5. אֶת־רְפָאִים] The article should be supplied, with The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch. LXX τοὺς γίγαντας; so Peshiṭtå, TargumOnkelos-Jonathan.—בְּעַשְׁתְּרֹח ק׳ The reading of the Sixtine and Aldine editions of LXX, Ἀσταρωθ καὶ Καρναιν, which even Dillmann adduces in favour of a distinction between the two cities, has, amongst the MSS used by the Cambridge editors, the support of only one late cursive, which Nestle maintains was copied from the Aldine edition. It is doubtless a conflation of Καρναιν and the και Ναιν (? Καιναιν) of LXXE, al. (Nestle, Zeitschrift des deutschen Palästina-Vereins, xv. 256; compare Moore, Journal of Biblical Literature and Exegesis, xvi. 155 f.).—הַזּוּזִים] LXX ἔθνη ἰσχυρά = עִזּוּזִים: so Peshiṭtå, TargumOnkelos-Jonathan. Symmachus has Ζοιζομμειν = זַמְזֻמִּים.—בְּהָם] LXX, Vulgate, Peshiṭtå read בָּהֶם (ἅμα αὐτοῖς, etc.). Some MSS of The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch have בחם, which Jerome expressly says is the real reading of the Hebrew text.—6. בְּהַרְרָם] The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch, LXX, Peshiṭtå, Vulgate בְּהַרֲרֵי. Duplication of ר is rare and doubtful (Psalms 30⁸, Jeremiah 17³) in singular of this word, but common in construct plural. Buhl strikes out שֶׁעִיר as an explanatory gloss, retaining בְּהַרֲרָם.—אֵיל פָּארָן] LXX, Peshiṭtå render ‘terebinth of Paran,’ and so virtually Vulgate, TargumOnkelos-Jonathan, which have ‘plain’ (see on 12⁶). If the ordinary theory, as given above, be correct, אֵיל is used collectively in the sense of ‘great tree’ (here ‘palms’).—7. For קָדֵשׁ, Peshiṭtå, TargumOnkelos-Jonathan (also Saadya) have רקם, apparently identifying it with Petra: see Tuch’s Note, page 271 f.—שְׂדֵה] LXX, Peshiṭtå שָׂרֵי, ‘princes.’
8–12. The final battle, and capture of Lot.—9. four kings against the five] That the four Eastern kings should have been all present in person (which is the obvious meaning of the narrator) is improbable enough; that they should count heads with the petty kinglets of the Pentapolis is an unreal and misleading estimate of the opposing forces, due to a desire to magnify Abram’s subsequent achievement.—10. The vale of Siddim was at that time wells upon wells of bitumen] The notice is a proof of intelligent popular reasoning rather than of authentic information regarding actual facts. The Dead Sea was noted in antiquity for the production of bitumen, masses of which were found floating on the surface (Strabo, XVI. ii. 42; Diodorus ii. 48, xix. 98; Pliny, vii. 65), as, indeed, they still are after earthquakes, but “only in the southern part of the sea” (Robinson, Biblical Researches in Palestine, i. 518, ii. 189, 191). It was a natural inference that the bottom of the sea was covered with asphalt wells, like those of Hit in Babylonia. Seetzen (i. 417) says that the bitumen oozes from rocks round the sea, “and that (und zwar) under the surface of the water, as swimmers have felt and seen”; and Strabo says it rose in bubbles like boiling water from the middle of the deepest part.—11, 12. Sodom and Gomorrah are sacked, and Lot is taken captive. The account leaves much to be supplied by the imagination. The repetition of וַיִּקְחוּ and וַיֵּלֵֽכוּ in two consecutive sentences is a mark of inferior style; but the phrase בֶּן־אֲחִי אַבְרָם, which anticipates the introduction of Abram in verse ¹³, is probably a gloss (v.i.).
10. בֶּֽאֱרֹת בֶּֽאֱרֹת] On the nominal appositives and duplication, see Davidson § 29, R. 8; Gesenius-Kautzsch § 123 e (compare § 130 e). LXXLucian has the word but once.—וַֽעֲמֹרָה] better as The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch, LXX וּמֶלֶךְ ע׳.—הֶרָה] On the peculiar ֶ, see Gesenius-Kautzsch §§ 27 q, 90 i.—11. רְכֻשׁ] LXX ἵππον (i.e. רֶכֶשׁ); the confusion appears in 16. 21, but nowhere else in the Old Testament.—12. בֶּן־אֲחִי אַבְרָם] LXX inserts the words immediately after לוֹט,—an indication that they have been introduced from the margin. It is to be noted also that Lot is elsewhere called simply the ‘brother’ of Abram (14. 16).—The last clause is awkwardly placed; but considering the style of the chapter, we are not justified in treating it as an interpolation.
