Joel Baden - Rethinking The Supposed JE Document - Harvard Diss

Rethinking the Supposed JE Document
A dissertation presented

by

Joel S. Baden

to

The Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations

in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
in the subject of
Hebrew Bible

Harvard University
Cambridge, Massachusetts

May, 2007

2007 Joel S. Baden
All rights reserved.

iii
Peter Machinist Joel S. Baden

Rethinking the Supposed JE Document

Since the work of Julius Wellhausen in the late nineteenth century, a basic
component of the classical formulation of the Documentary Hypothesis has been the
belief that the J and E documents of the Pentateuch were combined at an early point into
a document known as JE. This combination has never been proven literarily, however,
but has been assumed by generations of source critics. In this dissertation, the question
of whether such a document ever existed will be examined.
First, the origins of the scholarly theory of the JE document will be examined, as
well as its ramifications for subsequent scholarship. Second, the twentieth-century views
on the formation of the Pentateuch will be discussed, with a particular emphasis on views
regarding the combination of J and E. Third, a detailed textual analysis of the narratives
of D as compared to J and E will be undertaken, in which it will be shown that D is
dependent on the separate J and E documents, and not on their purported combined form.
Fourth, the issue of the role of the redactor will be addressed, and it will be demonstrated
that the common scholarly attributions of passages to the redactor of JE are mistaken.
Fifth, it will be argued that the methodology of the redactor is identical across all books
and source documents in the Pentateuch, strongly suggesting that there was but one
redactor for the entire Pentateuch. Sixth, some of the major historical assumptions
regarding the combination of the source documents will be critically examined. Finally,
in the conclusion, an alternative to the classical theory regarding the formation of the
Pentateuch will be put forward.

iv

Table of Contents

Abbreviations.......v

Introduction......1

Chapter One: The Scholarly Origins of JE10

Chapter Two: Divergent Trends in the Twentieth Century...56

Chapter Three: The Relationship of D to J and E125

Excursus: The Relationship of P to JE.233

Chapter Four: R
JE
The Reliance on the Redactor.249

Chapter Five: The Singularity of the Redactor(s) ...312

Chapter Six: Unstated Assumptions Underlying the JE Theory..358

Conclusion...383

Bibliography395

v

Abbreviations

ABD Anchor Bible Dictionary [6 vols.]. D.N. Freedman, ed. New York:
Doubleday, 1992.

AWEAT Archiv fr wissenschaftliche Erforschung des Alten Testaments

DBI Dictionary of Biblical Interpretation [2 vols.]. J.H. Hayes, ed. Nashville:
Abingdon, 1999.

GKC Gesenius Hebrew Grammar, 28
th
ed. E. Kautzsch, ed., A.E. Cowley,
trans. Oxford: Clarendon, 1910.

HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual

JBL Journal of Biblical Literature

JDTh Jahrbcher fr deutsche Theologie

JSOT Journal for the Study of the Old Testament

VT Vetus Testamentum

ZAW Zeitschrift fr die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft

Introduction

Since its first publication in 1878, the work of Julius Wellhausen has been the
starting point for nearly all discussion of the Documentary Hypothesis and its relationship
to the historical reconstruction of Israelite religion
1
. Wellhausens forcefully argued
theory of the gradual evolution of Israelite religion, and even more so his view that this
evolution is evidenced in the successive writings which are discernible in the redacted
Torah, have basically held sway for over a century. The scholars of the period after
Wellhausen who followed him in the attempt to separate the documents that make up the
Torah essentially fell into three main categories: those who followed Wellhausen nearly
to the letter (e.g., S.R. Driver
2
); those who held to Wellhausens theory of the
development of Israelite religion, but slightly revised his division of the sources (e.g., O.
Eissfeldt,
3
G. Fohrer
4
); and those who agreed with Wellhausens division of sources, but

1
Geschichte Israels [vol. 1] (Berlin: G. Reimer, 1878); 2
nd
ed., Prolegomena zur Geschichte Israels
(Berlin: Druck und Verlag von G. Reimer, 1883; reprint: Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2001). Though he had
earlier published his view of the division of the sources of the Pentateuch and the book of Joshua in Die
Composition des Hexateuchs (JDTh 21 [1876]: 392-450, 531-602; 22 [1877]: 407-79; printed as a book,
Die Composition des Hexateuchs [Berlin: G.Reimer, 1885]), it was the combination of the source division
with the presentation of the history of Israelite religion which secured a place in the history of scholarship.

2
Introduction to the Literature of the Old Testament (New York: Meridian, 1957).

3
The Old Testament: An Introduction (New York: Harper & Row, 1965).

4
Introduction to the Old Testament (Nashville: Abingdon, 1968).
Introduction
2
refuted basic elements of his dating (e.g., Y. Kaufmann, who also challenged his view of
Israels religious development
5
). In all of these cases, the fundamental assumptions
underlying Wellhausens work were sustained: a) there are at least four documents that
make up the Torah; b) each of these sources represents a different stage in the gradual
development of Israelite religion; c) by understanding the order in which the sources
were redacted together, we can show the step-by-step evolution of Israelite religion; d) by
demonstrating the natural progression of Israelite religion, we can confirm our previous
division and ordering of the sources in the Torah. The remarkably clear and forceful
manner in which Wellhausen fit parts c) and d) together into a self-reinforcing proof
overshadowed the distinctly circular nature of the argument.
In recent years, however, a much more concerted effort has been made to address
not the details of Wellhausens analysis, as scholars such as those listed above have done,
but rather the fundamental principles behind the Documentary Hypothesis itself. This
challenge has come from a variety of angles: literary (from scholars such as Rendtorff,
6

Blum,
7
and Carr
8
); comparative (van Seters
9
); and theological (Childs
10
). Though each of
these three perspectives takes a different approach to the rethinking of the study of the

5
The Religion of Israel: Its Beginnings to the Babylonian Exile (transl. and abridged by M. Greenberg;
Chicago: University of Chicago, 1960; Hebrew original: Tl
!
dt h"emn"
h
hayyi#r"$lt: miyy
!
m qedem
ad sf bt %$n, 8 vols. [Tel Aviv: Bialik Institute-Dvir, 1937-1956]).

6
E.g., The Old Testament: An Introduction (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1991); The Yahwist as Theologian?
The Dilemma of Pentateuchal Criticism (JSOT 3 [1977]: 2-10); The Problem of the Process of
Transmission in the Pentateuch (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1977).

7
Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1990); Die Komposition der
Vtergeschichte (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1984).

8
Reading the Fractures of Genesis (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996).

9
Prologue to History (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992); The Life of Moses (Louisville:
Westminster John Knox, 1993); In Search of History (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1997), et al.

10
E.g., Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979).
Introduction
3
Torah and its sources, all are in agreement as to the need to reject Wellhausens approach
to a great degree. Furthermore, all three are united in their common desire to rethink the
classical role of the redactor of the Torah: whether to reject the notion entirely (van
Seters), to posit a very different role from what Wellhausen had imagined (Rendtorff, et
al.), or to make the redactor responsible for the meaning of, and the focal point of the
study of the theology of, the Torah (Childs).
The combination of these critiques has led many to conclude that the death-knell
of the classical Documentary Hypothesis has sounded. This is over-hasty. The
contemporary criticisms of the Documentary Hypothesis seem to be based less on the
textual evidence than on an externally-imposed concept of how the text was written and
must be read. For van Seters, it is the idea that history writing began not in Israel, but in
Greece, and thus the dating of the early narrative strands of the Torah must be lowered,
and as a result the whole picture changed; for Rendtorff, et al., it is the belief that if one
takes the work of H. Gunkel and M. Noth on form- and tradition-criticism to its logical
conclusion, the separation of independent documents must be rejected; for Childs, it is
the belief that it is the community of faith that accepts a document as canonical which
determines the meaning of the text, thereby lessening the importance of the earlier
sources from which the canonical text was formed. In none of these cases is the primary
problem the literary one, i.e., the impossibility of reading the Torah as a coherent
narrative as it stands in its final form; therefore none of their conclusions addresses the
fundamental literary question, i.e., what is the most efficient way to understand the
process by which the canonical Pentateuch came into being?
Introduction
4
Scholars critical of the Documentary Hypothesis tend to focus their criticism on
one aspect of the theory, and, having made what are frequently strong cases regarding the
details, proceed to cry for the total abandonment of the classical view.
11
While it is true,
as we will see, that much of Wellhausens theory requires challenge and refutation, this
does not mean that the entire source-critical enterprise must be discarded, or so
thoroughly reworked that it becomes unrecognizable. It remains the case, in my opinion,
that the simplest and best solution to the literary-critical problems of the Pentateuch is the
Documentary Hypothesis in its most basic form, i.e., the theory that the Pentateuch is
made up of the combination of four originally independent documents (J, E, P, and D)
that have been combined to form a continuous narrative whole stretching from creation to
the death of Moses. These sources are independent of one another (that is, none was
written to supplement another), narratively continuous, and, for the most part, nearly
complete. This stripped-down version of the classical approach the only version, I
believe, that is justifiable on solely literary-critical grounds will be used throughout the
following study as the backbone for the source-critical analyses found therein.
If this basic view of the Documentary Hypothesis is accepted, it allows for the
acceptance and subsequent integration of many of the criticisms of Wellhausens theory.
This is true particularly because for the most part scholars direct their criticisms not
toward the idea that there are sources of the Pentateuch, but rather toward the secondary
layers of argument that are built up around the division of the sources. In particular, they

11
E.g., Van Seters, The Pentateuch: A Social Science Commentary (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999),
76: Ultimately, one must ask whether or not it is still worth retaining such a literary hypothesis;
Rendtorff, Pentateuch, 179: The assumption of sources within the meaning of the documentary
hypothesis can no longer make any contribution today to the understanding of the formation of the
Pentateuch. Childs does not dismiss the classical division of the sources, but does question its relevance,
claiming that at times the prehistory is quite irrelevant to understanding the synchronistic dimension of the
biblical text (The Book of Exodus [Louisville: Westminster, 1974], xiv).
Introduction
5
point out that the evolutionary framework into which Wellhausen placed his sources, and
the means by which he imagined them working against each other, are perhaps no longer
as easily sustainable as they once were. In short, just as is the case with contemporary
critics, both the methods and assumptions of Wellhausen must be closely examined
before accepting the conclusions of his work.
The standard presentation of Wellhausen and his followers,
12
down to the present
day, is as follows: J and E were near-contemporaries in the southern and northern
kingdoms, respectively, each writing an epic history of the Israelite people. J probably
worked first, in the court of Solomon, and E subsequently in the northern kingdom,
perhaps as a pro-northern corrective to the southern-oriented J document. At some point,
these two epics were combined with each other by a redactor (R
JE
), into a document
known as JE. Subsequent to this, the source D was added, also by a redactor (R
JED
), and
finally the priestly authors both wrote their own version of the text and redacted the
whole text together (R) some time in the post-exilic period. Various aspects of this
picture have been argued since Wellhausen put it into its classic presentation (and some
even before), particularly the existence of an independent E source,
13
the dating of P with
respect to D,
14
and the nature of the priestly source in general (whether it was an

12
Cf. the scholars mentioned above in notes 2-4, among others.

13
Cf., e.g., W. Rudolph, Der Elohist von Exodus bis Joshua (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1938), vs. A.
Jenks, The Elohist and North Israelite Traditions (Missoula, MT: Scholars, 1977).

14
Kaufmann, Religion of Israel, and M. Weinfeld, The Place of the Law in the Religion of Ancient Israel
(Leiden: Brill, 2004).
Introduction
6
independent author or just a redactor).
15
As a whole, however, this picture remains the
classical view of the composition of the Torah.
With the criticisms of contemporary scholars in mind, however, we may begin to
question some of the very basics of this hypothesis. In general, we must question
Wellhausens influential evolutionary model for the development of Israelite religion, as
well as his dating of the sources. On a more specific level, each aspect of the scheme
should be fully investigated. Wellhausens synthesis was so effectively presented that
subsequent source-critical scholarship has failed to recognize the many assumptions and
logical leaps that are implicit in the details of Wellhausens theory. Moreover, because
Wellhausen was able to frame his source divisions in a widely-accepted reconstruction of
the historical development of Israelite religion, the general outlines of his literary analysis
(and many of the details) have remained unchallenged, as scholars have focussed on the
larger historical picture. Yet, as Wellhausen himself certainly recognized, historical
reconstruction can be done only after one has fully analyzed the text literarily, and if
challenges can be raised against Wellhausens literary analysis of the Pentateuch, these
will necessarily extend to the historical reconstruction based on it. Source criticism as a
method is an entirely literary enterprise, conducted solely on the basis of the philological
and exegetical considerations stemming from the text itself. Historical reconstruction
should be kept independent of the actual work of source criticism, and approached only
as a second stage in the process. It should not be forgotten in connection with this, as we
will see, that the historical reconstruction of Wellhausen and his contemporaries was

15
Cf. F.M. Cross, The Priestly Work in Canaanite Myth and Hebrew Epic (Cambridge: Harvard, 1973)
vs. K. Koch, P - Kein Redaktor! Erinnerung an zwei Eckdaten der Quellenscheidung, VT 37 (1987): 446-
67.
Introduction
7
based almost exclusively on the study of the law codes, rather than the narrative
connected with them. The extension of their conclusions regarding the historical
development of Israelite law (and its application to the rest of religion) to cover also the
narrative sections of the Torah remains methodologically problematic.
In the following study, then, I will investigate one specific aspect of the classical
reconstruction, namely the supposed redaction of J and E into a JE document, and try to
demonstrate that while scholars since Wellhausen (and before) have been mistaken about
the nature of this redaction, there is a reasonable alternative which maintains the critical
distinction and identification of the two sources. In short, I will show that while J and E
are distinct sources, they were not combined into a JE document at any point before their
combination with the other sources D and P. It is striking that a thorough study of this
aspect of Wellhausens theory has never before been attempted. Numerous studies of the
independent sources J or E are available, as are various introductions to the Hebrew Bible
which present the classic view of the theory or a slightly revised one. The very basic step
of the combination of J and E, however, which has been assumed since Wellhausen, has
largely remained unexamined.
16
We will see in what follows that a) the combination of
the two has been taken for granted, without any critical argumentation, and b) the
independent combination of J and E is literarily, and most likely historically,
unsustainable. The implications of these conclusions for the entire enterprise of
Pentateuchal criticism are potentially substantial; yet, unlike most critics of the classical

16
M. Haran has, throughout his scholarship, maintained the separation of J and E. It was only in his most
recent work on the composition of D and the Deuteronomistic History, H""spp"
h
hammiqr"t, vol. 2
(Jerusalem: Magnes, 2004), however, that he discussed any methodological issues. Harans proposal and
argumentation will receive close study in the following chapters.
Introduction
8
approach, I am not calling for the Documentary Hypothesis itself to be abandoned, but
rather for a fresh look at how the individual sources may have been combined.
The structure of the argument presented here is as follows. I will first, in the
chapter that immediately follows, investigate the scholarly origins of the idea that J and E
were combined into an independent JE document. Since this idea has gone essentially
unchallenged for over one hundred years of source-critical scholarship, it is of pressing
concern to determine whether the original rationale for it remains valid. I will then turn
to some of the seminal immediate post-Wellhausen Pentateuchal scholarship, in an effort
to see how the JE theory was adopted and adapted by later scholars. In this second
chapter I will also turn to some of the major contemporary critics of the Documentary
Hypothesis, not to challenge them directly, but in the hope of learning from them some of
the ways in which the classical view could and should be reconsidered.
The third, fourth, and fifth chapters represent the bulk of the textual analysis in
this study. In the third chapter, I will challenge the classical view that the JE document
was known and used by the author of D. In the fourth and fifth chapters, I turn to the
question of the existence of the redactor R
JE
, investigating those passages which have
typically been attributed to this figure and questioning the literary grounds on which one
Pentateuchal redactor might be distinguished from another, respectively.
The sixth chapter is concerned not with the detailed textual argumentation, but
rather with some of the larger issues involved in the notion of a combined JE document:
the implicit assumptions and presuppositions inherent therein, regarding historical
context, the public nature of the documents, and the canonicity of the documents. In the
Introduction
9
conclusion to the study, I will present in brief a new reconstruction of the development of
the Pentateuch, taking into account the results of the preceding chapters.

Chapter One
The Scholarly Origins of JE

The aim of this chapter is to discover, through a review of nineteenth-century
scholarship, the scholarly origins of the idea of the combined JE document. Though
there are a number of excellent histories of Pentateuchal scholarship, by their very nature
these are of a more general variety, and are ill-equipped to deal in detail with any one
particular facet of a scholars work.
1
Thus we may learn that Hermann Hupfeld was one
of the first scholars to recognize that the Elohistic document, as construed in the late
eighteenth- to mid-nineteenth centuries, should in fact be divided into two sources (now
known as E and P), and we may also learn a few of his reasons for doing so, and how his
work was received. The intricacies of his argument, however, the assumptions
underlying it, and the impact it had on a narrower subfield within Pentateuchal
scholarship, must be left for a less generalized study.
2
In this case, one might want to
know not just that Hupfeld determined the existence of two sources E and P, but also how
he viewed the original relationship between these two sources; how he imagined each of
these sources relate to J and D; and how he envisioned the process of combination that

1
Worthy of particular mention are J. Rogerson, Old Testament Criticism in the Nineteenth Century
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984); E. Nicholson, The Pentateuch in the Twentieth Century: The Legacy of
Julius Wellhausen (Oxford: Clarendon, 1998); C. Houtman, Der Pentateuch: Die Geschichte seiner
Erforschung neben einer Auswertung (Kampen: Kok Pharos, 1994).

2
See, for example, the single paragraph devoted to Hupfeld in Nicholsons work (Pentateuch, 8-9).
Chapter One The Scholarly Origins of JE
11
led to the mixing of the sources as we now have it. Furthermore, one might want to
discern the impact these ideas had on future scholarship, not just in the most obvious
sense (i.e., that subsequent scholarship has universally recognized the distinction between
E and P), but in the details: did the following generation of scholars view the combination
of the sources in the same way that Hupfeld did? Did they make changes, and if so,
what, and more importantly, why? These are the details that are unavailable in the
general histories of Pentateuchal scholarship, and it is for this reason that a renewed
effort will be made in this study to review the scholarship on our particular subject.
The task at hand is a relatively tricky one. For the most part, virtually no studies
have been devoted solely to the question of the combination of J and E. One must,
therefore, tease out scholars ideas from among their more general writings. Again
turning to the example of Hupfeld, though his book on the sources of Genesis was
revolutionary for its division of E and P, how his second Elohist (E) relates to J is not a
focal point of his argument. We must therefore carefully examine scattered statements
throughout the book to determine his thoughts on this issue. Similarly, in Wellhausens
Prolegomena,
3
in which the main object is to show the dating of P relative to the rest of
the sources, and thereby to reconstruct Israelite religious history, the question of the
relationship of J and E is secondary, if not tertiary. Yet we are told something very
important about Wellhausens approach to this issue by his constant use of the siglum
JE, rather than either J or E. As we shall see, the impact of this particular choice has
been far-ranging, and may be the seminal moment in the scholarship of the combination

3
J. Wellhausen, Prolegomena. All page references are to the English translation.
12
of J and E; yet how many reviews and discussions of Wellhausens most important book
have recognized, let alone dealt with, this particular issue?
Once one has resolved to make the attempt to determine the history of scholarship
of this question, limits must be set, for an absolutely comprehensive history of
scholarship on an issue even as specific as this would require an entire volume, if not
considerably more. Every scholar who writes about the Pentateuch in general, source
criticism, form criticism, traditio-historical criticism, any particular pericope, chapter, or
even verse, or writes a commentary on any of the book of the Pentateuch, comes to some
conclusion regarding this process, even if it is not explicitly stated at the beginning of the
work. Thus, one must make choices regarding which scholars have made the signal
contributions to this particular subfield (or sub-subfield). And thus it is that I have
chosen only a handful of scholars whom I consider foundational for the concept of
JE. With the exception of Hupfeld, whose work was (and remains) a necessary
prerequisite for all scholarship on this issue, all the scholars discussed in this chapter are
from the generation that helped construct what came to be known as the Newer
Documentary Theory: Graf, Kuenen, and Wellhausen, the great triumvirate of source
criticism, and Dillmann and Riehm, who represent a contemporary challenge to the idea
of the JE document.
In this investigation I hope not just to produce a simple history of scholarship, in
which the major scholars on the issue are reviewed and subsequently forgotten. Rather, I
hope to show that the concept of the JE document was never effectively proven by its
initial supporters, and was in fact the result of an entirely different scholarly process. In
short, I will demonstrate that the idea of JE can almost be ascribed to an accident of
13
scholarship, one that became firmly entrenched and was defended only after it had
become a standard part of the formulation of the Documentary Hypothesis. For this
reason, its subsequent defenders found it particularly difficult to fully articulate a detailed
argument in favor of the concept.

Hermann Hupfeld
The history of scholarship regarding any aspect of the relationship between the
sources J and E must always begin with Hermann Hupfeld (1796-1866). Though K.D.
Ilgen was the first to separate what was originally known as the Elohist, or Urschrift, into
two sources,
4
it was Hupfelds rediscovery and reworking of Ilgens idea that was
adopted by virtually all subsequent scholarship.
5
The splitting of the Elohist into two
sources, the older Elohist and younger Elohist, is justly remembered as Hupfelds
great scholarly achievement. But Hupfeld devoted only a quarter of his book to proving
this; the remainder he devoted to a close study of each of the (now three) non-
Deuteronomic sources, identifying their individual styles and perspectives, and
discussing, albeit briefly, their relationship to one another.
Hupfelds work preceded that of Graf and Kuenen, and therefore he was still
writing under the older premise that P (his older Elohist) was the oldest document of

4
Die Urkunden des ersten Buchs von Moses in ihrer Urgestalt: zum bessern Verstndniss und richtigern
Gebrauch derselben: in ihrer gegenwrtigen Form aus dem Hebrischen mit kritischen Anmerkungen und
Nachweisungen auch einer Abhandlung ber die Trennung der Urkunden (Halle: Hemmerde und
Schwetschke, 1798). The term Urschrift was used by Hupfeld to describe the original Elohist (i.e., P +
E), which was understood as the oldest document of the Pentateuch, and which was used as the basis for the
subsequent J and D authors. This was also frequently called the Grundschrift, although that term may be
better applied to P when it was still conceived as the earliest document of the Pentateuch upon which all
others were based.

5
Die Quellen der Genesis und die Art ihrer Zusammensetzung (Berlin: Verlag von Wiegandt und Grieben,
1853).
14
the Pentateuch. He viewed the Jahwist as the latest pre-Deuteronomic source, basically
staying within the general framework already established by de Wette (on whom he
relied heavily). On the basis of the divine names in particular, and also some theological
features, Hupfeld assigned his new source (the younger Elohist) to a place in between
the previously established pair. After Graf, Kuenen, and Wellhausen destroyed the
hypothesis of the priestly Grundschrift, the details of Hupfelds analysis of the three
sources was essentially forgotten, a relic of an earlier era of Pentateuchal scholarship.
Thus we remember him today almost exclusively for his separation of P and E. This is a
mistake, however, as Hupfeld was the first to deal with the issue not only of how to
identify the various documents, but also of how these three documents were put together.
Though his work was by definition preliminary, many of his observations remain
pertinent.
Having identified the three sources, Hupfeld asked the following questions: Did
the Jahwist know the younger Elohist (E) document?
6
Was the younger Elohist even
an originally independent document at all?
7
And most importantly for our purposes, how
were the Jahwist and younger Elohist documents combined? Did one author both write
his own narrative and also combine it with the other? Or were they independent
documents which were combined by a separate redactor at a later date?
8
It is remarkable
that these same questions remain relevant in modern scholarship, almost exactly as they
were formulated by Hupfeld. Unfortunately, his ideas on the matter have been generally

6
We might ask this question in reverse today, as virtually all scholarship now sees the J document as being
older than E; Hupfeld, however, was working under the idea that J was younger than both P and E.

