women now know their rights as human beings and propagate similar
awareness among their fellow women. A good number of these educated
ones have voluntarily opted to enlighten others on the dignity of women by
organizing workshops and seminars in cities and villages.
Conclusion
One of the positive outcomes of feminist approach to the interpretation
of the bible in the church is the deeper understanding of womens role in the
Old Testament. In its document, The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church,
published in 1993, the Pontifical Biblical Commission made the following
observation with regards to feminist method of biblical exegesis:
Feminist exegesis has brought many benefits. Women have played
a more active part in exegetical research. They have succeeded,
often better than men, in detecting the presence, the significance
and the role of women in the Bible, in Christian origins and
in the Church. The world view of today, because of its greater
attention to the dignity of women and to their role in society
and in the Church, ensures that new questions are put to the
biblical text, which in turn occasions new discoveries. Feminine
sensitivity helps to unmask and correct certain commonly
accepted interpretations which were tendentious and sought to
justify the male domination of women.62
More than ever before, unbiased feminine interpretation of the

bible, particularly the OT, has made its impact on biblical scholarship by
illuminating the seemingly hidden roles of women in the bible.
Reading the sacred scripture at face value, women appear to have been
relegated to the background, overshadowed by apparent patriarchal potency.
It needs reading between the lines to be able to discover and appreciate the
powerful and indispensable role of women in the accomplishment of divine
62
Pontifical Biblical Commission, Interpretation of the Bible in the Church (Roma:
Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1993) # I.E.2.
112 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

plans and promises. Women functioned silently but powerfully in Gods
design.
The story of Tamar is a glaring example, among so many others, where
womens role stands conspicuous in the fulfillment of Gods promise and
in the dynamic evolving of the plan of human salvation. The marginalized
Tamar proved heroic in a narrative that could be interpreted as an epitome of
human injustice against women. A critical reading of the narrative, however,
unveils the real message of the story: Tamar was an efficient instrument in
Gods plan for his people. The author of the Gospel of Matthew recognized
this fact and did not fail to include her and other outstanding and significant
women in his the Genealogy of Jesus the Messiah (cf. Matt 1:1-18). It is
instructive to observe that these women in Matthean genealogy were, in
human reckoning, out of the ordinary in their marriages. Nevertheless, God
found them worthy to be among the ancestresses of Jesus.
Women in Africa, particularly in Igbo land, are not of less importance.
They are the strongholds in every family, especially in their honest effort in
sustaining their families and in maintaining their existence in life and in
history. The means they employ could be questionable today, but their good
will is laudable. Their good will remains but the means is subject to change
through the merits of Jesus, the savior of human race, who was born of a
woman out of the ordinary, without an earthly father.
A Note on Critical Wisdom

in the Old Testament
RANDOLF C. FLORES, SVD
Divine Word Seminary

4120 Tagaytay City, Philippines
e have always assumed that the five booksProverbs, Job,

Qoheleth, Sirach and Wisdom of Solomonbelong to ancient
Israels wisdom literature, a modern category given by scholars
in the middle of the nineteenth century.1 Strictly speaking, there is no such
corpus called wisdom as in the case of Pentateuch (Torah) or Prophets
(Neviim) yet there are common literary traits of these books. Boadt lists down
the following:2
(1) a minimum of interest in the sacred traditions of ancient
Israel, such as the promises to the ancestors, election, exodus,
Sinai covenant, Davidic dynasty, monotheism, priesthood
and the like;
(2) interest in instruction and pedagogy;
(3) questioning attitude about the problems of life: why is
there suffering, inequality, and death? Why do the wicked
prosper?
(4) search for how to master life and understand how
humans should conduct themselves before God;
1
Katharine J. Dell, Job: Where Shall Wisdom Be Found?, Phoenix Guides to the Old
Testament (Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2013), p. 14. Among the medieval studies on
wisdom literature as a collection is that by Jean Leclerq, see Roland E. Murphy, ed., Medieval
Exegesis of Wisdom Literature: Essays by Beryl Smalley (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1986), pp.
40-41.
2
L. Boadt, Reading the Old Testament: An Introduction, 2nd ed., revised and updated by
R. Clifford and D. Harrington (New York Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 2012), pp. 413-414;
see also Randolf C. Flores, Bible and Mission: Never the twain shall meet?, Diwa: Studies
in Philosophy and Theology 36 (2011), p. 3.
114 Diwa 38 (2013): 113-118

(5) international and inter-cultural flavor of wisdom
sayings;
(6) joy in the contemplation of creation;
(7) and Solomonic attribution.3
We can cluster these into three levels following Murphy.4 First, on the
level of words, terms and phrases such as wisdom (esp. Hokm ), fear of
the Lord, riches or wealth, and the like are a consistent part of wisdoms
vocabulary.5 Second, on the level of genre, the five books use parallelism,
the mashal, paronomasia or play on words and sounds, chiasm, alphabetic
acrostic, doxology, onomasticon, and other forms of ancient poetry.6 Third,
on the level of content, retributive justice and the questioning of it form a
reference point for other themes such as divine justice, the fate of the wicked,
the hope of the pious, and other didactic sayings that underscore the reward
for the just and punishment for the wicked.
The wisdom genre, then, does not exclude the suspicion of the cogency
of traditional wisdom. In fact, the questioning of its assumptions essentially
belongs to this genre. We only have to think of Qoheleth as an example par
excellence of a critical wisdom in which a skeptical outlook on life and the
valuing of death become a central piece for meditation. Even outside the socalled wisdom books, there are instances of a critical stance against traditional
wisdom in the form of divine tests (e.g., Genesis 22); innocent suffering (e.g.,
the Suffering Servant theme in Deutero-Isaiah); and laments (e.g., Book of
Lamentation). In the ancient Near East, there appears, a literary tradition
of critical wisdom which has the motif of a trial that has clear intertextual
relations with the Book of Job.7 We have examples such as the Egyptian
For a critical evaluation of this characteristic, see Dell, Job, p. 15.
Roland E. Murphy, The Tree of Life: An Exploration of Biblical Wisdom Literature, 3rd
ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2002), pp. 98-102.
5
See A. Hurwitz, Wisdom Vocabulary in the Hebrew Psalter: A Contribution to the
Study of Wisdom Psalms, VT 38 (1988), pp. 41-51.
6
These are the forms in which knowledge is expressed, as von Rad writes in the title
of chapter 3 of Wisdom in Israel. According to him, wisdom books are distinct as they are
all composed in poetic form, they are all poetry and the poetic form is a specific expression
of the perception of truth and of an intensive encounter with realities or events...; see
Gerhard von Rad, Wisdom in Israel, trans. J. D. Martin (London: SCM Press, 1972 [German
original 1970]), p. 24.
7
For this, see Yair Hoffman, The Book of Job as a Trial: A Perspective from a
Comparison to Some Relevant Ancient Near Eastern Texts, in Das BuchHiob und seine
Interpretationem, ed. T. Krger, M. Oeming, and K. Schmid (Zurich: TheologischerVerlag
3
R. C. Flores, A Note on Critical Wisdom 115
texts Harpers Songs,8 The Tale of the Eloquent Peasant,9 The Protestations
of Guiltlessness,10 and The Dispute of a Man with his Ba;11 the Sumerian
text Man and His God which is sometimes called the Sumerian Job;12 the
Babylonian materials like the Dialogue between Man and His God,13 Ludlul
Bl Nmeqi (I Will Praise the Lord of Wisdom) or Babylonian Job as
Zurich, 2007), pp. 21-31.

