Accusation, Anger, and Defense: Rhetorical Questions in Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, and Judges

Abstract

Rhetorical questions are used in a variety of ways in the Hebrew Bible. These questions, as found in Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, and Judges, show a strong emotional component, often of anger, and are part of the linguistic structure of accusation and defense. Rhetorical questions are also used as part of diplomatic negotiations between individuals and groups. Such questions function within the narrative to provide momentum for the story and move the action forward. By carrying the emotional component of the text, rhetorical questions draw the reader into scripture and enhance the connection between the reader and the text. One particular format of the accusing rhetorical question is a variant of “what have you done?” This phrase serves to accuse and to imply the need for justification or restitution for the perceived wrong. “What have you done?” is not seeking information in these contexts, as the wrongdoing in question has already come to light for the speaker. This question is accompanied by additional rhetorical questions to form a linguistic cluster. This article proposes that rhetorical questions, and particularly the “What have you done?” format, were long-standing and common linguistic tools of Hebrew writers and speakers in the ancient world. Such questions served as cues for responsive interaction from the party addressed and signaled the opening for apology, negotiation, or further conflict.

1. Introduction: Conflict and Anger in the Hebrew Bible

This article is concerned with conflict within the Hebrew Bible, particularly as found in Genesis through Judges. With conflict comes negative emotions, particularly anger. Paul Kruger notes that emotion in the Old Testament has been an understudied area in the past and suggests that this is due to a bias towards “logic” as opposed to the seemingly less rational and less controllable area of emotion. This is unfortunate, as emotion is a deeply ingrained part of the human experience and part of our faith experience as well. Attempting to read scripture without its emotional component is a type of amputation of the text. More recent work has begun to treat seriously the emotional aspects of the Hebrew text.1 How this is expressed has been the subject of several important studies, particularly from Deena Grant and Bruce Baloian. Baloian’s earlier work takes a more psychological approach, considering elements like pride, justice, and frustration, as well as the theological aspect of divine wrath.2 Grant’s more recent study takes a linguistic approach, chronicling “scripts” using the common Hebrew terms for hate and anger. In the following discussion emotion is an important component, but the focus will be on how conflict and the emotions connected with strife are expressed and resolved through the rhetorical feature of questions between opposing parties. Going further, we will explore how such episodes impact the flow and structure of the narrative.

Rhetoric is persuasive language that includes a presupposition that might not be agreed upon by all parties, and it plays an important role in the expression of conflict and anger in the Hebrew Bible. Such language can make use of a variety of tactics, including logic, metaphor, analogy, etc.3 Adina Moshavi states, “The biblical arguments can hardly be described as disinterested quests for truth, but are rather attempts by speakers to persuade…formulating a premise as a rhetorical question is a rhetorical device intended to bolster the persuasiveness of the argument where it is weakest.”4 In an earlier article she commented that rhetorical questions in the HB typically ask “what an aggrieved party did to deserve shabby treatment…by expressing the premise as an RQ, the speaker underlines the obviousness and irrefutability of the premise, and hence the conclusion.”5 The reader, given enough background to be aware of the motives of the speakers, hears the questions echoing in the air, not needing an answer. This is exactly what the persuasive speaker wants. Phrasing accusations as rhetorical questions suggests that the answer is obvious and agreed upon, when in reality there may be a profound difference in perspective at play.6

Rhetorical questions are used to express anger, accusation, and defensive behavior in the Hebrew Bible across a range of written sources. “…The designation of anger is often immediately followed by a question or series of questions, whether by the character that is angry, his proxy, or the object of the anger.”7 Here we will focus upon the emotionally laden rhetorical questions found in Genesis through Judges.8 By carrying the emotional component of the text, rhetorical questions draw the reader into scripture and enhance the connection between the reader and the text. In working with emotionally laden questions, we can see that they are indicative of immediate emotional responses. They also serve additional important functions. Rhetorical questions move the narrative forward. They set the stage for a response from another party, either by words or action, and that response is crucial to the flow of the story. “Rhetorical questions can be a courteous means of issuing a corrective or criticism. It can be used as a persuasive device: the speaker attempts to convince the hearer to accept the implied answer to the question by implying that the answer is obvious.”9 Rhetorical questions are also used as part of political and diplomatic language between individuals and groups. They are intended to persuade and are thus part of negotiations between speakers. These questions often appear as sets, with the several questions reinforcing each other or highlighting different parts of the issue at hand.10 When used in this way, rhetorical questions function within the narrative to provide momentum for the story and move the action forward.

Hebrew is certainly not the only culture/language to employ this feature, and we continue to find this pattern in modern languages and cultures. Our ability to relate to this type of language is an important reason that it continues to effectively communicate emotion to readers of scripture. L.R. Martin argues that a community is shaped by both logical reasoning and by our emotional response to what happens within the community. Both positive and negative emotions shape the whole of human experience. Biblical literature uses emotion and the passions to teach and shape commitment to a community and its values.11 This article proposes that rhetorical questions, structured as a variant of “What have you done?” were a long-standing and important linguistic feature of Hebrew writers and speakers in the ancient world.

2. The Guilty Before God

Genesis 3–4: Adam and Eve, Cain

Genesis 3 and 4 provide the first instances of the rhetorical question in the canon as it currently stands.12 These chapters portray the judgment of Yahweh on the disobedience and evil of Adam and Eve and on Cain. As creator and creature, the two parties have no basis for mutuality in the relationship such as would exist between human speakers, and which we see later in the narrative flow. Here, unlike in later usage of the “What have you done?” type questions, we have no strong indication of emotion from the questioner. Chapters 3 and 4 center around wrongdoing and consequence, which is also a large part of the later usage of such questions between human speakers in scripture, but the dynamic is vastly different here.13 Our first text comes from Gen 3:8–13. It is the aftermath of the fateful violation of the single law and command given to Adam by God.

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?” The man said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.” Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”

(Gen 3:8–13)

In Gen 3:9–11, when God asks Adam, “Where are you?” we already know what has happened and why Adam seeks to hide. Although he is literally hiding, in context the omniscient creator does not need to ask where Adam is. It is a powerful moment. It immediately illustrates the chasm that has now opened between humans and God. Adam’s guilt has prompted him to hide, so the question reveals his emotion of shame and his response of concealing this shame by physically concealing himself. The first narrative of wrongdoing in scripture is the first time the rhetorical question is used. It is also the first back-and-forth conversation between God and Adam and is followed up by several more questions: “Who told you that you were naked?” And “Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”14

Finally, the question is asked of Eve, “and Yahweh ĕlōhīm said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” (Gen 3:13). As noted earlier, in episodes involving betrayal or poor dealing, we often hear the injured party asking some version of “What is this you have done?” This phrase is a marker of anger and a harbinger of drama when used between human speakers, but the text does not otherwise note the anger of God, although divine anger and wrath are certainly well-established elements in the HB. The wrath of God is not explicitly expressed, but there are consequences for the humans. This question/accusation format will reappear in scripture many times in very similar ways. The defense offered by both humans is almost comically childish, with Adam blaming Eve and then Eve blaming the snake for the choices they each had made.