13–16. Abram’s pursuit and victory.—The homeward march of the victorious army must have taken it very near Hebron,—Engedi itself is only about 17 miles off,—but Abram had ‘let the legions thunder past,’ until the intelligence reached him of his nephew’s danger.—13. Abram the Hebrew] is obviously meant as the first introduction of Abram in this narrative. The epithet is not necessarily an anachronism, if we accept the view that the Ḫabiri of the Tel Amarna period were the nomadic ancestors of the Israelites (see on 10²¹); though it is difficult to believe that there were Ḫabiri in Palestine more than 600 years earlier, in the time of Ḫammurabi (against Sellin, Neue kirchliche Zeitschrift, xvi. 936; compare Paton, The Early History of Syria and Palestine 39 ff.). That, however, is the only sense in which Abram could be naturally described as a Hebrew in a contemporary document; and the probability is that the term is used by an anachronistic extension of the later distinction between Israelites and foreigners.—Mamrē’ the Amorite] see on 13¹⁸. In Yahwist (whose phraseology is here followed) מַמְרֵא is the name of the sacred tree or grove; in Priestly-Code it is a synonym of Hebron; here it is the personal name of the owner of the grove. In like manner ’Eškōl is a personal name derived from the valley of Eshcol (‘grape-cluster,’ Numbers 1323 f.); and ‛Anēr may have a similar origin. The first two, at all events, are “heroes eponymi of the most unequivocal character” (Nöldeke Untersuchungen zur Kritik des Alte Testament 166),—a misconception of which no contemporary would have been capable.¹—the confederates of Abram (LXX συνωμόται)] The expression בַּֽעֲלֵי בְרִית does not recur; compare בַּֽעֲלֵי שְׁבוּעָה, Nehemiah 6¹⁸. Kraetzschmar’s view (Die Bundesvorstellung im Alten Testament 23 f.), that it denotes the relation of patrons to client, is inherently improbable. That these men joined Abram in his pursuit is not stated, but is presupposed in verse ²⁴,—another example of the writer’s laxity in narration.—14. As soon as Abram learns the fate of his brother (i.e. ‘relative’), he called up his trained men (?: on וַיָּרֶק and חֲנִיכָיו, v.i.) and gave chase.—three hundred and eighteen] The number cannot be an arbitrary invention, and is not likely to be historical. It is commonly explained as a piece of Jewish Gematria, 318 being the numerical value of the letters of אליעזר (15²) (Bereshith Rabba § 43: see Nestle, The Expository Times., xvii. 44 f. [compare 139 f.]). A modern Gematria finds in it the number of the days of the moon’s visibility during the lunar year (Winckler Geschichte Israels in Einzeldarstellungen, ii. 27).—to Dan] Now Tell el-Ḳāḍi, at the foot of Hermon. This name originated in the period of the Judges (Joshua 19⁴⁷, Judges 18²⁹); and it is singular that such a prolepsis should occur in a document elsewhere so careful of the appearance of antiquity.—15. He divided himself] i.e. (as usually understood) into three bands,—the favourite tactical manœuvre in Hebrew warfare (Judges 7¹⁶, 1 Samuel 11¹¹ 13¹⁷, Job 1¹⁷, 1 Maccabees 5³³): but see the footnote.—smote them, and pursued them as far as Hobah] Hobah (compare Judith 15⁵) has been identified by Wetzstein with Hoba, c. 20 hours’ journey North of Damascus. Sellin (934) takes it to be the Ubi of the Tel-Amarna Tablets, the district in which Damascus was situated (Keilinschriftliche Bibliothek, v. 139, 63; 146, 12). The pursuit must in any case have been a long one, since Damascus itself is about 15 hours from Dan. It is idle to pretend that Abram’s victory was merely a surprise attack on the rearguard, and the recovery of part of the booty. A pursuit carried so far implies the rout of the main body of the enemy.