8
These are monumental texts dated in the Middle Kingdom (ca. 1375-1360 B.C.E.).
In particular, the Song from the Tomb of King Intef, a harper sings his doubts over the
conventional belief of retribution in the afterlife. For translation, see ANET, p. 467.
9
This is also another tale dating from the Middle Kingdom which has the plot of a
peasant who was robbed and makes an incessant (nine times) appeal for justice before the
Chief Magistrate. Almost losing hope to live, he was finally given justice after his ninth
passionate appeal. For translation, see ANET, pp. 407-410; for its implication in Job,
Y. Hoffman, The Book of Job as a Trial, pp. 25-26.
10
This is an Egyptian funerary text which is a kind of oath that prepares the dead for his
or her entry to the afterlife. The text recounts the prayer of the deceased upon entering the
hall of judgment. See ANET, pp. 34-36. See also G. Fohrer, The Righteous Man in Job 31,
in Essays in New Testament Ethics, ed. J. Crenshaw, J. T. Wills (New York: KTAV Publishing
House, 1974), pp. 9-19; likewise Robert Gordis, The Book of God and Man: A Study of Job
(Chicago - London: University of Chicago Press, 1965), p. 546.
11
Sometimes entitled The Dispute over Suicide, this is another Egyptian text from the
Middle Kingdom that echoes pessimism about the afterlife. A man who finds life unbearable
longs for death but his Ba (soul) objects to it and thus results to a disputation of sorts
between the two. As K. Sparks remarks, Thus, in Egypt as in Mesopotamia, there were
scribes who reflected upon traditional retributive theologies and found them wanting, albeit
in different ways [Kenton L. Sparks, Ancient Texts for the Study of the Hebrew Bible: A
Guide to the Background Literature (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2005), p. 75].
For translation, see ANET, pp. 405-407.
12
This Sumerian poem is the oldest among the Mesopotamian texts of this genre. It
consists of 140 lines and recounts, in monologue form, the ordeal of a pious sufferer who is
eventually healed by his personal god. There are similarities as well as differences between this
poem and Job. For instance, like Job the sufferer is innocent and laments over the seeming
unfair share of his sufferings allotted by the gods. Unlike Job, the sufferer remains loyal to
his personal god. For translation, see Samuel N. Kramer, Man and His God: A Sumerian
Variation on the Job Motif, in Wisdom in Israel and in the Ancient Near East Presented to
Professor Harold Henry Rowley, ed. M. Noth, VTSup 3 (Leiden: Brill, 1955), pp. i-iv, 170-181;
also ANET, pp. 589-591.
13
An Akkadian text (also catalogued as AO 4462) composed during the Old Babylonian
period, the dialogue is between a man and his god in which the former presents his sufferings
to his god, complains about his unreasonable suffering and seems to be accusing his god who
is considered brother or friend. For translations, see W. G. Lambert, A Further Attempt at
the Babylonian Man and His God, in Language, Literature, and History: Philological and
Historical Studies Presented to Erica Reiner, AOS 67 (New Haven: American Oriental Society,
1987), pp. 187-202.
116 Diwa 38 (2013): 113-118

it is sometimes called,14 and of course The Babylonian Theodicy.15 Among
the Ugaritic texts, we can single out the Epic of Kirta (or Legend of King
Keret),16 the Story of Aqhat mentioned earlier, and the text in RS 25.460.17
There are socio-historical reasons for the popularity of this genre. Albertz
has proposed, for instance, that this crisis of wisdom is due to the socioeconomic crisis happening in the province of Judah after the exile.18 The
new rulers of Persia have imposed heavy taxes on the returnees. The ones
directly affected are the members of the Jewish aristocracy who are wealthy
landowners. Such a condition is best described in the farmers strike in Neh
5:1-5. Some of these have to mortgage their properties to their fellow Jews
who have the means to pay the kings tax (v. 4). The crisis also brought
about debt slavery of their children including cases of sexual abuse of their
daughters (v. 5). How could traditional wisdom make sense then to this kind
of situation? The deteriorating condition is not only due to economic crisis
but has also affected their spirit. As Ceresko writes, It was not simply
financial difficulty and disaster and the resulting humiliation and loss of
face. It was a spiritual crisis as well.19
14
This is another Akkadian text dating to the fourteenth to the twelfth century B.C.E.
and similar to the Sumerian Man and His God. However, in Ludlul, the sufferer declares his
innocence with clarity, points to Marduk as the one responsible for his ordeal and denounces
the latter. For translations, see ANET, pp. 596-600.
15
For further discussion on Mesopotamian texts on innocent suffering, see also Moshe
Weinfeld, Job and Its Mesopotamian Parallels: A Typological Analysis, in Text and Context:
Old Testament and Semitic Studies for F. C. Fensham, ed. W. Classen, JSOTSup 48 (Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 1988), pp. 217-226.
16
A mid-fourteenth-century cuneiform text, it narrates the story of a royal hero Kirta,
who, in spite of his loyalty to the gods and goddesses, becomes a victim of their whims. He is
afflicted with a deadly disease which eventually brings about drought. For the text, see KTU
1.14-16; for translation, see Simon B. Parker, ed., Ugaritic Narrative Poetry, SBL Writings
from the Ancient World Series (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1999), pp. 12-42.
17
This is an Akkadian text but appeared in the city of Ugarit and is similar to Ludlul
Bl Nmeqi, see John Day, Foreign Semitic Influence on the Wisdom of Israel and Its
Appropriation in the Book of Proverbs, in Wisdom in Ancient Israel: Essays in Honour of J. A.
Emerton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 56.
18
Rainer Albertz, Der sozialgeshichtliche Hintergrund des Hiobbuches und der
Babylonischen Theodizee, in Die Botschaft und die Boten: Festschrift fr Hans Walter Wollf
zum 70. Geburstag, ed. J. Jeremias and L. Perlitt (Neukirchener-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag,
1981), pp. 349-372. Albertz, by way of comparison with The Babylonian Theodicy, posits
a similar severe economic crisis as the background of the Book of Job. See also A. Ceresko,
Gustavio Gutirrez, On Job: Some Questions of Method in Psalmists and Sages: Studies in
Old Testament Poetry and Religion (Indian Theological Studies Supplement 2; Bangalore: St.
Peters Pontifical Institute, 1994), pp. 195-294.
19
A. R. Ceresko, Introduction to Old Testament Wisdom: A Spirituality of Liberation
(Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1999; repr., Quezon City: Claretian Publications, 2000),
R. C. Flores, A Note on Critical Wisdom 117
There are concerted efforts to respond to the double crisis mirrored

in the friends speeches. For example, the apparent luck of the wicked is
only temporary (e.g., 5:3-5); or suffering is a msar, a warning or divine
discipline (e.g., 5:17); or humanity is Gods creation and creatures as they
are, cannot make themselves sufficiently just and pure before their creator (cf.
4:17) to be capable and worthy in bringing a lawsuit against God.20 As we
shall see later, all of these will be contradicted by Job.
Another aspect of critical wisdom is epistemological in nature. As we
mentioned earlier, the friends source of knowledge, as Greenstein observes, is
traditional wisdom that tends to take the form of proverbs and epigrams.21
In contrast, Job tends to draw his epistemological support of his arguments
from personal experience. Job lays stress on persons ability to assume a
critical stance and examine the truth value of every saying: Does not the
ear test words, just as the palate tastes food? (12:11), writes Greenstein.22 At
one point, to stress his arguments based on personal yet critical reasoning,
Job exclaims to his friends, But I have a brain [lit. heart] as you do; I am
not inferior to you; who does not know such things as these? (12:3). It is
also along this line that we can consider Job as the first book that critically
approaches the problem of individual retribution.23
We can also find a similar epistemology in Qoheleth. Even if at times the
sage draws on timeless wisdom teachings, he expresses right away his critical
stance on them as when he says: The wise have eyes in their hand, the fools
walk in darkness (2:14a, NRSV); but then he cancels this out by saying,
Yet, I perceived that the same fate befalls all of them (2:14b, NRSV, itals.
for emphasis). There are favorite introductory lines of Qoheleth that betray
personal experience as his primary source of knowledge: wntaTT et-liBB
lidr, lit. I have given my heart to seek (1:13, cf. v. 17; 8:16); wyda`T',
I know (2:14; 3:12, 14); and the more frequent expression rt, I saw
(1:14; 2:13; 2:24, etc.).24
p. 70.
Cf. R. Albertz, The Sage and Pious Wisdom, pp. 258-289.