A close parallel to this rhetorical pattern follows when another great transgression occurs and punishment is incurred. Within the overarching narrative flow of the Hebrew Bible, Cain and Abel’s respective sacrifices are the inception of the sacrificial system, a form of communication with a deity who has become distant, and whom humans no longer know how to please. The preference of God for Abel’s sacrifice over Cain’s is not explained, but the outcome is a deep resentment by Cain against his brother that results in another great evil. In Gen 4:5 Cain’s anger is described. He is angry (ḥārâ), and the idiom “his face fell” is also added.15 Sometimes explicit words for emotion are used by the narrator and paired with the questions present in the dialogue. Biblical Hebrew does have words related to feeling and emotion, but these are somewhat limited in range. Constructions such as “in his heart” and “to burn” as reflective of anger are used. Further descriptions, for example “his face fell” in this narrative, and rhetorical questions add to the nuance of emotion.16 In Gen 4:6–12 the scene is set with questions that are clearly intended to foreshadow what will come. The multiple questions, coming from God in this context, do not require an answer. “Then Yahweh said to Cain, “Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.” God as the omniscient creator does not need to be told what is in the heart of Cain or why his anger burns, but his question to Cain gives the opportunity for a warning. The warning includes the poetic phrase “sin is crouching at your door: its desire is for you, but you must master it” (Gen 4:7).

After Cain murders Abel, we have another question set, but this time it is in the form of a back-and-forth exchange. “Then Yahweh said to Cain, ‘Where is your brother Abel?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’’ (Gen 4:9). After this comes the key question, which mirrors Gen 3:13. God asks What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” In Gen 4 the most profound expression of this anger finds its result: murder. “Anger directly breaks though our fenced self…and transforms one into an animal-like entity...that takes one back into the borderland of savagery/insanity”17

With both Gen 3 and Gen 4, the reader understands that God is not seeking information. The questions open a dialogue that illustrates divine knowledge and human guilt. The use of a question as a defensive gesture arises in Gen 4 when Cain infamously asks, “am I my brother’s keeper?” Cain’s question seeks to deflect the original accusing question posed by God, but of course this tactic fails. We should especially take note of the form of God’s response: “What have you done?” This is already the second time the form has been used. As in Gen 3, multiple questions are clustered closely together and serve similar functions. Finally, the entire narrative structure is moved forward and bound together. In Gen 3–4, questions connect the actions of the past with the consequences of the future. God asks both Eve and Cain “what have you done?” and both respond with remarkably weak defensive arguments. The separation between God and humans is symbolized by exile from Eden, and with the first murder, Cain is exiled from his home as well. These fractures and failures lead to violence, which then escalates and culminates in the chaos of Gen 6:5 “Yahweh saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” These first episodes expose guilt and wrongdoing and powerful emotions of anger and shame, followed by judgments that radically reshape the flow of events that follow.18

3. Anger, Deception, and the Patriarchs

3.1. Genesis 12, 20, and 26: The Sister/Wife Deceptions

Matthew Schlimm notes, “the emotion of anger appears in Genesis not merely to embellish story lines or add color to characters but to express a multifaceted message about the ethical significance of anger. The text does not give readers simplistic instructions about what to do with anger…Genesis presents anger as an emotion that arises from one’s moral sensitivities in response to the perception of wrongdoing.19 The central question “what is this you have you done” does two things. First, it alerts the hearer that the deception or wrong has been discovered, and secondly, it implies a “why”: it expects an apology, explanation, or justification to the wronged party. This is sometimes made more explicit in a follow-up question. The question format “What have you done” (or “What have I/we done?”) stands out as a frequent and pointed use of the rhetorical question. In Gen 3 and 4 we see rhetorical questions used by God in response to the disobedience of Adam, Eve, and Cain. The questions are followed by judgment. Anger is present in the Cain narrative, but it is not Cain who uses the “What have you done?” format, but rather God. We are never explicitly told that God is angry. The emotion of anger is clearer in the Patriarchal narratives that we will consider next.

We find many such clusters of questions revolving around anger in the stories of the Patriarchs, which are encompassed from Gen 12–44. The root of this anger is usually deception and betrayal. Each generation, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, uses or experiences deception. When this deception is uncovered, we find repeated angry questions. Like the exchanges in the earlier chapters of Genesis, these also highlight the idea of wrong and guilt. The key difference here is that because the exchange is now only on a human level, all speakers have only limited knowledge within the text, rather than the omniscient perspective of Yahweh. Shock is added to the mix of emotions when the deception is revealed. The reader of the text is given more information about the situation than the speakers.

Genesis 12, 20, and 26, sometimes called the “sister/wife narratives”, are excellent examples of the pattern. These narrative “doublets” are usually viewed as variations of a single story or theme, wherein the patriarch seeks to avoid conflict over his beautiful wife by claiming that she is his sister.20 Let’s begin with Gen 12:10–17.

And there was a famine in the land: and Abram went down into Egypt to sojourn there; for the famine was grievous in the land…he said to Sarai his wife, “Behold now, I know that you are a fair woman to look upon: Therefore it shall come to pass, when the Egyptians will see you, that they will say, This is his wife: and they will kill me, but they will save you alive. Say, I pray, that you are my sister: that it may be well with me for your sake; and my soul will live because of you”. And…the Egyptians beheld the woman that she was very fair. The princes also of Pharoah saw her, and commended her before Pharoah: and the woman was taken into Pharoah’s house. And he treated Abram well for her sake: and he had sheep, and oxen, and donkeys, and menservants, and maidservants, and camels. And the LORD plagued Pharoah and his house with great plagues because of Sarai Abram’s wife.

(Gen 12:10–17)

In this account the beauty of Sarah has been noted by three “sets” of people: “the Egyptians”, “the princes”, and presumably Pharoah himself. On the surface the request of Abraham is successful: he is treated well for Sarah’s sake. The price is great, however. The appointed matriarch of the promise is now separated from her husband and in danger of becoming just another concubine in Egypt. Abraham has failed to protect her, and so God Himself intervenes. In Gen 12:18–20, Pharoah confronts Abraham after apparently discovering that Abraham has falsely called Sarah his “sister” rather than his wife. We are not told how this occurs, but the connection was apparently made between this new resident of Pharoah’s house and the “plagues” that occurred.

And Pharoah called Abram, and said, “What is this that you have done to me? Why did you not tell me that she was your wife? Why did you say, ‘She is my sister?’ so I might have taken her to wife: now therefore behold your wife, take her, and go your way.” and Pharoah commanded his men concerning him: and they sent him away, and his wife, and all that he had.

