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LITERARY STUDY OF BIBLICAL NARRATIVE
By Rav Dr.
Yonatan Grossman
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This series is dedicated to the refuah sheleimah of
our dear mother
òèì øçì áú ôòøàì
by Frieda and Dovid Wadler
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Lecture #30:
Summary: Hidden Reading and Subversive Reading
SUBVERSIVE READINGS
Throughout the length of our series, which we conclude today, we have
seen the different methods through which one may draw hidden readings from
beneath the revealed surface of the narrative.
The basic assumption of our proposal is that every narrative holds
something back; it does not say everything explicitly.
The reader must expend effort in order to
draw out the internal aim of the narrative.
In the last generation, a new reading position has progressively
developed – the subversive reading of the text. This type of reading draws from
the text things that the author apparently never intended; on the contrary,
frequently these proposals oppose the view of the author and draw hidden
elements from the narrative in a desire “to tell the story anew.”
For example, one of the modern feminist approaches to reading (perhaps
it would be more precise to call it “postmodern”) seeks to follow the “female
narrative” of different plots, with the recognition that this is not the aim of
the narrative and this is not the focus of the author or the narrator. On the
contrary, it is often stressed that the narrator has limited, primitive
assumptions, and these feminist readings try to reinvent the story and to bestow
upon it an identity it did not have before.
These approaches rely to a great extent on the undermining of the
author’s authority and its detachment from the narrative. (Roland Barthes terms
this “the death of the author” in an essay of the same name, famously analyzed
by Michel Foucault in his essay “What is an Author?”) This approach is based on
the modern theories of literary analysis; less prominently, but still
noticeably, it draws on the idea of “the death of the text,” the basic
assumptions of deconstruction formulated by the French (Jewish) philosopher
Jacques Derrida. According to these
assumptions, it is difficult to speak of a stable text or of one reading. Of its very nature, the text is
mutable and dynamic, in light of the reader who encounters it and in light of
the game of symbols that links different words to each other without one’s
knowledge. Thus, narrative elements arrange themselves in the reader’s mind in a
surprising way.
HIDDEN READINGS
I am not a party to these views; I wish to stress that throughout this
series, my analysis of the “hidden reading” has never been meant to bolster a
subversive reading such as these. Rather, I have sought to construct a reading
that draws out the aim of the narrative in light of the methods of shaping the
narrative and in light of the allusions found in the text itself. It is logical
to assume that indeed this is the way in which the narrator leads the readers
and that this is the original aim of the narrative. Naturally, no one can prove the
original intent of the author, but it is possible, in my view, to feel whether
the proposed reading is based on the text or subverts it with the aim of
proposing a new meaning for the narrative that is not hidden between its pages.
The border between the two is very fine, and one who is prepared to
respond to hidden readings often must struggle with doubts of having fallen into
the web of subversive reading and having loaded onto the narrative more than
what is truly within it. Despite the
fineness of the boundary, it appears to me that this line exists, and in the
following pages it is my desire to try to map it out.
THE READER'S
EXPERIENCE
Before we approach the work of sketching out the borders, it is my
desire to point to another fundamental assumption often tied to subversive
readings, one that I have adopted and which we have relied upon many times
throughout this series. Throughout
our analysis, we have used the term “the reader” in order to attempt to present
the experience that the reader of the narrative goes through. This reflects the fact that in order
to fully interpret the narrative, one must pay attention to the dialogue that
the narrative encourages between the narrator and the reader. In other words,
the narrative by its very nature is turned toward the reader. Without the
reader’s response, its aim will not be realized and the message will not be
transmitted. Nevertheless, the
narrative itself constitutes the focus of our analysis, even if we have followed
the process of the reader.