Edward L. Greenstein, On my skin and in my flesh: Personal Experience as a Source
of Knowledge in the Book of Job, in Bringing the Hidden Light: The Process of Interpretation;
Studies in Honor of Stephen A. Geller, ed. K. F. Kravitz and D. M. Sharon (Winona Lake, IN:
The Jewish Theological Seminary and Eisenbrauns, 2007), p. 2.
22
Ibid., p. 10.
23
Paolo Sacchi, The History of the Second Temple Period (London New York: T&T
Clark, 2005), p. 187.
24
On this matter, Michael V. Fox (Qohelets Epistemology, HUCA 58 [1987], p.
137) writes, Qoheleths epistemology is essentially (though not consistently) empirical. His
procedure is to deliberately seek experience as his primary source of knowledge and to use
20
21
118 Diwa 38 (2013): 113-118

When we speak then of critical wisdom it is basically the challenge to the
assumptions of traditional wisdom and this revolves around the question of
innocent suffering with which other problems comethe question of divine
absence and justice, and the lament over such a condition; the centrality
of death and skeptical attitude towards life; and the inaccessibility of
wisdom. The epistemological source of critical wisdom is more from personal
experience rather than conventional and received traditions and beliefs. That
is why critical wisdom is also often called speculative wisdom or theological
wisdom.
experiential argumentation in testifying for his claims.
Diwa 38 (2013): 119-139
Book Review
ELIVERA, EUGENE SALGADO, with JOSELITO ALVIAR JOSE,
Morality of the Heart: Moral Theology in the Philippine Setting. Pasay,
Philippines: Paulines Publishing House, 2013.
Making sense of the theological enterprise as executed in the

Philippines has long been a puzzle for many scholars; with this book
one finally has a reliable guide beyond the disparate studies on the
subject. The distinction of making the first serious attempt to map the
theological landscape in the country belongs to Jaime Belita (1986), who
approached it from a survey of dissertations. The second effort came
almost two decades later from the hands of Dindo Rei Alviar Tesoro
(2004), who focused on inculturated theology. Eugenio Salgado Elivera
builds upon the latter, but narrows his study specifically to inculturated
moral theology. A common collaborator binds the Tesoro and Elivera
projects in the person of Joselito Alviar Jose. All three volumes belong
to a class of survey literature of theology in the Filipino context and are
best appreciated on those terms.
Elivera structures his investigation of the work of local thinkers
on morality and ethics around three questions: How do they attempt
to express Christian moral teachings in native categories accessible to
the average Filipino? Which elements of the local ethos do the authors
judge compatible with Christian moral principles, and which are, by
contrast, deemed by authors to be in need of correction? What are
the specific ethical issues prevalent in the Philippine scene, to which
local thinkers have had to provide answers in accordance with the
Gospel?(p. 1).
The study is distributed into two large sections: The Wellsprings of
Moral Theology in the Philippine Setting (Part One) and The Basic
Contours of Moral Theological Reflection in the Philippines (Part
Two). Wellsprings is developed in three chapters dedicated to: the
120
Diwa 38 (2013): 119-139
local magisterium, the institutions and journals, and the protagonists,

respectively. Contours begins with an introduction to the peculiarities
of the Filipino moral psyche before addressing three themes: notions
of fundamental theology in the local context, life and family issues,
and Catholic social teachings in the Philippines. Eliveras concluding
essay is fittingly titled as Moral Theology in the Philippines: A First
Characterization and Evaluation. The precise parameters and the
logical flow of the discussion make it easy for the reader to have a
constant sense of where one is, so any reviewer can do no better than
follow the path already traced by the author; in the present case it
facilitates extended glosses at many of the relevant moments.
Introduction
In his introduction (pp. 1-13), Elivera observes that the country
does not have an account comparable to the systematic histories of
contextual moral theology in Africa or Latin America. To this an
immediate rejoinder might be that, given the historico-thematic outline
of Fundamental Moral Theology (FMT), the Philippines cannot be
expected to generate one at any time soon due to the vast differences
between the two groups not only in range (continental vs. archipelagic
density) but also in depth (the variety of languages within a broadly
shared history and culture). Even so Elivera shares the little that can
be assembled and offers the reader with an historical scaffolding, parts
of which are fleshed out by particular contributors. More could not be
expected as indeed Philippine historical writing as such continues to
be barren of both the specific and integrating studies from which the
ensuing moral theology can draw more synthetic reflections.
Elivera attempts to profile the Filipino identity (pp. 4-10) by
reporting on its construction from the differing perspectives of the
social and human sciences, such as the historical (Bernads search for
the notion of national identity), managerial (Andres proposals based
on his view of Filipino values), psychological (Licuanan approaches
Filipino values from a strength-weakness polarity, whereas Bulatao
focuses on the value construct as integrated), anthropological (Claver
reflecting on the Filipino response to his disaster-prone environment),
ELIVERA, EUGENE SALGADO
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and pastoral (CFC or Catechism for Filipino Catholics defining its

audience from the viewpoint of catechetical possibilities). Clearly
these are only vignettes and cannot paint a comprehensive view of the
Filipino identity.
Elivera proposes to classify approaches to moral theology as humusvs. cumulus-based (pp. 10-13). The dialogue between faith and culture
is anchored in the former on traditional Filipino values and in the latter
on Christian values. The resulting emphasis is either on re-rooting
traditional values onto more authentic evangelical values, or on the
purification by Christian values of inadequate, imperfect, or misguided
values. Three comments:
First, as early as his first paragraph, it is the whole of the Philippine
context (culture, history, society, etc.) which is referred to as the soil
of Filipino moral theology. Suggestive as the terms may be, it would
have helped if the terms humus and cumulus were defined instead
of merely described. Humus is explicitly referred to as soil, and linked
with a reference to inculturation as re-rooting (de Mesa). But there is
no similar allusion to cumulus as cloud, nor a reference to inculturation,
for example, as seeding from above. Granting that a more extensive
elaboration were not possible, it would have helped readers to have
been offered an outline of the alternative approaches to inculturation so
that a preliminary comprehensive impression could have been formed.
Consider Benedict XVI, for example, who proposed to refine the notion
of inculturation with that of inter-culturation, but apparently failed
to generate a following.
Second, precisely because the movement entails an implicit view
of inculturation, it would have helped if Elivera had given as well a
rudimentary description, if not his own definition of culture. The
bibliography indicates an almost exclusively theological criterion for
selection of literature. But then, given the sensitivity of the subject
for certain quarters, perhaps it would have been too much to expect
Elivera to commit this early on what is involved in either successful or
unsuccessful inculturation, both in the secular (cross-cultural senses)
as well as theologico-moral sense (syncretist vs. authentic).
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Finally, the preceding comment is significant exactly because the

approaches are anchored on a normative theological frameworktheir
compatibility or lack of it with the normative Catholic account. In
other words, essentially which set of values (Filipino or Christian) must
be regarded as the correct point of departure or arrival of the dialogue
or comparison? From a systematic point of view, for example, this is just
the juncture where it would have helped to revisit even summarily the
debate on whether there is a uniquely Christian ethics in contrast to a
purely humanist but secular ethics. It is precisely that discussion which
remands ethics to its truly religious roots and theological underpinnings
by locating ethical distinctiveness (simplistically reduced to uniqueness
by less discerning readers) as bound with an intentionality shaped by
faith in peculiar ways, rather than as bound with content which is
normally indistinguishable from culture to culture. For example, several
cultures may agree that certain acts can be characterized as commonly
hospitable regardless of whether they trace back to motivations that
can be Christian or otherwise; on the other hand that class of acts may
yet differentiate into cultural expressions that one or the other culture
may not find quite acceptable.
Moral Theology in the Local Magisterium

In Chapter 1, the authors systematic-historical approach
highlights the historical gaps and thematic lacunae which Filipino
moral theologians may profitably address. With regard to the Catholic
Bishops Conference of the Philippines (CBCP), for example, he
shows the typical patterns of an evolving organization: there were
years when it barely spoke or only tentatively; but once it had found
its voice, its specific audiences and its default themes, the CBCP
became noticeably more voluble and more wide-ranging in its pastoral
interventions, as evidenced in the Appendix (pp. 273-291; the texts of
the CBCP documents, especially those after 2010, can be accessed at
www.cbcp.online).
What was the moral-theological profile of the CBCP in its early
beginnings, as Catholic Welfare Organization? What were its pastoral
interests and moral stances from 1945 to the First Plenary Council
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of the Philippines? What was it like from Vatican II until 38 years

later? Indeed, why is there a sense of dj vu even after the Second
Plenary Council? A more sustained analysis of the era represented by
those periods may be enlightening, since I suspect that it would be
indicative of the traditional, the unreconstructed, the part untouched
by the reform, the one responsible for the split-level, the one which
manifests all the contradictions, ambiguities and corruptions of the
Filipino ethos, e.g., at the impeachment trial of the chief justice of the
Supreme Court of the Philippines. Consider that all the issues of the
time have not quite disappeared: poverty, land reform, labor unrest,
insurgency, homelessness, political dynasties, graft and corruption and
so onthe very same ills deplored by the Pastoral Letters at the cusp of
the millennium. In brief such an analysis might provide a better handle
on the enduring profile of the Filipino moral culture that persists
through contextual/historical changes and would therefore constitute
the proper object of substantive moral-theological inculturation and its
critique.
The author underlines how the pastoral letters repeatedly point out
that the most fundamental problem in the national reality is that the
human person is not accorded the centrality foreseen in Gods plan
(p. 46). Granting that such a conclusion could be applied to any national
grouping, inculturation is concerned with how theology should address
its moral issues not only in terms of contextual configuration but more
specifically in terms of its cultural underpinningsthat is just the
point of distinguishing between the agendas of indigenization and
contextualization. The themes presented in graphic form (Figure 1, p.
45) are by and large similar to those of FABC groups, for example; it
is the percentages which distinguish CBCP from the rest. Indeed, for
a country whose population is largely rural and whose fundamental
issues revolve mostly around land, there is a large disparity between
the CBCP interventions on land reform and labor on one hand, and
politics and sexuality on the other.
That said, one can agree with Elivera that the Second Plenary Council
shows how much the local magisterium has evolved in its consciousness,
articulation, communication and promotion of its moral-theological
concerns and agenda into contemporary times. Among institutions,
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the CBCP rightfully stands out as the unequalled contributor to the