Hamilton notes that “Pharoah now assumes the double role of judge and of one of the contending parties, which is also seen in 20:10, 26:9, 44:14–34 and in other books as well. The outcome of the interaction is rebuke and then action. In this instance Pharoah is portrayed in a remarkably positive light.”21 This action serves to move the narrative forward and send the characters onward through the story.

In the parallel episode of Gen 20 we find a similar accusing phrase. Note that the matriarch’s name is now given as Sarah, having been given the new form of her name in Gen 17:15–16. This time the pair has moved from Mamre to the area between Kadesh and Shur. The text says that they “resided” in Gerar, which may suggest that they are not simply passing through.

And Abraham said of Sarah his wife, “She is my sister.” And Abimelech king of Gerar sent, and took Sarah. But God came to Abimelech in a dream by night, and said to him, “Behold, you are a dead man, for the woman which you have taken; for she is a man’s wife.” But Abimelech had not come near her: and he said, “Lord, will you also slay a righteous nation? Did he not say to me, She is my sister? And she, even she herself said, ‘He is my brother’: in the integrity of my heart and innocence of my hands have I done this.” And God said to him in a dream, “I know that you did this in the integrity of your heart; for I withheld you from sinning against me: therefore I did not allow you to touch her. Now therefore restore the man his wife; for he is a prophet…”

(Gen 20:2–7)

Abimelech confronts the patriarch about his deception: “Then Abimelech called Abraham and said to him “What have you done to us? And how have I offended you that you have brought on me and on my kingdom a great sin? You have done deeds to me that ought not to be done. And Abimelech said to Abraham “What have you encountered (lit: “what did you see”) that you have done this thing?” (Gen 20:9–10). This is an excellent series: It asks WHAT (the rhetorical aspect of the dialogue) then twice asks a version of WHY, interspersed with a strong statement of “you have done deeds to me that ought not to be done.” That phrase is also echoed in Tamar’s pleading with her half-brother Amnon in 2 Sam 13:12 “Such a thing should not be done in Israel.” The phrase is a mark of a perverse action, encompassing immoral behavior that is both taboo and deeply damaging to others.

Abimelech takes his situation very seriously and raises the specter of guilt and consequences being brought upon the entire kingdom due to the actions of one person, particularly when that person is the King. This incident is interesting for its differences from the first episode of Gen 12. Here Abimelech is warned in a dream and protests his innocence. God himself sees fit to intervene to preserve the purity of Sarah but also to protect this prince from his unwitting evil action. However, the note is included at the end of the episode that Abraham interceded for Abimelech and fertility was restored to the people of his household (Gen 20:17–18). Barrenness is a similar consequence as found in the Egyptian episode of Gen 12. Victor Hamilton has a good discussion of this episode and the intricacies and ethics of the behavior of all parties.22 In both of these texts lavish gifts are given, but in this second narrative a portion of the wealth is explicitly for Sarah for the repair of her reputation. This is a way of mitigating the potential wrong done by Abimelech, although in the verbal confrontation it is Abimelech who claims the role of wronged party. Here again the foreign king is shown in a better light than the patriarch. The rhetoric of accusative questions elicits a defensive reaction from Abraham. He offers excuses and defends himself through uncalled-for false assumptions (v.11), casuistry and a convoluted argument (v.12), and an appeal to precedent (v.13).”23 as seen below:

And Abraham said, “Because I thought, Surely the fear of God is not in this place; and they will slay me for my wife’s sake. And yet indeed she is my sister; she is the daughter of my father, but not the daughter of my mother; and she became my wife. And it came to pass, when God caused me to wander from my father’s house, that I said unto her, This is the kindness which you will show to me; at every place that we will come, say of me, He is my brother.”

(Gen 20:11–13)

In the third sister/wife episode, found in Gen 26, we find the same name, Abimelech, given to the offended ruler, and the location is still Gerar, but we have a new generation. This time it is Isaac and Rebecca who are playing out the scene, and the issue is not just a king bringing a beautiful woman into his house. The men of that place ask about Rebecca, and when Abimelech confronts Isaac, he specifically says “one of the men” might have slept with her. This shows Rebecca’s vulnerability, not just to a powerful ruler, but to any man she encounters when she lacks the protection of her husband. Here the ruse is uncovered not by divine judgement or dream, but by human means: the king sees Isaac and Rebecca together in a way that indicates a conjugal relationship. The aftermath of the confrontation, like those episodes we have already considered, is action that leads to resolution and movement. Abimelech orders his people not to touch either Isaac or Rebecca, and their position in the land is clarified and protected.

“So Abimelech summoned Isaac and said, “She is really your wife! Why did you say, ‘She is my sister’?” Isaac answered him, “Because I thought I might lose my life on account of her.” Then Abimelech said, “What is this you have done to me/us? One of the men might well have slept with your wife, and you would have brought guilt upon us.” (Gen 26:10). Again the actions of one person, even done without malice and in ignorance, have consequences for the entire community. Isaac uses similar unsupported arguments as does Abraham: fear of the immorality and violence of the people among whom he travels, which is then disproved by the righteous behavior of the king. By now we are not surprised to find the question, here phrased as “What is this you have done to us? All three of these episodes retain the same pattern of questions which both accuse and demand an explanation, and use the same key phrases to express anger and dismay at a wrong. We should not simply conflate these episodes, however. While the doublet suggestion is reasonable, that such a juicy story would be retold in several ways, the customs and social structures referenced are quite distinctive, and each telling serves its own purpose.

3.2. Genesis 29–31: Jacob, Rachel, Leah, and Laban

Genesis 29 is an episode of poetic justice experienced by Jacob. Where once he defrauded his elder brother Essau of his birthright, the younger supplanting the other by fraud and deception, in his own marriage identity fraud is also committed. After years of work for his uncle Laban in order to marry Rachel, Laban instead places the unwanted older sister, Leah, in Jacob’s marriage bed rather than the desired bride. When this is discovered, Jacob asks a series of questions:

“What is this you have done to me? Was it not for Rachel that I served with you? Why then have you deceived me?” (Gen 29:25). This is another set of three questions, which first asks the rhetorical question “what” (rhetorical because the wrong action has already come to light) and then another that serves to highlight what should have been done, and finally demands to know WHY such a wrong act was committed against the speaker. Laban’s response, his justification, is a play on the earlier fraud committed by Jacob. He asserts that the elder sister should be married before the younger. Jacob, the younger, had supplanted his own elder brother to his advantage, and now Leah, the elder, supplants her younger sister to his harm, though not by her own will. The rivalry thus engendered between the two sisters flows through the following narration. Confrontation again results in a type of resolution. The accused party justifies or defends himself, and restorative action is taken, which moves the narrative forward in a way that would not have occurred without the episode. The outcome is that Jacob acquires not one wife, but four (the two sisters and their two handmaids), who will bring forth the twelve sons who in their turn will become fathers to the tribes of Israel, thus fulfilling the promise of descendants for Abraham.