13. הַפָּלִיט] Ezekiel 24²⁶ 33²¹ (compare הַמַּגִּיד, 2 Samuel 15¹³). For the idiom, see Gesenius-Kautzsch § 126 r.—הָעִבְרִי] LXX τῷ περάτῃ (only here), Aquila τῷ περαΐτῃ.—עָנֵר] The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch ענרם, LXX Αὐναν.—14. וַיָּרֶק] Literally ‘emptied out,’ used of the unsheathing of a sword (Exodus 15⁹, Leviticus 26³³, Ezekiel 52. 12 etc.), but never with personal objective as here. Tuch cites the Arabic ǧarrada, which means both ‘unsheath a sword’ and ‘detach a company from an army’ (see Lane); but this is no real analogy, The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch has בַיָּדֶק = ‘scrutinize’ (Aramaic). LXX ἠρίθμησεν (so Vulgate) and TargumOnkelos זריז (‘equip’: so Peshiṭtå and TargumJonathan) settle nothing, as they may be conjectural. Winckler (Altorientalische Forschungen, i. 102²) derives from Assyrian diḳu = ‘call up troops’; so Sellin, 937. Ball changes to וַיִּפְקֹד.—חֲנִיכָיו] ἅπαξ λεγόμενον, LXX τοὺς ἰδίους, Vulgate expeditos, Peshiṭtå, TargumOnkelos ‘young men.’ The √ חנך suggests the meaning ‘initiated’ (see on 4¹⁷), hence ‘trained,’ ‘experienced,’ etc. Sellin (937) compares the word ḫanakuka = ‘thy men,’ found in one of the Ta‛annek tablets. If it comes direct from the ceremony of rubbing the palate of a new-born child (see page 116), it may have nothing to do with war, but denote simply those belonging to the household, the precise equivalent of יְלִדֵי בַיִת. The latter phrase is found only in Priestly-Code (1712 f. 23. 27, Leviticus 22¹¹) and Jeremiah 2¹⁴.—15. וַיֵּחָלֵק] (compare 1 Kings 16²¹). The sense given above is not altogether natural. Ball emends וַיַּדְבֵּק. Winckler (Geschichte Israels in Einzeldarstellungen, ii. 27²) suggests a precarious Assyrian etymology, pointing as Piel, and rendering ‘and he fell upon them by night’: so Sellin.—מִשְּׂמֹאל] Literally ‘on the left.’ The sense ‘north’ is rare: Joshua 19²⁷ (Priestly-Code), Ezekiel 16⁴⁶, Job 23⁹.
17, 18–20. Abram and Melkiẓedeḳ.—“The scene between Abram and Melkiẓedeḳ is not without poetic charm: the two ideals (Grösse) which were afterwards to be so intimately united, the holy people and the holy city, are here brought together for the first time: here for the first time Israel receives the gift of its sanctuary” (Gunkel 253). 17. The scene of the meeting is עֵמֶק שָׁוֵה, interpreted as the king’s vale. A place of this name is mentioned in 2 Samuel 18¹⁸ as the site of Absalom’s pillar, which, according to Josephus (Antiquities of the Jews vii. 243), was two stadia from Jerusalem. The situation harmonises with the common view that Šalem is Jerusalem (see below); and other information does not exist.—18. Melkîẓedeḳ, king of Šālēm, etc.] The primitive combination of the kingly and priestly offices has been abundantly illustrated by Frazer from many quarters.¹ The existence of such priest-kings in Canaan in very early times is perfectly credible, though not historically attested (compare the patesis of Babylonia). Šālēm is usually understood to be an archaic name for Jerusalem (Josephus Antiquities of the Jews i. 180; TargumOnkelos-Jonathan, Jerome [Quæstiones sive Traditiones hebraicæ in Genesim], Abraham Ibn Ezra al.), as in Psalms 76³, the only other place where it occurs. The chief argument in favour of this view is the typical significance attached to Melkiẓedeḳ in Psalms 110⁴, which is hardly intelligible except on the supposition that he was in a sense the ideal ancestor of the dynasty or hierarchy of Jerusalem.
Whether the name was actually in use in ancient times, we do not know. The Tel Amarna Tablets have certainly proved that the name Uru-Salim is of much greater antiquity than might have been gathered from the biblical statements (Judges 19¹⁰, 1 Chronicles 11⁴); but the shortened form Salem is as yet unattested. It has been suggested that the cuneiform uru was misread as the determinative for ‘city’ (see Sellin, 941).—The identifications with other places of the name which have been discovered—e.g. the Salim 8 Roman miles from Scythopolis (where, according to Jerome [Epistola ad Evagrius Ponticus], the ruins of Melkiẓedeḳ’s palace were to be seen)—have no claim to acceptance.