corpus of Filipino moral teachings; it merits pointing out, however,
that the quality of its contribution should be judged not in terms of
what it covered but what it failed to address as magisterium, not in
terms of the frequency of its intervention into the social ethos but also
in terms of whether it touches the depths of the Filipino soul and its
native ethics, not in terms of whether it has embraced the rationality of
the inculturation imperative but also in terms of how passionately and
deeply it has committed to its ideological ramifications and practical
implications. Properly understood, inculturation means that the CBCP
must echo the Gospel before it echoes Rome; how well does it measure
against that criterion?
The CFCs contribution to the evolution of FMT is equally
significant. Nonetheless, in light of the inculturation debate, it does
seem odd that, after emphasizing the split-level characterization of the
Filipino, CFC should refer to an original Christian soul of Filipino
moral living (p. 33) and then raise questions of how to understand
the relationship between traditional Filipino and Christian values. In
Eliveras presentation one could almost characterize the CBCP view
of the Filipino soul as protestant given its pessimistic view of the
imperfect Christian quality of Filipino culture, while the CFC would
then represent the Catholic view of Filipino culture as graced, even if
in constant danger of corruption (p. 34). The point being made relative
to justice and gaba (pp. 35-36) appears abstruse at this juncture,
although some clarification is achieved in a second pass (pp. 162-163).
Institutions and Journals

The moral teaching of the CBCP is stamped with a pastoral tenor
flowing out of a magisterial mandate, charged as it is to provide moral
guidance by office. In contrast the theology of the schools is one which
issues from a primarily scholastic context, an academic theology if
you will, which often wavers between the demands of professional
scholarship and pastoral engagement. This is understandable, given
that the theologizing arises from a variety of purposes, develops in
different contexts, and is sustained by a complex of interests; we thus
125
find a mix of seminary theology, field theology, grassroots theology and

the like. Elivera helps us to appreciate the volume and breadth of this
type of theological activity, which historians of theology might further
review according to different perspectives. It also offers the theologians
cited to correct their assignations to theological currents, to offer
clarification where readers find them confusing, and to articulate their
ideas afresh.
Protagonists
Some of the authors cited have already died or moved on to other
responsibilities, so their contribution can be considered as settled.
Between the defense of Eliveras dissertation and its publication into a
book other authors have continued to publish, so it would be interesting
to see whether Eliveras survey will have impacted on the evolution of
their academic interests. It does reinforce the perception that for purposes
of inculturation perhaps the best mix of background and expertise is
that of the theologian-scientist, since the amalgamation diminishes the
conceptual and methodological biases of either profession; it enriches
the enterprise with complementary toolkits, and it ensures due regard
for the peculiarities of reason and nature on one hand, and of grace and
revelation on the other. Purely academic theologians risk being lost in
theoretical abstractions; pastoral theologians are often too impatient
with the impractical. The scientist-theologian is instinctively grounded
in both the empirical (e.g., particular social groups and definite subcultures) as well as the theoretical (i.e., a range of concepts, perspectives
and frameworks). This interdisciplinary exposure does greater justice
to the polarity and complementarity of theological inculturation. The
presentation of the statistical distribution of authors serves to underscore
that point. Beyond the sociological fillip, however, I had expected some
analysis of how individual contributors classified according to schools
(not as institutions but as movements) of thought, persuasion, analysis
and solution. How do they group or divide among themselves, for
example, on issues like structural and personal conversion: are their
accounts parallel, dialectic, or convergent? How, for another example,
do they regard values? Elivera makes several references to ambivalent
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values where the preferable term might be neutral values, a point to

which we will return presently. At this stage at least, the brilliant flashes
of theologizing appear to be no more than meteoric showers rather
than an integrated display of fireworks.
Notions of Fundamental Moral Theology

Before synthesizing the various themes of FMT, Elivera provides
what he calls a brief digression into the peculiarities of the Filipino moral
psyche (pp. 158-163). Originally part of the extended introduction in the
dissertation, its composition into a separate introduction for Part Two is
a serendipitous improvement. It intuitively highlights a methodological
procedure this author advocates for inculturation, namely, the need
to consider the social-scientific elements of the cultural theme before
proceeding to the philosophical synthesis, which in turn prepares for
the theological re-reading. At the same time, its cursory character drives
home another point, which is the rudimentary character of our socialscientific understanding of the culture. The inculturation agenda, in
short, begins not with the theological books but with the work of social
scientists.
It is the richness of the discussion of its culture as delivered by
the social sciences which distinguishes the moral discourse from
culture to culture (not only in the Western-Oriental sense, but also in
the Tagalog and non-Tagalog senses). While awaiting more definitive
studies from the social scientists, the Filipino moral theologian is not
bereft of other toolsat the very least he or she has his or her mothertongue as primary resource, and linguistics as a toolkit for analysis. In
essence this explains Mirandas search for a technical local vocabulary,
in the interest of a common definition, in order to reduce terminology
imprecision and terminology drift.
Philosophically there is the problem of treating Filipino on the
same terms as English, since the former is essentially epistemological,
whereas the latter tends to the ontological. One needs to separate the
noun-root (hiya is a prime example) from its infixes (hiyain, manghiya,
etc.). Only then can we properly distinguish between the descriptive
127
(e.g., nahihiya), interpretive (nakakahiya), and judgmental (walanghiya). Similarly utang na loob can be taken in various senses: descriptive
(utang na loob bilang pasasalamat), interpretive (utang na loob na malaki
o maliit), and judgmental (walang utang na loob). Or again, pakikisama
can be descriptive (congeniality), interpretive (a SIR mechanism),
or judgmental (walang pakisama). I suggest that the Filipino moral
universe is more epistemological than ontological: it refers to an ideal
coherence of relationships where the various elements blend together in
symbolic rather than substantive networks.
It is in light of such a framework that the characterization of Filipino
values as morally ambivalent can be considered as misleading. As
with similar values in other cultures, they are better understood as
morally neutral; they are morally actualized in different ways by the
concrete and specific interpersonal/intersubjective relation/interaction.
The values, in other words, acquire ethical definition when associated
with the types of moral reasoning we already know from the general
tradition. Thus utang na loob belongs to the deontological tradition
(with its notion of dapat at the personal, interpersonal, and religious
levels). Pakikisama arguably belongs to the teleological, bahala na to
the consequential, and hiya to virtue ethics. Others could be similarly
characterized: sakop is a useful concept for communal and social ethics
(not in the generic sense of communal subjection, but moral subjection
specifically), whereas gaba would clarify local notions of reward and
punishment (not as tabooistic curse but as moral retribution).
In sum, Filipino sociocultural values become meaningful in ethical
discourse only when understood in specific ways, e.g., utang na loob as
moral indebtedness, hiya as moral shame, and bahala na as either moral
resignation or moral resolve or both (!).
1. Human Person. The discussion of Filipino values is effectively
part of the implicit quest to define the profile of a Filipino moral
anthropology, and so I miss the philosophical assessment of competing
social-scientific, psycho-behavioral accounts of who the truly
moral Filipino might be. Elivera chooses the classical account of
Lynch as platform. However, non-conventional accounts, e.g., that
of Sikolohiyang Pilipino, can be considered an alternative account of
moral anthropology, especially in its intellectualization of kapwa and
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pakikipagkapwa, which to my mind has more explanatory power for

moral psychology, interpersonal relations, familism, and the lack of
appreciation for the impersonal dynamics of corporate entities or of
larger society as a whole. One could surmise that the pre-Christian
Filipino worldview, unable to locate fundamental value in the arbitrary
will of the powers in the native pantheon, located it totally in the
human world, such that the human person became the key value, the
center of the moral order. Given the possible arbitrariness of even the
most moral of individuals, the moral order is then provided a corrective
in the authority of the moral community.
2. Conscience. Above we noted that the inculturation agenda
requires that the social-scientific elements be considered before
proceeding to the philosophical and transiting finally to the theological.
Thus the attempt to account for conscience first as the cultural construct
of loob, then as the philosophical loobmoral [moral loob?], in order
to interpret it finally in the theological perspective of kaloob-ni-Kristo.
Filipino ethics then would have a plausible account of the person as
human while Christian ethics would have a coherent explanation of
how persons can choose either a secular or gospel-informed morality.
3. Sin. I find it curious that sin is discussed ahead of its referents.
Would it not have been more reasonable to discuss sin (and virtues as
well) after moral law, to which it is necessarily referenced? Surely it
makes sense to first describe the moral order as perceived by the culture,
and this is where precisely Gorospes exploration of adat or customary
law as interpreted by the elders becomes relevant, as well as the cultural
heritage of bahala naif we trace a connection to Bathala. It is the
failure of Christianity to evangelically occupy the sacred space of the
pre-Christian religious world and impose its morality that Bulatao has
intuitively labeled as split-level Christianity.
My view is that, absent a definition of the moral orderimplied
precisely in the arbitrariness of the relationships between the spirits
and humansthe only moral order that immediately imposes itself
is that of inter-personal ethics, which explains why kapwa assumes
such importance in the Filipinos concept and practice of moral
agency. Human equity constitutes the default moral criteriology of
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the ordinary Filipino, which then provides the logical dynamics of