Within the Rachel-Leah-Jacob narrative we see the expansion of the language of conflict beyond the “What have you done” model. There are two places where rhetorical questions and question-accusations are skillfully used to illustrate the dynamics within this family. In Gen 30 1–2 Rachel, in her barrenness, heartbreakingly cries to Jacob, “Give me children or I will die!” His response is a question which is both angry and defensive: “Am I in the place of God, who has kept you from having children?” The narrative in this episode is explicit in identifying the emotions at play. It states plainly that Rachel was jealous (qānā’) of her sister and that Jacob was angered ($a\bar{p}$ ḥārâ: lit: his nose burned) by her demand. The only direct dialogue between the two sisters also includes questions of accusation. We already have been told by the narrator that Rachel is jealous of Leah, now we hear directly from the unloved sister. Leah has already suffered from being placed in her own marriage by fraud. Her fertility is viewed as a divine consolation for her situation, and the names she gives her sons express her emotional response, which is a touching combination of gratitude and continued bitterness.24

In Gen 30, a seemingly mundane interaction reveals the depths of a long rivalry. Rachel asks Leah for some of the mandrakes gathered by her son Reuben, and Leah tartly responds, “Wasn’t it enough that you took away my husband? Will you take my son’s mandrakes too?” “Very well,” Rachel said, “he can sleep with you tonight in return for your son’s mandrakes.” (Gen 30:15). In just a few short phrases the text captures between the two sisters a closeness and familiarity, coupled with years of struggle and resentment. There is subtle humor here also, as the scene ends with a transaction that amounts to Rachel “selling” Jacob’s sexual services to Leah for mandrakes. Hamilton points out parallels between this moment and the episode of Essau and the birthright: the coming from the field, the air of desperation, and the trading of a substantial item for an insubstantial “right.”25 The outcome of the interaction is a resolution of the conflict, which shapes the narrative moving forward: Jacob returns to Leah’s bed, and the births of Issachar, followed by Zebulon and Dinah, are recorded.

When Jacob finally takes his family and leaves his father-in-law Laban, the only response of the women is formed with a set of rhetorical questions, but it makes their feelings very clear: When Jacob makes his intentions known to his wives in Gen 31:14, Rachel and Leah reply, “Do we still have any share in the inheritance of our father’s estate? Does he not regard us as foreigners? The two questions placed together illustrate the clear perspective of the women towards their father. Laban has used them for his own purposes and shown little fatherly concern for their welfare. The same theme of “foreignness” is turned around and echoed by Laban. Laban pursues Isaac and finally confronts him with the questions, “What have you done by deceiving me in carrying away my daughters like captives of the sword?” (Gen 31:26). This includes the accusing element “what have you done?” It makes explicit that the problem is not Jacob’s actual departure but his deception in his covert slipping away. This is then elaborated upon with the hyperbole “like captives of the sword.” Laban’s question might suggest that Jacob is treating the women poorly, like foreigners who have been captured.

Laban’s complaint is really that Jacob is treating Laban himself poorly by “carrying away” his daughters. We see a variety of questions here, including a variant of “What have you done” that we saw in our earlier episodes from J.26 Laban asks “what have you done by deceiving me…” which harks back to Laban’s own deception of Jacob. Jacob then turns that question around in his response. The implication is the same, that the accused party has offended or wronged the speaker, but instead of “What have you done” it becomes “What have I done?”: “And Jacob was angered, and he quarreled with Laban, and Jacob answered, and he said to Laban ‘What is my offense and what is my sin….?” (Gen 31:36). In Gen 20 we have a similar sentiment where the “what have you done” is reversed to become “what have I done” when Abimelech asks “…and how have I offended you?” All of these instances begin to show that variations of the “what have you done/What have I/we/done?” format was widely used and well understood to express anger at wrongdoing. In Gen 31:36 the word for anger is paired with his answering question. The outcome of the confrontation is a negotiation of peace between the two men which is concluded by a treaty, and allows for the movement to the next episode. The narrator uses the Hebrew term for anger (ḥārâ) but the questions between speakers nuance and add to the emotional content of the episode.

3.3. Genesis 44: Joseph and His Brothers

The Joseph story is extremely rich with deceptive practice and is fertile soil for the format of the outraged rhetorical question. Wrongful deception works against Joseph in several ways: First, when the brothers report Joseph’s death to Jacob as a cover for their selling him into slavery, and secondly, when Potiphar’s wife makes a false claim of assault against him. Later in the narrative Joseph weaves his own false narrative, masking his true identity from his brothers and planting his cup in the bag of Benjamin as a pretext for a false arrest. When Joseph’s steward pursues and meets the brothers, he repeats the words he has been directed to say by Joseph. He asks,

“Why have you repaid good with evil? Isn’t this the cup my master drinks from and also uses for divination? This is a wicked thing you have done”.…But they said to him, “Why does my lord say such things? Far be it from your servants to do anything like that! We even brought back to you from the land of Canaan the silver we found inside the mouths of our sacks. So why would we steal silver or gold from your master’s house?”

(Gen 44:5–8)

This confrontation shows both accusation and defense in the form of rhetorical questions from each party which make claims and ask the “why” question.

When the brothers are returned to the presence of Joseph, he makes a show of fake outrage. Joseph has not revealed his identity yet to his brothers. He has first allowed the brothers to believe they are going home after a successful mission, then reels them back to him with a valuable cup planted in the bag of the youngest, the most innocent, and the only full brother of Joseph. When they are brought trembling before him, he asks: “What deed is this that you have done? Do you not know that such a man as I can certainly divine?” (Gen 44:15) This artificial indignation mirrors very well the pattern of the real thing in Hebrew discourse. It is interesting that the follow up question here is about the brother’s knowledge of Joseph “don’t you know a man such as I…” While the form is rhetorical, it reminds us of how much the brothers really don’t know about the true nature of “such a man” at this juncture of the story.27

A. Steinmann points out that the response of Judah to Joseph is also framed as a set of three rhetorical questions: “What can we say to my lord?” Judah replied. “What can we say? How can we prove our innocence? God has uncovered your servants’ guilt” (Gen 44:16). Knowing that in the face of such power and supposedly incontrovertible evidence there was no way to defend or refute the charge, Judah brings his impossible position to the forefront of the conversation and throws himself and his brothers on the mercy of Joseph.28 This is diplomatic use of the rhetorical question to diffuse anger. It is successful here, and we will see this again as we move forward.

4. The Struggles of Moses

4.1. Exodus 14: At the Red Sea

Exodus shows rhetorical constructions with somewhat less frequency than does Genesis, and this is not surprising due to the nature of the text. While Exodus has no shortage of scenes of conflict, the focus is upon the people of Israel as a collective, with communication most frequently flowing in one direction: from God, through Moses, to the people. In addition the large body of law, detailed descriptions of the tabernacle, and other priestly concerns displace conversational narrative in the last part of the book. There are however two notable usages of the rhetorical form “what have I/you/we done” in the text that we should consider.