17. שָׁוֵה (without article) must apparently be a different word from that in verse ⁵. Hommel and Winckler emend שָׁרֵי (šarrē, the Assyrian word for ‘king’).—18. מַלְכִּי־צֶדָק] usually explained as ‘King of Righteousness’ (Hebrews 7²), with î as old genitive ending retained by the annexion; but more probably = ‘My king is Ẓidḳ,’ Ẓidḳ being the name of a South Arabian and Phœnician deity (Baudissin, Studien zur semitischen religionsgeschichte i. 15; Baethgen, Beiträge zur Geschichte Cölestins 128). That Ẓedeḳ was an ancient name for Jerusalem (see Isaiah 121. 26, Jeremiah 31²³ 50⁷, Psalms 118¹⁹) there is no reason to believe.
On the name אֵל עֶלְיוֹן (God Most High), see below, page 270 f.—bread and wine] compare ‘food and drink’ (akalî šikarî) provided for an army, etc., in the Tel-Amarna Tablets: Keilinschriftliche Bibliothek, 50²² 207¹⁶ 20912 f. 242¹⁶ (Sellin, 938).—19, 20. The blessing of Melkiẓedeḳ is poetic in form and partly in language; but in meaning it is a liturgical formula rather than a ‘blessing’ in the proper sense. It lacks entirely the prophetic interpretation of concrete experiences which is the note of the antique blessing and curse (compare 314 ff. 411 f. 925 ff. 2727 ff. 39 f.).—Creator of heaven and earth] so LXX, Vulgate. There is no reason to tone down the idea to that of mere possession (TargumOnkelos, al.); v. infra—By payment of the tithe, Abram acknowledges the legitimacy of Melkiẓedeḳ’s priesthood (Hebrews 7⁴), and the religious bond of a common monotheism uniting them; at the same time the action was probably regarded as a precedent for the payment of tithes to the Jerusalem sanctuary for all time coming (so already in Jubilees xiii. 25–27: compare Genesis 28²²).
The excision of the Melkiẓedeḳ episode (see Winckler Geschichte Israels in Einzeldarstellungen, ii. 29), which seems to break the connexion of verse ²¹ with verse ¹⁷, is a temptingly facile operation; but it is doubtful if it be justified. The designation of Yahwe as ‘God Most High’ in the mouth of Abram (verse ²²) is unintelligible apart from 18 f.. It may rather have been the writer’s object to bring the three actors on one stage together in order to illustrate Abram’s contrasted attitude to the sacred (Melkiẓedeḳ) and the secular (king of Sodom) authority.—Hommel’s ingenious and confident solution (The Ancient Hebrew Tradition as illustrated by the Monuments, 158 ff.), which gets rid of the king of Sodom altogether and resolves 17–24 wholly into an interview between Abram and Melkiẓedeḳ, is an extremely arbitrary piece of criticism. Sellin’s view (page 939 f.), that verses 18–20 are original and 17. 21–24 are ‘Israelitische Wucherung,’ is simpler and more plausible; but it has no more justification than any of the numerous other expedients which are necessary to save the essential historicity of the narrative.