7
For these questions, see particularly pp. 162-68, 193-95.

8
On the role of Hupfelds Redactor, see pp. 195-203.
15
forgotten, ascribed to an earlier, more nave time in scholarship, relegated to the same
dustbin as his early dating of P. Yet since the questions remain, his initial solutions
deserve at least the respect of a new hearing. Not all of his conclusions are of equal
worth, but his method of achieving them is worth studying.
Hupfeld began by dismissing the notion that the later Jahwist author could have
combined the two documents. In his view, the presence of so many contradictions
between the younger Elohist and the Jahwist, not least of all in the alternating use of the
divine name, precluded this idea. For Hupfeld, it was simply not sensible to imagine an
author consciously choosing to use a document as his base, or model, and then
contradicting it at will, without making any changes to the original. For one striking
example, Hupfeld could not imagine the Jahwist leaving the Elohist narrative of the
revelation of the divine name in Exodus as it stands (or even knowing it at all), as it
contradicts the Jahwists explicit statements to the contrary in Genesis.
Htte der Jhvhist die Elohistischen Quellen vor sich gehabt, so wrde er zwar
wohl, da er nicht von derselben historischen Ansicht von dem Urpsrung des
Namens JHVH ausgieng, sich von der strengen Regel der Elohisten im
Gebrauch des Namens !"#$% entbunden, und beide Namen nach dem
gewhnlichen Sprachgebrauch angewendet: aber schwerlich seinserseits den
Namen #&#" so ausschliesslich wie jene ihr !"#$% gebraucht, noch
weinger aber gegen die Auctoritt und das ausdrcklich Zeugniss der Urschrift
Exod. 6,2 ff. diesen Namen in die ganze vormosaische Zeit von Anfang der
Dinge an selbst im Munde der Heiden einzufhren, und jenem Zeugniss
sogar, wie es scheint, ein entgegengesetztes 4,26 gegenberzustellen, also
systemsatisch zu widersprechen gewagt haben; besonders da ein solches System
schwerlich durch die Ueberlieferung die sich auf dergleichen nicht einzulassen
pflegt gegeben ist. Nur dann ist dieser Widerspruch begreiflich, wenn der
sptere unabhngig von dem frhern schrieb.
9

If, therefore, the Jahwist was not responsible for the combination of the two
documents, then perhaps he was familiar at least with the work of the younger Elohist.

9
Quellen, 166.
16
Hupfeld rejected this possibility in a similar fashion. It is the blatant contradictions
between the two sources which militate against the possibility of J knowing E.
Denn das wird doch wohl niemand sich einreden wollen, dass der Verfasser so
blind und einfltig gewesen sein knne die handgreiflichen Widersprche in die
er sich dadurch mit seiner Quelle setzte nicht zu merken. Dass er aber so dreist
gewesen sei ihr mit Bewuststein und Absicht auf eigne Faust ins Angesicht zu
widersprechen, ist sicherlich eben so wenig von einem Hebraeischen
Schriftsteller anzunehmen. Vielmehr muss bei allen Differenzen und
Widersprchen der Hebraeischen Geschichtschrieber, wie gross sie auch seien,
unstreitig immer angenommen werden das sie unwissentliche oder unbewuste
waren.
10

The underlying argument here is that no author could consciously include into his own
work, with its particular historical and theological considerations, a work that expressly
contradicted his own.
11

For Hupfeld, this led to only one conclusion: the two texts were combined at a
later date, by an independent Redactor,
12
who attempted to keep a considerable amount of
each source intact:
Da damit zugleich der an sich denkbare Fall dass der Ihvist etwa den jngeren
Elohisten bereits in sein Werk aufgenommen habe, ausgeschlossen ist was
wenigstens nur unter der unwahrscheinlichen Voraussetzung mglich wre, dass
er sich einestheils ber jene Wiederholungen und Widersprche mit seiner
Darstellung verblendet oder hinausgesetzt, anderntheils doch wieder hie und da
seinen eignen Bericht verstmmelt und mit einem fremden ersetzt habe : so
folgt daraus dass die Verbindung der drei Urkunden zu dem vorliegenden
Ganzen lediglich das Werk eines sptern Redactors sein muss.
13

10
Quellen, 165f.

11
This argument remains effective, which may explain why few scholars attribute the process of combining
the sources to any of the individual authors thereof. It is also, however, a good argument against the type
of reconstruction suggested by Rendtorff and his school (see chapter 2 below).

12
Here, and throughout this chapter, I follow the author in questions terminology for the editor/compiler of
the sources. We will see below in chapter 2 that the commonly used term Redactor has lost virtually any
specific meaning (cf. especially the section on the work of J. Van Seters). It is notable that Hupfeld
deviated from the standard theory (since de Wette) that the Redactor was the Deuteronomist (cf. Kuenen,
An Historico-Critical Inquiry into the Origin and Composition of the Hexateuch [London: Macmillan and
Co., 1886], xiii).

13
194f. Hupfeld included what we now call P, the older Elohist, in this process, for many of the same
reasons described above in regard to the relationship between J and E. It is unclear whether he believed
that either E or J knew P, but this question has been rendered entirely moot by subsequent scholarship.
17
He compared this process, as many still do, to the harmonization of the Gospels.
14
It was
at this point that he had to address the question of the nature of the younger Elohist,
particularly its beginning in the middle of the Abraham cycle and its many perceived
gaps throughout the course of the narrative. Though he did not write with complete
certainty, Hupfeld clearly stated his opinion that the literary source produced by the
younger Elohist, namely E, was originally a complete document, rather than simply
additions to the older Elohist.
Endlich, was den Zusammenhang und die Vollstndigkeit der Elohistischen
Bestandtheile betrifft, oder die Frage ob es nur einzelne verbindungslose Stcke
oder Denkschriften ber hervorragende Puncte der Ueberlieferung seien, oder
ein zusammenhngendes die ganze heilige Geschichte dieser Urzeit
umfassendes Werk, so stehe ich mich an das letztere anzunehmen, und sie als
eine zusammenhngende und vollstndige Urkunde anzusehen.
15

Thus he saw in E an overarching narrative, with its own theological perspective. This
remains the primary argument of those scholars who support the existence of an
independent E source.
16
The gaps in the document he attributed to the work of the
Redactor, who tried to excise some of the blatant repetitions of material among the
various sources:
Dafr spricht der von Abraham an durch das ganze Buch fortlaufende (auch in
das folgende Buch sich erstreckende) Faden des Zusammenhangs; und oblgeich
die Erzhlung erst mitten in der Geschichte Abrahams beginnt, auch nur einige
Momente derselben betrifft, und weiterhin bedeutende Lcken darbietet, so
zeigen sich doch an solchen Stellen, wie wir gesehen haben, zugleich Spuren
eines frhern Zusammenhangs (Beziehungen auf Thatsachen die in die Lcke
fallen, und nur aus einer andern Quellen bekannt sind), aus denen erhellt dass
die betreffenden Thatsachen auch in dieser Quelle ursprnglich nicht gefehlt
haben, der Bericht davon aber von dem Redactor wegen der Wiederholung die
er mit den andern Quellen bildete ausgelassen und so die Lcke enstanden ist,
wie dies denn auch den beiden anderen Quellen nicht minder widerfahren ist: so

14
Quellen, 195. Cf. especially the seminal article of G.F. Moore, Tatians Diatessaron and the Analysis
of the Pentateuch, JBL 9 (1890): 201-215.

15
Quellen, 193f.

16
E.g., Jenks, Elohist, 19: there is significant evidence for the existence of E as a unified and extensive
tradition.
18
dass in dieser Hinsicht die Urkunde den beiden anderen nicht nachstehen
drste.
17

An important element of Hupfelds concept of the compilation of the sources is quietly
inserted at the end here: he believed that the redactional process is evident in all three
sources equally. Though he never returned to this point, we may view it as part of his
rationale for presuming only one Redactor for all three sources.
This leaves the obvious question, however, of why the Redactor would have
removed some repetitions, but not all. In this regard Hupfeld argued that the Redactor
was conscientious of both the importance of maintaining as much of his source material
as possible and the need to present a readable final text once the documents had been
combined:
Dies beruht auf zwei entgegensetztzen Grundstzen des Verfahrens: einerseits
auf der strengen Treue womit der Redactor oder Verfasser des Buchs, wie die
lteste Geschichtschreibung berhaupt, seine Quellen wrtlich und vollstndig
einrckte, und mit Beibehalkung aller ihrer Eigenthmlichkeiten
zusammenstellte; andererseits dass sich damit so viel verstndige Rcksicht auf
Zusammenhang und Einheit oder Planmssigkeit der Erzhlung verband, um zu
offenbare Widerholungen oder Widersprche zu vermeiden, und die einzelnen
Stcke seiner Quellen so anzuordnen und miteinander zu verbinden dass sie ein
zusammenhngendes nach der Zeitfolge fortschreitendes Ganzes bildeten, und
den (epischen) Plan wonach die Geschichte in den Quellen angelegt war in
erweitertem Massstab auch in dem Ganzen wiederzugeben.
18

This is basically the approach that the majority of source critics have taken ever since: the
redactor did his best to balance the twin demands of reverence for his sources and the
need to create a coherent narrative.
19
It would seem clear enough from the last two
centuries of source-critical scholarship, however, that if this was in fact his aim, the

17
Quellen, 194.

18
Quellen, 195f.

19
Cf., e.g., J. Carpenter and G. Harford-Battersby, The Hexateuch According to the Revised Version
(London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1900), I:176f.
19
redactor has done a singularly bad job on both counts. Thus we are left with the all-too-
familiar refrain of the incompetent redactor.
20

For Hupfeld, the Redactors desire to retain as much as possible of his source
material was evident from the very fact that we can separate them still today.
21
This
much is true. But his approach to the second duty of the Redactor, the removal of
contradictions on behalf of the reader, is highly problematic (and remains so in modern
scholarship). Hupfeld would have the Redactor not only removing contradictions, but
relocating chunks of text to avoid inconsistencies, changing words to make the sources
agree in their details, and adding his own text to further harmonize.
22
In all this, Hupfeld
is the forerunner of mainstream source-critical scholarship. Yet we are left, then and
now, with the question of how it is that the Redactor did all this, yet still left the text so
unreadable?
Nevertheless, Hupfeld presented a relatively coherent picture of the process of
composition and combination of J and E: the documents of two independent authors,
neither knowing the work of the other, were combined (at the same time that they were
combined with P; therefore, we could speak here of three documents) by a Redactor
whose main goal was to keep the sources intact as far as possible, but who was aware of
the need to resolve some contradictions and repetitions, either by excising the offending

20
See the criticism of this view by Halpern, The First Historians (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State
University, 1996), 29, 109: R [the Redactor] was a shadowy figure whose dull intelligence led him to
overlook the contradictions his conflations had created. He was, in fact, a casual by-product of the source-
critical hypothesis, without corporeal form, an editor who existed by definitionat times he created
awkwardness by preserving reverently the tiniest fragments of sources; at other times he ruthlessly
suppressed whole sections of the same sources. Halpern even singles out Hupfeld as the originator of this
view (29 n.32).

21
Quellen, 196.

22
Quellen, 198ff.
20
portions, or occasionally by inserting a word or two of his own. Hupfelds presentation
does have its share of weaknesses. The possibility that the Elohist document(s) were
considered canonical goes unmentioned; were this the case, it would leave open the
possibility that J knew the earlier document(s), but did not see fit to change them when he
authored and inserted his own work. Most importantly, the role of the Redactor is left
much too undefined. Hupfeld has attributed every aspect of the relationship between the
various documents contradictions, gaps, doublets to the conscious choice of the
Redactor, even when these choices sometimes appear to contradict themselves
methodologically.
Hupfeld did make a positive contribution to the methodology of source criticism,
however. Though he did not seem to have fully considered all the options, his decision to
treat the individual sources as non-canonical stands as an important counterpoint to the
scholars who followed him, particularly in the post-Wellhausen era. His reasoning in
determining that the Jahwist did not know the Elohist, though again imperfect, is an
important beginning for an examination of the relationship between these two sources. It
is particularly valuable since so few scholars, again particularly after Wellhausen, chose
to explicitly address this issue. Most importantly, Hupfeld accepted the simplest view of
the redactional process available to him. He had discovered that there were three
sources; this therefore necessitated their combination. Having ruled out on reasonably
well-argued grounds the possibility that this combination could have been achieved by
21
the Jahwist source, the Redactor had to be a fourth figure. But Hupfeld stopped there:
three sources, and one Redactor, who was responsible for putting all three together.
23

Karl Heinrich Graf
Though it came to be known as the Grafian hypothesis,
24
the idea that the
priestly source (or parts thereof) was later than the J and E sources did not originate with
Karl Heinrich Graf (1815-1869).
25
Nevertheless, his two major essays on the topic
formed the foundation for the subsequent work of Wellhausen, which was based almost
entirely on Grafs major argument.
26
Grafs conclusion, that the priestly document is the
latest of the Pentateuchal sources, revolutionized the source-critical approach to the
Pentateuch, and essentially wiped away all scholarship on the matter that preceded it.
27

After Graf, there was no more Grundschrift; though a minority of scholars continued (and
continue) to argue that the priestly source was not in fact later than Deuteronomy, no one
has since proposed that P is the oldest of the sources.

23
Halpern, in his criticism of Hupfeld, misses this crucial point: if there are multiple sources, someone
must have compiled them. Though the Redactor is a by-product, he is a necessary one. The danger of
which Halpern seems unwary is that of multiplying this by-product unnecessarily. Remarkably, even
Halpern himself falls into this trap, assuming the figures of R
JE
and R
JEP
in his reconstruction of the growth
of the Pentateuch.

24
Cf. W. Robertson Smiths preface to Wellhausens Prolegomena, v.

25
This honor probably belongs to Grafs teacher E. Reuss, who was evidently teaching this idea as early as
the 1830s, though he did not publish his thoughts on the matter until 1881 (Die Geschichte der Heiligen
Schriften Alten Testaments, Braunschweig: C.A. Schwetschke und Sohn, 1881). Cf. Nicholson,
Pentateuch, 4f.; Rogerson, Old Testament Criticism, 259; Houtman, Pentateuch, 98f.

26
Cf. the now-famous comment by Wellhausen in the introduction to his Prolegomena: I learnedthat
Karl Heinrich Graf placed the Law later than the Prophets, and, almost without knowing his reasons for the
hypothesis, I was prepared to accept it (3).

27
Though both W. Vatke and J.F.L. George published studies arguing that at least parts of the non-
Deuteronomic law were later than Deuteronomy, their conclusions were rejected until Reuss and his
students resurrected (and furthered) them. Cf. Rogerson, Old Testament Criticism, 63-78; Houtman,
Pentateuch, 98.
22
Grafs first essay, Die Geschichtlichen Bcher des Alten Testaments,
28
aimed
primarily at determining the dating of the laws in P in relation to Deuteronomy, which
since de Wette had been recognized as the latest of the Pentateuchal sources. Graf began
his essay, however, by demonstrating that the narrative portions of Deuteronomy show
familiarity, if not direct dependence, on the narratives found in the works of P, E, and J.
29

Graf did not treat each of these sources separately, however; he took it for granted that D
is familiar with a combined text of all three (as Hupfeld already did as well), and so
simply referred to the whole block as the work of the Jehovist. He laid out his view of
how the Pentateuch grew to its present form right at the beginning:
Wie das Buch des Jeremia durch sptere Hinzufgung neuer Abschnitte aus
einem kleinen Ganzen ein grsseres Ganze geworden ist, wie das Buch des
Jesaja durch sptere Zustze von andern Hnden die erweiterte und zum Theil
einer andern Zeit angehrende Gestalt erhalten hat, in welcher es uns jetzt
vorliegt, so ist aus der Urschrift, dem alten Geschichtsbuche des Elohisten,
durch sptere und wiederholte Ueberarbeitung, Erweiterung und Fortsetzung der
Geschichtserzhlung die Gesammtheit der Bcher entstanden, die jetzt den
ersten Theil des A.T. bilden (Pentateuch und Prophetae priores). Dass von
jedem folgenden Bearbeiter die in der Zwischenzeit verfassten Geschichtswerke
benutzt worden sind, ist nicht nur natrlich, sondern zeigt sich auch durch
verschiedenartige wrtliche Auszge, und die Kritik sucht diese
Quellenschriften zu erkennen und ihren einzelnen Verfassern und Zeiten
zuzuweisen. Wenn es auch in dieser Hinsicht schwer sein wird, bis ins
Einzelnste zu unbestrittenen Ergebnissen zu gelangen, so treten doch zwei
Hauptbearbeitungen deutlich hervor, die des sogenannten Jehovisten (ich
behalte diesen Namen der Deutlichkeit wegen bei) und die des
Deuteronomikers, denen wir aber noch fr den ersten Theil, den jetzigen
Pentateuch, einen vierten bis jetzt nicht anerkannten Ergnzer der Gesetzgebung
aus der Zeit Esras hinzufgen mssen. Da diese letztere Annahme, nach
welcher die Gesetze des Leviticus und das was in Numeri und Exodus damit
zusammenhngt, den jngsten Theil des Pentateuchs bilden, der gewhnlichen
Ansicht, die gerade diese Gesetze dem Elohisten zuschreibt, zuwiderluft,
zugleich aber fr die ganze Ansicht von der Gestaltung der israelitischen
Geschichte in jeder Hinsicht von wesentlichem Einfluss ist, so bedarf dieselbe
einer ausfhrlichen Begrndung.
30

28
Part I: Die Bestandtheile der geschichtlichen Bcher von Gen. 1 bis 2 Reg. 25 (Pentateuch und Prophetae
priores), Leipzig: T.O. Weigel, 1866.

29
Geschichtlichen Bcher, 8-34.

30
Geschichtlichen Bcher, 3f.
23
Graf had already determined that the pre-Deuteronomic work (that of the Jehovist) was
basically historical in character, and that the post-exilic (and therefore post-
Deuteronomic) work was basically legal. This had significant ramifications for the
subsequent development of the source-critical theory, particularly with Wellhausen.
Equally importantly, Graf expressed his opinion that the growth of the Pentateuch was
essentially a process of accretion, with each subsequent author/editor working with full
knowledge of the texts that preceded him chronologically (so that the Deuteronomist
knew the Jehovist, and the priestly legislator of Leviticus knew the Deuteronomist and
the Jehovist).
The most remarkable aspect of his argument, however, as was recognized at the
time by Kuenen
31
and Wellhausen,
32
was the separation of the post-exilic priestly
legislation from the pre-exilic, and still considered earliest, priestly narrative. Having
shown that Deuteronomy is later than and dependent on the narratives of the Jehovist,
Graf went on to show that the legal portions of the Grundschrift, found in Exodus-
Numbers, must actually be later than Deuteronomy, in fact post-exilic. Thus he tore in
two the Grundschrift, creating two distinct sources out of one, much as Hupfeld had done
to the Elohist.
The prevailing opinion on the composition of the Pentateuch before Graf was that
there was a combined document PEJ which was then united with Deuteronomy (=
PEJD).
33
Graf added a new piece to this picture: PEJD was now followed by another
priestly source, containing only the laws, which we may label simply P
2
. Thus we had

31
Hexateuch, xxff.

32
Prolegomena, 10.

33
So Hupfeld; see above.
24
PEJDP
2
. This view not only created a new source, but ushered in a subtle but powerful
conceptual revolution in how critical scholarship viewed the Pentateuch. Grafs focus on
the legislation, rather than the narrative, for determining the proper order of Pentateuchal
documents meant that the pre-Deuteronomic narrative began to be treated as a single
block, followed by the Deuteronomic legislation, which was itself followed by the
priestly legislation. Graf made this clear in one of his few direct statements on the
matter:
Erst wenn man nicht nur Deut. C. 1-30, sondern auch den Leviticus und die
nachexilischen Stcke im Exodus (Ex. 12,1-28. 43-51. C.25-31. C.35-40) u. in
Numeri (Num.1,1-10,28, C.15.16 u. 17 theilw. 18.19.28-31.35,16-36,13) so wie
die namhaft gemachten kleinern Zustze in der Genesis und einige andere, die
sich vielleicht noch finden, weglsst, erhlt man die vordeuteronomische Gestalt
des Pentateuchs, das Werk wie es aus der Hand des letzten Ueberarbeiters vor
dem Deuteronomiker, des sogenannten Jehovisten, hervorgengangen ist. Es war
somit weit mehr ein historisches Werk und hat erst durch die sptere
Erweiterung den Charakter eines Gesetzbuchs erhalten. Dass das Werk des
Jehovisten aus einer Ueberarbeitung eines noch ltern, vielleicht seblst schon
nicht mehr in seiner ursprnglichsten Gestalt vorhandenen Werkes nach
verschiedenen theils mndlichen theils schriftlichen Quellen der Ueberlieferung
hervorgegangen war, bedarf keines neuen Nachweises; bis zu einer Erforschung
dieser ltern Quellen zurckzugehen, liegt hier ausserhalb der unserer
Untersuchung der Geschichte selbst zu einem irgendwie sichern Ergebnisse
fhren.
34

It is clear from this that Graf had already split the process of compiling the Pentateuch
into three distinct steps: the pre-Deuteronomic narrative (compiled by the Jehovist); the
Deuteronomic recension; and the post-exilic priestly legal material.
It is worth taking a step back at this point and reflecting on what Grafs first essay
meant for the study of the J and E sources and their combination. At its most basic level,
the approach of Graf relegated the narrative materials to a secondary status with regard to
their usefulness for dating the sources. Graf concluded, before Wellhausen, that the laws
were the best way to demonstrate the gradual changes in Israelite religion that led to the

34
Geschichtlichen Bcher, 94f.
25
distinct sources we now find in the Pentateuch. And Graf claimed, as Wellhausen did
after him, that the narratives were all early, and the laws virtually all late. Thus J and E
had already with Graf begun to be treated as a single block of narrative, along with what
little remained of the Grundschrift after Graf removed the legal material from it. It is
also worth noting that Graf made explicit the view that the Pentateuch grew by accretion.
Though he dealt with this issue only in regard to the larger blocks (the Jehovist, the
Deuteronomist, and the priestly legislator), this approach to the formation of the
Pentateuch proved very attractive to subsequent scholarship, and was soon extended to
cover the entire process from start to finish.
Grafs arguments for the late dating of the priestly legislation were convincing,
but his separation of the priestly narrative from the legislation was not. The counter-
argument was made nearly immediately by Kuenen.
The first glance at Grafs essay was enough to satisfy me that this attempt to
split up the Grundschrift was the Achilles-heel of his whole hypothesisThe
historical and legislative sections are dominated by essentially the same
conceptions and resemble each other so closely that they cannot possibly be
severed by a period of three or four centuriesBut what then? Must the laws
stand with the narratives, or the narratives fall with the laws? I could not
hesitate for a moment in accepting the latter alternativeHardly had I begun
seriously to ask myself on what grounds [the narrative sections] had been placed
there by others and left there by Graf than I saw more clearly day by day that
they had no real claim whatever to be regarded as pre-Yahwistic.
35

Graf evidently saw the error of his ways, for in 1869 he published his second essay on the
subject, Die s.g. Grundschrift des Pentateuchs,
36
in which he undid the mistake of his
first essay and reassigned the priestly narratives to the same post-exilic era as the priestly
legislation. Thus, having created a new source three years earlier, Graf removed it from

35
Hexateuch, xxi-xxiii. An argument for the unity of the priestly material had already been made by
Nldeke in 1869 (Untersuchung zur Kritik des Alten Testaments [Kiel: Schwers, 1869]), but Nldeke
continued to place P first chronologically, while admitting that this dating was uncertain. The unity of the
priestly material, however, in his view, was not. Cf. Rogerson, Old Testament Criticism, 258f.

36
AWEAT 1,4 (1869): 466-77.
26
the theory, but left us with yet another new sequence of Pentateuchal composition: EJDP
(or JEDP the order of the earliest elements was unimportant and undecided). Though
this change appears to affect only the priestly material on either end of the spectrum, in
fact the repercussions for the J and E sources were tremendous, if unrecognized as such at
the time.
By moving the narrative material to agree with the legislative, Graf essentially
proclaimed the legal material to be the linchpin for the dating of the sources, leaving the
narrative material to the side. Though this contradicted Grafs earlier assumption, that
the historical documents were all early, and the legal documents all late, the basic
conclusions still held, particularly when it was recognized that the priestly narratives
were of a very different character from those in J and E. In this regard Graf largely
anticipated Wellhausen:
Auch kann in der That, wie das jahwistische Werk mit seinen herrlichen
Erzhlungen der Blthezeit der Literatur und des Prophetenthums angehrt, die
Beschreibung der Stiftshtte mit ihren wrtlichen zum Theil doppelten und
dreifachen Widerholungen, die zwlfmal gleichlautende Aufzhlung Num. c. 7
und dergl. durch pendantische Ausfhrlichkeit und Kleinlichkeit sich
auszeichende oder prosaisch trockene Darstellungen [here quoting Nldeke] nur
einer Zeit des Verfalls der Literatur angehren.
37

With the removal of the priestly narratives to the end of the sequence, the J and E
documents were left alone at the beginning.
38
Since it had been recognized since Hupfeld
that the narratives of J and E are similar, they were stuck together as the narratives that
made up the earlier parts of the Pentateuch, as compared with the legal/priestly material
that made up the later parts.