Exodus 13:17–15:21 is a composite text, and Exo 13 sets the stage for Exod 14: God has not brought the people up by the “way of the Philistines. We are told that the reasoning is that the people would lose courage when faced with armed opponents, and this in fact does occur as the Egyptians give chase to the departing Hebrews.29 Randall Bailey points out that the narrative pictures the scene from four points of view: the Egyptians see that they have made a great mistake, and ask, “what have we done.” The Israelites believe they have also made a great mistake in following Moses, and turn this question against Moses “What have you done to us?” Moses stands between the people and God, reassuring them “do not be afraid.” Finally, Yahweh asks his own question: “Why are you crying out to me?” because he knows his own will and power to save the Hebrews.30

The first instance of the rhetorical question in this chapter comes from the Egyptian side, “And it was told the king of Egypt that the people fled, and the heart of Pharoah and of his servants was turned against the people, and they said, Why have we done this, that we have let Israel go from serving us?” (Exod 14:5). Here the accusation is not against another party who has injured them, but “what have you done/why have you done this” is what the Egyptians are asking of themselves. Despite the previous dreadful and dramatic plague series, the Egyptians feel they have harmed themselves in allowing Moses and his people to depart. It is a type of self-berating language, which we even find in the modern English idiom “Why did I do that?” “What was I thinking” and even “Why am I like this?” In this case it is corporate self-regret. “Pharoah and his servants” are the subjects of the question. The Egyptians are regretting the loss of valuable slave labor. As is often the case when we only have ourselves to blame, negative emotions are transferred from self to other, and their “…hearts were turned against the people.” No mention is made of the trauma of plague or loss of the firstborn, but only the value of labor, which is now unavailable.

This verse is in close juxtaposition with another moment of corporate self-regret and displaced emotion. It is as if the text is showing us two sides of a coin, both centered on the change of status of the Hebrews from slave to free. The Egyptians regret the “letting go” of their slaves, and the Hebrews regret their escape, even explicitly wishing to return to slavery. The complaint from Exod 14:11–12 foreshadows the doubt and “grumbling” that will be present through much of the rest of the wilderness narratives. Here the Hebrews “cry out” to the Lord, a phrase that could indicate either prayer or panic.31 While the people “cry” to God, they “say” to Moses, and their speech includes the “what have you done/why have you done this” structure and two additional questions. All of these are both accusatory and rhetorical: “Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? Why have you dealt with us in this way, bringing us out of Egypt? Is not this the word that we did tell you in Egypt, saying, Let us alone, that we may serve the Egyptians? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than that we should die in the wilderness.” (Exod 14:11–12). These questions illustrate the continued grumbling and fear or lack of faith of the people which remains an important issue throughout Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. William Prop notes the irony of the “are there no graves in Egypt?” comment. The land of the pyramids, of elaborate burial and mumification is sarcastically turned into a land of “no graves”. There is a deeper aspect of this as well. The ancient ideal was burial with one’s ancestors, and the worst fate was to lie unburied in the wilderness or a foreign place. Moses is trying to take them to the true land of their ancestors but lacking faith the Hebrews fear death in the wilderness, and look back to Egypt, which holds their more recent kin. The incident inaugurates a series of “murmuring” episodes that extend into Numbers. Moses responds strongly with “fear not.” Prop writes “All except for Moses and Yahweh agree that Israel would be better off in bondage: the Hebrews are the Egyptians equals for obtuseness.”32

4.2. Exodus 18: Jethro’s Advice

Perhaps the most “gentle” of the “what have you done” type of rhetorical question comes just a few chapters later, in Exod 18.33 Jethro (also called Reul) comes to meet Moses in the wilderness. It is a nice family reunion: Jethro brings Zipporah, the wife of Moses, as well as his sons; the two men greet each other with affection, and the entire scene is structured as a moment of peace and warmth in the midst of the great and terrifying events of the Exodus. Quite a lot of detail is given. Jethro, the priest of Midian, proclaims the greatness of God and offers a sacrifice and a feast, which includes Aaron and the elders of Israel. Jethro witnesses the process by which Moses “judges” the people, hearing each person’s concern himself. A failure to delegate results in a bottleneck of people waiting for help and an exhausted Moses unable to successfully meet the great need.

And it came to pass on the morrow, that Moses sat to judge the people: and the people stood by Moses from the morning unto the evening. And when Moses’ father-in-law saw all that he did to the people, he said, “What is this thing that you do to the people? Why do you sit alone, and all the people stand by you from morning until evening?” And Moses said to his father-in-law, “Because the people come to me to enquire of God: When they have a matter, they come to me; and I judge between one and another, and I make them know the statutes of God, and His laws.” And Moses’ father-in-law said to him, “The thing that you do is not good. You will surely wear away, both you, and this people that are with you: for this thing is too heavy for you; you are not able to perform it alone. Listen now to my voice; I will give you counsel, and God will be with you.”

(Exod 18:13–19).

In this section the actions first noted are “Moses sat” and “the people stood” which, for Prop, creates the image of ruler/suppliant or judge/plaintiff.34 Seeing this situation extending “from morning to evening” Jethro addresses Moses. In Exod 18, as in Exod 14, a series of questions are asked, with the heart of the matter being “What is this thing you do to the people?” Unlike other instances where there is a heavy emotional component and anger behind the accusing question, Jethro is not directly wronged, so his question is more out of curiosity or concern. Moses’ reply is not exactly a defense, but a simple statement of what is happening with no comment on its appropriateness or effectiveness. He misses the point of Jethro’s question, which is not “what are you doing?” but “why do you have not help?”35 Jethro’s response is fatherly advice, and he is credited with the foundation of the system of elders and judges who take part of the responsibility for deciding smaller issues among the people. This parallels or reflects the later system of city or village elders deciding a case and referring larger and more serious issues to the king.

Jethro’s advice is initially couched in terms that Moses had harmed the people in some way: a reference to the long wait for the hearing of cases or grievances. The second part of Jethro’s comments shows concern for the well-being of Moses himself. Set in the context of the larger narrative of the life of Moses, this is very beautiful. For 40 years he is the father to a multitude of difficult, doubting, and rebellious people, and he strains under this great task. Just this once, however, we find someone caring for Moses and seeking to lessen his burden. The comment that Moses will “be the people’s representative before God and bring their disputes to Him. Teach them His decrees and instructions and show them the way they are to live” (Exod 18:19–20) is a precise description and summary of Moses’ entire life, especially as presented in the book of Deuteronomy. The words attributed to Jethro show a deep understanding of the purpose of Moses. Finally, Jethro sets out the kind of person that Moses is to appoint as a judge (men who fear God and hate dishonest gain), what their charge is (bring every difficult case to Moses but decide simple cases themselves) and how they are to be organized (over thousands, hundreds, fifties, and tens). In Jethro’s words, all of this will produce a good outcome pending God’s acceptance “if you do this and God commands you.”36 Within the flow of the narrative rhetorical questions/accusations lead to a very positive outcome. It prompts action that results in a legal structure for Israel. The episode ends neatly with the completed actions: “Moses listened…chose capable men…they served…they decided.” (Exod 18:34–36).