Lynchs identification of Filipino values. Then we understand why the
major sins according to the culture cannot but be walang-hiya, walang
utang na loob, and walang pakisama (where wala refers to the lack or
absence of). The alternative description of the moral order that we find
implied in the ethics of pakikipagkapwa is constituted by a different
constellation of values, to wit: the teleology of katahimikan1 (KTH)
(think of the classical eudaimonia), the instrumental mediation of
kapangyarihan2 (KPR)(the counterpart of agere) and the virtue-provisos
of kabutihang-loob (KBL), kagandahang-loob (KGL) and kalinisangloob3 (KLL) (Aristotles arete). This is not to insist that it is Mirandas
account which should prevail; all that it argues is that moralists need to
welcome competing accounts to the debate on Filipino ethics.
What about sin? We need to see moral judgment as sorting the action
to take according to the polarities of good-bad, right-wrong, fittinginappropriate, private-communal, secular-sacred, and so on. Whatever
the moral polarity chosen, my reading of sin as understood by the
culture consists in the formal categories of kulang, mali and sira rather
than the conventional categories of sins of commission and omission.
In essence, Filipinos sin either because they fail the expectations of their
significant others (pagkukulang), or make objectively wrong decisions
(pagkakamali), or behave like perverse persons (paninira).
In this highly personalist understanding of morality, the normative
reference is the promotion and preservation of healthy or lifeaffirming relationships. This value is so paramount that the culture has
surrounded it with protective norms: utang na loob, hiya, pakikisama.
The mischaracterization of these cultural norms as moral values as well
explains why a transient outsider can conclude that ours is a damaged
culture, while another foreigner can say that experiencing Filipino
culture up close has hardened but also softened his appreciation of the
same. These protective norms, however, are not absolute norms, whether
in the ethical or cultural sense; indeed the culture itself provides cues
A peace similar to the concept of the Hebrew word, shalom (well-being).
Kapangyarihan is might, power or force [see Tagalog English Dictionary (Quezon
City: Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer, 1986), s.v., kapangyarihan].
3
Kabutihang-loob recalls western justice, kagandahang-loob evokes western love, and
kalinisang-loob evokes western truth.
1
2
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that it recognizes the possibility of deviant or incorrect understanding

of these values and their force, and discerns the moral course of
action by locating these cultural norms on a continuum of adequacy
or excess (e.g., kulang sa bait, labis na bait / tama at maling utang na
loob / nararapat at walang katuturang hiya). Paradoxically this validates
the scholastic view that virtue consists in a sense of balance: virtus
in medio: tamang-tama lamang. Achieving it in fact is a tremendous
challenge because what most can attain is sala sa init, sala sa lamig. It
also explains why Filipino morality is wrongly characterized as eclectic
or relativist because from one point of view its ideal is the eminently
prudential. What the culture lacks is better discernment, a task that is
properly the province of inculturated moral theology.
4. Moral Law. Law is not a value in itself, but functional, parametric
and hence malleable or adjustable. Natural law would be referred to the
right order of human relationships (analogous to Levinas human
face theme). On the other hand positive law can always be adjusted
according to whether it supports this natural law or not. As for divine
law, that is where Filipino ethics begins to join the rest of world cultures
in its attempt to appropriate gospel values expressed in culturally evolved
norms. Operationally, therefore, moral law is expressed in the interplay
between values and norms. To illustrate: there are different ways of
interpreting the phenomenon of bahala na. From the viewpoint of
value, I have argued that we distinguish between the pre-moral (bahala
na as socio-cultural value or norm) and the moral (bahala na as ethically
justifiable or non-justifiable) or even religious (bahala na si Bathala; ang
Diyos na ang bahala [leaving things in the hands of the divine]). In fact
this worldview seems to follow the typical Asian moral order, often
stereotypically characterized as holistic, person-oriented, harmonyseeking. As for moral law itself, dapat could possibly be understood
in the positive sense as the impulses leading to those characteristics;
on the more negative end, dapat may define its boundaries, or limits
that must not be crossed, such as withdrawal from community, hurting
feelings, or lack of compassion for the suffering. It is in that context
that one commits the sins that the culture considers fatal, i.e., walang
hiya, walang utang na loob, walang pakisama.
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5. Virtue. Inculturation entails not only the reading of the tradition

in light of the culture, but also a reading of the culture in light of the
tradition. Among the themes which the western ethical tradition has
richly discussed, but which the local tradition still has to articulate,
are moral judgment and decision-making (partially explained earlier)
and virtue. My suspicion is that we have not found a cultural handle to
intellectualize upon the subject because we have not yet developed the
parameters of its discussion, conceptually and semantically. We have
yet to arrive at appropriate terms specific for value as contrasted with
virtue, inasmuch as buti is the undifferentiated rendition for both,
at least in Tagalog. Parenthetically some Filipino language can provide
specific terms, somewhat in the way Sugbuanon has bana (husband)
and asawa (wife) where Tagalog only has the generic asawa (spouse).
Accordingly my proposal consists of breaking up the concept into
its components, reconceptualizing according to the local tradition, and
then reassembling the new elements into a fresh construct. One step is
translation in the dynamic sense, hence the proposal to translate virtue
not as birtud (basing the notion on power) but as gawi (basing the
concept on habit) and saloobin (where the attitude is seen as settling
into a stance or posture). The next step is to explicate its character as
moral, which necessitates retrieving the local definition of ethics as
pagpapakatao (hence, as gawing-tao or gawing-pagpapakatao). Evidently
virtue is not just any ordinary behavioral pattern but an exceedingly
superior habit, a notion of excellence which can be rendered conceptually
by a phrase: kamangha-manghang pagpapakatotoo sa pagpapakatao
which we can render in shorthand as human virtue (pagkamakatao) or
social virtue (pagkamakabayan) or religious virtue (pagkamakadiyos).
Particular moral traditions see fit to then classify virtues according
to their historical interests. In the western scholastic tradition, for
example, virtue has been distinguished into intellectual (wisdom) or
practical (e.g., courage). Another distinguishes cardinal virtues from
the theological virtues. The former are those which are truly pivotal
(Eliveras helpful suggestion) to a determined moral tradition, which
then leads off into the related discussions of hierarchy of virtues and
proper exercise of virtue in the concrete. In the western tradition that
constellation has been constituted by justice, temperance, fortitude
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and prudence. My initial proposal (implied in Buting Pinoy) is that the

cardinal values of Filipino culture revolve around the essential teleology
of various domains of human behavior; virtues are attitudes suited to
spheres of value (saloobing angkop sa hinihinging kabutihan).
Conscious of this complexity and wary of premature reductions, I
decided to encrypt categorical ends in an abstracted katahimikan (or
KTH) and the instrumental means to attain them (again, encrypted
as KPR or kapangyarihan, specified for example by lakas at dahas).
For Filipino culture the cardinal virtues in the proper sense are KBL
(kabutihang-loob, which recalls western justice), KGL (kagandahangloob, which evokes western love), and KLL (kalinisang-loob, which evokes
western truth). Clearly those connections are only partial interfaces
since they both recall and at the same time escape the boundaries of
those western debates. The responsibility and vocation of the Filipino
moral theologian is to enable the culture to articulate that tradition,
which compels the provision of new categories and vocabulary, among
other things. For example, I have yet to arrive at a proposal regarding
prudence: may we explain phronesis as pangkilatis sa nararapat na kilos
makatao? (See pp. 187-191.) Or shall we once again invoke bahala na,
not in the sense of wanton decision in the face of inescapable choice,
but in the sense of resignation to the only choice one can make and be
at peace with ones conscience?
Life and Family Issues