37
Die s.g. Grundschrift, 474f.

38
Their dating at the beginning was secure, on the basis of the one useful legislative chunk in E, the Book
of the Covenant in Ex. 20-23, which was readily compared with and found earlier than Deuteronomy. J
contained Ex. 34, but the legal material in this chapter was (and remains) difficult to assign definitively,
essentially leaving J as entirely narrative.
27
Not only did this mean that J and E were basically unimportant as far as dating the
sources was concerned, but it meant that the relationship between the two was no longer
obvious. When the Grundschrift, or at least the narrative part of it, still remained at the
beginning of the sequence of documents, Hupfelds arguments that E belonged between
the Grundschrift and J remained valid. With the removal of the priestly material to the
end of the sequence, there was no longer any basis for dating E before J. At the same
time, with the exciting new revelations regarding the legal material, there was little
scholarly interest in determining the correct order of the pre-Deuteronomic narrative
documents. Grafs study, and the scholarly reaction to it, therefore, laid the groundwork
for the eventual combination of J and E into one narrative document, known by the
siglum JE or the name Jehovist. In short, Graf went from PEJDP
2
to JEDP;
from four basic documents back to three, as was the case before Hupfeld.
39
The
difference now was simply that E had been removed from P and given to J. This was the
beginning of the idea of the combined JE document.

Abraham Kuenen
If Graf was the first to fully propose the late dating for parts of the priestly
material, Abraham Kuenen (1828-1891) was the scholar who most forcefully argued the
idea before Wellhausen.
40
Though his views did not differ considerably from Grafs
(indeed, among the trio of Graf, Kuenen, and Wellhausen, there is little disagreement on

39
Wellhausen makes this idea explicit; see below.

40
Cf. Robertson Smiths comment in the preface to Wellhausens Prolegomena: [I]n Holland the writings
of Professor Kuenen, who has been aptly termed Grafs goel, had shown in an admirable and conclusive
manner that the objections usually taken to Grafs arguments did not touch the substance of the thesis for
which he contended (v). For an excellent and full treatment of Kuenens ideas, cf. Houtman, Pentateuch,
101ff.
28
the major points), his manner of expressing them was considerably clearer and more
direct. Some of the underlying assumptions and conclusions that Graf left implicit were
made explicit in Kuenens work, particularly in his later, most comprehensive work on
the subject of the composition of the Hexateuch.
41

Kuenen clearly recognized that Grafs theory gave priority to the legal material
over the narrative, and did not shrink from it, but embraced this approach: We have seen
that the division of the whole mass of laws into these three groups [Book of the
Covenant, Deuteronomy, priestly] must ultimately influence our view of the narratives of
the Hexateuch.
42
The division of the Pentateuch into sources, and the relative dating
thereof, was now officially based primarily on the legal material, to which the narratives
were then assigned. This is, of course, in stark contrast to the approach taken since
Astruc and indeed all the way until Hupfeld, in which it was the contradictions and
doublets in the narratives that determined the division of the sources.
Kuenen also took up with more force than Graf the issue of the relationship
between the J and E sources. He followed Hupfeld in declaring that neither J nor E was
responsible for the combination of the two sources, and largely for the same reasons as
Hupfeld.
43
But he did allow, contra Hupfeld, that the sources knew each other: But no
one denies that J may have known and imitated E, or vice versa.
44
In large part it seems

41
An Historico-Critical Inquiry into the Origin and Composition of the Hexateuch.

42
Hexateuch, 55.

43
What we do deny is that either of these authors marred his own work by combining it with that of the
other[The] harmonist, though he too uses the name Yahw, must certainly be distinguished from J
(Hexateuch, 164).

44
Hexateuch, 164.
29
that Kuenens views on this matter are determined by his acknowledged difficulty in
effectively identifying and disentangling the two sources:
Nothing is clearer than that the prophetic elements do not form a literary
whole. The usual indications of the union of different accounts repetition,
discrepancies, differences of language force themselves repeatedly and
unmistakably upon us. But it is no less obvious that some of the narratives and
pericopes have a common origin: they presuppose each other, and agree in
language and style. The ultimate goal of the critic, therefore, must be the
complete indication of the connected works and the detached narratives and
laws, if there are any which lie at the basis of the prophetic portions of the
Hexateuch, and the explanation of the method in which they have been
interwoven on the one hand, or welded together and recast on the other. But this
remains at present an unattained ideal. As the analysis has been carried
gradually further it has become increasingly evident that the critical question is
far more difficult and involved than was at first supposed, and the solutions
which seem to have been secured have been in whole or in part brought into
question again.
45

In essence, Kuenen declared the inability of source-critical scholarship to agree on the
separation of J and E.
46
To a degree, this difficulty remains today; yet neither then nor
now is the simple inability to separate the sources evidence that they were combined at an
earlier date than or in a separate process from the combination of the rest of the
Pentateuch.
It was probably the combination of these two factors, namely, the emphasis on the
laws and the confusion regarding the relationship between J and E, which led Kuenen to
the following statement:
The mutual relation of J and E is one of the most vexed questions of the
criticism of the Hexateuch, and the use of the symbols themselves must of
course be affected by its solution; but, meanwhile, there can be no objection to
our indicating all that is left in the Hexateuch after the withdrawal of R, P, and
D, by the combination JE.
47

45
Hexateuch, 138f. See his confused statements on the nature of J relative to E: The prophetic passages
still left in Gen. xx.-l., when E has been removed, agree in the use of Yahw, but are not otherwise
homogeneous. They are in part parallel with E, independent of it, and generally more or less divergent
from it, and in part dependent on E, and apparently intended to supplement or expand it (147).

46
Note that he contributes to this in part by lumping them together as the prophetic elements, as opposed
to the Deuteronomic and priestly elements.

47
Hexateuch, 64.
30

This is in line with Grafs use of the term Jehovist to denote the pre-Deuteronomic
narrative material, and certainly corresponds with Wellhausens use of the same term.
But Kuenens statement here exemplifies the common scholarly approach to the J and E
sources: since they are difficult to separate and almost entirely narrative, they can be
lumped together with little or no distinction. That the narratives had lost virtually all
usefulness for Kuenen can be seen from his statement regarding the relationship of the
groups of laws to the groups of narratives: An unmistakable affinity exists between the
Yahw-sections [J] and the second group of Elohim-passages [E] on the one hand, and
the Book of the Covenant on the other.
48
In other words, the narratives of J and E, two
documents acknowledged as originally individual and separate, are combined in their
relationship to the set of laws in Ex. 20-23. Literarily and historically this is impossible,
but as Kuenen was (like Graf) simply uninterested in the narratives, he felt no need to
treat them separately.
The crucial step taken by Kuenen was not only to treat J and E as a unit (the
prophetic elements), but therefore to understand them as a literary and historical unit.
The reasons for this are unclear; Kuenen himself said by way of explanation only that if
we acknowledge, then, that the prophetic elements are independent of the priestly ones,
and call in a redactor to unite the two, we still have to inquire into the mutual relations of
the prophetic elements themselves.
49
Even here, the idea of the redactor is something of
an aside. And, like Hupfeld, Kuenen was unable to pinpoint the nature of this redactors
work: We may safely say that it was highly intricate in its nature. The redaction was

48
Hexateuch, 62.

49
Hexateuch, 160f.
31
sometimes scrupulously conservative in regard to the documents, sometimes
harmonising, sometimes independent and free.
50
Again, however, this process was not
of real importance for Kuenen; he devoted virtually no space to discussing the
relationship between or combination of J and E, but simply mentioned the problem in
passing, without investigating it on either literary or historical grounds.
Though Kuenen did not differ greatly from Graf, his statements were much more
direct: J and E knew each other,
51
and are difficult to extract from one another, and since
one of them (it hardly matters which) contains what we believe is the earliest legal
material, therefore we can lump them together and call it a day. It is clear from Kuenen,
more so than from Graf, that the idea of a combined JE document is not based entirely on
literary criteria, but is the result of both a frustration with the inability to effectively
identify and separate the individual sources and a fundamental shift of focus from the
narratives to the laws as the basis for understanding the sources of the Pentateuch: What
we want is simply a common title for all that does not belong to P or D.
52
The result of
this is a siglum, JE, which does not represent an actual literary or historical item, and
which is unsupported by any real theory of its existence. Yet from this point forward,
and especially in Wellhausen, it took on a life of its own, and became not a casual way of
discussing the pre-Deuteronomic narrative sources, but a real entity in the history of
Israelite literature.

50
Hexateuch, 161.

51
Kuenen was able to claim this mutual knowledge on the basis of his idea that the original author of E, in
the northern kingdom in ca. 750 BCE, knew the original document J, which was also composed in the
northern kingdom, though earlier; that both documents were known and well received in Judah; and that
both were expanded into distinctively Judean editions; this process is described by Kuenen, remarkably,
as so natural in itself (Hexateuch, 248).

52
Hexateuch, 138.
32

Julius Wellhausen
Of the trio of scholars who laid the foundation for modern source criticism, Graf
was the initiator and first proponent; Kuenen the defender and detailed explicator; and
Julius Wellhausen (1844-1918) the one who took the ideas and applied them to a fully
articulated history of Israelite religion, a feat for which he is justly famous.
53
But he was
also the only one of the three to attempt a full source-critical analysis of the Hexateuch.
54

Though this work is frequently overlooked in favor of the Prolegomena, it is here that we
can see how Wellhausen treated the J and E documents and their relationship to one
another (as opposed to the Prolegomena, which, as we will see, barely touches upon
these sources at all).
In the Composition, Wellhausen left little time to wonder how he would treat the
issue of the combination of J and E; it is on the first page, in explaining his various sigla,
that he wrote,
Ich habe fr die s.g. Grundschrift das Zeichen Q gewhlt, als Abkrzung fr
Vierbundesbuch (quatuor), welchen Namen ich als den passendsten fr sie
vorschlage; den anderweitigen vom letzten Redactor (R) damit vereinigten Stoff
insgesamt (= das jehovistische Geschichtsbuch) habe ich JE bezeichnet und
darin den Jahvisten und Elohisten als J und E unterschieden.
55

We already know from this that Wellhausen will basically follow in the footsteps of Graf
and Kuenen, treating the J and E sources as one combined document, even before proving
that such a combination took place. This is remarkable in particular because here he was
working not within an historical framework, as in the Prolegomena, but was doing purely

53
In the Prolegomena.

54
In Die Composition.

55
Composition, 1f.
33
literary analysis. Thus it might have been expected that Wellhausen would have seen as
part of his task in the Composition the demonstration that J and E were combined prior to
their use by the later sources.
This task was left until the study of the patriarchal narratives; for the entirety of
the primeval history, Wellhausen used the term JE to refer to the non-priestly material.
In principle, he did this because he believed (correctly) that there are but two sources
present in the primeval history, P (his Q) and non-P: Darum ist es auch in der Natur der
Sache begrndet, dass man zuerst nur zwei Fden der Erzhlung in Gen. 1-11 erkannt
hat, Q und JE.
56
Yet to call the non-P material in the primeval history JE, rather than
either J or E, is already to prejudice the results of the investigation. This is particularly so
when Wellhausen himself recognized that E is not found before the Abraham cycle in
Genesis;
57
if this is so, why not call the non-P material in the primeval history J?
Furthermore, it should be noted that Wellhausen delayed the above statement until
the end of his analysis of Gen. 1-11, rather than stating it at the beginning. And when he
did make it, it was as part of an argument that seems to have little to do with the specific
text of Gen. 1-11:
Aber festhalten muss man, dass die Schrift JE bereits den literatischen Process,
aus dem sie hervorging, hinter sich hatte und abgeschlossen vorlag, als sie durch
den letzten Redactor (R) mit Q verbunden wurde. Im Vergleich zu Q ist JE als
ein Ganzes, als eine Einheit zu behandeln, Q ward nicht mit einer der frheren
Ausgaben oder gar den ursprnglichen Quellen von JE zusammengearbeitet,
sondern mit der Ausgabe letzter Hand. Alle Teile von JE, so verschiedener
Herkunft sie sind, haften doch viel fester unter sich zusammen, als mit Q, sind
durch Vorstellungen Ausdrcke und Stil unter sich verwandt und von Q
geschieden. Darum ist es auch in der Natur der Sache begrndet, dass man
zuerst nur zwei Fden der Erzhlung in Gen. 1-11 erkannt hat, Q und JE, und
erst allmhlich auch in JE selbst ein complicirtes Gespinnst zu erkennen beginnt.

56
Composition, 14.

57
Composition, 29.
34
Man hat alle Ursache, diese Zwieteilung festzuhalten, auch nachdem sich
ergeben hat, dass JE nicht in dem Sinne wie Q ein einheitliches Werk ist.
58

In short, he treated JE as such in the primeval history not because he saw there a
combined literary strand, but because he had already decided that J and E were combined
before their combination with P. Therefore, although only J is present at this point, the
document interwoven with P in the primeval history, in Wellhausens mind, is JE.
Once he began the analysis of Gen. 12-26, Wellhausen made it his stated goal to
demonstrate that J and E were combined by the figure he calls the Jehovist.
59
His
method of doing this was, however, quite unsatisfactory. Wellhausen analyzed sections
of the patriarchal narratives which are composed almost entirely of J and E, and showed
in each how the Jehovist has combined the two documents, and in particular where the
Jehovist has added material to make sense of the combination.
60
While his
identification of redactional passages could be entirely correct (which it almost certainly
is not), this has no bearing on the question of an independent combination of J and E.
Without including material from P in the discussion, and without demonstrating that the
process of combination differs when P is involved, Wellhausen did nothing more than
point out where J and E are combined. He himself seemed to recognize this:
Dass JE gegenber Q eine Einheit bildet, und dass der Jehovist von dem letzten
Redaktor der Genesis, der die Compilation des Jehovisten mit dem
Vierbundesbuche vereinigte, zu unterscheiden ist, habe ich zwar nicht direct,
aber indirect, wie mich dnkt, hinlnglich gezeigt.
61

58
Composition, 14.

59
Composition, 16.

60
Though most scholars might not agree with his assignment of redactional passages today. For example,
Wellhausen sees the redactor of JE at work in the following: 12:10-20; 18:17-19, et al. (Composition, 15-
29).

61
Composition, 29.
35
It is in the subsequent section, the analysis of Gen. 27-36, that Wellhausen
admitted the true difficulty of his task. After attempting to distinguish the sources in
chapter 25, Wellhausen admitted,
Das Endergebnis ist, dass JE zwar auch in diesem Abschnitt aus J und E bestehn
muss, dass aber eine durchgefhrte Scheidung unmglich ist. Positiv ausdrckt
besagt dies, dass J und E fast unauflslich eng mit einander verbunden sind, zu
einem Werke von wirklich beinah einheitlichem Charakter. Nur wo die
verschiedenen Gottesnamen ein auffallendes Kriterium an die Hand geben,
gelingt es die doppelte Strmung klarer zu erkennen. Darnach ist es nun aber
vollkomen unwidersprechlich und insofern sind unsere Kapitel besonders
lehrreich , dass J und E in ganz anderer Weise mit einander verbunden sind als
mit Q, folglich auch von anderer Hand und in frherer Zeit. Erst ward durch
den Jehovisten JE componirt, darnach entstand durch die Zusammenfgung von
JE und Q von Seiten eines spteren Redaktors die Genesis in ihrer
gegenwrtigen Gestalt.
62

In other words, without the criterion of the divine names, J and E are nearly inseparable.
Because they are so closely related in terms of style, and are so difficult to separate, the
process by which they were combined must have been different from that by which P was
added, since P is so readily separable from the rest of the Pentateuch. This is the basic
argument that has been used to justify the purported early combination of J and E ever
since: simply that they are much harder to separate than the other sources (see below).
Yet Wellhausen, and everyone after him, admitted that the two individual documents J
and E were stylistically and thematically similar, and both largely narrative in nature. If
two similar documents are combined, should they not be more difficult to disentangle
than two entirely different documents?
It is along these lines that Wellhausen continued to argue through his analysis of
Genesis. J and E are more closely connected with one another than with P, so they must
have been combined independently of their combination with P.
63
The reasoning here is

62
Composition, 35.

63
Cf. Composition, 60f., 72.
36
clearly inadequate, yet has been remarkably pervasive in scholarship ever since, as we
will see. Similarly, subsequent scholarship has supported the early combination of J and
E by reference (direct or indirect) to the proof adduced by Wellhausen that the non-legal
material in D was based only on the narratives found in JE, and not those in P. Graf had
already begun this process by demonstrating that the Deuteronomic narratives were based
on his Jehovist, but it must be remembered that for Graf this term included the priestly
narratives. Once those had been relocated to join the laws at the end of the process,
Wellhausen was able to show clearly that the narratives in D in fact did not know those in
P at all. Yet Wellhausen only came to this discussion late in Die Composition;
64
by that
point, he had already proved to his own satisfaction that J and E were combined early.
Thus, in showing the dependence of D on early narratives, he referred only to the
combined JE document, rather than the independent sources J and E. In short,
Wellhausen never proved that D only knew the combined sources J and E; he assumed it,
based on his previous findings. This conclusion has been accepted down through the
generations, with almost no effort made to determine if it is true (for some exceptions,
see chapter 3 below).
We are left to ask, therefore, how, in Wellhausens view, this combination of J
and E was achieved. In his view, the fact that the individual voices of J and E are audible
even after their combination is testimony, as Hupfeld already recognized, to the efforts of
the Jehovist to preserve as much of the original documents as possible when combining
them. Obviously, according to Wellhausen, additions were at times necessary in order to

64
193ff.
37
smooth the differences between the two (e.g., Gen. 16:8-10
65
). At times the Jehovist
had to change the language of one of the documents to match that of the other (e.g., the
place names in Gen. 22
66
). And most obviously, in creating a combined whole, the
Jehovist had to delete pieces of either J or E, leaving both documents with significant
gaps (e.g., Gen. 28, in which the escape of Jacob is reported according to J, but,
according to Wellhausen, must have existed also in E
67
). Despite all this, not only was
Wellhausen able to identify (for the most part) a Jahwistic theology and an Elohistic
theology, but even the independent theology of the Jehovist.
68
Perhaps unsaid in all
this was the unstated (and a priori?) assumption on Wellhausens part that since J and E
are so difficult to separate, the redactor who combined them must have been particularly
active and destructive of the original sources.
As noted above, Wellhausen claimed repeatedly that the Jehovist is identifiably
distinct from R, the figure who combined JE with P. Yet Wellhausens description
of the work of R seems strangely familiar:
Die Ttigkeit des Redactors besteht vornehmlich in der geschickten
Ineinanderscheibung der Quellen, wobei er ihren Inhalt mglichst unverkrzt,
den Wortlaut und die Ordnung der Erzhlung mglichst unverndert lsst. Aber
nicht immer kann er so ohne eigene Eingriffe verfahren. Zuweilen macht er
Zustze, etwa um einen Widerspruch zu beseitigen oder einen Spalt zu
verdecken, z.B. Gen. 7,6-9. Ein ander Mal nimmt er eine Verstellung in der
einen Quelle vor, um sie dem Zusammenhange der anderen anzupassen, z.B.
7,16c: und Jahve schloss hinter ihm zu, was in JE ursprnglich etwa hinter 7,7
stand, wegen der Zusammenarbeitung mit Q aber unmglich vor v.13ss.
gebracht werden konnte. Endlich und das ist die Hauptsache hat R auch
allerlei Verkrzungen und Auslassungen vorgenommen.
69

65
Composition, 20.

66
Composition, 18f.

67
Composition, 32.

68
For an easy example, see Wellhausens treatment of Gen. 28:14, in which the Jehovist makes a
conscious change to the theological doctrine of the Jahwist (Composition, 31).

38

Wellhausens description of R, given in this single quote, is virtually identical to the
description of the Jehovist scattered throughout his textual analysis and collected in the
preceding paragraph. One important difference was left unsaid here, however: for
Wellhausen, the Jehovist also served as a full author; to him was ascribed the non-
priestly Sinai pericope.
70
As this claim must be rejected entirely (as we will argue below
in chapter 4), the sole methodological distinction between the Jehovist and R is
removed. It is clear, therefore, that the difference between the Jehovist and R is not
one of methodology, but of results: J and E are hard to separate, P is not. Yet this is
obviously not the responsibility of whoever combined them, but is rather due to the very
nature of the documents themselves.

To summarize: in Die Composition, Wellhausen stated repeatedly that J and E
were combined independently of P, but was in the end unable to prove this effectively.
Yet the underlying basis for his argument, that J and E are more difficult to separate out
than P, has stood the test of time, though it is hardly adequate. In part, the longevity of
Wellhausens views on this subject are due to their subsequent application in his
Prolegomena, which in fame and influence has remained prominent in biblical
scholarship until today. The support for and criticism of this book are extensive and well
known, and do not bear repeating here.
71
It is our interest simply to examine how

69
Composition, 2f.

70
Composition, 94f.

71
E.g., Nicholson, Pentateuch; D.A. Knight, ed., Julius Wellhausen and His Prolegomena to the History of
Israel (Semeia 25, 1983); M. Weinfeld, The Place of the Law.
39
Wellhausens claims in Die Composition regarding the purported JE document are used
in the Prolegomena, and what effect that may have had on subsequent scholarship.
For the most part, the Prolegomena is interested in revisiting the same territory
already mapped out by Graf, although in far greater detail and in a considerably more
convincing manner. Thus, like Graf, Wellhausen spent virtually no space discussing the
pre-Deuteronomic narratives; the focus was entirely on proving the relative lateness of
the laws. For this reason, also like Graf, Wellhausen was content to treat the pre-
Deuteronomic narratives (J and E) as one block (JE, or the Jehovist).
It is only in the very last pages of the Prolegomena that Wellhausen addressed
these sources individually, and there only in the most superficial way. Having shown the
development of Israelite religion in rough strokes, Wellhausen declared it possible to
trace the inner development of the tradition in the intermediate stages between the two
extremities.
72
Relying entirely on his own sensibilities, Wellhausen declared,
The second Jehovistic source, E, breathes the air of the prophets much more
markedly, and shows a more advanced and thorough-going religiosityThe
Deity appears less primitive than in J, and does not approach men in bodily
form, but calls to them from heaven, or appears to them in dream. The religious
element has become more refined, but at the same time more energetic, and has
laid hold of elements heterogeneous to itself.
73

This passage, as much as any in Wellhausens work, is steeped in the Enlightenment
mindset for which he has been roundly criticized (if at times unfairly
74
); yet its influence
on all subsequent scholarship has been tremendous. There is no proof in this passage, nor
even the slightest hint of it; it is no more than a statement of two differing approaches to
the deity in two different documents.