4.3. Exodus 32: Aaron’s Sin

Readers often struggle to parse the episode of the “golden calf” found in Exod 32. It raises many questions.37 The narrator uses the irony that at the very time Moses is receiving the covenant law on Mt. Sinai, his people are actively engaged in violating its greatest command. For the author of Exod 32 this, combined with the reminder of the great wonders the people have seen, illustrates the continued sinful nature of this “rebellious and stiff-necked people.” For the remainder of the Hebrew Bible the issue of idolatry is raised as the great evil and the primary reason for the downfall of both Israel and Judah. We find the condemnation of idolatry in all levels of writing in the Hebrew scripture, including poetry, prophecy, and historical narrative (especially regarding Jeroboam and the kings of the North).

Even before Moses returns from the mountain, he is aware of the great sin they have committed. Yahweh decrees destruction against the Hebrews for their work. God is “angry” (ḥārâ) (lit “his nose burned hot”) and the phrase is used by God and then repeated by Moses. Moses employs diplomatic questions in order to intercede on behalf of the people.

But Moses implored the LORD his God and said, “O LORD, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you have brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, ‘With evil intent did he bring them out, to kill them in the mountains and to consume them from the face of the earth’? Turn from your burning anger and relent from this disaster against your people.”

(Exod 32:11–12)

Moses appeals to God’s promise of redemption for the Hebrews, somewhat entertainingly presented as a “what will people say?” argument. The questions are part of an entreaty and can be classified as a negotiation. God proposes X (destruction of the people). Moses counters with the questions of diplomacy. As with the dialogue between Joseph and Judah, the questions seek to diffuse the wrath of the powerful opposing party by seeking mercy, not by denying guilt. The plea of Moses is effective and Yahweh “relents.” However, this is not the end of the consequences of this situation. Moses confronts Aaron:

When Moses approached the camp and saw the calf and the dancing, his anger burned and he threw the tablets out of his hands, breaking them to pieces at the foot of the mountain. And he took the calf the people had made and burned it in the fire; then he ground it to powder, scattered it on the water and made the Israelites drink it. He said to Aaron, “What did these people do to you, that you led them into such great sin?” “Do not be angry, my lord,” Aaron answered. “You know how prone these people are to evil. They said to me, ‘Make us gods who will go before us…’ So I told them, ‘Whoever has any gold jewelry, take it off.’ Then they gave me the gold, and I threw it into the fire, and out came this calf!”

(Exod 32:19–24)

This episode shows the reverse side of the “what have you done” question when Moses asks Aaron, “What did these people do to you, that you led them into such great sin?” Aaron’s response attempts to blame the people. Note he calls Moses “lord” here and begs him not to be angry (a fourth use of the “anger burning hot” phrase in a very short space). The title “lord” is an unusually deferential tone for the brothers. He does not actually say he was coerced but states, “You know how prone these people are to evil.” Secondly, Aaron uses the passive voice to shift focus from his own active role. “…out came this calf.” He omits other parts of his role as well, such as his building the altar and proclaiming the feast.38 The outcome of the episode is at once harsh and merciful. God does not utterly destroy the people, although it is significant that they are deemed worthy of annihilation. However, there is both divine and human punishment. At Moses’ orders, the Levites kill 3000 people. In addition, there is a plague tied to this incident. Despite all of this, Aaron, the priest, creator of the idol, and the one who declared the illicit day of feasting, retains his life and his position. We do not know how much of this is due to his kinship with Moses, his previous faithful service, or the efficacy of his defense.

5. Even the (Not-So) Dumb Beast Asks the Question

Numbers 22: Balaam’s Donkey

We would be negligent and remiss if we left out the delightful exchange between Balaam and his donkey in Num 22.39 Even the humble donkey gets to use the complaining rhetorical question in the tale of Balaam son of Beor, found in Num 22:28–30. The episode of the talking donkey is only the strangest part of a very strange narrative. A great and mysterious seer is contacted by the king of Moab to curse the Hebrews, whom he fears will overwhelm the land. Balaam is not connected with either group but is situated in Pethor near the Euphrates River. While he repeatedly states that he can only do what God’s word to him commands, we do not even know what God Balaam serves. The Hebrew text gives ‘ĕlōhîm and the assumption of the text is that it is Yahweh of the Hebrews who speaks to Balaam. However, nothing else in our information on this seer suggests that he is devoted to Yahweh. In fact, the extra-biblical evidence from Deir ‘Alla associates this prophet with the gods of Canaan.40 The text is poetic and lively but problematic. Sakenfeld reminds us that we are not told how Israel came to know this story. “Certain problems should be noted even though they need not be solved to appreciate the narrative” 41

By the time we reach the moment when the donkey speaks, we are invested in the narrative. We have good background by that point, and have witnessed the back-and-forth exchanges among the characters. “Then the Lord opened the donkey’s mouth, and it said to Balaam, “What have I done to you to make you beat me these three times?” Balaam answered the donkey, “You have made a fool of me! If only I had a sword in my hand, I would kill you right now.” The donkey said to Balaam, “Am I not your own donkey, which you have always ridden, to this day? Have I been in the habit of doing this to you?” (Num 22:28–30).

Up to the point of the angelic encounter, Balaam had been portrayed positively: He clearly states that he can only say what God allows, which seems a right and correct attitude. Beating the donkey, however, is an “ungodly” act, and the remonstration of the donkey is correct.42 The donkey is defending itself against the unjust action of Balaam. The abused beast asks the mirror question to the accusative question “what have you done” and says, “what have I done to you?” This is also a question set with two follow-ups, both rhetorical in nature. This is defensive in its format because it denies wrongdoing, but in doing so it accuses the other of wrong. It means “I have done you no wrong to justify the wrong you are now doing to me.” Nowhere in the episode do we find shock or surprise that the donkey is talking! The dialogue flows just as it does between two human speakers.