After the discussion of FMT our author turns to synthesize themes
of special moral theology. The first revolves around life and family
issues, and is divided into two thematic periods, that of Humanae Vitae,
and that of the Reproductive Health Bill (pp. 196-219). At this point
the combatants have clearly reached the point of exhaustion, and there
is no need here for further commentary. In my view, the discussion
by moralists followed expectations: articulation of conjugal morality is
dominated by the celibate ethos, and clarification of family morality is
seen from congregational views of community.
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Catholic Social Teaching

In the main, the listing of social ills in the Philippines can apply
to many other third world nations, even when adjustments are made
for local differences in configuration (pp. 220-246). What is of greater
interest is how the moral authorities respond to the cancers in their
midst. In the Philippines the standard position of the church is that
her task consists exclusively in moral exhortation and thus offers
nothing beyond thatas though moral discernment could prescind
from being mediated in some socio-political-economic theory. She
disclaims competence to propose technical solutions; she even offers no
clue as to her preferred analysis among the many offered by different
stakeholdersthe feudal right, the revolutionary left, the bureaucratic
capitalists, alternative theories of development and so on. All too often
the impression is of a church preaching from a platform of western
humanism, rather than appealing to a native humanism. Granting
that the essential teaching continues to be authentic and valid, there is
also the net impression that it sounds disconnected and feels detached
from the local context. Jesus judgment in the Gospel is much more
trenchant: such a posture puts a premium on moral orthodoxy at
the expense of pastoral solicitude. It would be interesting to discover
feedback from the laity on the effective impact of these pastoral
interventions on their lives and actions.
The refusal to commit to an overall social analysis is a problem of
Catholic social ethics in general, in part because its perspectives are
monocular rather than binocular; anchored exclusively on universal
philosophy or timeless theology but wary of the science and technology
which claim the same domain and who forge ahead with incremental
choices. The preference for a metaphysical approach prevents Catholic
social ethics from an effective engagement of a bottom-up analysis.
Its discourse on structural evil (e.g., social conflicts) continues to be
weakened by an operationally individualistic accounting of evil, while
overlooking social accumulation and cultural reinforcement. A typical
shortcoming is the failure to distinguish within SIR values what are
merely cultural coping mechanisms from responses which can be
defended as ethically responsible given the context. Catholic social ethics
must look beyond the SIR constructs and train their sights on other
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hermeneutics, e.g., those which clarify the historical seeds or underlay

of latifundia or haciendas, or those which reveal the enduring caste
system implicit in the class of domestic helpers, as social institution at
home but also as cultural underpinning in the OFW process, or the
cultural idiosyncrasies of labor laws, as it can be argued that even the
union movement is generally not ideology-based but personality-based.
Structurally this fragmentation and factionalism is evocative of the
archipelagic disintegration and cultural insularism. On the other hand
it could also be that our presentation of social ethics is not sufficiently
informed by contemporary scholarship specific to its themes (see pp.
237-238).
NASSA programs, NCRD, Alay Kapwa, PPCRV, Gawad Kalinga,
Pondong Pinoy, etc. are apostolates which are arguably referenced to
some idealized view of social relationships. Even the Kingdom can
only be incarnated in some form of the City of God (contrasting
paradigms between the familial and the institutional would be one
exemplification), unless we posit that social principles can be socialtheory free. The churchs social doctrine has too much prescription
based on an ahistorical diagnosis. It constantly exhorts to a culture of
life and love, of justice and human rights, of development and peace,
but without an explicit explanation of how culture works and is built
up. After all, when God chose to become human he actually became
a male, a son, a Jew and not some abstract human being. The point is
that Christian social ethics must similarly be incarnate in its society,
culture and history; it cannot escape its moral obligation to be both
indigenized and contextualized (p. 238).
The church consistently cites the principles of justice, charity,
and the common good as the core of its social ethics (pp. 234-238).
Miranda proposes an alternative set of principles: KTH as representing
the common good, KPR as empowerment (variously specified as
subsidiarity or liberation), and the virtues of justice (KBL), solidarity
(KGL), and integrity (KLL) that become our standards for the behavior
of the judicial, legislative, and executive institutions. For social ethics
additional principles must be discovered, otherwise we will not be
able to reasonably argue why a value like awa can be affirmed nonproblematically at the personal level and yet be deemed as inappropriate
135
at the social level; in the case of President Marcos, awa is misplaced

because it encourages historical amnesia; in the case of Justice Corona,
awa is exploited to avoid integrity scrutiny; in the case of Mayor
Romualdez, awa is manipulated to escape accountability. Politicians
have demonstrated greater shrewdness in the manipulation of the
Filipinos moral sensibilities than moral theologians have evidenced
corresponding sophistication in reorienting the same sensibilities to
their proper responsibilities.
The CBCP offers lamentations of the local ethos, but shies away
from engaging concrete issues within itself, e.g., sexual abuse by the
clergy, misappropriation of church funds, or, to add Pope Francis pet
peeves, clericalism and careerism. On the one hand it refuses to engage
in partisan politics in the name of lay freedom, autonomy of the
secular, and pluralism within the church; on the other hand it does
betray a hierarchico-clerical view of lay politics. Similarly there is the
absence of support for strategic moral options or practical solutions to
economic issues (it encourages and fosters promotion and development,
without dictating). As a consequence it has not encouraged enough
the growth of lay participation in moral discernment, i.e., it has not
offered the moral instruction, guidance and support that the nonclerics can be guided by, e.g., on the formation of political parties for
better governance, on workers movements beyond unionism, on farmer
organization beyond land reform and so on. One can only sympathize
with the lay who find this type of MT unquestionably magisterial and
yet not quite solidary, sympathetic and yet condescending, prescriptive
and yet not empowering.
This leads one to wonder along so many lines of thought.
(a) Is there a pre-Christian Filipino humanism? What would be
the platform principle on which it would base its social ethic: sakop,
barkada or pakikipagkapwa? How would this key principle account for
the Christian ethos of preferential option for the poor? Pakikipagkapwas
merit is a plausible account of interpersonal relations, but not of the
impersonal and institutional. Barkada underlines the communal
good, but diminishes loyalty to the family. Sakop may highlight the
common good, but at the expense of personal rights. What then is that
social principle in light of which we judge individualism (kanya-kanya)
136
Diwa 38 (2013): 119-139
objectionable? My own view is that although the value of human

dignity is found in all cultures, its status as core value comes uniquely
from Christian faith.
(b) What is it about family that makes it such a fundamental
social value (so underlined by the magisterium in sexual ethics) but
also an intractable problem (so often lamented in the forms of social
clannishness or of political dynasties) (p. 235)?
(c) Is the supposed Filipino respect for the environment nothing
more than an idealization, more readily explained as wariness against
environmental spirits?
(d) Proverbs distill the philosophical and ethical wisdom of the
culture, in that they represent insights abstracted from a variety of
concrete experiences and transformed into transcendental principles of
universal application. Still, one wonders at the propriety of applying
certain proverbs to certain social issues; may one apply any seemingly
applicable proverb to a social problem, or is there some more critical way
of doing so? As the parables of Jesus indicate, the point of the parable
may generally be applicable to a variety of circumstances; occasionally,
however, the historical rootedness is precisely what lends it compelling
force. To date we seem to have no single convincing explanation for
Jesus comment on how to respond to the parable of the steward, for
whom any adjective seems less than adequate (unjust, devious, corrupt,
shrewd, astute, clever, etc.), precisely because it has been shorn of every
contextual particularity.
The gospel aims to make choice intentional; scholarship is the
theologians contribution. My impression of Eliveras assessment of the
magisterial social doctrine is that it is too deferential and hesitant to
critique; as I tried to show earlier, it is sometimes not complete, properly
focused, and conceptually appropriate. The mildest of his critique
consists in concurring, rightfully (pp. 241-242), that a truly bagong
kaayusan (new order) is needed. However, when he suggests that poverty
and injustice demands some version of liberation theology or signs of
the times, I find myself asking how poverty is understood, considering
that poverty in society assumes myriad forms: as lack, deprivation,
exclusion, exploitation and so onfor which ethical responsibility will
137
have to come up with not one generic or uniform solution but several
types of theological solutions. The preacher can get by with the former;
the moral theologian may not, since his proper task is not rhetoric but
analysis, and where needed, prophecy after the example of Jesus. The
divergent strands, even within liberation theology itself, cue us into
this demand for differentiated responses that is at the heart of moral
judgment.
Moral Theology in the Philippines:

A First Characterization and Evaluation
1. The Wellsprings. Eliveras judgments on the contribution of
the CBCP, the academic institutions, and particular authors to the
growth of moral theology in the country are highly nuanced; one can
readily agree with his balanced assessments of the same. I particularly
commend his recourse to empirical data and data analysis to support
his conclusions, something I would recommend academic philosophers
and theologians to integrate in their moral discernment. Grateful as I
am for his recognition of what I contributed in another lifetime, readers
might be cautioned that this appreciation is not shared by all. (See e.g.,
Raymun Festin, Buting Pinoy Twenty Years After: A Critical Essay,
pp. 1-55 in Diwa 37, nos. 1 & 2, May and November 2012.) Even as
I leave to readers which reading is the fairer, allow me to stress that at
another level the two opinions evidence the contrasting attitudes to
the necessity and the validity of moral inculturation as a meaningful
project.
2. Major Lines of Thrust. Eliveras summation reiterates some of
the themes that have already been identified and the directions they
could possibly evolve into. Although he himself is hesitant to do so, I
believe that the categorization of issues into fundamental moral and
special moral should provide the systematic categories for locating and
hence properly assessing the nature of the moral literature indistinctly
of the past and of the present. The other categories, namely dominant
themes and future prospects help us to identify the major themes
which occupy contemporary discussion; they guide us as well to where
future discussion can yield more insight. By its very nature, the content
138
Diwa 38 (2013): 119-139
of MT involves constant weighing of positive-negative, acceptableunacceptable traits, not only of MT in general, but of Filipino MT in
particular. I commend the author for the circumspect analysis, critical
questions, evidence-based conclusions and deliberate search for balance
in his discussion.
3. Modern Filipino Catechesis. Todays reform of the whole
educational system poses a tremendous challenge for the church,
ironically not at the tertiary level, but at the basic education level,
specifically mother-tongue based, multi-lingual education (MTBMLE). How does one evangelize in the vernacular, prior to exposure
to philosophical or theological language? The challenge facing future
catechesis and religious education vindicates the insistence that local
languages be encouraged to express the core meanings of the gospel in the
vernacular if one hopes to ever intellectualize the faith. Indigenization
is an indispensable tool for any critical reflection on the faith before it
is a pedagogical functionality for academic purposes. Rudimentary as
it may be, my hope is that the semantic tools I proposed for the Tagalog
version can provide analogous cues for Ilocano, Ibanag, Pangasinense,
Pampango, Sugbuano, Waray, Maranao, and other theologians on
how to conduct a culturally meaningful and contextually sensitive
moral catechesis and how to pursue inculturated theological ethics for
Filipinos. Scholars are not always the best judges of the impact of their
work; I suggest that this book enables theologians in general to consider
their participation in the educational reform in an entirely different
light. I take personal satisfaction in the fact that the Department of
Education has designated its Ethics subject for Senior High School
sometimes as Etika but also in the dynamic translation this author
proposed early on, namely Pagpapakatao.
4. Professional Moral Theologians. In particular Elivera has gifted
professional moralists a precious resource for critical reflection and
pedagogical systematization. He clearly succeeds in updating the earlier
work of Tesoro and complementing it by specification. One could of
course, point to unintended gaps, normal for a work as complex as
this. I have already noted the need for more precision in distinguishing
between the morally ambivalent and morally neutral, and between
values and virtues. Occasionally the focus on the main themes entails
139
the blurring and even loss of nuances; in order to highlight the

systematic one must in a sense uproot the elements from their contexts.
I also believe that we have yet to formally recognize other sources of
moral reflection, such as editorials and columnists who comment on a
variety of themes of special morals without ever claiming to be trained
moralists. Such quibbles should not obscure the fact that this study
succeeds in organizing much disparate literature, locating each theme
or topic within an appropriately legible context, and in the process
allowing the reader to do an independent assessment, which can then
be tested against the authors proffered evaluation. It alerts to contrasts
and similarities, and it provides cues on overwritten topics (Humanae
Vitae for example) and the under-researched areas (FMT, notably, but
also method, framework and perspective in Filipino MT). In sum,
Elivera has produced a study destined to find a permanent place in
Filipino moral theologyas an indispensable introduction to the
state of moral-theological discussion in the country specifically, and
as a continuing source of stimuli for which local moral theologians in
particular cannot but be deeply grateful.
DIONISIO M. MIRANDA, SVD
University of San Carlos
6000 Cebu City, Philippines
Thesis Abstract
Summary of M.A. thesis defended at the Divine Word Seminary for the school
year 2013-2014
TRAN XUAN VU. Intertextual Reverberations in Pauls Concept of
Dikaiosu,nh Qeou/ in Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26. Thesis director: Bernardita
D. Dianzon, Ph.D.
Rationale of the Study

This research has been motivated by two factors. First, the conviction
of the International Commission on Justice, Peace and Integrity of Creation
(JPIC), the churchs magisterium, and the Society of the Divine Word about
the indissoluble connection between the concern for JPIC and proclamation
of the Word of God. Second, the researchers interest in the new perspective
which views Paul as a Jewish interpreter of Israels scripture in the light of his
Damascus road experience with the risen Jesus Christ. This new perspective
suggests that Pauls message underneath his use of Greek language is best
understood when illuminated by certain texts that Christians call the Old
Testament and Jews the Tanak or Hebrew Bible.
Statement of the Research Question

How does Paul use dikaiosu n, h qeou / in Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26
to proclaim his message about Gods justice? The answer to this general
question is arrived at by asking the following sub-questions: First, what does
Paul say about his Jewish heritage and what makes Pauls reading of scripture
distinct from that of other Jewish readers? Second, with what expressions and
with what connotations does scripture articulate the notion of Gods justice?
And third, in light of his knowledge of scripture and his experience of the
Damascus Christophany, what meaning does Paul convey in his use of the
Greek phrase dikaiosu n, h qeou / in Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26?
Significance of the Study

This thesis is deemed significant for the following beneficiaries: 1) Pauline
studies, 2) Biblical studies in the Church, 3) Judaism and its scripture, 4)
SVD mission, and 5) the researcher.
Thesis Abstract 141
The Methodology of the Research

This study uses intertextuality as a reading approach to Rom 1:16-17 and
3:21-26. Side by side with this reading approach, this study also adopts the
Hermeneutic of Trust considered by Richard B. Hays as Pauls interpretive
reading of the scripture in the light of the Christ-event.
The Scope of the Thesis

This thesis focuses on the subjective dimension of the Jewish concept of
Gods justice which is articulated in Pauls expression of dikaiosu n, h qeou /
in Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26. In the discussion of the central question, the
writer of this thesis relied on insights of Pauline scholars such as 1) Douglas A.
Campbell: dikaiosu n, h qeou / as Gods saving justice; 2) Bernardita Dianzon:
dikaiosu n, h qeou / as love in action; 3) Anthony J. Tambasco: dikaiosu n, h
qeou / as hq"d"c. or Fidelity to the Covenant; 4) Richard B. Hays: dikaiosu n, h
qeou / as attested by the Law and the Prophets; and 5) Marion L. Soards:
dikaiosu n, h qeou / as Gods saving power.
The Organization of the Thesis