72
Prolegomena, 360.

73
Prolegomena, 361.

74
Cf. Houtman, Pentateuch, 113f., for a more balanced opinion.
40
Nonetheless, this argument was among the first, and certainly the most influential,
to argue for the priority of J over E. Though in the wake of Graf and Kuenen the issue of
relative dating had been somewhat neglected, the majority opinion still held with Hupfeld
that E predated J.
75
Wellhausen reversed this on the grounds related above, and has been
followed by virtually every scholar since. Yet, crucially, Wellhausen did not come to this
conclusion on the basis of the source-critical separation of the documents, for as we saw
above, he viewed the two documents as originally independent, complete, parallel
versions of the same history; nor did he argue that that E was written to supplement and
correct J, for as we have seen, he followed Hupfeld in denying that either author knew the
work of the other. Their relative dating was only possible through comparison of their
independent theologies. If we can reject Wellhausens gross evolutionary framework as
flawed, and the majority, if not the entirety, of scholarship has, then we should also reject
his relative dating of J and E on these grounds.
76
As a corollary, if one accepts that J and
E were originally independent documents (i.e., neither was dependent on the other), then
one must also admit that it is impossible to prove their relative dating one way or the
other.
It is of no little import that in the Prolegomena, this most influential work of
biblical criticism, which provided the main impetus for the spread of the Documentary
Hypothesis throughout the scholarly world, the combination of J and E into a JE
document is assumed rather than proved. Most scholarship following Wellhausen aimed
at arguing further the relative dating of D and P, either for or against Wellhausens views;

75
Nicholson, Pentateuch, 13.

76
In this study I will not put forth a theory on the relative dating of J and E for the reasons given above.
My concern here is to reject the approach taken by Wellhausen and so many others after him, for whom the
relative dating of J and E is part and parcel of the overarching theory of their authorship and combination.
41
the dating of and purported combination of J and E was taken for granted, as it was
already by Graf. Even for scholars who returned to the literary analysis of the
Pentateuch, the assignment of sources tended to be based not just on the literary qualities
of the text, but equally on the religious history as developed by Wellhausen; the
separation of J and E into individual documents, though attempted, was not considered a
priority when compared to the distinctions between JE, P, and D.
The far-reaching effect of this approach is evident from even a cursory glance at
post-Wellhausen Pentateuchal scholarship. In this regard S. R. Driver, the most
influential English-speaking biblical scholar, is also perhaps the most guilty. He
acknowledged the difficulty in separating J and E, calling the criteria for doing so
indecisive,
77
and fell back on Wellhausens theories: J and E, as they are very similar
in character and tone, may, for many practical purposes, be grouped together as a single
stratum.
78
Similarly, G. von Rad stated, The work of the Elohist probably arose one or
two centuries [!] later [than that of the Yahwist]. Soon, it was closely intertwined with
the work of the Yahwist.
79
He gave no supporting evidence for this claim, but perhaps
revealed his reasoning on the following pages: The interweaving [of E] with the
Yahwistic narrative is so thorough that any separation can be made only with great
damage to the text,
80
but [t]he interweaving by the redactor of this document [P] with
the previously united Yahwist and Elohist documents (the Jehovist) could not, of

77
Literature of the Old Testament, 14. Cf. also the revealing statement of B.W. Bacon: Although
recognized by critics as duplicate, the two strands of JE are so closely similar in style, content, purpose and
general characteristics, and withal are so closely intertwined, that it is better to treat JE first as a unit (The
Genesis of Genesis [Hartford: The Student Publishing Company, 1893], 59f.).

78
The Book of Exodus (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1918), xii.

79
Genesis (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1972), 26.

80
Genesis, 27.
42
course, be done organically.
81
In other words, this is just as Wellhausen argued: since P
is more easily separated from J and E than those sources are from each other, there must
have been two separate redactional episodes. Note, however, that von Rad did not say
this explicitly, as Wellhausen had; by this point, Wellhausens theories were so well
accepted that there was practically no need to try actually to prove them. This is clearest,
perhaps, in Noths commentary on Exodus, where he stated, At some now
unascertainable time, but before the Priestly writer was involved in the literary
development of the Pentateuch, the work of E was incorporated into the parallel work
J.
82
Noth gave no evidence for this claim; he did not even feel the need to mention the
difficulty in separating J and E.
Y. Kaufmann is mostly known for his vigorous opposition to Wellhausens late
dating of P, yet he accepted the concept of JE without hesitation: Several of the
conclusions of [Wellhausens] theory may be considered assured. To this category
belongs the analysis of the three primary sources JE, P, and D with their laws and
narrative framework.
83
Kaufmann accepted entirely the basic premise of the Graf-
Wellhausen school: instead of speaking about four sources, he spoke about three.
Throughout his book, he used only JE to refer to the non-priestly, non-Deuteronomic
material, to the degree that when discussing the Pentateuchal laws, he listed, along with
the priestly code and the laws of Deuteronomy, the JE code of Exodus.
84
Following
Kaufmann, and in a move truly worthy of the Graf-Wellhausen school, though without

81
Genesis, 28.

82
Exodus (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 15.

83
Religion of Israel, 156.

84
Religion of Israel, 166.
43
explicit reference to it, B. A. Levine writes the following in the introduction to his
commentary on Numbers: At points, one can identify either J or E as the ultimate
documentary source of a passage in Numbers, but we should normally be content to
engage the composite source, JE, and to evaluate the materials it utilizedthe primary
challenge is to explain how priestly writers recast the JE traditions and expanded upon
them.
85
Here the two main sides of Wellhausens theory are succinctly presented: (1) J
and E, as separate works, are not useful for the reconstruction of Israelite religion, and (2)
it is the later development of the priestly work and its relationship to D and the
prophetic or epic document JE that is of most interest.
As a final piece of evidence for the pervasiveness of Wellhausens approach to J
and E, we turn to two works which we might expect to be critical of Wellhausen on this
and other points. The first is the volume of the journal Semeia devoted to Wellhausens
Prolegomena on the hundredth anniversary of its publication.
86
Though this volume
contains a number of papers on Wellhausens historical and literary methodology, no
mention is made of his assumptions regarding the combination of J and E. In fact,
throughout the volume, the JE document is referred to without comment. More
remarkable, and perhaps the fullest proof of the influence of Wellhausen on the concept
of JE, is the recent volume by M. Weinfeld devoted to refuting Wellhausens
Prolegomena.
87
This volume comprises a series of strongly worded attacks on
Wellhausens prejudices and assumptions in the Prolegomena, and constitutes a point-by-
point rebuttal to Wellhausens arguments regarding the late dating of P. And yet, even

85
Numbers 1-20 (New York: Doubleday, 1993), 49.

86
Semeia 25.

87
Place of the Law.
44
here, we find the following: We speak of JE as a single document even though it
comprises two separate sources, J and E, because it is extremely difficult to distinguish
between these two sources throughout the Tetrateuch.
88

In all the works mentioned above, the basic premise of Wellhausens approach to
J and E is preserved, wittingly or no: that J and E can (and should) be dealt with as a
combined JE document if for no other reason than that it is easier than trying to separate
them. Once Wellhausen made it acceptable to deal with them in combination, both by
argument (meager though it was) and by example, they were simply treated as such.
From Graf to Kuenen to Wellhausen, this basic accident of scholarship perpetuated itself:
it was but a small step from only speaking of them in combination to assuming and
defending their actual combination. The rational proof of the historical combination of
these documents, however, was put forward neither by Wellhausen (who at least made
the attempt) nor by those who followed him (who have not).
In summary, we can trace the development of this assumption from de Wette
through Wellhausen:
de Wette: E [including P] is the foundational document, providing
a framework into which J and, later, D are incorporated.
Hupfeld: P is the foundational document, with which the
independent documents E and J are combined
simultaneously.
Early Graf: JEP is the foundational document, with which D is
combined, and then the priestly legislation.

88
Place of the Law, 77 n. 1
45
Kuenen/Late Graf: J/E are the foundational document, with which
D is combined, then P.
Wellhausen: JE is the foundational document, with which D is
combined, then P.
It is apparent that the early dating of J and E is due mostly to their being left behind as
scholarly focus shifted to the late dating of the laws (for reasons that, at least for
Wellhausen, are transparently ideological as much as literary or historical); the purported
combination of the sources is made possible by the removal of P as the Grundschrift by
Graf, and the subsequent lack of interest in the remaining early narrative portions.
Though Wellhausen resurrected the theological importance of the J and E documents, he
did so in the context of his evolutionary scheme for the development of Israelite religion,
a scheme which must be rejected, or at the very least considered unproven and
unprovable. And yet, as we have seen above, the bulk of subsequent scholarship
accepted Wellhausens premises in their entirety.

August Dillmann
Though the Graf-Kuenen-Wellhausen scheme became dominant almost
immediately after it was thoroughly formulated, there were those scholars who rejected
some of its fundamental principles. The identification of the three main non-
Deuteronomistic sources, J, E, and P, was not questioned, but the late dating of P and the
question of the process of their redaction were still debated. Two scholars roughly
contemporary with Wellhausen put forward an alternative proposal which, though largely
46
forgotten in subsequent generations of scholarship, retains a considerable amount of
force, and is well worth revisiting.
The first of these was A. Dillmann (1823-1894), who, in the preliminary remarks
to his commentary on Genesis, took up the challenge of the Graf-Kuenen-Wellhausen
approach to the dating and redaction of the Pentateuchal sources.
89
Other scholars, both
then and since, have objected to the late dating of P; the question of the redaction of J and
E (and P), however, as we have seen, was largely ignored in later scholarship. That
Dillmann explicitly took up this theme is most likely due to the fact that he was writing
not in the wake of the Prolegomena, but of Die Composition, where the issue of the early
combining of J and E was dealt with explicitly.
90

The first step for Dillmann was to demonstrate that all three documents were
originally independent of one another.
91
This did not mean, for him, that they did not
know each other; in fact, Dillmann rather forcefully declared that J must have not only

89
Genesis Critically and Exegetically Expounded, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1897). In this work,
Dillmann used the sigla A, B, and C to represent P, E, and J, respectively. I have taken the liberty of
silently changing these sigla to their standard forms when quoting from Dillmann. See the first paragraph
of Wellhausens Die Composition: Ich habe mich nicht an Dillmann angeschlossen, denn wenn er die s.g.
Grundschrift (lterer Elohist, Buch der Ursprnge) mit A, den Elohisten (s.g. jngerer E.) mit B, den
Jahvisten mit C bezeichnet, so ist darin ein stillschweigendes Praejudiz ber die Altersfolge der Quellen
eingeschlossen, welches diese Bezeichnung von vornherein verhindert, allgemein gebraucht zu werden. So
wie Dillmann selbst sich nicht bei den Zeichen seines Vorgngers Schultz beruhigt, sondern dessen B zu C,
C zu B macht, so wird ein anderer Dillmanns C zu A und A zu C machen wollen; dies Princip ist also
unpraktisch und richtet Verwirrung an (1). Though Wellhausen is undoubtedly correct that the use of
these sigla is confusing, I think he is making too much of the presumed historical order of the documents.
Though he does not say so explicitly, I think Dillmann uses A for P because it is the first source found in
Genesis; B for E because it, like A, uses the name Elohim; and C for J by process of elimination.
Furthermore, Dillmann actually dated the sources in the order B, A, C (R. Smend, Dillmann, Christian
Friedrich August, DBI I:300-1).

90
Though the first edition of the commentary was written in 1875, a year before the first edition of
Wellhausens Die Composition appeared, in later editions Dillmann included reference to Wellhausens
work.

91
Genesis, 14-16.
47
known E, but had Es text in front of him when writing his own narrative.
92
However,
Dillmann, like Hupfeld, was concerned to show that none of the sources was at once
author and redactor. Though this was meant originally to counter the claim, put forward
notably by Knobel and Schrader, that J was both author and redactor, it is possible that
even by the later editions of his commentary Dillmann already knew that this challenge
would be made rather at the notion that P was both author and redactor, as is still argued
today.
The methodology of the redactor became the next issue for Dillmann. Here, as
was the case with Hupfeld, confusion reigned: the indisputable existence of doublets in
one place, but gaps in another, contradictions in one place, but redactional harmonization
in another, resulted in a nearly incoherent explanation of the process of redaction:
Wherever it was at all practicable, or seemed requisite, the very words of the
sources have been reproduced in the compilationbut a simple placing of the
sections alongside of one another was not always possibleEither the most
contradictory statements in one or other must be omitted, or parts manifestly
separate must be stitched together by little interspersed additions or remarks, and
what was still in contradiction harmonizedAn expedient often employed for
the same purpose was the transposition of whole passages, or of shorter
statements, which then again made all sorts of short additions by the compiler
necessary. In other passages the statements of the documents used are
epitomised in a free manner, and here and there detached sentences are added by
way of bringing about a harmony. Explanatory glosses were also occasionally
inserted, some of them, perhaps, first from a later handThat finally,
notwithstanding all these methods, all kinds of incompatibilities and
contradictions, especially in chronological matters, have still been left standing
in the work thus originated, is not surprising.
93

With explanations such as this, it is no wonder that one of the main arguments used
against the Documentary Hypothesis by its critics was the methodology of the purported
redactor. And it is undoubtedly the residue of this approach to the redactors work that is
objected to so strenuously in the work of van Seters (see chapter 2 below).

92
Genesis, 12.

93
Genesis, 17-19.
48
Finally, Dillmann came to the most important question for the present study:
whether the three documents JEP have been wrought up by one or by several redactors
(R).
94
Dillmann astutely pointed out that the notion of several redactors is at bottom
only an inference from the opinion held regarding the age of P.
95
Though I consider it
less an inference than a scholarly by-product, the point still holds: only once P was
removed from the pre-exilic to the post-exilic period was it even considered a possibility
that more than one redactor had worked to combine these three documents. For those
scholars who hold to the pre-exilic date of P, the compilation of J, E, and P should remain
an open question (though, in fact, there is nothing inherent in the late dating of P to
require the early redaction of J and E either).
Dillmann made a series of brief but important arguments for the single redaction
of J, E, and P:
1) It is admitted that in the redaction not only was JE enlarged or enriched by
additions from P, but also that J was mutilated in favour of P, as, conversely, P in favour
of J.
96
In other words, all three documents are equally disturbed, or mutilated, by the
process of redaction.
2) This is very well explained if R looked upon the whole three documents as
merely private writings. On the other hand, the deprecation and mutilation of JE would
be in the highest degree strange, if it were already an integral part of a work become
almost sacred.
97
Though this follows directly upon the previous statement, an altogether

94
Genesis, 19.

95
Genesis, 19.

96
Genesis, 20.

49
new point is being made here regarding the canonical status of the documents. Dillmann
was one of the first, as far as I know, effectively to deny the canonicity of J, E, and P,
calling them merely private writings. (This point will be touched on in greater detail in
chapter 6.)
3) When, further, it is urged that J and E are combined in a way altogether
different from that in which they are united with P, and that consequently this was done
by another hand at an earlier time, this proof also cannot be regarded as sufficient. The
pieces of J and E are indeed much more frequently fused into one single piece; yet not
because another hand worked them together, but because J stood fundamentally in the
closest relationship with E.
98
Here Dillmann was not claiming that J and E are more
frequently combined because they are closest chronologically (indeed, he claims just the
opposite). Rather, it is due to the similarities of style and content between the two
documents (which Dillmann attributed to J having the text of E in front of him when
composing his own narrative, but which holds true even if one does not accept
Dillmanns reconstruction on this point).
99

4) But neither is it true that this has been always possible with J and E, nor are
there wanting between J and P, where the similarity of contents admits of it, mixed
passages fused together like a mosaic. It is just the thorough similarity in the method of

97
Genesis, 20.

98
Genesis, 20-21.

99
Dillmann makes a similar point earlier in his book: In language, too, as well as in his whole style of
narrative, J stands much closer to E than to P; and although between them also all sorts of finer distinctions
are to be found, yet it is often very difficult to make a complete separation between them, where their
narratives have been worked into each other by later editors, and material criteria are wanting (Genesis,
14). Note that here, unlike in Wellhausen and his followers, the difficulty in separating J and E is not used
as an excuse to claim their early combination, but is correctly attributed only to their similarities of style
and content.
50
combining J with E and J with P, which is equally seen in Ex., etc., that speaks strongly
in favor of the idea that the same hand effected both combinations.
100
In short, the
methodology of the Redactor is the same throughout the Pentateuch, so there is no
literary justification for admitting more than one such figure. (See chapter 5 below.)
Dillmanns conclusions, if not his ways of getting there, are as near to my own as
any scholars, but, perhaps because they were so briefly drawn, or perhaps because the
force of Wellhausens historical-religious reconstruction simply overshadowed all other
alternatives, they have been largely forgotten in subsequent scholarship. Nevertheless,
even in their brief form, they pose a significant challenge to Wellhausens approach, and
in many ways form the basis for the work done in the present study.

Eduard Riehm
Following upon the work of Dillmann was E. Riehm (1830-1888), who took over
Hupfelds chair at Halle.
101
Like Dillmann, Riehm believed that P had to be dated to the
pre-exilic period; reverting to the position of Hupfeld, he felt that P was in fact the
Grundschrift, the first of the sources to be written, some time in the early monarchy.
102

Also like Dillmann, Riehms thoughts on the composition of the Pentateuch formed only
a small part of a larger work, and so are not expounded as fully as one would like. He
devoted considerable space in his book to detailing the extent and content of each of the
sources,
103
but only a handful of pages to how they were put together.
104

100
Genesis, 21.

101
Rogerson, Old Testament Criticism, 270.

102
Einleitung in das Alte Testament (Halle: Strien, 1889-90), 318.

51
Like Dillmann and Hupfeld before him, Riehm struggled to identify the precise
nature of the redactors work. He began with the basic facts: Einerseits war das
Verfahren des Bearbeiters ein kompiltorisches. Ganze Stcke seiner Quellenschriften hat
er wrtlich aufgenommen. Auch Widersprche in denselben, die ihm nicht entgehen
konnten, hat er vielfach ganz unberht stehen lassen.
105
Having said this, he was faced
with the same problem as Hupfeld and Dillmann: what about those places where the
redactor has removed one, or part of one, of the sources so as to avoid this kind of
duplication? Here Riehm had a more nuanced solution than his predecessors:
Wo in der Quellen zwei oder drei wesentlich gleichlautende Berichte ber
denselben Vorgang vorlagen, ist nur einer mitgeteilt, und der oder die andern
sind entweder ganz weggelassen, oder es find nur einzelne Bemerkungen daraus
in den aufgenommenen Bericht eingefgtWenn aber die Berichte bedeutender
voneinander abwichen wie Gen. 20, Kap. 12 und 26, so sind sie als Berichte
ber verschiedene Ereignisse an verschiedenen Stellen eingerckt: das hatte
freilich manchmal unpassende Stellungen einzelner Stcke zur Folge.
106

The key phrase used by Riehm here is wesentlich gleichlautende Berichte. He made
the crucial distinction between those narratives that are substantially identical, i.e., tell
precisely the same story, and those that are merely very similar, such as, using his
example, the three wife-sister narratives of Genesis. These are nearly identical, but are
clearly not so: for example, in one Abraham is in Egypt, in the next in Gerar, and in the
third it is Isaac who is in Gerar. It would not be necessary for a redactor or compiler to
choose only one of these three to include; they are not mutually exclusive narratives.

103
Einleitung, 253-318.

104
Einleitung, 318-329.

105
Einleitung, 319.

106
Einleitung, 321.
52
Riehms recognition of this principle allowed him to more clearly define the role of the
redactor.
107

Riehm then turned to the specific refutation of Wellhausens theory of multiple
redactions, particularly focusing on the idea that J and E were redacted separately from P.
Riehms approach was to deal with Wellhausens arguments one by one. He therefore
began with the concept of Die innigere Verschmelzung von J und E als von Q mit
JE.
108
Riehm countered this claim much as Dillmann did. He admitted that J and E are
frequently more closely intertwined with each other than either is with P (though even
this is not absolute, but only relative), but he correctly noted:
Soweit jene Beobachtung gegrndet ist, kann sie somit lediglich darin ihren
Grund haben, dass die grosse Verwandtschaft des Jehovisten und jngeren
Elohisten die innigere Verschmelzung erleichterte, whrend der in Inhalt und
Form scharf ausgeprgte Charakter der Grundschrift solcher Verschmelzung
gegenber sich sprder verhielt.
109

Riehms next three points in refuting Wellhausen all addressed Wellhausens claims that
Deuteronomy does not know P, but knows only the combined J and E material. Riehms
counter-claim is that in fact D does know P; since in this study it will be argued that D in
fact only knows the independent J and E documents (see chapter 3), these arguments are
of little use to us.
The last argument explicitly from Wellhausen that Riehm dealt with was the
notion that there are insertions in the text that are identifiable as coming from the hand of
the redactor of J and E, as opposed to the redactor of the whole. Riehm simply dismissed
this out of hand:

107
Though his description of how the redactor dealt with these substantially identical narratives cannot be
accepted.

108
Einleitung, 326.

109
Einleitung, 320.
53
Endlich fucht Wellhausen in Gen. 12-26 einzelne Zustze seines jehovistischen
Bearbeiters nachzuweisen. Aber weder ist berzugend dargethan, dass es
Zustze sind, noch dass sie, falls es Zustze sind, nicht von dem Bearbeiter
herrhren knnen, der auch Q mit J und E verbunden hat. Statt fr Gen. 27-36,
strikte Beweise zu fhren, muss Wellhausen schliessliche zugestehen, dass
Zustze des jehovistischen Redaktors auffallenderweise hier nicht sicher zu
erweisen seien. Ganz unbedeutend sind die sprachlichen und sachlichen
Verschiedenheiten, die Wellhausen zwischen J und JE nachweisen will. Auch
wrden sie jedenfalls nur darthun, dass J nicht auch der Redaktor war, aber
nicht, dass ein lterer Redaktor von JE zu unterscheiden ist von einem spteren,
der Q mithineinarbeitete.
110

Riehm concluded his rebuttal of Wellhausen with the following:
Schliesslich ist auch nicht abzusehen, welche Grnde zu Zusammenarbeitung
zweier einander so hnlicher Geschichtswerke wie das des Jehovisten und des
jngeren Elohisten fr sich allein sollten bestimmend gewesen sein.
111

Though only tacked on at the end, and worded very cautiously, this is a very important
issue. Riehm was making here the transition from purely literary criteria to something
more historical: he was, in essence, asking under what circumstances the early
combination of J and E could purportedly have taken place. Though Wellhausen of
course dealt with the historical order of the ideas expressed in these texts, he evidently
did not find it necessary to address the actual literary process of, nor the historical
motivation for, their combination. Until Riehm, scholars seem largely to have been
content to merely date the sources and then say that they were combined, and in what
particular order, but Riehm leapt into the question of the reality of that combination:
when would it have been historically appropriate for these two very similar historical
works to have been combined, and only with each other? Attempts to answer this
question have been made in the generations since Riehm (see below, chapter 6), but
Riehm should be credited as being among the first to ask it.

110
Einleitung, 328.

111
Einleitung, 328.
54
Dillmann and Riehm represent a counter-current in the massive wave of
Wellhausenian and post-Wellhausenian scholarship. This is probably due largely to their
dealing with Die Composition rather than the Prolegomena; their questions, therefore,
come from a literary, rather than religious-historical, perspective. In this way, they stood
alone for quite some time in the post-Wellhausen era, as scholars worked their way
through Wellhausens dominant notions of the history of Israelite religion.

Conclusion
I hope to have shown in this chapter that the JE document originated as almost an
accident of scholarship, one which was only secondarily defended as if it had been an
authentic literary-critical conclusion. Furthermore, I believe that we can see already
developing in the scholarship examined above the three major issues that will be
represented in this study: 1) To what extent were J, E, or JE known and used by later
sources? This question really originates with Wellhausen, whose main argument for JE,
as we have seen, is that the non-legal material in Deuteronomy is based on the combined
J and E narratives in Genesis-Numbers. 2) How can we understand the role of the
redactor or redactors? This issue goes back all the way to Hupfeld, who, as we have
seen, was already having some difficulty defining the function of the redactor. This
problem persisted throughout the scholarship of the nineteenth century, as was shown
above, but as the number of redactors grew (from one in Hupfeld to at least two in
Wellhausen), the new question of how to distinguish the work of the redactor of JE from
the final redactor became more and more prominent. 3) Under what historical
circumstances can we posit the combination of J and E? Though Riehm may have been
55
the first to explicitly ask the question, it must be implicitly asked of all those who
preceded him, particularly Wellhausen, whose elaborate evolutionary history of ideas
includes, in fact, no history of actual writings, at least not for the early documents J and
E.
Before going on to deal with each of these issues, however, it is necessary to look
at how the Documentary Hypothesis was received and responded to in the scholarship of
the twentieth century, and particularly how post-Wellhausen scholarship addressed the
question of the combined JE document.