The episode of Baalam and his donkey is a good illustration of the “clash of perspectives” creating conflict and anger. In Balaam’s view the animal is being needlessly and inexplicably refractory, because he does not see what the donkey sees. From the donkey’s point of view, its behavior is eminently reasonable, as there is a sword-bearing angel of God blocking its path.43 The humor of the scene comes not only from the incongruity of a talking beast but also from the upside-down aspect of the “seer” (see-er) not seeing and the beast of burden recognizing and obeying the command of God. Wenham notes parallels between Balaam and his beast: Balaam drives the donkey just as Balak drives Balaam, until all are brought up short by God. God opens the mouth of the donkey, and God also puts words in Balaam’s mouth. “The stupidity and stubbornness of the human characters…is accentuated by the behavior of the donkey. This animal, proverbial for its dullness and obstinacy, is shown to have more spiritual insight than the super-prophet from Mesopotamia….”God can use anyone to be his spokesman.”44

6. God’s Judgment and Human Diplomacy

6.1. Judges 2: 1–5: The Angel at Bokim

It is not surprising when we return to the story-telling style with Judges that the accusing question shows up again with more frequency. Judges, of course, has a very complex composition. “Its textual history is so complex that Septuagint scholars print two Greek versions of the text rather than one.”45 For some decades following Martin Noth’s pioneering work, the majority of scholars confidently spoke of the Deuteronomistic Historian’s shaping of earlier traditions, but now one can find almost every shade of scholarly argument regarding authorship and structure of the book.46 Leaving this debate aside, we will focus on the similar use of rhetorical questions in conflict situations as is found in J and E, and a further development of their use as a diplomatic tool. Authors writing dialogue use structures and phrases that are familiar to themselves and their readers. It is clear that the narrators of Judges were still using the accusing/defensive rhetorical question format, including the variations of “what is this you have you done?”

Very early in Judges the people are chastised by the angel of God who appears at Bokim. For the first time since Genesis, the question comes from the divine source. It is a close parallel to the nuance found in Gen 3:13. In both instances the text is reflecting the idea of direct disobedience to a clear command of God and the consequences that follow. The angel of the Lord “goes up” to offer a verdict on the people of Israel “going up.” “What they have done” is to break the covenant of God. The angel proffers a reminder that “I brought you out of Egypt” (compare Deut 20) and the complaint is primarily failure to destroy altars, but the making of a covenant with the people of the land is also implied. Exodus 23:32–33 is the background for “do not make a covenant with them or with their gods.” The speech of the angel anticipates Judg 2:20–22, and between these two sections of text the prophecy is fulfilled that Israel does “lapse into apostasy”47

The angel of the Lord went up from Gilgal to Bokim and said, “I brought you up out of Egypt and led you into the land I swore to give to your ancestors. I said, ‘I will never break my covenant with you, and you shall not make a covenant with the people of this land, but you shall break down their altars.’ Yet you have disobeyed me. What is this you have done? And I have also said, ‘I will not drive them out before you; they will become traps for you, and their gods will become snares to you.’”

(Judg 2:1–3)

This serves as one among several notices that explain or set the expectation that the Israelites will not be left peacefully alone in an idyllic land of “milk and honey”. Like Adam and Eve the price of their disobedience will be the hard wresting of their livelihood from a hostile land. L.R. Martin notes the “emotional weight” of this proclamation, that Yahweh is “incredulous in the face of Israel’s disobedience.”48 He continues with “Yahweh’s question, “What is this you have done? may incite Israel to mount a defensive response, but they have no time to respond.”49 This question is by its nature an accusation and should provoke either a defensive or an apologetic response. As with Adam and Eve and Cain, the divine “What have you done?” question is followed by judgment. The outcome here is that the indigenous people will not be pushed out in advance of the Israelites but will remain as a punishment, temptation, and foil for future generations. This narrative theme shapes and explains the framework of what follows just as much as the repeated “in those days there was no king in Israel and everyone did what was right in their own eyes” statements of Judges.

6.2. Judges 7–8: Gideon and the Ephraimites

An interesting development in Judges is the use of rhetorical questions as a diplomatic tool between an individual and a group. Judges 7–8 uses this form both to accuse and to defend. When Gideon attacks the Midianite war camp with his three hundred chosen men, he calls the men of Ephraim to take the waters of Beth-barah and Jordan from the Midianites (Judg 7:24). While this was a success and resulted in victory and the capture of two “princes” (śar) of the Midianite forces, Oreb and Zeeb, it was viewed as a slight that the Ephraimites were not “invited” to the first attack. The Ephraimites did have an important task but were not satisfied with the lesser glory and perhaps the lesser spoils of war. In the midst of the conflict with Midian tribal cohesion would have been of great importance, but here there is clear fragmentation and internal division. As Butler states, “We find Israel…at its sociological worst.”50 In Judg 8:1 the Ephraimites respond in the now-familiar format: “What have you done to us?” (not calling us when you first went to fight against Midian). We are told “and they contended with him vigorously.” The narrative comment emphasizes the emotion behind the question. This phrasing, “to contend strongly/vigorously”, uses the term rîḇ, which is used in contexts of formal complaint or even lawsuit. Susan Niditch provides another motive for this angry response of the Ephraimites beyond simple pride and military zeal: a part of the benefit of battle would be the share in the spoils of victory. Such contests are also seen in the war traditions of the Greek epics. Niditch also notes the proverbial X is better than Y” format of Gideon’s response.51

While this format is familiar, what comes next is a new usage of the question format. To pacify the men of Ephraim, Gideon asks a question set in return. “What have I done now in comparison to you? Is not the gleaning of the grapes of Ephraim better than the vintage of Abiezer?” Here the text gives a nice piece of diplomatic language: Gideon is humbling himself in stating that the best of his clan, “vintage” is less than the leftovers of Ephraim, “the gleaning.” The metaphor is well chosen to appeal to the pride of the men of Ephriam. He reminds them of the glory they have achieved by capturing the captains of Midian and ends with, “What have I been able to do in comparison with you? The text is explicit in detailing the emotional response to this “When he said this their anger against him subsided” (Jud 8:3). The outcome of this negation is positive. The question-response arc results in soothing the pride of the Ephraimites and in diffusing the tensions of the moment.52 This parallels and foreshadows Judg 12, which does not go so well. For the narrator, the point of the story is God’s work through Gideon, but from the perspective of the Israelites Gideon’s combination of military strength and diplomatic skill makes him fit to rule as king. The remainder of Gideon’s story, and the outcome of the kingship issue among his sons, is a rocky road indeed. It is used by the narrator to bring home the point of fallible humanity, who are continually seeking to determine their own “good” apart from God and bringing disaster upon themselves.

Judges 11 is extremely rich in diplomatic question–answer-type speech, which relates both to Jephthah’s place among his own people and his interaction with the king of the Ammonites through messengers. Chapter 12 looks back to chapter 8 in its emphasis upon the militant pride of Ephraim. The men of Ephraim are again angry at a perceived slight in the military muster. They say to Jephthah, “Why did you cross over to fight against the Ammonites and did not call us to go with you? This is immediately followed with a strongly escalating threat, “We will burn your house down over you!” Perhaps as a result of this threat, instead of diffusing the tension with the humble questions of diplomacy, as did Gideon, the response of Jephthah is a counter accusation and question. “…When I called you, you did not deliver me from their hand…and the Lord gave them into my hand. Why then have you come up to me this day, to fight against me? (Judg 12:1–3). The statement is an accusation of one “wrong” and the question is a separate accusation. The immediate result is escalation into a very bloody conflict, the complete reverse of Gideon’s placation and resolution.