I will explain this point. In the last few generations, new literary
approaches have prevailed. Roman Ingarden sought to apply Edmund Husserl’s
theories of phenomenology to literature, causing the text to lose something of
its stability; the work of giving significance to a narrative passes, broadly,
into the hands of the readers. We
will not delve deeply into these extensive topics, but only point out that
according to Ingarden, one must distinguish between autonomous and heteronomous
objects. Autonomous objects have independent features existing
in their own right, while heteronomous objects require a combination of
their own independent
features along with
attributes ascribed to them
by the consciousness
of one who encounters them. Narrative details are naturally
heteronomous, requiring the consciousness of the reader in order to realize
them. Therefore, it is accepted to
speak of concretization or realization of the narrative by the reader. Naturally, there is also a supreme
significance to the reader’s identity, and, in fact, every narrative is designed
for a figure described by many thinkers in different ways - Jonathan Culler’s
“ideal reader,” Stanley Fish's "informed reader," and (perhaps
the most widely accepted) Wayne Booth’s “implied reader.”
There are distinctions between these different definitions of the
reader; some describe an actual reader addressed by the narrative, while others
see the reader as a “theoretical construct,” in the words of Rimmon-Kenan, or a
“metonymical characterization of the text,” as Perry puts it.[3] In other
words, “the reader” represents the exegetical process through the text, the
reading experience towards which the narrative is driving. I have used this term throughout this
series to refer to the abstract reader, the reader who represents the
consciousness of the reading that the narrative itself evokes in light of the
literary forms and structure within it.
Because of this, when we talk about “the reader,” there is no intent to
abandon the narrative itself and to wonder about the experience of the reader as
a critical subject on its own, but rather a reflection of the journey that the
narrative encourages. In light of this, I wish to address the distinction
between the hidden reading and the subversive reading.
THREE PARAMETERS
The border between the two positions of reading is tied to three
parameters of the act of reading: the reader, the reading process, and the
relationship to the text itself.
The Reader
Perhaps the most important distinction between a subversive reader and a
reader seeking hidden readings is the basic mental relationship in terms of the
text that one reads. When one adopts a subversive reading, one declares himself
a critic of the text ab initio. This
reader has left the audience to which the narrative is directed. In fact, this reader often shows
scorn for those who blithely follow the manipulative rhetoric of the narrator
and succumb to the narrator’s messages.
In the logic of the subversive reading, the reader must be emancipated
from the chains of the framework of the narrator, and in this sense, there is no
pretension of conducting a dialogue with the text. One creates a new, surprising
and stirring monologue in opposition to the text.
These subversive readings are applied to biblical narrative as well, and
logically have the power to move the story to greener pastures. However, this
fact in itself renders this approach wholly irrelevant for anyone who seeks to
be part of the story, part of the audience listening to the tale.
Let me share an anecdote.
Recently, I went with a friend of mine to a musical performance. When we
entered, we were offered a unique opportunity: to observe the performance from
the vantage point normally reserved for the sound and lighting crew, observing
everything from a much broader perspective.
We accepted, and at the beginning of the show, we indeed sat up there,
and we watched what was happening both onstage and in the audience. After a number of minutes, we
understood our horrible mistake, and we quickly descended to our normal seats. Our error, of course, lay in the
feeling I describe a sentence ago: “we watched what was happening.” We were not
part of what was happening; we were only watching it. It appears that this experience
accompanies the subversive readers — they do not become “part of the story” in
the traditional role of readers, but rather turn into observers, external
critics. Subversive readers do not merely observe the story, but they observe
the observers — more precisely, the readers.
The response of the audience becomes part of the subject of criticism to
which they are external.
These points are appropriate for a subversive reading as is, but they
are all the more correct when it comes to the biblical narrative. Since the main tendency of the
narrative is an educational aim, when one steps out of the target audience of
the narrative, one is no longer ready to respond to the narrator’s aim; rather,
one seeks to create a new significance of his or her own and thus cannot be
educated. In other words, the
narrative does not leave on such a reader its impression and its mark; this
reader cannot point to the meaning of the narrative, as the mental impression
left on the reader is an integral element. The subversive reader educates
himself or herself, but not through the educational message of the narrative.
The Process of Reading
Beyond the position of the reader and his or her basic assumptions
before the encounter with the narrative, a fundamental distinction exists
between the two approaches in the reading process. What is the reader looking for? What
is the reader seeking? In each case, the reader wonders what hides from his or
her view, what is not written explicitly but can be encountered in the text. Despite this, the processes that our
two readers undergo are very different.