Chapter Two
Divergent Trends in the Twentieth Century

In this chapter we turn to the twentieth century, in which two major trends with regard to
the dominant source-critical theory can be observed. The first is the tendency to accept
Wellhausens reconstructions, but attempt to look further back into the history of the
texts composition. Scholars such as Gunkel, von Rad, Noth, Smend, and Eissfeldt are
representative of this trend. Our examination of these seminal figures in Pentateuchal
scholarship will show that although they achieved major breakthroughs in the
understanding of the origins of the Pentateuch, they all did so without posing a challenge
to the fundamental nature of the Documentary Hypothesis.
The second trend is seen in the rise of scholarship that denied a part or the whole
of the Documentary Hypothesis. Though there is a remarkable (and growing) number of
scholars who fit into this trend, only a select few can be discussed here; I have therefore
chosen those I feel are most important in terms of formulating new approaches to the
text: Volz and Rudolph, Rendtorff, Childs, and Van Seters. My object in analyzing the
works of these scholars is not to engage in full-scale debate over the merits of our
respective theories, although some disagreement will become quite evident. Rather, I
hope to show that for all their opposition to the classical source-critical method, the
issues they have to deal with in their own reconstructions are very similar to those we
Chapter Two Divergent Trends in the Twentieth Century
57
have seen in the previous chapter: to what extent did one author know the work of
another? what was the role of the redactor or redactors? where do we historically locate
the combination of the various pieces of the Pentateuch?

Hermann Gunkel
The decades following Wellhausen brought a surge of new approaches to the
history of Pentateuchal literature, all of which were, in one way or another, built on the
foundation that Wellhausen had laid at the end of the nineteenth century. In 1901
Hermann Gunkel (1862-1932) published his massive commentary on Genesis, in which
he brought his form-critical ideas to bear on the Pentateuch.
1
As revolutionary as
Gunkels work was for biblical scholarship, he did not dispute Wellhausens conclusions
regarding the separation of the sources and their mutual relationships; in fact, he
explicitly acknowledged them as definitive for the basic separation of sources in Genesis
(the final decisive turn in the history of Genesis criticism).
2
Gunkels stated aim was to
go back further than the sources as recovered by the Documentary Hypothesis; to show
that each of the sources, particularly J and E, was built on earlier traditions that can be
uncovered through the use of form criticism. He asserted, not unreasonably, that J and E
were not the works of individual authors, but of schools working over a significant
period. More tenuously, he attempted to distinguish the various layers of composition
within each source, assigning to these layers the sigla J
a
, J
b
, etc. In this way Gunkel was
able to explain how three variant accounts may be divided amongst only two sources

1
Genesis (Gttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1901; ET [based on the 3
rd
ed., 1910] published in 1997
by Mercer University Press, Macon, GA).

2
Genesis, lxx.
58
(such as the wife-sister episodes in Gen. 12, 20, and 26).
3
Yet he worked entirely within
the structure established by Wellhausen, even accepting Wellhausens identification of
and terminology for the supposed redactor of J and E.
4
For Gunkel, this redactor
attempted to include as much as possible of his two sources, and added very little (in this
Gunkel deviated from Wellhausen). But, in the grand tradition of post-Wellhausen
source criticism, Gunkel did not expend much effort at demonstrating the necessity of a
JE redactor in the reconstruction of the history of Pentateuchal composition. Since, in
Gunkels view, J and E were not real authors, only collectors, while P was in fact an
author
5
; and since P is so stylistically different from J and E, and shows (again following
Wellhausen) a lack of theological vibrancy,
6
Gunkel concluded that P was surely
separated by a great temporal breach from J and E.
7
For Gunkel, J and E represented a
significantly older stage in the history of Israelite literature, and it is this temporal gap
that seems to have lead him to lump them together, essentially in opposition to P.
Gunkel would seem to have suggested that P was familiar with J and E, and
consciously opposed them: Nothing more can be read here of the memorial stones, the
trees and groves, or of the wells at which the deity appeared according to the old legends.
P rejected all this material from the legend, apparently because he considered them
pagan.
8
Yet Gunkel was troubled by the observation that there are narratives in P that

3
Genesis, lvi.

4
Genesis, lxxix.

5
Genesis, lxxxiii.

6
Genesis, lxxxff.

7
Genesis, lxxxiv.

8
Genesis, lxxxii.
59
do not match those found in J or E. Therefore he had to conclude that P had its own
source, distinct from J and E, though related to them.
9
Once this step is taken,
however, it is difficult to understand the need for a separate combination of J and E, at
least according to his view. If J, E, and P were all independent sources, as he claimed,
and if J and E were the products of long-standing schools based on earlier traditions, and
if P, even if late, is also based (even in part) on older traditions, related to those of J
and E, then the need for P to be based on a combined J and E seems greatly diminished.
J, E, and P would all be built on a common stock of traditions (note how this anticipates
Noth), and while J and E would, in Gunkels view at least, have treated those traditions
with reverence, P, again in Gunkels view, would have attempted to change them to suit
his own worldview.
Additionally, Gunkel seems (not surprisingly) rather awkward in his attempt to
distinguish between the redactor of J and E and the redactor of JE and P. His final
redactor worked with extraordinary fidelity, especially to P, and can only be identified
in a few cases (and even there the identification is frequently uncertain).
10
Since the
purported redactor of J and E also tried to preserve as much as possible, it is unclear how
the two should be methodologically distinguished; the only distinction Gunkel made (and
it is not methodological) is that one worked only with J and E, and the other with P.
11

We see, then, that though Gunkel revolutionized Pentateuch scholarship, he did not in

9
Genesis, lxxxiiif. Cf. his treatment of the Flood narrative, in which Ps account is based on a source
rather similar to the J account, but not identical with J (151).

10
Genesis, lxxxv.

11
But note that the final redactor is said to also have employed the chronology of P in particular as the
framework for the accounts of J and E, such that one of the passages in which Gunkel identifies the final
redactor is Gen. 15, which, according to him, is a combination of J and E, with no P material (Genesis,
lxxxv, 176ff.).
60
any way affect the Documentary Hypothesis as laid out by Wellhausen; the same
problems with Wellhausens reconstruction remain in Gunkels work, but are demoted
even further in importance as the critical focus shifted back well beyond the final
combination of the documents (a field which Gunkel seems to have considered
essentially closed).

Gerhard von Rad and Martin Noth
The second great methodological breakthrough in Pentateuchal criticism was
achieved by the combined hands of Gerhard von Rad (1901-1971) and Martin Noth
(1902-1968): von Rad in his remarkable article Das formgeschichtliche Problem des
Hexateuch, published in 1938,
12
and Noth in his berlieferungsgeschichte des
Pentateuchs, published in 1948.
13
Though two distinct works by scholars whose
individual achievements cannot be dismissed, the approach taken in these works is
similar enough that even von Rad demands that they be read together.
14
In these works
the foundations for what became known as tradition criticism were laid, based not in
small part on the scholarship of Gunkel (as shown above). Like Gunkel, the assumption
inherent in the entire project was that the source-critical division of the Pentateuch is
taken for granted, and essentially complete, after Wellhausen. The interest for this
approach was in uncovering how the various traditions that make up the different

12
Originally published in Beitrge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament, 4. Folge Heft 26
(Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer Verlag), reprinted in his Gessamelte Studien zum Alten Testament, vol. 1
(Mnchen: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1961).

13
Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer Verlag. ET: A History of Pentateuchal Traditions, (Englewood Cliffs, NJ:
Prentice-Hall, 1972), reprinted in 1981 (Chico, CA: Scholars). Page references are to the ET.

14
In the Foreword to The Problem of the Hexateuch and Other Essays (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966), v.
61
documents were put together, particularly in light of the basic similarities between
sources on so many important points (again a reflex of Gunkel).
For von Rad, as is well known, the Yahwist created the underlying narrative and
theological structure of the Pentateuch, primarily by being the first to include the Sinai
tradition, which was subsequently built on by E and P. In his essay, von Rad barely
touched on the relationship between J and E, or their relationship to P. It is only at the
very conclusion that he left the world of the Yahwist and returned to the larger question
of the Pentateuch as a whole. But even here he claimed, the process by which E and P
are superimposed on J, as well as their relationship to one another, is a purely literary
question, which adds nothing essentially new to the discussion so far as form-criticism is
concerned.
15
Since, for von Rad, J is the underlying basis of all the other documents, the
work of E and P was entirely secondary in terms of determining the way the Pentateuchal
narrative was shaped. Indeed, based only on the above quotation, one might think that in
von Rads view, E and P could have been composed independently and joined with J
simultaneously. Only one hint emerges in his essay regarding the process of
combination, and this in regard to the lack of an introduction in E: We must, in fact,
suppose that the Elohistic source was abridged when it was combined with J.
16
This
statement is relatively ambiguous: it could mean either when E and J were combined at
an early stage, or when E and P were combined with J. To discover his true intentions,
we must look at his commentary on Genesis. Even there, he devoted virtually no space to
explaining how or why or when J and E were combined, but he at least resolved the basic

15
The Problem of the Hexateuch, 74.

16
The Problem of the Hexateuch, 75.
62
question.
17
Von Rad even seemed a bit abashed at having to deal with E independently
of J. In the Introduction to his commentary, he repeatedly contrasted the priestly
narrative with the Yahwistic document, only occasionally adding, in parentheses, and
also Elohistic.
18
As was already pointed out, for von Rad the issue of source division
and reconstruction was settled, and in the thoroughly Wellhausenian mode; his
scholarship points in a new direction, but one which assumes the conclusions of the late
nineteenth century.
Noth devoted considerably more space to his assessment of the Documentary
Hypothesis, but came down firmly on the side of the Wellhausen model. His first
(pseudo-)innovation was the postulation of a common source for both J and E, which he
labeled G (for Grundlage). Though dependent on his traditio-critical investigations, the
result of which were that G was the first to put together the five major traditions of the
Pentateuch, this was, perhaps, nothing more than the natural progression from Gunkel,
and is in any case not of great import for our study. Noth was cautious in his analysis of
G, carefully noting that the question as to whether this Grundlage was written or oral
can hardly be answered with any certainty, and that the two sources J and E drew their
content from it entirely independently.
19
Thus Noths G is not much more than a
symbol for the not particularly new idea that J and E have so much in common that they
must have been drawing on a common stock of traditions. His second major distinction
from Wellhausen is that in the case of each redaction (that of J and E, and that of JE and
P), the process was not one of mechanical reproduction and inclusion of as much of each

17
See chapter 1 above.

18
E.g., Genesis, 29, 38.

19
Pentateuchal Traditions, 39.
63
source as possible, but rather one in which one source was used as the definitive basis for
the narrative, and the other(s) added only to fill out the narrative. Thus for Noth the P
narrative became the literary basis of the Pentateuchal narrative (italics original).
20

This required a very different view of the redactor from what had become accepted in
most scholarship to that point: It was by no means the major concern of the redactor to
work the two sources in their entirety into the combined narrativehe tried, rather, to
elaborate and enrich one with the other.
21
Noth applied this formulation not only to the
final stage in which P was combined with the earlier sources, but to the preceding stage
as well: J was the literary basis for the combination with E, such that the Elohistic
narratives were added into J only in order to supplement it.
22
A corollary to this
conclusion was that not only should we not expect to find J and E preserved
continuously, but that when in doubt, one is to decide for J rather than E.
23
Such a
statement highlights the unquestioned acceptance into scholarship of Wellhausens
relative dating of J and E (and may also be a positive response to von Rads emphasis on
the creative role of J). With these rules as a basis, Noth proceeded to demonstrate how
the redactor, whom he identifies with the siglum R
JE
, combined the two sources.
Though the object of the redactor was different in Noths conception, the process
and results were essentially the same as in Wellhausens formulation. J and E were
combined early, then P was added to them (or, for Noth, they were added to P). Note,

20
Pentateuchal Traditions, 11. This is in contrast to the approach of von Rad, who found the basis of the
Pentateuch in the work of the Yahwist.

21
Pentateuchal Traditions, 27. This idea is elaborated more fully on p. 24f.

22
Pentateuchal Traditions, 27, 33.

23
64
however, Noths apparent discomfort, relegated to a footnote, with the assumption that J
and E were combined at an early stage:
The view generally shared today that the combination of the old sources was a
literary development, which preceded and was separate from their integration
into the P narrative, cannot be strictly demonstrated, in my opinion.
Nevertheless, this is very likely the case since both of the literary works were
complicated and difficult in themselves and could hardly have been combined in
the course of one single process.
24

This was Noths only reference to the methodological difficulties of proving the early
combination of J and E; for the rest of the book, he simply assumed it as fact.
Furthermore, like Wellhausen, Noth considered P to have been based on the
combined J and E sources. His statement of the case is worth reading in full:
The major Vorlage [of P], of course, was the old Pentateuchal narrative, which
in all probability already existed in literary form. Indeed, it seems to me that the
harmony of the Priestly narrative sequence, as a whole and in its particulars,
suggests very strongly that P drew the material of the Pentateuchal narrative
from the J narrative, probably from a form of the J narrative which had been
previously expanded through the incorporation of the E elements. This is
especially the case since we cannot easily reckon with still other literary
versions of the Pentateuchal tradition which are completely lost to us, but which
supposedly were available to P.
25

The last line of this statement is particularly remarkable; if we simply remove the word
literary, we are left with an explicit contradiction of Noths own postulation of the G
source. And even Noth was uncertain, as we have seen, as to whether G was purely oral
or was already fixed in writing when J and E drew on it. That final line also represents a
conscious rejection of Gunkels assertion that P is based, at least in part, on a source
similar to, though not identical with, J and E.
26
Yet such would seem to be an apt
description of G as well.

24
Pentateuchal Traditions, 11 n. 25.

25

26
Pentateuchal Traditions, 234, n. 616.
65
In the end, like von Rad, Noth was really not interested in repeating or
reformulating the source-critical theory of the Pentateuch, but was focused on his
tradition criticism. To that end, his overview of the source-critical issues in the
Pentateuch does not really deviate significantly from Wellhausen; even with the concept
of a Grundlage and the new ideas regarding the object of the redactor, the outcome
remains essentially the same. Thus, for those scholars who closely followed Gunkel, von
Rad, and Noth, though they were analyzing the Pentateuch in new ways, the underlying
assumptions regarding the division of documents, and the stages by which they were
combined, remained firmly those of the Wellhausen school.

Rudolf Smend, Otto Eissfeldt, et al.
Although scholarship in the early to mid-twentieth century was dominated by the
form- and traditio-critical ideas of Gunkel, von Rad, and Noth, there were not a few
scholars who continued to work strictly on the finer points of the classical Documentary
Hypothesis. From these scholars, one major new trend emerged, and it dealt with aspects
of the relationship between J and E. This trend, led by Rudolf Smend and carried on by
Otto Eissfeldt, Julian Morgenstern, Robert Pfeiffer, Cuthbert Simpson, and Georg Fohrer,
and following on the ideas of Gunkel, proposed a third early source in addition to J and
E.
27
Although these scholars brought new ideas to the study of the origins of the
Pentateuch, they continued to work basically within the confines of Wellhausens overall
scheme.

27
On these scholars and their works, see Nicholson, Pentateuch, 43-45, and Houtman, Pentateuch, 144-49.
66
In 1912, Smend (1851-1913) published Die Erzhlungen des Hexateuchs auf ihre
Quellen untersucht, in which he argued that J was not a unity, but was originally two
independent documents, which he termed J
1
and J
2
.
28
He was followed closely by
Eissfeldt, who simply changed the designation for the earliest source from J
1
to L, for
Laienquelle, as in Eissfeldts view the source is particularly crude and archaic, and
although a powerful religious spirit also moves strongly through it, it is nevertheless the
least touched by clerical and cultic interests of all the documents.
29
Morgensterns view
(1881-1976) was substantially different from that of Smend and Eissfeldt. He found only
scant traces of a fifth Pentateuchal source, which he termed the Kenite source, or
K.
30
Similarly, Pfeiffer (1892-1958) claimed to have discovered a foreign Seir
source, which he termed S, and which had been subsequently supplemented by an
Israelite revision (S
2
).
31
According to Pfeiffer, this source appears only in Genesis.
Simpson (1892-1969), in a return to Smends ideas, argued that J
2
was not independent of
J
1
, but was a conscious revision thereof.
32
Finally, Fohrer (1915-2002), following on the
work of Smend and Eissfeldt, termed the fifth source N, for nomadic, as it apparently
represented the early nomadic traditions of Israel, and was to be dated between J and E.
33

28
Berlin: Verlag von Georg Reimer.

29
Old Testament, 194. This idea was originally put forward in his monograph Hexateuch-Synopse
(Leipzig: J.C. Hinrich, 1922).

30
The Oldest Document of the Hexateuch, HUCA 4 (1927), 1-138.

31
A Non-Israelite Source of the Book of Genesis, ZAW 48 (1930), 63-73. See also his Introduction to
the Old Testament (London: Adam & Charles Black, 1948), 159-167.

32
The Early Traditions of Israel (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1948).

33
berlieferung und Geschichte des Exodus (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1964). See also his Introduction.
67
Notwithstanding the innovations of these authors, it is worth noting that they all
accepted the basic premise of Wellhausen with regard to the early combination of J and
E. Smend argued for four redactors: RJ, who combined J
1
and J
2
, RE, who combined the
now-united J document with E, RD, who added Deuteronomy, and finally RP, who added
P.
34
This formulation differs from Wellhausen only in its first step, and one is tempted to
think that Wellhausen may not have objected too strenuously to such a suggestion, as he
had already intimated that J was the result of a long literary process.
35
Eissfeldt followed
Smend precisely here, though he did express some doubts as to the provability of the
initial combination of L and J, rather than J and E. Nevertheless, he said, these
questions which we can scarcely answer are not really of very great importance, and we
may reasonably enough, since in any case it fits the majority of the redactions, picture the
formation of the Pentateuch as a steady joining on of the younger sources in turn to the
older body of material.
36
Morgenstern did not go into the issue of the final compilation
of the Pentateuch, but this is perhaps because it is largely secondary to his stated goal of
identifying the K document. In his view, the K document was combined with J,
probably in the seventh century B.C. or even later.
37
Thus the general stages of
combination are similar to those suggested by his predecessors. Pfeiffer went quite the
other way: he asserts that the S document was the last added, between 430 and 400
B.C.E. The redactor who accomplished this was eager to include in JEDP an ancient

34
Erzhlung, 342ff.

35
Composition, 13-14.

36
Introduction, 240.

37
Oldest Document, 137.
68
document whose foreign origin was obscured by its Jewish supplements (S
2
).
38
Still,
Wellhausens assessment of the original four sources remained largely intact, as did his
assumption that each successive document required its own stage of redaction.
Simpsons approach to the redaction was similar to Smends and Eissfeldts, though in
his view J
1
was used consciously by J
2
, and E represents a thoroughgoing revision and
adaptation of the J tradition.
39
E and J remained separate, however (unlike J
1
and J
2
),
until the redactor R
JE
, whose work represents for Simpson a greater achievement than had
previously been recognized. Still, Simpson worked only with J and E, and did not
contradict Wellhausens overall approach.
Fohrers reconstruction brought elements of Noths investigations into its scope as
well, postulating in addition to the N source not one, but two G sources. G
1
was the
basis of both N and G
2
, and G
2
in turn provided the basis for J and E. As has been noted
above, he differed from Smend and Eissfeldt in assigning N to the period between J and
E, as he argues that it was in fact assembled as a reply to the theological perspective of
J.
40
J was first combined with N, then both with E, then, as we would expect, JNE with
D, and all four with P, just as in Wellhausens work.
41
Thus, none of these scholars, for
all their innovations, addressed the fundamental aspects of Wellhausens reconstruction
of Israelite literature. In fact, for the most part, they assumed his formulation, and lent it
further support by producing studies that argued for an innovation in the analysis of J and

38
Introduction, 288.

39
Early Traditions, 35f.

40
Introduction, 145.

41
Introduction, 190ff. Cf. also 143ff.
69
E, but that did not actually provide a fresh critical view of the supposed early
combination of those sources.
Though he intended to describe an earlier phenomenon, Simpson provided
perhaps the best analysis of the scholarly trend described above, and he deserves to be
quoted in full:
In the quarter of a century following the appearance of Kuenens treatise
[Historisch-kritisch Onderzoek, 1885] the study of the separate documents, J and
E, did little more than confirm the fact that before they had been combined by
R
JE
the original narratives had, in each case, been enlarged by the introduction of
secondary material. The historical conditions which had brought about these
revisions, the purpose for which they had been undertaken, and the nature of the
process by which they had been carried through remained, however,
undetermined. A growing disagreement inevitably resulted not only to the
extent of the supplementary material, and, in some cases, as to its affinity, but
also as regards the primary form of the documents themselves, the outlines of
which became less and less distinct.
42

While there is no question that the scholars we have dealt with above attempted to
determine historical conditions, nature, and purpose of these earlier stages in the
development of J and E, much of the criticism in this assessment remains accurate. No
consensus of any type was reached among these scholars as to the historical conditions,
nature, or purpose of the earlier stages, and in the end what became less and less distinct
was, as Simpson intimates, the forms of J and E themselves. It was this atomizing
tendency, and the uncertainties that it brought about, which largely led to the theories of
Volz and Rudolph, to which we now turn.

42
Early Traditions, 29.
70
Paul Volz and Wilhelm Rudolph
Paul Volz (1871-1941) and Wilhelm Rudolph (1891-1987) undertook a fresh look
at Genesis 15-50, with the expressed aim of denying the existence of an independent E
source.
43
It is less important for our purposes how they attempted to do this than why
they did so. Volz began his part of the book with an extensive review of the scholarship
up to his time, beginning with Ilgen and Hupfeld and their conclusions regarding the
existence of a second Elohist, the separation of E from P. His argument against the
existence of E went back to what he viewed as the fundamental methodological mistake
of their work: Es erscheint mir sehr wichtig zu erkennen, dass der Elohist in der
Wissenschaft nicht aus sich selbst heraus erwachsen ist, sondern nur aus dem Gegensatz
zu der allzu grossen Ausdehnung des P.
44
Volzs argument here is that the separation
of J from E (against which he was arguing) was not accomplished as a result of any
observations regarding the linguistic or theological differences between these two
sources, but rather stemmed from the realization that the Urschrift, as originally
conceived, could not be a unified source. Though his conclusions on this basis differ
from those expressed in this study, the observation is important. For Volz, the erroneous
assumption derived from Hupfelds work is that J and E were ever separate. In my view,
it is that they were ever combined. The initial step in both cases, however, is the same:
the identification of E in the first place by Hupfeld had nothing to do with its relationship

43
Der Elohist als Erzhler: Ein Irrweg der Pentateuchkritik? (Giessen: Verlag von Alfred Tpelmann,
1933). Chapters 15-36 were examined by Volz, 37-50 (excepting 38 and 49) by Rudolph. Though they
worked on the same problem and published two parts of the same book, Volz and Rudolph were not
necessarily in agreement on every aspect of Pentateuchal composition (cf. Houtman, Pentateuch, 152). In
this review I will focus mainly on Volz, with occasional reference to Rudolph.

44
Elohist, 2.
71
to J, but was entirely done on the basis of its relationship with P, a fact which has been
lost over time.
The complaints of Volz regarding the common view of the independence and
subsequent combination of J and E in many ways also echo those expressed above. He
wrote:
Das erweckt aber kein grosses Zutrauen zur gesamten Position. Im ganzen
betonen auch die zwei neuesten Auflagen der Kautzschschen bersetzung
immer wieder die Schwierigkeit der Quellenscheidung. Bei Kp. 15 sagt die 4.
Aufl., sichere Quellenscheidung sei nicht erreicht, bei Kp. 24, jede
Quellenscheidung im einzelnen sei blosser Versuch; bei Kp. 27 heisst es in der
3.: Scheidung zwischen J und E sei nicht berall mit Sicherheit zu vollziehen, in
der 4.: bereinstimmung in der Quellenscheidung sei bis jetzt nicht erreicht,
daher werde auf den Vorschlag einer Quellenscheidung hier besser verzichtet;
die Redaktion habe ausserordentlich geschickt gearbietet (!). Bei Kp. 29f. heisst
es in der 3.: J und E sind von JE
r
in einer Weise zusammengeflochten, dass
man schliessen muss, beider Erzhlungen deckten sich in weitgehendem Masse.
Daher stehen hufig Wendungen aus J und E dicht nebeneinander, und der
Versuch einer restlosen Scheidung in der bersetzung wrde zu bermssiger
Zerstckelung fhren. Und in der 4. heisst es, die Scheidung von JE sei wieder
besonders schwierig, auf Quellenscheidung im einzelnen sei wohl zu
verzichten.
45

Again, here Volz based his argument on the same data as this study, but came at them
from the other direction. His problem with the analysis of Kautzsch presented above was
that it was clearly unable to effectively distinguish J from E; his conclusion was therefore
that J and E should not be distinguished. The approach of this study is that the above
statements of Kautzsch, which are used to demonstrate that J and E must have been
combined at an early stage, in fact prove no such thing.
Volz also reacted to the type of work done by Smend and Eissfeldt regarding the
intricate separation of J and E into three or more early sources. In this he expressed the
common complaint of those who fundamentally opposed the entire source-critical
approach: that the breaking up of the narrative into verse and half-verse, and at times

45
Elohist, 9.
72
even individual words, is an entirely ridiculous enterprise.
46
Indeed, Volz throughout his
study cast doubt upon the Documentary Hypothesis in general, frequently using similar
language to those who worked from entirely anti-critical outlooks.
47
He made this point
particularly clear:
Der Gedanke, dass ein redigierender Schriftsteller aus zwei vorhandenen
Erzaehlungswerken ein einziges zusammengeschrieben htte, dass er aus zwei
hnlich lautenden oder fast gleich lautenden Erzhlungen bald daher bald
dorther ein Wort, einen Halbsatz, einen Satz, mehrere Verse entnommen und
zusammengefgt htte, ist ein Fund der Gelehrsamkeit, nicht ein Vorgang des
Lebens.
48

Similarly, Volz picked up another argument from the anti-source-criticism camp,
namely that the original basis for the separation of the sources, the distinction between
the various divine names, is not really tenable methodologically.
49
In this he was
undoubtedly correct: the use of the different divine names as the primary distinguishing
mark of J and E (and P) is no longer possible (see chapter 4 below). But Volz concluded

46
Elohist, 7. There is a significant truth behind this complaint: as scholars began to divide the text more
and more finely, they were left with words and phrases which they had assigned to particular sources on
lexical and stylistic bases, but which did not connect narratively with the rest of the given source. This
remains true of much source-critical work: the most important basis of source division, the readability of
the text, is sacrificed in favor of secondary observations regarding style and vocabulary.