The mystery which invests the figure of Melkiẓedeḳ has given rise to a great deal of speculation both in ancient and modern times. The Jewish idea that he was the patriarch Shem (TargumJonathan, Talmud, al.) is thought to be a reaction against mystical interpretations prevalent in the school of Alexandria (where Philo identified him with the Logos), which, through Hebrews 71 ff., exercised a certain influence on Christian theology (see Jerome, Epistola ad Evagrius Ponticus; compare Jewish Encyclopædia, viii. 450). From a critical point of view the question of interest is whether Melkiẓedeḳ belongs to the sphere of ancient tradition or is a fictitious personage, created to represent the claims of the post-Exilic priesthood in Jerusalem (Wellhausen Die Composition des Hexateuchs und der historischen Bücher des Alten Testaments² 312). In opposition to the latter view, Gunkel rightly points out that Judaism is not likely to have invented as the prototype of the High Priesthood a Canaanitish priest-king, and that all possible pretensions of the Jerusalem hierarchy were covered by the figure of Aaron (253). It is more probable that Melkiẓedeḳ is, if not a historical figure, at least a traditional figure of great antiquity, on whom the monarchy and hierarchy of Jerusalem based their dynastic and priestly rights.¹ To the writer of Psalms 110, Melkiẓedeḳ was “a type, consecrated by antiquity, to which the ideal king of Israel, ruling on the same spot, must conform” (Driver 167); and even if that Psalm be not pre-Exilic (as Gunkel supposes), but as late as the Maccabæan period, it is difficult to conceive that the type could have originated without some traditional basis.—Some writers have sought a proof of the historical character of Melkiẓedeḳ in a supposed parallel between the ἀπάτωρ, ἀμήτωρ, ἀγενεαλόγητος, of Hebrews 7³ and a formula several times repeated in letters (Tel Amarna) of Abdḫiba of Jerusalem to Amenophis IV.: “Neither my father nor my mother set me in this place; the mighty arm of the king established me in my father’s house.”² Abdḫiba might have been a successor of Melkiẓedeḳ; and it is just conceivable that Hommel is right in his conjecture that a religious formula, associated with the head of the Jerusalem sanctuary, receives from Abdḫiba a political turn, and is made use of to express his absolute dependence on the Egyptian king. But it must be observed that Abdḫiba’s language is perfectly intelligible in its diplomatic sense; its agreement with the words of the New Testament is only partial, and may be accidental; and it is free from the air of mystery which excites interest in the latter. This, however, is not to deny the probability that the writer to the Hebrews drew his conception partly from other sources than the verses in Genesis.
’Ēl ‘Elyôn.—’El, the oldest Semitic appellative for God, was frequently differentiated according to particular aspects of the divine nature, or particular local or other relations entered into by the deity: hence arose compound names like אֵל שֶׂדַּי (17¹), אֵל עוֹלָם (21³³), אֵל אֱלֹהֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל (33²⁰), אֵל בֵּיתאֵל (35⁷), and אֵל עֶלְיוֹן (here and Psalms 78³⁵).¹ עֶלְיוֹן (= ‘upper,’ ‘highest’) is not uncommonly used of God in the Old Testament, either alone (Numbers 24¹⁶, Deuteronomy 32⁸, Psalms 18¹⁴ etc.) or in combinations with יהוה or אלהים (Psalms 7¹⁸ (?), 47³ 57³ etc.). That it was in actual use among the Canaanites is by no means incredible: the Phœnicians had a god Ἐλιοῦν καλούμενος Ὕψιστος (Eusebius Præparatio Evangelica i. 10, 11, 12); and there is nothing to forbid the supposition that the deity of the sanctuary of Jerusalem was worshipped under that name. On the other hand, there is nothing to prove it; and it is perhaps a more significant fact that the Maccabees were called ἀρχιερεῖς θεοῦ ὑψίστου (Josephus Antiquities of the Jews xvi. 163; Assumption of Moses, 6¹]).² This title, the frequent recurrence of עֶליוֹן as a divine name in late Psalms, the name Salem in one such Psalm, and Melkiẓedeḳ in (probably) another, make a group of coincidences which go to show that the Melkiẓedeḳ legend was much in vogue about the time of the Maccabees.
19. קָנָה has two senses in the Old Testament (if, indeed, there be not two distinct roots: see Gesenius-Buhl¹⁴ s.v.): (a) ‘create’ or ‘produce’ (Psalms 139¹³, Proverbs 8²², Deuteronomy 32⁶ [? Genesis 4¹]); (b) ‘purchase’ or ‘acquire by purchase’ (frequent). The idea of bare possession apart from purchase is hardly represented (? Isaiah 1³); and since the suggestion of purchase is here inadmissible, the sense ‘create’ must be accepted. That this meaning can be established only by late examples is certainly no objection so far as the present passage is concerned: see on 4¹.—20. After וּבָרוּךְ, LXXLucian inserts יהוה.—מִגֵּן] only Hosea 11⁸, Isaiah 64⁶ (LXX, etc.), Proverbs 4⁹. The etymology is uncertain, but the view that it is a denominative from מָגֵן, ‘shield’ (√ גנן, Brown-Driver-Briggs) is hardly correct (see Barth, Etymologische Studien zum semitischen insbesondere zum hebraischen Lexicon, 4).