The subversive reader looks for the abandoned parts of the narrative,
for the details mentioned in its periphery. (Some of the thinkers associated
with deconstruction express this explicitly).
Specifically in these places, the reader can point to a side character,
for example, and tell the tale according to that character’s viewpoint. In these
places, this reader will find undeveloped motifs, yielding a wider field in
which to craft a new reading. On the
other hand, the reader who asks what is hidden in the narrative seeks to respond
to the natural flow of the narrative.
On the contrary, were this reader to feel that there is a motif shoved to
the side, this would constitute a proof that the narrator is not interested in
developing it and therefore puts it in an unimpressive position. However, one must be careful about
this, because at times some of these points are hidden in order to allow them to
be raised by-the-way, incidentally as it were, while they hold a significant
allusion to the narrative’s true aim.
Naturally, while the subversive reader wants to be freed from the
hegemony of the narrator and from the reading process that the narrator
encourages, the seeker of hidden readings wants to be absorbed in the narrative,
wherever the narrator may bring it, even if it is not accomplished by bare hands
but by cryptic winks only.
Relationship to the Text of the Narrative
The third focus by which one can express the gap between the two
readings relates to the relationship to the narrative itself. Here, in fact, we are talking about
the converse of what we first mentioned, the position of the reader.
Above, we noted that the subversive reader does not see himself or
herself as part of the events of the narrative; he or she experiences the text
as an “other.” This matter influences the relationship to the narrative itself. Does a narrative exist without the
reader? Does it have meaning independent
of the reader, or does it — as is accepted in postmodern literary theory — come
alive solely in the mind of the reader? This
question appears negligible, but when we discuss biblical narrative, this issue
becomes significant. As we saw
above, many today agree that at the end of the day, the reader’s encounter with
the story gives birth to the true meaning of the narrative.
The reader has an obligation to interpret the narrative, certainly when
we talk about hidden readings that are not prominent in the first and na?ve
reading of the narrative. However,
after interpreting the narrative, he may take two different positions. The
subversive reader actually narrates himself or herself; the reader creates his
or her own story, which is explicitly a narrative alternative to the written
text. On the other hand, one who champions the hidden approach to reading feels
the narrative as existing in an objective way, beyond the reader. According to this claim, different
readers can reach the same meaning of the narrative by responding to the
allusions in the narrative. Even if
we refer to the dialogue of the reader with the narrative, we are talking about
collective dialogue that many are invited to; the narrative itself is the main
speaker in this dialogue, and the reader mainly listens.
If we analyze the first parameter — the reader — and the third parameter
— the narrative — together, it appears that we are, in fact, talking about two
sides of the same coin; even if they appear at first to be opposition, in fact
one emerges from the other. In a
subversive reading, the reader sees himself or herself as separate from the
text, reading the narrative through the experience of otherness, and especially
because of this, the reader can tell the tale anew. Naturally, the narrative that one has
created occurs within oneself, and the original story has no independent
standing; it is being told anew.
On the other hand, the hidden reading is an involved reading, or perhaps
it is more correct to call it a conversational reading — the reader maintains
living communication with the story before him or her. In this sense, the reader
listens to the text and seeks to respond to what is hidden in it. At the end of
the day, the feeling is that it draws from the verse itself its significance.
Therefore, this meaning remains as the objective expression of the text separate
from the reader, even if the only the sensitive reader can realize it.
Thus, one may describe the two reading processes discussed as two
opposing axes:
The subversive reader begins the journey from a position that is
separate and alienated from the text and its authentic aims, and finishes the
reading in a new narrative in which the reader is totally involved in telling
his or her story, created by that individual’s encounter with the original text.
On the other hand, the reader searching for the hidden aims of the narrative
starts his or her journey from an involved position, striving to be part of the
target audience that the narrative addresses. Specifically because of this, at
the end of the day, this reader’s proposed reading dares to be an objective
reading of the text.
As I said before, it is now common in critical circles to indulge in
tendentious exegesis that seeks from the beginning to read the narrative with a
search for certain aims, whether it is the original aim of the narrative or not.