47
In particular, he showed great affinity with U. Cassutos anti-source-critical manifesto, The Documentary
Hypothesis (Jerusalem: Magnes, 1959; Hebrew original: Trat hatt$dt w
!
siddr"m %el sipr hattr"
h

[Jerusalem, 1941]). Rudolph also showed affinity for the confessional anti-source-criticism school, when
he approvingly cited W.H. Green, perhaps the leading English-speaking confessional critic of the
Documentary Hypothesis: Wer aber einmal bei William Henry Green nachgelesen hat, wie dieser mit den
Mitteln der Quellenscheidung, um sie ad absurdum zu fhren, das Gleichnis vom verlorenen Sohn und vom
barmherzigen Samariter anstandslos auf zwei Quellen zu verteilen vermag, der wird hier vorsichtig und
lernt, dass die Mglichkeit einer Quellenscheidung ihre Richtigkeit nicht verbrgt, und der sieht in solchem
Tune in amsantes Spiel des Scharfsinns, aber nicht immer eine zwingende Wissenschaft (Elohist, 177).

48
Elohist, 14. It should be noted here that Volz is speaking here specifically of narratives. As he did not
consider P to be a real narrative author (see the appendix to his part of the book, entitled P ist kein
Erzhler, 135-140), this statement does not necessarily undermine the entire source-critical concept,
though it comes rather close. Rudolph is considerably more accepting of the outlines of Wellhausens
reconstruction, as is revealed in the first sentence of his part of the book: Die Bedenken gegen die
Wellhausensche Quellenkritik, die sich mir je lnger je mehr aufdrngen, richten sich nicht gegen die
Quellenscheidung berhaupt: dass J die lteste und P die jngste Quelle des Pentateuchs ist, scheint mir
unerschttert und unerschtterlich (145).

49
Elohist, 15f. Rudolph makes the same point, in almost exactly the same terms (148).
73
from this that every argument derived from that initial claim is thereby rendered
illegitimate:
Nachdem einmal der erste Fehler begangen war und man sich durch die
Verschiedenheit der Gottesnamen zur Annahme der Doppelquelle J und E hatte
verleiten lassen, flossen aus diesem ersten Fehler mit Notwendigkeit weitere
heraus. Wo man einen doppelten Ausdruck fand, sah man die Doppelquelle,
zerschnitt den Doppelausdruck und verteilte seine beiden Hlften auf die beiden
Quellen, z.B. 15
1
(Schild und grosser Lohn). Auf dieses Zerreissen wre
niemand gekommen, wenn nicht die Quellenscheidung schon als Dogma
bestanden htte. Nun musste man jedem Erzhler seinen Stoff geben. Sieht
man vom Dogma ab, so erscheint die Zerschneidung als vollstndig unntig, ja
als unberechtigt, die knstlerische und sachliche Absicht des einen Erzhlers
zerstrend.
50

Volz, therefore, rejected all the basic distinguishing marks of J and E, because the initial
determination regarding the divine names, which in his view became Dogma, was
erroneous. Vieles, sehr vieles von dem, was jetzt in den Kommentaren mit grsster
Genauigkeit auf E und J verteilt wird, wre nicht auseinandergerissen, nicht verteilt
worden, wenn nicht das Dogma der Quellenscheidung lngst vorher als Voraussetzung
festgestanden htte.
51
Thus both linguistic features (such as the different words for
maidservant, or Sinai/Horeb), and theological features (such as the means of theophany)
which came to be used to separate J from E were rejected. The basic mistake that Volz
made here was to reject the idea that one can reach a correct conclusion by incorrect
means. Even if we now deny the use of the divine names as the primary distinction
between J and E, as we must, this does not mean that the distinction between J and E is
necessarily wrong. Stylistic, lexical, and theological features of the various documents
are corroborative, not determinative, evidence for their separation. Only the
contradictory narratives and the historical claims embedded therein can be used as

50
Elohist, 16.

51
Elohist, 21.
74
primary proof for the division of the sources. Volzs (and others) argument ignores this
fundamental aspect of how good source criticism works.
52

Rudolph presented the case in a slightly different way. He declared that the
lesson of the Joseph narrative is that expressed in Gen. 50:20: Though you intended me
harm, God intended it as good.
53
With this lesson in mind, he turned to those passages
commonly accepted as markers of a distinction between J and E, such as the confusion
between the Midianites and the Ishmaelites. All such passages, he argued, deal only with
the most trivial issues; so, he asked, Wenn er nun bestimmte Abschnitte in den ihm
vorliegenden Quellen fr so wichtig hielt, dass er beider Darstellung der Nachwelt
erhalten wollte, sollte man dann nicht meinen, dass derartige Dubletten sich in erster
Linie an solchen Stellen finden, die religis bedeutsam oder doch wenigstens fr den
Fortgang der Erzhlung von Wichtigkeit sind?
54
In other words, the so-called doublets
between J and E are so unimportant to both the message and the overall narrative of the
story that it is inexplicable that a redactor would choose to include these parts of the story
as variant traditions. Thus while Volz went back to Ilgen and Hupfeld to reject the basis
for the separation of J and E, Rudolph questioned what such a separation would mean for
the theological interpretation of the text.
How, then, is it suggested we read the text? Volzs primary approach to the
composition of the Pentateuch was in one way a continuation of the ideas of Gunkel,
particularly regarding the oral stage of composition, and at the same time an anticipation

52
Many modern source critics fall into this same trap, and view the stylistic and theological characteristics
of a particular document as the best proof of its independent existence.

53
Elohist, 147.

54
Elohist, 147.
75
of von Rads views on the Yahwist. From Gunkel, Volz inherited both the emphasis on
the earlier, particularly oral, stages of the narrative, as well as the need to be aware of the
surrounding cultures which may have influenced the biblical narrative.
Man hat die analogen Sagen beigeholt, und man hat gezhlt, wie viele Parallelen
in der weiten Welt vorhanden seien, aber auf die knstlerische Behandlung des
Sagenstoffs in der weiten Welt hat man nicht geachtet. Auch hat man nicht
gengend bedacht, dass die Erzhlungen ursprnglich mndlich vorgetragen
wurden und wohl immer hauptschlich zum Vorlesen bestimmt waren.
Manches was jetzt als Wiederholung erscheint u. dgl., erklrt sich leicht aus dem
Bedrfniss des mndlichen Erzhlers, noch einmal zusammenzufassen, den
Faden wieder aufzunehmen, eine Art berschrift zu geben, dem Hrer zu lieb
etwas noch einmal zu sagen usw. usw.
55

Whereas for Gunkel the oral stages of the narrative were part of his form-critical
approach, particularly in terms of the various Sitze im Leben, for Volz they explained the
existence and inclusion of the narrative variants and contradictions.
Aufs Grssere gesehen ist es durchaus glaubhaft, dass der eine grosse Erzhler
sich nicht im geringsten scheute, eine Erzhlung in mehreren Varianten
aufzunehmen, mehrere Ideen in eine berragende Hauptidee zusammenfliessen
zu lassen, mehrere Motive in einer Erzhlung zusammenzuweben, mehrere
Motive, die in einer alten Vorlage vielleicht selbstndig waren, in eine
Erzhlung zu verflechten.
56

Perhaps most important to Volzs reconstruction of the composition of the
Pentateuch was his emphasis on the role of the Yahwist as the only true narrative voice in
the text. This approach came from two angles. The first, based largely on his
observations regarding the oral history of variants and contradictions quoted above,
focused on the (in his view) rather arbitrary assignment of some texts to E rather than J
(for example, Gen. 22
57
). This is complemented by a number of straightforward
statements claiming, largely without supporting evidence, that the Yahwist is the only
authentic storyteller in the Pentateuch: Ein Erzhler im strengen Sinn ist nur der Jahwist

55
Elohist, 22.

56
Elohist, 22.

57
Elohist, 6, 12, 15f.
76
gewesen, und was an wirklichen und selbstndigen Erzhlungen im Pentateuch steckt, ist
ihm zuzuweisenAuch P ist kein eigentlicher Erzhler, und eine solche urwchsige,
prchtige Geschichte wie Gen 23 gewiss nicht auf ihn, sondern auf den Jahwisten
zurck.
58
This is hardly a critical argument, but is typical of Volzs comments
throughout his study. Having determined, seemingly in advance, that J represents the
only true narrative voice, he was then free to reassign any narratives to J simply on that
basis.
Finally, Volz argued that the splitting of E from J is impossible because it
destroys the artistic beauty of the narrative. Yet this argument was strangely couched in
nearly confessional terms:
Und doch wollte man das prachtvolle Erzhlungsbuch im Unterricht und im
Gottesdienst gebrauchen; zu diesem Zweck hat man das Werk neu
herausgegeben und hat bei dieser Neuausgabe da und dort geschliffen, man hat
auch ab und zu einen kleineren oder grsseren Eintrag gemacht, man hat auch
vereinzelt eine Parallelrezension beigeschrieben, gewissermassen als Ersatz fr
die alte, damit man statt der alten diese neue im Unterricht oder in der
gottesdienstlichen Verlesung gebrauchen knne.
59

The text is seen here as a document used for religious edification first and foremost, a
claim that was unsupported by Volz. He made his standpoint even more explicit at the
end of his introduction: Wir Alttestamentler knnen uns nicht darber beklagen, dass
das Alte Testament viele Freunde verloren hat; wir sind selbst schuld, da wir
Quellenkritik gaben, statt dass wir von den religisen Werten und der knstlerischen
Schnheit des Alten Testaments geredet haben.
60
In short, the separation of J and E
ruins what Volz saw as the religious values of the Pentateuch, as well as its narrative art.

58
Elohist, 6.

59
Elohist, 23.

60
Elohist, 25.
77
Like most confessional claims, this is nearly impossible to contradict, but that makes it no
more true.
For Volz, the only possible way to conceive of E was as a re-publisher of J, with a
few bits added here or there (and even here he is tempted to call E simply part of the
Deuteronomistic school).
61
Ultimately, Volzs positive arguments for the composition of
the Pentateuch were not accepted into scholarship, but his negative arguments regarding
the existence (or lack thereof) of E have remained part of the discussion, primarily
amongst European scholars. Yet Volz in many ways represented a new step in
Pentateuchal criticism. He was the first scholar to wage a serious attack on the
fundamental principles of the Documentary Hypothesis from a critical perspective.
Though his conclusions were not necessarily popular, his arguments against the standard
source-critical approach resonate in modern scholarship, as we shall see in the following
section.

Rolf Rendtorff
In many ways, Volz represented the last real challenge to Wellhausen of the early
to mid-twentieth century, as scholarship was dominated by form- and traditio-critical
studies. It has only been within the last forty years or so that scholars have returned to
the question of the viability of Documentary Hypothesis, and frequently with negative
results. For those of us who are still attached to the more classical formulation of the
source-critical theory, these objections can be very useful in pointing out those aspects of

61
Elohist, 13.
78
the theory that are in need of clarification, in particular regarding the nature of the
individual components of the Pentateuch and the role of the redactor.
The most important challenge to the Documentary Hypothesis has come from
Rolf Rendtorff (1925-) and those who followed him, especially Erhard Blum in Europe
and David Carr in America. As it was Rendtorff who laid the methodological
foundations for this challenge, it is his work on which we will focus here. Rendtorffs
work is based largely on the studies of Noth and the traditio-critical approach which he
espoused. His most important publication in this respect is his Das
berlieferungsgeschichtliche Problem des Pentateuch.
62
In this book he attempts to
remedy what he sees as the methodological inconsistencies in Noths reconstruction of
the history of Pentateuchal composition and transmission. Our overview of Rendtorff
will not include a detailed rebuttal of his conclusions, as that has been done effectively
elsewhere,
63
but will instead focus on the methodological bases of his arguments with the
Documentary Hypothesis.
As was noted above in our review of Gunkel, Noth, and von Rad, and as
Rendtorff notes on the first page of his book, Those scholars who developed or make
use of the form-critical and traditio-historical method adhere almost without exception to
literary source division.
64
For Rendtorff, however, this is highly problematic:
The form-critical method and its application mean a basically new approach in
the matter of access to the pentateuchal texts. The different sources of the
Pentateuch was the answer to a particular question, namely: is the final form of
the Pentateuch as it lies before us a unity or not? Source division as used

62
Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1977 (English translation: The Problem of the Process of Transmission in the
Pentateuch, trans. J.J. Scullion [Sheffield: JSOT, 1977]). All page references are to the ET.

63
Notably in Nicholson, Pentateuch, 95-131. He also gives a detailed response to the work of Rendtorffs
student Blum, 171-75 and passim.

64
Problem, 1.
79
hitherto makes sense only as an answer to this questionSo then, as soon as
access to the pentateuchal texts is set in the context of the form-critical method,
the statement of the question is basically altered. The Pentateuch as a whole as
it lies before us is no longer the point of departure, but rather the concrete
individual text, the smallest literary unit. The work begins as it were at the
opposite enda fundamental distinction must be made between literary analysis
on the one hand, as it puts the question of unity to a concrete, individual text,
seeking to explain the tensions and contradictions and inquiring about its
coherence with the context, and on the other, the traditional division into
sources. There will be many cases in which a correct form-critical
determination of a text will be rendered possible only after a particular literary-
critical question has been put and answered; often it is only then that one can
delimit the smallest original unit. But all this has nothing at all to do with the
question of whether individual elements, which literary criticism has shown to
be separate from each other, belong to particular sources in the sense of
continuous documents. It is a fundamental error when literary-critical work on
the Pentateuch is equated with source division in the traditional sense, as is so
often the case today.
65

For Rendtorff, then, the two methodologies of source- and form- or tradition-criticism are
fundamentally incompatible, at least as mutually effective tools for understanding the
origins of the Pentateuchal text. If one is to begin with the study of the smallest literary
units, then, he claims, one cannot already understand these to have been combined into
the classical documents of source theory. He puts it straightforwardly: From the
standpoint of the traditio-historical approach, one is only justified in accepting continuous
sources in the Pentateuch when, at the end of the traditio-historical inquiry, the source
theory offers the most enlightening answer to the questions which arise from the final
shape of the text.
66
This statement is determinative for Rendtorffs views on the
Documentary Hypothesis. From a methodological standpoint, in his view, if one begins
with the traditio-critical approach, then it is only through the results gained by that
approach that one can then inquire as to any independent documents which make up the
final form of the Pentateuch. The fundamental dichotomy between the two types of
criticism, then, is one of starting point: tradition criticism looks to begin by discovering

65
Problem, 23f.

66
Problem, 24.
80
and reconstructing the smallest literary units within the text, and subsequently building
a theory of agglomeration and transmission around those results; source criticism, on the
other hand, begins with the very basic problem of the unreadability of the Pentateuchal
text as stands in its final form, and attempts to resolve this unreadability by dividing what
we already have in front of us into four basic strands.
The problems with this argument are twofold. First, Rendtorff has misstated for
his own purposes the particular question that the Documentary Hypothesis means to
answer. The question was not whether the text was a unity or not, but rather how the
unreadability of the text could be most effectively resolved. Second, and more
disturbingly, Rendtorffs claim is that if we ask a different question, namely that posed by
his particular traditio-critical approach, we get a different answer from the Documentary
Hypothesis. Yet this is an illegitimate methodology: Rendtorff wants to approach the text
from a totally external starting point, namely his traditio-critical interpretation, rather
than from the questions inherent in the Pentateuch itself.
Thus I find Rendtorffs approach untenable mainly because his starting point is
entirely hypothetical: he uses the results of one type of critical hypothesis (that of Noths
traditio-critical approach) in order to determine another critical hypothesis (his own
views on the transmission of those traditions). This requires that we accept two scholarly
theories, while the Documentary Hypothesis requires that we accept only one, for the
final form of the text is not in question. Despite Rendtorffs protestations to the contrary,
it is clear enough that his approach does not begin with the final shape of the text, but
with the assumption that the smallest individual narratives must be treated as originally
independent. As it is my belief that in trying to understand the composition and
81
transmission of the Pentateuch (and all biblical literature) we should look always for the
simplest possible solution, I find Rendtorffs reconstruction difficult to accept.
Rendtorff attempts to convince us that the methodology of source division has
been rendered moot by the invention and correct application of form- and traditio-critical
studies.
The problems of source division have intensified notably with the rise of form-
criticism and the discipline arising out of it, namely the study of the process of
formation of the tradition. Even though many exegetes have clearly not become
conscious of this, there has, nevertheless, been many an alteration in the
presuppositions. The first basic alteration is that the Pentateuch is no longer
regarded primarily as a literary product. The question of the literary unity of the
text which now lies before us has long since ceased to be the point of departure
from which one approaches the Pentateuchmodern Pentateuch study has
accepted more and more the statements of the question and insights of form-
criticism and the traditio-historical method without, however, examining
seriously and reflecting methodologically on their compatibility with the
assumptions and statements of the question of the classical documentary
hypothesisI cannot at present discern what contribution the documentary
hypothesis makes to the question of the formation of the Pentateuch from the
smallest units (and their pre-history), across the larger units or the complexes of
tradition, to the present synthetic whole.
67

Though one can accept at least Rendtorffs challenge to Pentateuchal scholars to reflect
more critically on the use of form and tradition criticism, one must wonder rather
incredulously at his claim that the Pentateuch is no longer regarded primarily as a
literary product. Even if much of scholarship, particularly in Europe, seems to have
come to accept this formulation, that does not make it necessarily so; we are not required
to submit to the most current scholarly fashion, popular though it may be. Furthermore,
though the text undoubtedly had a prehistory, perhaps largely, if not entirely, oral, one
cannot accept the illogical claim that we are dealing with a book which is not primarily a
literary product. Even within Rendtorffs own reconstruction, someone must have
written these traditions down in a particular way at a particular time and place; that is an

67
Problem, 172ff.
82
inherently literary process, and can be considered nothing else. Furthermore, his claim
that the point of departure for Pentateuchal study is no longer the literary unity of the text
perhaps suggests not that this is because such a question is mistaken, but because it has
basically been answered to general scholarly satisfaction. It could only have been after
the acceptance of a basic understanding of how the final, literary, form of the text came to
be (i.e., through the combination of documents) that scholarship such as Gunkels, von
Rads, and Noths could have taken place. This, in turn, leads to the reason that, as
Rendtorff correctly alleges, the Documentary Hypothesis does not answer the questions
of the formation of the Pentateuch from the smallest stages to the largest: it was never
intended to do so (as argued above). To attack source criticism for not answering the
questions of tradition criticism is nave at best, and highly disingenuous at worst. Thus it
is only if one approaches the text from the point of view of tradition criticism, to the
entire exclusion of all other scholarship, that one can say, The assumption of sources
within the meaning of the documentary hypothesis can no longer make any contribution
today to the understanding of the formation of the Pentateuch.
68

To support his rejection of the Documentary Hypothesis, Rendtorff attacks the
concept of a unified Yahwistic document (J), particularly in regard to the work of von
Rad, as described above. He argues that the concept of the Yahwist as the primary
narrative author in the Pentateuch is basically a theological one: that the Yahwist is
perceived as primarily as a theologian who gives shape to large passages.
69
While this
may be a valid criticism of von Rads approach to the Yahwist, it is not necessarily

68
Problem, 179.

69
Problem, 28.
83
applicable across the board to all source critics. Indeed, even Rendtorff acknowledges
that this is not the approach taken by Noth, for example.
70
Yet he takes this theological
understanding of the Yahwist as the basis for his attack on the entire idea of the Yahwist
as author: But scarcely any attempt has been made to demonstrate a literary cohesion
between the passages assigned to the Yahwistthe (unproven) opinion that these
passages belong together as a literary unit must bear the burden of proof that, in spite of
this, it is a matter of the theology of one author [italics original].
71
Such an argument
disregards more than a century of work by scholars investigating the internal literary
cohesion of the J document as constituting a once-continuous historical narrative, with
plan and direction, with consistent historical assumptions and a single, detectable
background, and with frequent literary interconnection between its parts, simply by
describing the entire enterprise as unproven. It is clear enough that for Rendtorffs
reconstruction to be valid, the idea of the Yahwist must be negated; yet this can hardly be
accomplished effectively simply by saying that it is unproven. The only support
Rendtorff gives for his statement is a return to his views on methodology quoted above,
In other words, because (so he claims) previous scholarship was using the source-critical
theory as its starting point, it is thereby invalidated.
More importantly for our purposes, Rendtorff devotes a substantial part of his
book to detailing his objections to the Documentary Hypothesis.
72
Like all opposing
views, these deserve our full attention, for though we may not agree with the conclusions

70
Problem, 30.

71
Problem, 30.

72
Problem, 101-175.
84
drawn from them, the individual arguments themselves serve the very useful function of
pointing out weaknesses in the prevailing versions of the hypothesis.
Two major points are made by Rendtorff in the third chapter of his book. The
first hearkens back to his assessment of the (lack of) existence of the Yahwist. He argues
that even after an enormous amount of scholarship in the area, no consensus has been
reached as to the precise delimitation of the Yahwist document.
Is the question, does the chief source of the Pentateuch, the Yahwistactually
exist or must two sources in fact be accepted in its placeMust not rather the
whole question, discussed earlier, of the theological significance of the Yahwist
depend on it?...[F]rom the time that Wellhausen formulated the now widely
accepted documentary hypothesis, there have been distinguished scholars who
have constantly supported the division of this oldest pentateuchal sourceOne
must say then that in one decisive and basic question, source criticism has not
led to a definitive conclusion. The reason for this is obviously that the methods
acknowledged by and large by all scholars are simply not suited to answer
conclusively the questions thrown up by the texts of the Pentateuch.
73

In other words, because some scholars (those we have discussed above) see fit to divide
the J document into two separate sources, it is clear to Rendtorff that the source-critical
theory itself is methodologically unsound. One would have to search long and hard for a
point of biblical research, whether Pentateuchal or otherwise, which has not been
challenged over the past century or more; yet this does not indicate that all biblical
studies are methodologically invalid. Rather, as noted above, it is the very fact that
scholars continually attempt to refine various theories, including the Documentary
Hypothesis, that indicates the viability of the approach. Though not all scholars agree on
the finer points, the overarching theory has held for a remarkably long time. Yet for
Rendtorff, the lack of unanimity on the finer points of the analysis of J proves its
unworthiness:

73
Problem, 102f.
85
(1) the Yahwist is the only older source accepted by all supporters of the
documentary hypothesis; essential parts of the narrative material derive from it.
If one does not succeed in demonstrating this chief source convincingly, then the
hypothesis as a whole can scarcely be maintained. (2) More recently, the
theological meaning of the Pentateuch has to a large extent been built on the
interpretation of the Yahwist; the other sources are dealt with and characterized
in comparison with him. If this source is no longer clearly discernible, then the
current, widespread method of explaining the Pentateuch theologically is in
danger.
74

The second point here in Rendtorffs argument picks on a particular group within
Pentateuchal scholarship, namely, those who approach the text theologically; and though
it is true that if one accepts Rendtorffs assessment of the Yahwist, their enterprise must
be largely cast aside, the point does not hold for the rest of the Pentateuchal critics, who
do not approach the text in this manner. But it is the first point in Rendtorffs argument
that undermines his entire claim. Here he admits that the Yahwist is accepted by all
supporters of the Documentary Hypothesis; even when the details are disputed, the basic
idea remains intact. Surely this contradicts his opinion that Pentateuchal research,
therefore, is far less unanimous than is often maintained?
75
This is, like the arguments
of Volz, essentially a rehashing of the standard confessional anti-source-critical
argument: because even scholars cannot agree on how to divide the text, it must not be
divisible (for the confessional writers, at all; for Rendtorff, in the way usually proposed).
A more effective way of arguing something of the same point is made by
Rendtorff, however:
There is therefore great uncertainty of method in delimiting the sources.
Decisive in this is that there are no solid criteria capable of indicating which
passages are to be assigned to which sources. The available clues speak in
favour of one source, though there is a preference for the other. Such
statements show clearly that the exegete, on the basis of the available source
hypothesis, sees himself compelled to assign the texts to one of the accepted
sources, even though he has no criteria for doing so. Despite intensive efforts,

74
Problem, 108.

75
Problem, 106.
86
there has been no success in providing precise data for the continuous course of
the Yahwistic narrative thread.
76

The conclusion to this statement, though perhaps difficult for the source critic to hear, is
basically true: precise data are sorely lacking in the entire world of biblical studies, not
just in Pentateuchal criticism. Surely even Rendtorff would not go so far as to suggest
that he or Noth is able to provide precise data defining the smallest original traditions
in the text and then proving how they were agglomerated and transmitted. Precise data,
in the absence of any independent J document discovered in a cave somewhere, or, for
that matter, in the absence of any localized, independent tradition discovered written on
the wall of a temple, are an unachievable goal, and the use of such a standard to deny any
aspect of Pentateuchal scholarship is to deny all Pentateuchal scholarship.
Yet Rendtorff has apparently made here a valid argument regarding the source-
critical enterprise. Source-critical scholarship in general does indeed lack a consensus on
a basic set of criteria by which to judge the separation of the documents. Reliance on the
divine names has long since been rejected, and the attempts throughout the late
nineteenth to early twentieth centuries to describe a definitive set of lexical markers must
also be seen as flawed (see chapter 4 below). For source criticism to remain a usable and
convincing tool, some set of standards should be used and made available to any who
wish to undertake such a study. Rendtorffs corollary to this observation is also
pertinent: without any set of standards, source-critical scholarship does have a tendency
to ascribe various passages to a given document seemingly only because it has to belong
to one or the other.