17, 21–24. Abram and the king of Sodom.—The request of the king of Sodom presupposes as the usual custom of war that Abram was entitled to the whole of the booty. Abram’s lofty reply is the climax to which the whole narrative leads up.—22. I lift up my hand] the gesture accompanying an oath (Exodus 6⁸, Numbers 14³⁰, Deuteronomy 32⁴⁰, Ezekiel 20²³, Daniel 12⁷ etc.).—to Yahwe, ’El ‛Elyôn] A recognition of religious affinity with Melkiẓedeḳ, as a fellow-worshipper of the one true God. The יהוה, however, is probably an addition to the text, wanting in LXX and Peshiṭtå while The Samaritan Recension of the Pentateuch has האלהים.—23. lest thou shouldst say, etc.] An earlier writer (compare 12¹⁶) would perhaps not have understood this scruple: he would have attributed the enrichment of Abram to God, even if the medium was a heathen king.—24. The condescending allowance for the weakness of inferior natures is mentioned to enhance the impression of Abram’s generosity (Gunkel).
The Historic Value of Chapter 14.—There are obvious reasons why this chapter should have come to be regarded in some quarters as a ‘shibboleth’ between two opposite schools of Old Testament criticism (Hommel The Ancient Hebrew Tradition as illustrated by the Monuments, 165). The narrative is unique in this respect, that it sets the figure of Abraham in the framework of world-history. It is the case that certain features of this framework have been confirmed, or rendered credible, by recent Assyriological discoveries; and by those who look to archæological research to correct the aberrations of literary criticism, this fact is represented as not only demonstrating the historicity of the narrative as a whole, but as proving that the criticism which resolved it into a late Jewish romance must be vitiated by some radical fault of method. How far that sweeping conclusion is justified we have now to consider. The question raised is one of extreme difficulty, and is perhaps not yet ripe for final settlement. The attempt must be made, however, to review once more the chief points of the evidence, and to ascertain as fairly as possible the results to which it leads.
The case for the historic trustworthiness of the story (or the antiquity of the source on which it is founded) rests on the following facts: (1) The occurrence of prehistoric names of places and peoples, some of which had become unintelligible to later readers, and required identification by explanatory glosses. Now the mere use of ancient and obsolete names is not in itself inconsistent with the fictitious character of the narrative. A writer who was projecting himself into a remote past would naturally introduce as many archaic names as he could find; and the substitution of such terms as Rephaim, Emim, Horim, etc., for the younger populations which occupied these regions, is no more than might be expected. Moreover, the force of the argument is weakened by the undoubted anachronism involved in the use of the name Dan (see on verse ¹⁴). The presence of archæological glosses, however, cannot be disposed of in this way. To suppose that a writer deliberately introduced obsolete or fictitious names and glossed them, merely for the purpose of casting an air of antiquity over his narrative, is certainly a somewhat extreme hypothesis. It is fair to admit the presumption that he had really before him some traditional (perhaps documentary) material, though of what nature that material was it is impossible to determine.¹—(2) The general verisimilitude of the background of the story. It is proved beyond question that an Elamite supremacy over the West and Palestine existed before the year 2000 B.C.; consequently an expedition such as is here described is (broadly speaking) within the bounds of historic probability. Further, the state of things in Palestine presupposed by the record—a number of petty kingships striving to maintain their independence, and entering into temporary alliances for that purpose—harmonises with all we know of the political condition of the country before the Israelitish occupation, though it might be difficult to show that the writer’s knowledge of the situation exceeds what would be acquired by the most cursory perusal of the story of the Conquest in the Book of Joshua.—(3) The consideration most relied upon by apologetic writers is the proof obtained from Assyriology that the names in verse ¹ are historical. The evidence on this question has been given on page 257 ff., and need not be here recapitulated. We have seen that every one of the identifications is disputed by more than one competent Assyriologist (see, further, Meyer Geschichte des Alterthums², I. ii. page 551 f.); and since only an expert is fully qualified to judge of the probabilities of the case, it is perhaps premature to regard the confirmation as assured. At the same time, it is quite clear that the names are not invented; and it is highly probable that they are those of contemporary kings who actually reigned over the countries assigned to them in this chapter. Their exact relations to one another are still undetermined, and in some respects difficult to imagine; but there is nothing in the situation which we may not expect to be cleared up by further discoveries. It would seem to follow that the author’s information is derived ultimately either from a Babylonian source, or from records preserved amongst the Canaanites in Palestine. The presence of an element of authentic history in verse ¹ being thus admitted, we have to inquire how far this enters into the substance of the narrative.