However, in point of fact, and surprisingly so, a similar approach (even if it
is different in a number of characteristic aspects) may be found in the
Chassidic reading of the Torah’s portions.
Many of these sermons reinvent the narrative without any connection to
its original aim; the reader determines a destination at the point of departure,
well before the encounter with the specific narrative. As an extreme example, let us pick a
famous vort of R. Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, the Kotzker Rebbe.
In Devarim 5:5, Moshe says to the nation: “I was standing between God
and you.” The simple meaning is, evidently, that Moshe is describing the lofty
convocation at Mount Sinai, stressing that he was standing as the interlocutor,
mediating between God and the nation in order to communicate God’s word to the
people. Since Moshe is speaking for himself, he uses the first person.
With this, the Kotzker offers the following explanation: “Anokhi”,
the egotism of a
person, is what stands “between God and you,” that is, separates between a human
being and the Creator. It constitutes a barrier and a wall that separates
between man and God.
Needless to say, this proposal of reading this verse goes beyond the
bounds of the simple meaning, and even one who may adopt the basic assumptions
of the hidden reading will feel that the Kotzker is proposing here a reading
that goes beyond the permitted boundaries (as long as we are talking about the
simple meaning of the verse). But why is this so? In fact, the word anokhi
can arouse linguistic-aural associations with the word anokhiyut.
Perhaps, in fact, there is a certain hidden reading in the verse that alludes to
the hermeneutics of the Kotzker! It appears to me that indeed one may define the
reading of the Kotzker as a subversive reading, in the sense that it is clear to
whoever hears the vort that this is not intent of the verse, but rather
of the exegete. In other words, the Kotzker Rebbe seeks to educate those who
hear his message of opposing egocentric feelings and abandoning egotism, and he
uses the verse in order to make his point resound.
This will be clarified if we return to the three parameters by which we
may detect the border between the hidden reading and the subversive reading. We
may contend that indeed the Kotzker’s vort is appropriate for definitions
of the subversive reading.
Clearly, the Kotzker does not disrespect the original intention of the
verse; however, in this sermon, he indeed proposes to see himself as a creator,
and not one who listens to the text.
In terms of the context, we cannot read the verse according to the Kotzker’s
proposal; the very term anokhiyut is not a biblical word and we cannot
claim an intentional connotation such as this. Nevertheless, as emancipated from
the chains of the simple meaning, the chains of the narrative and the chains of
the author’s intent, the Kotzer forges a new reading, moving the narrative anew
so that it will dovetail with his aim.
Furthermore, in terms of the reading process, it is clear that the
Kotzker in his vort does not respond to the place to which the narrator
brings him; rather, he blazes a new a trail. This
path is indeed brilliant and innovative and can cause great enjoyment, but in
this reading process, one does not ask whether this is the essential focus of
the narrative. On the contrary, the
Kotzker takes the verse, which opens a complete speech, chops it at its halfway
point, and claims a hidden meaning.
Finally, the new narrative that is created in the face of the Kotzker’s
reading is not found in an objective way in the text beyond him. This is the
narrative of a rebbe who wants to encourage his adherents not to act in an
anokhi way. This is the “personal story” that only a position of otherness
as a point of departure can allow.
We thus learn that what is shared by Chassidic exegetical readings and
feminist postmodern readings: both of them are emancipated from the narrative’s
chains and the narrator’s chains, and both seek to create a new story. On the other hand, those who embrace
the hidden reading, as we have said, seek to hide themselves beneath the wings
of the narrative, to nullify themselves in the face of the narrator, and to
create a reading experience akin to listening - listening to what is written via
the words and listening to what is written in the space between the words, a
space created by the words themselves.
With these words, our series comes to an end. There are other extensive and
significant literary elements that we have not discussed at all (e.g.,
allusions, literary analogies, structures of repetition in the narrative,
character development, methods of assessment, etc.). However, the academic year
of the Virtual Beit Midrash is drawing to a close, and since, with my
limitations, I cannot hope to cover all of these topics in their entirety, it is
best to stop here.
May God send us all blessings and peace, and may we be comforted with
the rebuilding of Jerusalem.
Translated by Rav Yoseif Bloch
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