76
Problem, 111.
87
The problem with all this is that Rendtorffs arguments are not valid criticism of
authentic source-critical work, but only of a problematic type of source criticism, as
described by its opponents or as carried out by an earlier generation of scholars. At its
roots, source criticism is a reasonably objective enterprise: narratives contain historical
assumptions and statements, and where these cannot be reconciled, we must find a way to
explain that. This is where source division comes into play, as a means of connecting
those pieces that fit into the same factual pattern as presented by the putative source
author. The lexical or theological indications within each document that Rendtorff
judges to be largely subjective are in fact not the means by which the documents should
be distinguished. For this reason, scholars have been unable, for the most part, to agree
on how to define these characteristics. Rendtorff, by challenging the Documentary
Hypothesis on these grounds, has set up a straw man, stuffed with outdated and
unacceptable notions of how source criticism is to be done.
This brings Rendtorff, and us, to his second major argument against the
Documentary Hypothesis, and it is one which, although in a much less destructive form,
has been made in our discussion above.
[I]n the present state of pentateuchal study, arguments are often taken over and
repeated on the basis of a general, however ill-defined, consensus about the
acknowledgment of the documentary hypothesis; these arguments scarcely carry
conviction and the individual exegete has scarcely been able to substantiate
them with concrete content. When the claim that the sources J and E differ from
each other in their use of language, is reduced after all to the statement that there
are two (or three!) different designations for the slave woman, it can only be due
to the principle of inertia that this argument is still used at all. References to
tables in older literature without concrete details about what is considered still
valid in them, serves scarcely more than to function as an alibi.
77

Our investigations above have attempted to show that this argument is basically true for
the idea that J and E were combined at an early stage: though this idea was never fully

77
Problem, 118f.
88
argued by its original proponents, it was accepted as a mantra (or dogma, to use Volzs
terminology) in all subsequent scholarship. For Rendtorff, however, this is true of the
entire enterprise of source criticism. Yet there are fundamental differences between his
argument and mine. First, though perhaps bad scholarship, there is nothing necessarily
incorrect in simply taking over the arguments of those who came before, as Rendtorff
suggests, as long as the rationale for those arguments remains valid, and is restated
explicitly. Second, and more importantly, most of the fundamental aspects of the
Documentary Hypothesis were not simply stated without evidence and then accepted as a
consensus, as Rendtorff claims (and as I claim with regard to the particular aspect of the
combination of J and E). The sheer number of studies in the late nineteenth century
devoted entirely to explaining and substantiating the basic division of the text into
documents, from de Wette and Hupfeld on, proves otherwise.
Rendtorff argues further, again going back to an earlier point, that the various
disagreements among Pentateuchal critics should have led to the dissolving of the
Documentary Hypothesis, but that it has been maintained essentially because of lazy
scholarship:
Here, in my opinion, one can discern clearly yet again how the overall
conception has been maintained, although more and more some of the individual
parts of which the structure once consisted have become questionable or have
had to be abandoned entirely. Critical reflection shows that the structure is
really held together only by the common conviction of those for whom the
documentary hypothesis is a fixed piece of data in the tradition of scholarship in
which they stand; it does not occur to them to doubt it, even though so many
individual supporting arguments have been shown to be no longer tenable.
78

What Rendtorff misses here is that the very fundamental aspects on which so many
scholars agree are those that formed the original basis of the Documentary Hypothesis.
What has been debated or discarded within scholarship is not the notion that the

78
Problem, 126.
89
Pentateuch comprises separate documents, but rather the various lexical, stylistic, and
theological items that were secondarily used to further identify and distinguish those
documents. Volz was undoubtedly more convincing when he argued that since the
original separation of the sources was done on the erroneous distinction between the
divine names, everything that resulted from that mistake should be rejected; here
Rendtorff seems to suggest that since there have been disagreements in details among
scholars after the basic concept was put forward, the basic concept must be wrong. This
argument seems deeply flawed.
In all of this, however, Rendtorff is touching upon a valid point (though he vaults
over it on his way to rejecting the entire Documentary Hypothesis). Too many source-
critical works are based largely, if not entirely, on the results of work that preceded them,
without engaging critically the fundamental aspects of that work. Too many
commentaries and monographs simply state that J uses a particular word for something,
while E uses another (as Rendtorff notes). These sorts of identifications are used as
evidence to support textual divisions, whereas in truth, as Rendtorff suggests, this is
methodologically impossible. The text must be divided, as already suggested, among the
sources only on the basis of narrative coherence, not on lexical or stylistic grounds. If,
after such a study has been made, it is found that a particular word is predominant in a
particular document, that is still only secondary evidence for the correct separation of
sources; the Hebrew language was not split among various groups such that only J knew
this word, and only E that word.
Finally, we must look at Rendtorffs views on the role of the redactor, both in his
criticism of the Documentary Hypothesis and in his own reconstruction. In essence, the
90
redactor is the sole aspect of source criticism that Rendtorff takes over in its entirety,
even assigning it a larger role. He recognizes that although disagreements may exist
within source-critical scholarship as to the number and extent of the redactions of the
Pentateuch, there persists, however, the basic notion that the individual written sources
were joined together by redactors.
79
We expect this, along with all other parts of the
Documentary Hypothesis, to be rejected, but here Rendtorff surprises us. Though he
claims that the notions of redaction and redactor are too closely bound with the
putting together of sources in pentateuchal study,
80
he does wish to use the same idea
under another name: layer of reworking. He sees two basic layers of reworking: one
Deuteronomistic, and one priestly. The Deuteronomistic layer is the most
comprehensive, covering the entire Pentateuch (and perhaps extending into the
Deuteronomistic History
81
), while the priestly layer is more closely circumscribed,
beginning with the primeval history and ending with the introduction of the name of
YHWH in the beginning of Exodus.
82
The balance has shifted, then, from a focus on
authors and documents, as in source criticism, to collectors and layers of reworking.
The Yahwist of von Rad has been replaced by the Deuteronomistic reworker, who is
considered by Rendtorff, like von Rads Yahwist, to be the only one which

79
Problem, 190.

80
Problem, 191.

81
Problem, 200: It is not at all so certain that the Pentateuch existed first as an independent entity
without Deuteronomy before, in a later act of redaction, it was joined with Deuteronomy and possibly with
the deuteronomistic history.

82
Problem, 194. It is this basic observation which has been greatly expanded upon by Blum in his two
massive works, Die Komposition der Vtergeschichte and Studien zur Komposition des Pentateuch. Note
that this view is dependent on his claim that there was no independent priestly narrative, just a priestly
layer of reworking which included various chronological and genealogical lists.
91
umabiguously views the Pentateuch as a whole and will have it understood as one great
coherent complex.
83

In short, the authors of the Documentary Hypothesis have been cast aside and
replaced by a large variety of independent traditions (the literary origins of which are left
unexplored), and the redactors of source-critical theory have taken over as the creative
geniuses of the composition of the Pentateuch. This view, of the active redactor, has
become more dominant in recent scholarship, though it takes various forms, and must be
carefully studied before any conclusions are drawn from it. One issue may be raised at
this point. For Rendtorff, the Yahwist is literarily incomprehensible; he cannot see the
literary connections between its constituent parts. Yet he assigns much of the same text
found in the classical Yahwist to the traditions reworked by his Deuteronomistic layer.
One wonders, therefore, precisely how much control over his traditions the
Deuteronomist (or the later priestly reworker) had; since inconsistencies remain
between tradition and tradition, and between tradition and reworking, how literarily
feasible is this Deuteronomistic layer? More or less so than the Yahwist? Once a
theological concern has been attributed to a redactor, it becomes much harder to justify
the existence of inconsistencies within the text. We are forced to turn to the now well-
known concept of the sacred text, one that could not be altered by those reworking or
redacting it; yet can we speak equally of sacred traditions as Rendtorff envisions them?
This again gets to the heart of one of the major problems with Rendtorffs reconstruction:
the literary origin of the individual traditions. Under what circumstances were they first
written down? By the local tradents, or by the Deuteronomistic redactor?

83
Problem, 196.
92
Though in this section I have focused exclusively on the work of Rendtorff, a few
comments may be made about the work of D. Carr, who has brought the ideas of
Rendtorff and the European school that developed after him to the English-speaking
audience. Carrs book, Reading the Fractures of Genesis, attempts to apply Rendtorffs
methodology to the entirety of Genesis. I wish here to focus only on two points that Carr
makes in response to the Documentary Hypothesis, as they reveal both a fundamental
weakness of the usual source-critical approach, as well as the basis for the approach of
Rendtorff which Carr espouses.
Like Volz before him, Carr makes the argument that the work of Ilgen and
Hupfeld in defining E should be more accurately viewed as redefining and narrowing
the Priestly layer [by which he means the Urschrift].
84
Carr sees this as the beginning of
a new scholarly endeavor, begun by Hupfeld but carried through by Wellhausen: no
longer is the focus on the distinction between P and non-P, but between J and E. In order
to accomplish this, according to Carr, three scholarly problems present themselves: 1) the
identification of certain textual beachheads for E, and the search for passages that
contain the context for those texts, based on an ever-expanding range of vocabulary and
thematic indicators developed first from the Elohistic beachhead texts; 2) the
presupposition that E must be in a given section, and 3) the use of terminological
indicators drawn from other texts to identify Elohistic fragments in the material that can
be shaken loose from the Yahwistic context.
85
These three problems are linked with
three observations regarding the methodology that has been used: 1) the size of blocks of

84
Fractures, 145.

85
Fractures, 146.
93
text is reduced to near-unreadable fragments; 2) the criteria used to distinguish sources
(primarily lexical, though also thematic) do not necessarily point to source-critical
distinctions to the exclusion of other possible reconstructions; 3) scholarly consensus
regarding the separation of J from E is nowhere near that of P from non-P.
In this assessment, Carr is right on nearly every point. The use of one passage to
identify the source of another, whether based on lexical or thematic grounds, is
dangerous, at the very least, if not as totally erroneous as Carr suggests. (Though Carr,
like Rendtorff, does not recognize the authentic use of narrative substance as the primary
distinguishing feature of the sources.) More problematic, as Carr recognizes, is the
common assumption that every tradition represented by one source must be present in the
other, and usually in virtually the same way; that is, if J contains an account of the
plagues, for instance, then E must also contain an account of the plagues, and they should
be similar to each other. This assumption is unfounded, unless one accepts Noths
hypothesis of a Grundlage from which both J and E derived (and even if one accepts
Noths idea, Noth himself did not necessarily suggest that both sources contained exactly
the same episodes, told exactly the same way). One is tempted, however, to believe that
Noths G is less a reason for seeing similarities between J and E as it is a rationale for
similarities already presupposed by scholarship. Carr is right also in observing that as
source division gets more and more specific within a given passage, the resulting
documents become less and less comprehensible on their own; this is the result, in large
part, of the creation of additional early sources (as described above), as well as perhaps
the not uncommon scholarly neglect of the role of the assumed redactor who would have
made such intricate decisions when putting the pieces together.
94
Less convincing is Carrs reliance on the lack of scholarly consensus, as we have
already seen in Volz and Rendtorff. Yet the major points that he makes are important.
Nevertheless, they are not so much damaging to the basic concept of the Documentary
Hypothesis as they are a warning to its practitioners that their work has progressed
beyond the natural boundaries of the method. Note that Carrs comments are not directed
at the idea of separating the sources, but at the way this idea has been taken too far by
many scholars. It is not difficult to imagine a more simplified version of source criticism
to which these objections do not so easily apply; indeed, this study will attempt to serve
as an example of just such a one.
On the other side of the coin, Carr discusses the rise of tradition criticism and its
effect on classical source criticism:
In any case, from Gunkel onward this transmission-historical model of tradition
and composition history has often been used to describe the prehistory and
subsequent development of the J and E sources. The difference is that in recent
years this model has increasingly been used exclusively to describe the
transmission history of the non-P materialsWhen this model is considered,
Hupfelds main arguments for an independent E source fall by the wayside.
86

The arguments of Hupfeld to which he refers are 1) the Elohistic material identified as
distinct from what later came to be known as P extends throughout the entirety of
Genesis, and 2) this material contains references to itself, suggesting that though now
fragmentary, it was once an independent whole.
87
It may be that the traditio-critical
method can explain these items, but that does not require the corollary view that the
source-critical method cannot, as Carr suggests. Rather, it seems that Carr, like
Rendtorff, bases his rejection of the source-critical method not so much on its own
merits, but on the dominance of the traditio-critical method; in the statement quoted

86
Fractures, 148.

87
Fractures, 145.
95
above, Carr notes that tradition criticism has become the main tool for the examination of
the non-P materials (J and E); this simple statement then becomes an argument for the
priority of this method over the long-established source-critical approach. This seems
like nothing more than infatuation with the new and rejection of the old, regardless of the
independent merits of each. It is because scholars are now focusing on tradition criticism
that source criticism can be set aside; yet, like Rendtorff, it is left unobserved that
tradition criticism came about only because source criticism was so universally accepted.
Carrs work, though useful for its criticism of the common methods of the
Documentary Hypothesis, suffers from the same questions that plague Rendtorff. In
particular, the question of the role of the redactor, or reworker, remains. It is this
question which dominates the work of the next two scholars we will examine, Childs and
Van Seters, though each has a very different view on the matter.

Brevard Childs
The canonical criticism approach of Brevard Childs is an interesting fusion of
standard source criticism, Rendtorffs views on Pentateuchal composition, and Childs
own ideas about the value of the canonical text as an exegetical tool. In his magnum
opus, Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture, Childs presents his views on the
relationship between traditional literary criticism of the Pentateuch and his canonical
criticism, and in his extensive commentary on Exodus, he puts these views into practice.
As with Rendtorff, the aim in this study is not to challenge Childs views directly, as this
96
has been done by others far more competent in the field of biblical theology than I,
88
but
rather to identify his assumptions regarding the composition of the Pentateuch and detail
how they are used within his system.
Childs walks a fine line when dealing with the Documentary Hypothesis. He
seems to accept its basic conclusions regarding the division of the text into independent
documents, J, E, P, and D. Childs does claim to hold to the classic division of J and E
into two sources.
89
Furthermore, he accepts (uncritically) Wellhausens conclusion that J
and E were combined into a JE document. Though he does not acknowledge this
explicitly in his Introduction, he makes continual reference to JE, particularly in his
discussions regarding the nature of P: The problem seems to be how to explain, on the
one hand, Ps obvious dependence on JE in places, and on the other hand, the apparently
independent integrity of his narrative in other places.
90
(In his Exodus commentary, he
is clearer in his dependence on Wellhausen. For example, in his analysis of the plagues
narrative, he writes, The method of intertwining of J and E is different from that used by
the Priestly redactorThis would seem to be indirect evidence that P worked with a
form of the tradition in which J and E were already combined.
91
) In a departure from

88
Especially noteworthy are J. Barr, The Concept of Biblical Theology: An Old Testament Perspective
(Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), and J. Barton, Reading the Old Testament: Method in Biblical Study
(Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1996), 77-103.
89
Introduction, 147f.

90
Introduction, 123, and elsewhere: It is not at all obvious that the priestly material formed an
independent source before its being joined with JE (147); Whereas [Num.] 1.1-10.10 derived exclusively
from the priestly source, the succeeding section consists of a complex relationship between an earlier
Pentateuchal stratum (JE) and various levels of a priestly strand (197).

91
Exodus, 138. Of course, this assumes the correctness of his source division in this pericope, which is
certainly not correct; E does not exist in the plagues narrative (see chapters 4 and 5 below).
97
Wellhausen, Childs is inclined to see the Deuteronomist as the final redactor of the
Pentateuch, though he leaves this thought to stand without supporting argument.
92

Yet while accepting the majority of the classical Documentary Hypothesis at face
value, Childs attempts also to include Rendtorffs ideas, which, as we have seen, are
entirely antithetical to the source-critical purpose. What Childs takes from Rendtorff is
the notion that the final form of the text is not the product of the simple combination of
literary strands; this is particularly clear, in his mind, in regard to the promise formulae
found in Genesis,
93
as well as other traces of a comprehensive reworking of the
Pentateuch. In my judgment, Rendtorffs analysis allows one to draw some important
canonical observations. The final form of the Pentateuch, which cannot be simply
derived from the combination of literary sources, gives evidence of a canonical reading of
the whole in its final stages of editing.
94
This is a twisting of Rendtorffs purposes: the
traditio-critical enterprise, for Rendtorff, is incompatible with the kind of source analysis
that Childs accepts and uses. Childs has, in fact, cleverly taken the last stages of
Rendtorffs analysis of the Pentateuch, and ignored how he got there. As we saw above,
this is in opposition to the methodology that Rendtorff himself uses, which begins with
the smallest literary units and works forward from there. What Childs has taken, in short,
is Rendtorffs notion of the active redactor, who shaped the traditions according to his
theological agenda in a way which is (supposedly) evident in the text. For Childs, the
redactor is not working with independent traditions, but with the documents of source
criticism. Thus the ideas of Noth and von Rad regarding how the independent traditions

92
Introduction, 131.

93
Cf. Introduction, 151.

94
Introduction, 132.
98
were combined by a theologically motivated author into a large-scale document are
applied to the documents themselves.
The effect of this new application of tradition criticism is evident in Childs
discussions of how P is related to the earlier sources (J in the primeval history, or JE after
Gen. 12). Childs uses the example of Gen. 1-2. He sees the key to understanding the
relationship between these chapters in the toledot notice of 2:4a, which he takes as a
secondary redactional priestly insertion. By asserting that this priestly redactor had
consciously attempted to create a relationship between chapters 1 and 2, Childs argues
that the relation of the P and J material in Gen. 1-2 is far removed from being a
mechanical linking of independent literary strands, but reflects a complex process of
growth in which a mutual influence extended over the long period of composition.
95

This seems an awful lot of weight to place on a half-verse. Yet it is clear how Childs is
here using both the standard source-critical approach, which divides the text into separate
documents, and the traditio-critical approach of Rendtorff, which sees the linking of
independent traditions as the key to understanding the formation of the Pentateuch. The
innovation of Childs in this regard, beyond the combination of two very different
methodologies, is his insistence on the redactional activity being a conscious canonical
shaping: However, it is equally true that the two originally different accounts have not
been simply juxtaposed in Genesis as two parallel creation stories. To read them in this
fashion as has usually been donedisregards the essential effect of the canonical shaping
which has assigned the chapters different roles within the new context of the book of

95
Introduction, 149.
99
Genesis.
96
Even more strenuously: By continuing to speak of the two creation
accounts of Genesis the interpreter disregards the canonical shaping and threatens its
role both as literature and as scripture.
97
Thus, at the redactional level, the once
independent narratives are removed entirely from their original purpose, and are wholly
recreated by virtue of their newly juxtaposed context. In fact, for Childs, the authentic
meaning of the Pentateuch is found in the juxtaposition of dissimilar matter, so that it is
the process of combining these distinct elements that reveals the purpose of the text.
Again we see how the redactor is given a much more important role in not only the
combination, but the theological reformulation of the text.
The crux for Childs comes in the interplay between historical and what he calls
canonical criticism. For him, it is clear enough that the canonization of the text
occurred in stages, each of which was represented by a redactor, the figure who put the
previously independent pieces together into a new theological framework. This being
self-evident to Childs, it follows that in doing canonical criticism, one must be conscious
of each stage of redaction, thus necessitating the use of historical criticism. As Childs
writes:
I am also aware that the study of the canonical shape of a biblical book cannot
be simply divorced from knowledge of its historical development, but the
relationship of these two dimensions of the text is an extremely subtle one which
dare not be destroyed by crude identification. Because the present state of the
Pentateuch offers a particular interpretation of how the tradition is to be
understood, the critical task at hand is both to describe the actual characteristics
of the canonical shape and to determine the theological significance of that
shape.
98

96
Introduction, 149.

97
Introduction, 150.

98
Introduction, 128.
100
In order for Childs to show that there is inherent meaning in the canonical shape of the
present form of the text, the one (for him) used in the Protestant Christian community of
worship, it is necessary for him to show that this was the case at every stage of the texts
canonization. It is certainly true that earlier stages in the development of the biblical
literature were often regarded as canonical prior to the establishment of the final form.
99

So no redactor can be left as simple a mechanical combination of independent
documents, but must be given a larger theological role.
A wonderful example of this can be found in his commentary on Ex. 34:
The redaction of Ex. 34was also far-reaching and decisive. The redactor built
ch. 34 into the pattern of sin and forgiveness by joining it to chs. 32 and 33. He
did this by introducing the tablet motif of a covenant restoration into Js account
and transforming it into a renewal of the broken covenant (34.1, 4). He also
added the words of v.28b to match his introduction.
100

The redactor is given credit for a major theological reimagining of Ex. 34, turning it into
a model of sin and forgiveness from whatever it may have been before (the substance of
which is not important to Childs). He did this, according to Childs, by inserting the
references to the first tablets, the ones that were broken by Moses in Ex. 32. This is
remarkable for two reasons. First, even if we assume that these verses are the work of the
redactor, the theological weight placed on them is enormous; would it not be eminently
more sensible to ascribe, as many others have done (see chapters 3 and 4 below), these
redactional insertions to the fact that the J text of Ex. 34 knew only of one set of tablets,
and had no knowledge of the first, broken set in the E narrative of Ex. 32? Then the
redactors role would be, logically enough, simply to reconcile the two divergent
traditions so that the reader would not be confused by the sudden appearance of new