6.3. Judges 15: Samson

From its inception, the Samson narrative is dense with questions, some rhetorical and some not, but all working together to create tension and move the story forward. Early in the tale Samson’s father Manoah asks the angelic being “Are you the man who spoke to this woman? And “What is to be the boy’s rule of life?” (13:11–12) “What is your name that we may honor you?” Why do you ask my name? the angel responds: “it is too wonderful” (Judg 13:17–18). Questions also create the set up for Samson’s conflict with the Philistines: women. His parents ask “Is there not a woman among your kin, or among all our people, that you must go to take a wife from the uncircumcised Philistines? (Judg 14:3). Then of course there are the riddles, teasing, and questions from the episode of the first wife “have you invited us here to impoverish us?” (14:15) and “why should I tell you?” (14:17).

After the rather disastrous wedding, Samson returns to claim his bride, who has been given to another man. Samson’s father-in-law tries to diffuse the situation “Is not her younger sister prettier than she? Why not take her instead?” (15:2). This is also a type of diplomatic questioning. It offers an out that saves the pride of both parties and allows for repair of the relationship. Here the tactic fails, and Samson again assaults the Philistines. We hear “who has done this?” from the Philistines and this sets the stage for the next episode of violence. Samson’s personal conflict with the Philistines over the matter of his first wife has spilled over and provoked the Philistines into aggression against Judah. The “men of Judah” confront Samson, who is from the tribe of Dan. The men of Judah ask the rhetorical question, “Do you not know that the Philistines are rulers over us? Next comes the familiar angry accusation in Judg 15:11: “What then have you done to us?”

As in the earlier Judges episodes the question leads to negotiation and a resolution of sorts. This time, instead of diplomatic pacification or violent escalation, the result is a compromise: Samson will turn himself over to the men of Judah on the condition that they themselves will not harm him. All parties in this episode are concerned about “what has been done to them.” Samson is not a leader of Judah. So unwilling is Judah to cause friction with the Philistines that they even muster their own army of 3000 men to capture him and turn him over to keep the peace. At least in this case Samson avoids attacking his own people, but being utterly outnumbered he negotiates, asking only that the men of Judah not kill him themselves but rather tie him with new ropes and hand him to the Philistines. The bloody ending of this is the killing of 1000 men of the Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey. “Samson may be God’s instrument to begin to deliver Israel from the Philistines, but for Judah, Samson is just a hot-headed strong boy who has no leadership claims on them.”53 (342). Samson makes an accusing question against God himself shortly after this, and it closely parallels the “complaining questions” of Exodus “You have granted this great victory by the hand of your servant. Am I now to die of thirst and fall into the hands of the uncircumcised?” (Judg 15:18).

6.4. Judges 18: Micah and the Danites

We will conclude our discussion with a narrative that is unique in many ways. Judges 18 is a difficult composition with multiple layers of redaction and complex motivation.54 The tale of Micah and the Danites use a veritable barrage of questions, both rhetorical and otherwise, to tell a rollercoaster of a story. Judges is a strange book full of colorful and unvarnished episodes. Among these, Judg 18 is especially unpolished. It begins with a very short introductory explanation that the tribe of Dan is seeking a territory. The narrator then almost immediately connects with the earlier story of Micah and his priest, which is also an odd and disconnected piece. We might, however, connect Micah’s mother, who is not named, with Delilah, and the silver with the price she was paid for her betrayal of Samson.55 Uwe Bauer says, “Contrary to other spy stories, the Danite exploration exhibits features of an anti-story. There is neither a commission to explore the land nor an authentic confirmation by Yahweh or by a speaker designated by Yahweh, that this land has been given. Furthermore, the lifestyle of the inhabitants does not justify the conquest.”56

We are told that the Danites recognize the young Levite’s speech or voice, but it is ambiguous whether this recognition is personal or by dialect or accent. They pepper him with questions: “Who brought you here? What are you doing in this place? What is your business here? Slightly later the Danites then ask their scouts, “What is your report? Let us go up against them! Will you do nothing? This leads us to 18:14. The scouts, who had previously greeted the priest peacefully and even asked him to inquire of God for them, now make plans to rob Micah’s home, including the holy things that the priest is entrusted with. “Do you know that in these buildings there are an ephod, teraphim, and an idol of cast metal? In fantastic understatement, the young Levite views 600 armed men of Dan at the gate, and five taking away the sacred things, and he says, “What are you doing?” The response is “Is it better for you to be priest to the house of one person or to be priest to a tribe and clan in Israel? (18:18)

The story does not end there. When the neighbors, along with Micah, pursue the Danites, they ask, “What is the matter that you come out with such a company?” The phrase is literally “what is it to you?” He replied, “You take my gods that I made, and the priest, and go away, and what have I left?” Then how can you ask me, “What is the matter?” (18:23–24). This section is interesting from a rhetorical standpoint. It has shadows of the “what is this you have done” type of question, but like the entire episode it is atypical and unvarnished. It does not fit easily, either rhetorically or by theme, with the narrator’s framework beyond the general theme of chaos, which is emphasized throughout Judges. The entire episode is moved forward by a host of questions, and they, like the narrative as a whole, show a complex undercurrent of motivations and emotions. Butler writes “None of the activities of chapter 17–18 are sanctioned by God. One evil after another is committed by a person whose name means “Who is like Yahweh.”57 This includes theft, idolatry, and disregard of parental well-being. The tribe of the Danites makes the same evil mistakes. They are disregarding the previously expressed will of God for their tribal home; they plunder their own people and attack a peaceful city without provocation. We are reminded multiple times within these chapters that “In those days there was no king in Israel.” (Judg 17:6 and 18:1 and again at the opening of chapter 19).

7. Conclusions

Taken together we can see a long-standing theme within the final form of the Hebrew text, which stretches from Genesis through Judges and onward into the Deuteronomistic History.58 We see emotionally laden questions used for accusation and defense between speakers, as well as part of negotiation as tensions rise. This feature is used in dialogue across a wide range of relationships: between family members, between leaders and groups of people, and even between man and his God. Viewed individually, we can see the impact that such questions have on the emotional and narrative content of each episode. These patterns can be viewed on one level as a long-standing linguistic feature: a way in which Hebrew expands its emotional repertoire. They can also add to the argument of deep connections between many biblical texts.”59 Finally, to again connect with L. R. Martin, emotion is used as part of stories making their claim upon the hearts and minds of the community.60 Rhetorical questions still resonate with readers of scripture, making the text relatable and a living reflection of human striving with each other and with God.