Before answering that question, we must look at the arguments advanced in favour of the late origin and fictitious character of the chapter. These are of two kinds: (1) The inherent improbability or incredibility of many of the incidents recorded. This line of criticism was most fully elaborated by Nöldeke in 1869 (Untersuchungen zur Kritik des Alte Testament, 156–172): the following points may be selected as illustrations of the difficulties which the narrative presents. (a) The route said to have been traversed is, if not absolutely impracticable for a regular army, at least quite irreconcilable with the alleged object of the campaign,—the chastisement of the Pentapolis. That the four kings should have passed the Dead Sea valley, leaving their principal enemies in their rear, and postponing a decisive engagement till the end of a circuitous and exhausting march, is a proceeding which would be impossible in real warfare, and could only have been imagined by a writer out of touch with the actualities of the situation (see the Notes on page 261). (b) It is difficult to resist the impression that some of the personal names—especially Bĕra‛ and Birsha‛ (see on verse ²), and Mamre and Eshcol (verse ¹³)—are artificial formations, which reveal either the animus of the writer, or else (in the last two instances) a misapprehension of traditional data into which only a very late and ill-informed writer could have been betrayed. (c) The rout of Chedorlaomer’s army by 318 untrained men is generally admitted to be incredible. It is no sufficient explanation to say that only a rearguard action may have taken place; the writer does not mean that; and if his meaning misrepresents what actually took place, his account is at any rate not historical (see page 267). (d) It appears to be assumed in verse ³ that the Dead Sea was formed subsequently to the events narrated. This idea seems to have been traditional in Israel (compare 13¹⁰), but it is nevertheless quite erroneous. Geological evidence proves that that amazing depression in the earth’s surface had existed for ages before the advent of man on the earth, and formed, from the first, part of a great inland lake whose waters stood originally several hundred feet higher than the present level of the Dead Sea. It may, indeed, be urged that the vale of Siddim was not coextensive with the Dead Sea basin, but only with its shallow southern ‘Lagoon’ (South of el-Lisān), which by a partial subsidence of the ground might have been formed within historic times.¹ But even if that were the true explanation, the manner of the statement is not that which would be used by a writer conversant with the facts.—The improbabilities of the passage are not confined to the four points just mentioned, but are spread over the entire surface of the narrative; and while their force may be differently estimated by different minds, it is at least safe to say that they more than neutralise the impression of trustworthiness which the precise dates, numbers, and localities may at first produce.—(2) The second class of considerations is derived from the spirit and tendency which characterise the representation, and reveal the standpoint of the writer. It would be easy to show that many of the improbabilities observed spring from a desire to enhance the greatness of Abraham’s achievement; and indeed the whole tendency of the chapter is to set the figure of the patriarch in an ideal light, corresponding not to the realities of history, but to the imagination of some later age. Now the idealisation of the patriarchs is, of course, common to all stages of tradition; the question is to what period this ideal picture of Abraham may be most plausibly referred. The answer given by a number of critics is that it belongs to the later Judaism, and has its affinities “with Priestly-Code and the midrashic elements in Chronicles rather than with the older Israelite historians” (Moore, Encyclopædia Biblica, ii. 677). Criticism of this kind is necessarily subjective and speculative. At first sight it might appear that the conception of Abraham as a warlike hero is the mark of a warlike age, and therefore older than the more idyllic types delineated in the patriarchal legends. That judgement, however, fails to take account of the specific character of the narrative before us. It is a grandiose and lifeless description of military operations which are quite beyond the writer’s range of conception; it contains no trace of the martial ardour of ancient times, and betrays considerable ignorance of the conditions of actual warfare; it is essentially the account of a Bedouin razzia magnified into a systematic campaign for the consolidation of empire. It has been fitly characterised as the product of a time which “admires military glory all the more because it can conduct no wars itself; and, having no warlike exploits to boast of in the present, revels in the mighty deeds of its ancestors. Such narratives tend in imagination towards the grotesque; the lack of the political experience which is to be acquired only in the life of the independent state produces a condition of mind which can no longer distinguish between the possible and the impossible. Thus the passage belongs to an age in which, in spite of a certain historical erudition, the historic sense of Judaism had sunk almost to zero” (Gunkel 255).