The thesis contains five chapters: The first chapter presents an overview
of the research. The second chapter answers the first sub-problem. It presents
Paul as the Jewish theologian and Christian interpreter of scripture. The third
chapter answers the second sub-problem. It presents the scriptural foundations
of Pauls concept of Gods justice which are found in the vocabulary for
justice, jP'v.mi and hq"d"c., in the Hebrew Bible. The fourth chapter answers
the main problem of the thesis. It presents Pauls use of dikaiosu n, h qeou / in
Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26. The fifth chapter is the conclusion of the thesis.
Findings
1. What does Paul say about his Jewish heritage and what makes
Pauls reading of scripture distinct from that of other Jewish readers?
Contrary to the old perspective conviction that Pauls becoming a
Christian turned him into a renegade Jew and the fiercest critic of his Jewish
faith and tradition, this part of the study shows how Pauls self-concept and
self-description in the proto-Pauline letters manifest that he remains proud of
142 Diwa 38 (2013): 140-144

his Jewish heritage. He is not only proud of his being a Jew, but of his being
purer than any other Jew. This is shown in his polemical discourse in 2 Cor
11:12, where he attributes to himself three significant designations: Hebrew,
Israelite, and the seed of Abraham. In another instance, Paul confidently
declares his being a Jew par excellence (Phil 3:4-5; Rom 11:1) in the sense
that he belongs to the elite religious group called Phariseesthe separated
ones who dedicate themselves full-time to the study and interpretation of
the law (Phil 3:5-6).
The distinction of Pauls reading of the scripture from that of other Jewish
readers lies in Pauls religious experience with Jesus Christ on the road to
Damascus. This encounter with the risen Lord is the turning point of Pauls
life, as he confesses in Gal 1:13-16. More significantly, Jesus as the Christ is
now Pauls interpretative key or hermeneutical principle to understand the
scripture and to answer the theodicy problem therein, specifically, the question
of Gods justice (Rom 3:21-26; R. B. Hays, J. D. G. Dunn, M. D. Hooker,
N. T. Wright, etc.). As a result, Paul puts his trust in Gods faithfulness to the
covenant promises, attested by the scripture (Rom 3:21), and he proclaims
that Gods justice (dikaiosu n, h qeou )/ has been fully manifested through and
in the faithfulness of Jesus the Christ.
2. With what expressions and with what connotations does scripture

articulate the notion of Gods justice?
The Jewish understanding of Gods justice, as articulated in the scripture
through vocabularies such as jP'v.mi and hq"d"c., consists of two dimensions:
subjectivity (on the part of God) and objectivity (on the part of Gods
covenant partner).
The subjective dimension of Gods justice in Jewish understanding
connotes Gods fidelity to his covenant relationship with his chosen people
Israel. Concretely, the scripture reveals Gods justice in his powerful act of
saving his chosen people Israel from the situation of slavery (Exod 3:1-20;
Pss 1; 22; 31; 71; 72; 82; 89; 98; 99; 146; Judg 2:16, 18; Mic 7:9; Jer 51:10;
Zech 8:8; Isa 4066). God also liberates the poor and the oppressed from
the unjust situation in which they find themselves (Amos 5:7, 15, 24; 6:12;
Hos 2:21; Mic 6:8; Isa 5:7; Job 29:14; Prov 1:3; Eccl 3:16; Wis 5:18; Sir
27:8). The Septuagint uses e l; eoj (mercy) to render the Hebrew
hq"d"c., as it
also uses dikaiosu n, h (justice) to render the Hebrew ds,x, (steadfast covenant
love). From this perspective, the justice ( hq"d"c.) of God is considered to
be associated, or even identical, with his act of deliverance ( hq"d"c.) in Isa
Thesis Abstract 143
46:13 or saving help ( hq"d"c.) in Ps 40:10. Moreover, scripture also articulates

Gods justice in terms of his covenant fidelity. Gods justice and fidelity are
mentioned together by the psalmist in Pss 85:11; 89:4; 111:7 to praise Gods
covenant faithfulness which has been revealed in Gods powerful act of saving
his covenanted people Israel from Egyptian slavery (Exod 2:24; 6:2-28).
The objective aspect of Gods justice, according to the scripture, is Gods
commandment that his covenant people live a right relationship with God
(Deut 6:4-5; Hos 6:6; Mic 6:8); to mirror Gods justice in their relationship
with one another (Exod 2122; Lev 19:9-10; 25:23-37; Deut 24:19-22; Zech
7:10; Isa 1:17); and to practice reverential care for Gods creation (Gen 1:26;
Wis 1:1 6:21).
3. In light of his knowledge of scripture and his experience of the

Damascus Christophany, what meaning does Paul convey in his use of
the Greek phrase dikaiosu,nh qeou/ in Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26?
The salvific connotation of Gods justice in Pauls thought may trace
its origin to certain illumination of the Jewish mentality attested in the
scripture. Specifically, the intertextual reading approach, proposed by R. B.
Hays and affirmed by D. A. Campbell, has ascertained that there is an echo
of Ps 98:2-3 in Rom 1:16-17. This intertextual relation between the two texts
has three distinguishable indicators, namely, (1) phraseological [a pv eka l, ufen
th n. dikaiosu n, h au tv ou (Ps 98:2) and dikaiosu n, h ga .r qeou / e nv au tv w / |
a pv okalu p, tetai (Rom 1:17)]; (2) lexicographical [swth ,rion (Ps 98:2, 3) and
swthri,an (Rom 1:16)]; and (3) thematic [oi k; w | Iv srah l, / pa n, ta ta . pe ,rata
th j/ gh j/ (Ps 98:3) and VIoudai,w | / {Ellhni (Rom 1:16)]. The certainty of
this intertextual relation opens the possibility for a reader to decipher Pauls
thought by referring back to the meaning of its echo in the scripture. In this
case, the salvific connotation of Gods justice (dikaiosu n, h qeou )/ in Rom
1:16-17 has been established in light of Ps 98:2-3. So, Pauls concept of the
justice of God in Rom 1:17 must mean the deliverance of God or the
salvation of God or the redemption of God.
For Paul, this mystery of Gods justice is now fully manifested in the
Christ-event. Pauls new knowledge of Jesus as the Christ becomes the
hermeneutical principle of his understanding of what the Law and the
prophets have spoken regarding God, in general, and regarding Gods
justice, in particular. Hence, in light of the Christ-event, Paul reads o `
di,kaioj in the Greek version of Hab 2:4b as a referent of Jesus Christ; and
he reads pi,stij as a referent of Christs faithfulness. This fresh reading of
Paul convincingly establishes the indissoluble relation between Gods justice
144 Diwa 38 (2013): 140-144

and Christs faithfulness. Paul more forcefully argues that the Christ-event
is the definite disclosure of Gods dikaiosu n, h in Rom 3:21-26. Following his
argument then, it is logical to consider the phrase dia . pi,stewj VIhsou / Cristou /
(v. 22) as referring not to the faith of human beings, but the faithfulness of Jesus.
Based on what has been presented, this study is inclined to conclude
that Pauls concept of dikaiosu n, h qeou / in Rom 1:16-17 and 3:21-26 can
be understood and appreciated in light of its intertextual reverberations
from the scripture. Here, Gods justice is iustitia salutifera or redeeming
merciful justice or Gods faithful covenant justice. At the heart of it,
Gods justice is his love in saving action through the faithfulness of Christ
(pi,stij Cristou )/ .
Recommendations
The thesis ends with a view to the future by offering the following
recommendations: First, for some future researchers to conduct a more indepth study of the given scriptural foundations of Gods justice, which also
attempts to bring out its implications to social justice. Second, for those in
the mission field to bring down the results of this study to the level of praxis.
And third, for my congregation, if possible, to integrate the eschatological
meaning of Gods justice into the vision-mission statement of the SVDs
JPIC.
Thesis Abstract 145

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CONTENTS

Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

Tamars Determination for Progeny in Genesis 38:

Romualdo E. Abulad, SVD

Mary Jerome Obiorah, IHM

113-118 A Note on Critical Wisdom in the Old Testament

Randolf C. Flores, SVD

Diwa: Studies in Philosophy and Theology

Diwa is a refereed journal published twice a year by the

Randolf Flores, SVD, SSL

Manuscripts for publication, books for review and notice should be

ISSN 0115 592X

Contributors (Diwa 38, no. 2)

Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

Christ the King Mission Seminary

very September 8, Catholics celebrate the birth of Mary, our Mother,

Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90

science, particularly physics, ibid.

R. E. Abulad, Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90

R. E. Abulad, Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

The time of systems is over,25 says Heidegger, This amounts to an

Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90

R. E. Abulad, Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

Dasein speaks in any language, and any languagegranted that it comes

Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90

R. E. Abulad, Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

a heterodox school which defies the ancient religious tradition of Hinduism,

Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90

believers, because, in opening themselves up to what is ownmost to truth,

R. E. Abulad, Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

Indeed, as I read the popular works of todays atheists, I cannot help

Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90

R. E. Abulad, Atheism as a Prophetic Voice

Diwa 38 (2013): 77-90

Tamars Determination for Progeny in

aptivated would even a casual reader be by this intriguing narrative

Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny

1. Narrative Study of Genesis 38

Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

1.1 Some Observations on the Text of Genesis 38

Cf. Bruce K. Waltke M. OConnor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny

Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny

Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny

Levirate marriage which Tamars father-in-law proposed was one

100 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny 101

102 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny 103

104 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny 105

negative.47 It is positive in the sense that he was honest in admitting his

1.3.5 Stability and Restoration in Judahs Family

The final scene of this narrative is rightly called a reversal of fortune,

106 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112

2. Reading Genesis 38 in Africa

M. J. Obiorah, Tamars Determination for Progeny 107

108 Diwa 38 (2013): 91-112