99
Introduction, 76.

100
Exodus, 608.
101
tablets without any reference to the narrative of two chapters earlier. The second reason
Childs view is remarkable, of course, is that Ex. 34:1, 4, and 28 are not from the
redactors hand at all, but are from E (see chapter 3 below). Childs is so intent on finding
meaning in the redactors handiwork that he misses the truth of the source-critical
situation here.
For Childs, not only is the redactors role explicitly theological, but it is centered
around a particular community of faith.
Above all, it is essential to recognize that the present shape of the book of
Genesis is not simply a juxtaposition of independent literary strands which
previously had had nothing to do with one another. Rather, the development of
the book underwent a complex process of growth and change in which different
literary traditions mutually influenced each other in a dynamic interaction with
the community of faith.
101

Where most Pentateuchal scholars take issue with Childs is in his casual equation of his
current community of faith with such a community in ancient Israel, an equation for
which he provides no evidence. That he is really making such an equation is not
explicitly stated, but may be derived from his exegesis of the text, for example in his
assessment of the role of the promise formulae in Genesis:
All the individual stories of the Fathers have now been framed within a bracket
of eschatologyWhat is historically an anachronism has become a theologically
central confessionThe theological constant of the divine Word, which
provides the stories with a referent, points to the future. To achieve this goal the
canonical editor can employ originally parallel stories (chs. 12 and 20) to make
two very different pointsThe frequent attempt to recover a historical referent
by means of alleged parallels from Canaanite culturebadly misses the point of
the canonical text because it highlights those very elements which have long
since been pushed into the background and overlooks the main thrust being
made by the passage itself.
102

The canonical editor who combined Gen. 12 and 20 would be for Wellhausen the
redactor of the JE document; as Childs accepts this stage of Pentateuchal composition,

101
Introduction, 148.

102
Introduction, 151f.
102
one must assume that he, like Wellhausen, would date this combination relatively early in
Israels history. It is all the more remarkable, therefore, that Childs can see in such a
redaction the concepts of eschatology (perhaps here used in the broadest possible sense,
but still a keyword for much later religious ideas) and the divine Word. This highlights
not only the overtly Christian interpretation given by Childs, but also his need to make
the process of redaction one of huge theological import. It is a wonderful irony,
therefore, that Childs makes the following statement: [B]ecause of the lack of historical
evidence, it is extremely difficult to determine the motivations involved in the canonical
process.
103
Yet this is precisely what Childs attempts to do at each turn, as he describes
the theological ramifications of each stage of redaction. Even better for our purposes,
and especially in light of the foregoing paragraph, is the following: For example, it
remains exceedingly difficult to determine to what extent a canonical force was at work
in the uniting of the J and E sources of the Pentateuch.
104
One might imagine that this
would be an indication to Childs that perhaps those sources were not combined in the
way commonly assumed; yet he accepts the idea of a JE document, and even tries (as
we have seen) to give some theological motivation to that redaction.
In addition to the concept of the active redactor upon which Childs obviously
relies for his understanding of the growth of the Pentateuch, we find in his work another
idea which is largely unproven but crucial to the canonical process as he envisions it.
This is the function of the literature as a normative religious document (or documents)
within the ancient Israelite community. Again, this is a necessary step for Childs,

103
Introduction, 62.

104
Introduction, 62.
103
because he wants to show that the modern community of faith is simply the latest step in
a process of theological canonization, thereby justifying his particular (Christian) reading
of the text. It is with this in mind that we must read statements such as the following:
Although non-religious factors (political, social, and economic) certainly entered into
the canonical process, these were subordinated to the religious usage of the literature by
its function within the community.
105
This is a remarkable claim, as we have absolutely
no evidence suggesting how the biblical texts were used at any point before Qumran.
This is even more true when dealing with the pre-Pentateuchal documents, whether JE,
Deuteronomy, the assumed priestly redaction, or any combination of these.
Moreover, increasingly the original sociological and historical differences
between the nation of Israel Northern and Southern kingdom, pro- and anti-
monarchical parties, apocalyptic versus theocratic circles were lost, and a
religious community emerged which found its identity in terms of sacred
scripture. Israel defined itself in terms of a book! The canon formed the
decisive Sitz im Leben for the Jewish communitys life., thus blurring the
sociological evidence most sought after by the modern historian. When critical
exegesis is made to rest on the recovery of these very sociological distinctions
which have been obscured, it runs directly in the face of the canons intention.
106

The preceding statement is remarkable for its basic lack of historical judgment.
The sociological distinctions that Childs claims have been obscured are evident
throughout the Bible, and can be dated from the earliest literature in the Pentateuch down
through some of the latest passages in Haggai and Zechariah. That various viewpoints
have been combined into one large collection such as the Bible does not negate the very
variety which they represent. Note that even Childs acknowledges that combination to
have been a Jewish enterprise; thus it cannot be dated before the second or third centuries
BCE. Yet Childs also conflates Judaism and Israel, claiming that Israel defined itself in

105
Introduction, 61.

106
Introduction, 78.
104
terms of a book! This is unproven, and largely unprovable. The underlying assumption
in all this is that the Bible has been the normative religious document of the faith-based
community known as Israel since its very beginnings, presumably with the writing of J,
yet this assumption (more common perhaps than it ought to be) is unjustifiable, based on
the total lack of evidence from ancient Israel itself, or even from the text. We must
question the extent to which the constituent parts of the Pentateuch were available in
ancient Israel, and with that question come the related issues of social groups, literacy,
and religion (see chapter 6 below). None of these is as simple as Childs suggests in
ascribing a common faith and textual center for the entirety of ancient Israel.
The work of Childs, then, leaves us with two large-scale issues: 1) How can we
best conceive of the role of the redactor(s) in the composition of the Pentateuch? Is this a
mechanical process of combination, or a theological process of reformulation? 2) To
what extent can we speak about the documents of the Pentateuch, whether independently
or in combination with each other, as serving as the foundation of particular religious or
sociological groups? How widely known were these texts, and how widely read? In both
cases, the weakness of Childs arguments comes in his disdain for historical criticism, for
he (like Rendtorff) is unable to provide any historical times or places during which these
processes of redaction and worship may have occurred. Without such a background, it is
impossible to effectively suggest a reconstruction of the history of Pentateuchal
composition and transmission. It may be admitted that the origins of the composition of
the various documents that make up the Pentateuch are only available in a general sense,
but when we speak of combining what are argued to be well-known and perhaps even
105
sacred compositions, some idea of when, where, how, and why is necessary, even if only
in hypothetical form. On this count, Childs fails to persuade.

John Van Seters
John Van Seters has long been a very vocal opponent of the Documentary
Hypothesis, and his idiosyncratic views are well known and well published, to the point
that they do not bear repeating or rebutting here.
107
However, in his most recent book,
The Edited Bible,
108
he addresses precisely the issues of redaction that we have observed
from Hupfeld through Childs. This book suits our purposes perfectly, for while he does
not go into detail about his own reconstruction of Pentateuchal composition, he makes a
number of very important points about the methodology of source criticism which must
be taken into account. Most importantly in this particular work, Van Seters delves into
the historical background of the concept of the redactor, as well as its use throughout
Pentateuchal criticism, in an effort to show that the idea of the biblical editor must be
entirely dismissed.
In The Edited Bible, Van Seters attempts to show that the idea of the redactor as
conceived in much, if not all, Pentateuchal scholarship, is faulty. It is his contention that
scholars, particularly source critics, use the modern term editor as it is used in
contemporary publishing. In so doing, they use it to describe a practice that bears little
resemblance to modern editorial practice, and thus apply it anachronistically to ancient
Israel. In modern practice, according to Van Seters, an editor almost never directly alters

107
See the critique of Van Seters work in Nicholson, Pentateuch, 134-143, 145-153.

108
Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2006. My thanks to Prof. Van Seters for allowing me to view the
manuscript of this book (byad Prof. Peter Machinist).
106
his text and is not to be held responsible for the content of the material. In Van Seters
view, this contrasts starkly with the redactor as posited by biblical scholars, who is made
responsible not only for making wholesale changes to the text, but also for imposing his
own theological concepts onto the text, radically changing its originally intended
meaning. Van Seters aims in his book, therefore, to destroy the concept of the redactor,
or editor, in Pentateuchal scholarship by showing that the term is used anachronistically
and so misused semantically.
Van Seters first argument is that the term redactor or editor has been grossly
misused in biblical scholarship. He demonstrates that the original idea of the biblical
editor is based on a seventeenth-century view of what editors do, rather than an
authentically ancient concept (the definition of which he bases almost entirely on ancient
Greek historiographical literature). This is, at its root, a semantic argument. In
criticizing one scholars attempts to define the role of the biblical editor, Van Seters
writes, one might have hoped for some reflection on what the term editor actually
means, because none of this supposed editorial activity [i.e., emending, rearranging, and
adding to the original documents] reflects in the slightest way what editors outside of
biblical studies actually do.
109
In other words, the term editor is used incorrectly,
because modern editors function in a way entirely different from what is proposed for
ancient editors. Put more clearly: And should we speak of editors revising the works
of others? Do modern editors of the classics or the Scriptures revise the texts they
edit?
110
The origin of this semantic difficulty, Van Seters demonstrates, goes as far back

109
Edited Bible, 7.

110
Edited Bible, 8.
107
as the work of Richard Simon in the seventeenth century, who conceived of the biblical
editor as an archivist, conserving and reproducing the material found in the ancient
documents of Israel (e.g., The Book of the History of the Kings of Judah). Van Seters
sees this as no more than Simon understanding the biblical editor in terms of the editorial
activity in his own time: The model is that of the historical editor who reproduces
diplomatic copies of historical sources with minimal interpretive joins and connections in
order to produce the biblical histories of the Pentateuch and historical books.
111
The
concept, therefore, is entirely anachronistic for the early history of the Bible.
112

Van Seters declares that biblical scholarship entirely took over the concept of
editor from its own humanistic scholarly experience, and consequently applied it to the
ancient Israelite literature of the Bible.
When scholars thought about the production and publication of books of the
Bible, it was difficult to conceive of them coming into being without editors. It
was editors or redactors who put together the various editions of the Pentateuch
[from the Renaissance forward, e.g. the Kennicott Bible], and in the older
literary criticism they play only a limited role in the creation of the text itself.
However, so far as I can tell, there is no equivalent in antiquity to the
indispensable modern editor or redactor. The use of the term redactor in the
discussion of the creation or production of new literary works in antiquity is an
anachronism.
113

As an argument against understanding the biblical redactor as functioning similarly to a
modern editor, this is perfectly acceptable, but as an argument against the existence of the
biblical redactor it is hardly valid. Van Seters is simply playing a semantic game: if the
objection is truly to the use of the term redactor, then we can just use another word for
what the compiler of the Pentateuch did. Since we do not know what the ancient

111
Edited Bible, 190.

112
Edited Bible, 191.

113
Edited Bible, 21 (italics original).
108
Israelites may have called such a person, however, we can hardly be expected to call him
by that name; we can only use the words that are available to us and that most closely
mirror the function we see in the ancient world. If we were only allowed to use words in
their original meanings, much of modern English language would be illegitimate. This is
in no way an actual argument against the existence of the redactor, just against his title.
Yet Van Seters does make an important point which may be overshadowed by his
italicized anti-anachronistic stance: the actual biblical redactor should not be understood
in the light of modern editorial standards, nor those of the Renaissance (nor, though Van
Seters would not say this, those of ancient Greece). The redactors role can only be
determined through the literary analysis of the biblical text and the demonstration
therefrom of the necessity of a figure who combined the various documents of the
Pentateuch. In other words, once literary analysis has determined that the best way to
understand the characteristics of the Pentateuch is to separate it into once independent
documents which have subsequently been combined, at least one redactor is required to
have existed to combine them (see chapters 4 and 5 below).
In a similar vein, Van Seters shows that the concept of the redactor in biblical
studies came about through analogy with the redactor in classical, especially Homeric,
studies. He demonstrates that biblical scholars followed the lead of their colleagues in
the classics in the search for and discovery of redactors in the text. But, he argues,
classical studies have long since given up on this notion, while biblical studies still cling
to it. Van Seters claims that since biblical studies borrowed the idea of the redactor from
a field that has since rejected it, biblical scholars should reject it as well. This reasoning
is flawed; just because an idea doesnt work in the field that invented it does not mean
109
that it cant work in a field which borrows it. The idea must be judged on its own merits
within each independent field. Furthermore, it is fundamentally incorrect to state that the
idea of the redactor is borrowed from classical studies. Though the understanding of how
an editor works may have been taken over by analogy with Homeric scholarship, the idea
of the redactor is derived by necessity from the Documentary Hypothesis; it is not
imposed on source criticism from without.
The more important arguments made by Van Seters come in regard to his
investigation of the use of the concept of the redactor in Pentateuchal scholarship. He
notes, correctly and importantly, that all other uses of hypothetical redactors in
Pentateuch criticism are completely dependent upon the rationale for their existence in
the Documentary Hypothesis.
114
That is to say, it is only when one has concluded that
there are independent documents in the Pentateuch that one must then necessarily
conclude that there must have been a figure, whom we call the redactor, who put them
together. This is a crucial point, too often left unstated by source critics, and well
observed by Van Seters. He, of course, uses this to argue further that by removing the
theory of independent documents, we can remove the idea of the redactor. Indeed, if one
could successfully defend a theory of Pentateuchal composition which did not include
originally independent documents, then the figure of the redactor would be rendered
superfluous. The difficulty, of course, is defending such a theory. But that is not what
Van Seters is doing here; he is trying to undermine the theory by attacking the redactor,
which is methodologically backward.

114
Edited Bible, 4.
110
This is certainly not the occasion to debate Van Seters larger theories on
Pentateuchal composition. We can admit, however, that he is largely correct in saying
that editors or to use the common scholarly jargon, redactors are invented as a
mode of literary analysis, and they are made to perform all the tasks necessary to make a
particular literary theory work as an explanation for various features in the biblical
text.
115

Where Van Seters is mistaken in this, I believe, is that while the positing of the
existence of editors is the result of a certain literary analysis, namely the Documentary
Hypothesis, they are not therefore invented, any more than the Yahwist or the Priestly
source is invented (and Van Seters would never argue that such is the case). They are
necessitated by the documentary model of Pentateuchal composition, and while much
source-critical scholarship may not explicitly state as much, the role of the redactor can
and should be boiled down to only its barest elements: the combination of independent
sources. Where Van Seters is on the mark, and where so much source-critical work has
been problematic, is in noting that once the idea of the redactor is available, it is used as
an excuse for every possible objection to the literary theory being proposed. We saw this
already in Hupfeld in chapter 1 above. Van Seters does a great service to scholarship in
this book by carefully proceeding through the history of Pentateuchal criticism, from
Simon down to Childs, investigating how the concept of the redactor has evolved. His
observations are enlightening, and largely coincide with the arguments made in this
study. A brief look at this evolution is valuable here.

115
Edited Bible, 1.
111
An early concept of the redactor is found in Ilgen, according to Van Seters: Ilgen
does not date his documents or set them in any particular historical setting or establish
any priority of one over another; they are simply parallel documents used by the
compiler.
116
The breakthrough in the concept, however, came, as we have seen, with
Hupfeld:
With Hupfeldthe role of the editor/redactor has been defined, and it is
subsequently assumed that, when any text in the Pentateuch/Hexateuch shows
any signs of this sort of literary activity [i.e., leveling differences, rearranging
material, omitting blocks of text, etc.], it is evidence of the ancient editor. It
does not matter that the very existence of ancient editorsis based on a totally
inappropriate and anachronistic model derived from the modern editor of
historical textsthe invention of the editor was a useful literary device to
explain otherwise puzzling features in the text, and the existence of redactors
was never again questioned in biblical studies from the mid-nineteenth century
until the present.
117

The redactor is thereby made responsible for all problems arising from the source-critical
theory; a scapegoat whose existence allows for the normal functioning of the scholarly
hypothesis.
The next change comes with Wellhausen and Kuenen, who, as Van Seters shows,
now add the role of harmonist to the other descriptions of the redactor. In place of a
single harmony in the case of Hupfeld, the function of all three redactors now is to
harmonize their documents with each other.
118
Van Seters recognizes that Wellhausen
was heavily influenced by classical studies, and argues, probably correctly, that
Wellhausen conflated in his scholarship two separate types of editors known in classical

116
Edited Bible, 198.

117
Edited Bible, 222f.

118
Edited Bible, 234. Van Seters continues here with a typically semantic argument: This function, of
course, has nothing in common with the editorial model that we find in the Alexandrian scholars or in
Origen, and the notion therefore becomes quite absurd. It is not clear to me why the biblical editor should
have to work in the mode of the ancient Greeks any more than he should have to work in the mode of the
Renaissance editor, unless, as seems to be the case with Van Seters, one comes to the issue with the
preconceived notion of the biblical sources being fundamentally based on the model of Greek
historiography.
112
studies, the diorthotes and the diaskeuastes; the first of these is represented in
Wellhausens scheme by the redactors need to conserve as much of the original as
possible; the second by the redactors apparent expansion and corruption of the original
text. In this observation we can see why the figure of the redactor has been so troubling
in source criticism; since Wellhausen and even before him, the redactor has been made to
do two contradictory tasks. This contradiction is carried through into the twentieth
century, as Van Seters points out through the example of Pfeiffer, who attributes to the
redactor not two but four different methodologies for combining the texts. This
description gives the editor a great deal of latitude and allows for solving many literary
problems by the use of this single invention.
119

A change is noted by Van Seters when we arrive at Gunkel, who, as we have
seen, believed the redactor of J and E to have worked almost entirely silently. Here the
redactorfunctions in the manner of a true editor: he treats his sources diplomatically,
insofar as possible. His additions are few, necessary for the unity of the whole and trivial
in their impact on the content.
120
What Van Seters evidently means by true editor is
modern editor, but even this equation is not necessary. Gunkels view of the redactor,
and its quite eloquent restatement by Van Seters, is a return to the simplest understanding
as required by the Documentary Hypothesis, in which the redactor has the single and

119
Edited Bible, 246. Again, however, Van Seters detracts from an otherwise strong argument by including
irrelevant concerns: However, this hardly resembles the analogy of the Gospel harmonies invoked by
Hupfeld any longer, and it surely does violence to the notion of an editor. A scholarly idea is not rendered
moot because it does not resemble its historical origins, nor because it does not use the most precise
terminology, especially when the terminology in question is modern, and the topic under investigation is
ancient.

120
Edited Bible, 251.
113
understandable function of combining distinct documents into as literarily consistent a
whole as possible.
Van Seters most important contribution to the study of the history of scholarship,
I believe, comes in his detailed demonstration of how the students of von Rad and Noth
adopted and then adapted their teachers ideas about Pentateuchal composition so as to
bring the redactors, and redaction criticism, to the forefront. There is no space here to
revisit Van Seters arguments, but the basic notion is simple: scholars such as Koch,
Smend, and Rendtorff took the traditio-critical approach of their predecessors and applied
it to the end of the process of composition as well as to the beginning. In this way, the
redactors of the biblical text take on the theological role assigned by von Rad to J and by
Noth to Dtr. Van Seters puts it succinctly: What has happened here is that several
theological editors belonging to a school have replaced a single author whom von Rad
called the Yahwist.
121
And Van Seters asks the crucial question in this regard: Why are
these hypothetical schools or circles of editors, whose activity is viewed as extending
over a very long period of time, a better explanation for the collection and integration of
diverse materials under overarching ideological perspectives than authors and historians
as set forth by Noth and von Rad?
122

In all this, Van Seters effectively charts the rise of what I have described above as
the active redactor, the theologically motivated editor who in much of modern
scholarship is made responsible, in his various guises, for the form of the Pentateuch.
But Van Seters goes further in pointing out how strange it is that the redactor should be

121
Edited Bible, 275.

122
Edited Bible, 276.
114
made so central by these scholars who propose to do away with the Documentary
Hypothesis: Without the authors of source analysis, redactors would never have had a
place in literary criticism in the first place. If scholars wish to give up the Documentary
Hypothesis, they will have to jettison the redactors as well.
123
Here Van Seters makes
an important methodological point, one which I have tried to make above as well. Since
the entire idea of the redactor as usually constituted in Pentateuchal studies is no more
than a necessary corollary to the Documentary Hypothesis, then one cannot use those
same redactors to argue against source criticism. This is not a case of borrowing a
methodology, as biblical scholars borrowed literary criticism from classical scholars, but
of actually arrogating a figure who was necessitated, for lack of a better word, by a theory
which one is simultaneously rejecting. If Rendtorff and his school wish to use the idea of
a redactor, not to mention ascribing to the redactor the bulk of the theological import of
the text, then they must demonstrate that such a figure is necessary not on the basis of an
externally imposed belief, but on the basis of a total literary analysis of the final form of
the Pentateuch. The redactor that was required by the Documentary Hypothesis cannot
be skimmed off the top and then used as the foundation for another critical methodology;
the redactor must emerge from the methodology itself. Though he would not put it this
way, I think this is the basic argument that Van Seters is making in his assessment of
Rendtorff.
Van Seters addresses the canonical criticism of Childs in much the same way that
I have in this study. He declares, rather strongly, that the approach of Childs is blatantly
confessional and is not, in my view, compatible with historical criticism and would

123
Edited Bible, 292.
115
need no further comment, except that Childs tries to justify his canonical process in a
way that bears striking resemblance to our problem of the redactor.
124
Just as was
argued above, Van Seters also sees Childs canonical criticism as problematic for its
overly theological view of the role of the redactor.
125
He is also troubled by the idea of
the ancient community of faith, and argues correctly that it is always a small elite,
particularly in antiquity, who create the texts that are received by its communityIf the
texts were deemed worthy of preservation by the communitythen the transmission of
these texts was in the hands of scribes and scholars, not the community as a whole, the
vast majority of whom were illiterate.
126
Van Seters also sees the dependence of Childs
on a particular and flawed understanding of Rendtorff: It is Rendtorffs denigration of
the authors and sources of the Documentary Hypothesis and his substitution of a
traditiohistorical and redactional process that has led to his views, and Childs
conveniently adopts them for his own canonical criticism.
127
Van Seters brings the
discussion full circle when he points out that the methodological usefulness of the
redactor in canonical criticism has become the equivalent of that in so much of source
criticism (though, as the quote makes clear, the actual function of the editor is drastically
different): The editor needs no more proof for his existence than convenience: he makes
the method workThe editor has become the canonizer of the final form or the

124
Edited Bible, 364.

125
Edited Bible, 367.

126
Edited Bible, 369.

127
Edited Bible, 371. Regarding the work of Blum: The important point, however, is that not only notions
about the final redactional form but also notions about the whole redactional process are imbued with
theological legitimation. It is no longer the author but the editor who is the theologian, with each
editorial interpolation making its contribution toward the final edited form, the canonical text (281).
116
transmitter of the authorized edition of the text, the deus ex machina of both literary
criticism and biblical theology.
128

In light of the valuable work done by Van Seters on the concept of the redactor,
and our own evaluation thereof, we can formulate a few issues with regard to the redactor
about which we need to be particularly careful: 1) We must be able to reconcile the
apparently contradictory functions of the redactor: that of preserving his sources as fully
as possible, and that of adding to and corrupting them. 2) We must settle on a reasonable
extent to which the redactor worked, somewhere on the range from Gunkels barely
visible redactor to Childs active theologian. 3) Most importantly, the role of the redactor
must no longer be defined by external concepts of what a redactor can or should do, but
must only be understood on the basis of a coherent literary analysis of the text. For the
source critic, then, the figure of the redactor must remain a crucial part of the overarching
theory: if there are multiple independent documents, they must have been put together by
someone. For Van Seters, of course, this is quite wrong, but only because he does not
believe in independent documents. This is the great irony of his book: he gives a
wonderful account of the history of the notion of the redactor in Pentateuchal studies, but
in doing so he does not effectively deny its existence; he only makes us aware of the
dangers of abusing the idea of the redactor. The real reason that he needs to refute the
figure of the redactor is that he does not believe in the theory that gave rise to it. Without
proving the illegitimacy of the Documentary Hypothesis (as he does not in this book), he
cannot prove the illegitimacy of the redactor.

128
Edited Bible, 390.
117
Like Volz, Van Seters picks a particular facet of source criticism and by attacking
it, wants us to believe that he is attacking the whole edifice. Yet this is methodologically
deceptive. He demonstrates that the idea of the redactor came from classical studies, or
that it was developed on the model of Renaissance and post-Renaissance publishing. Yet
this all misses the main point: if one believes in the Documentary Hypothesis, then one
believes in the existence of the biblical redactor. To undermine the redactor, one must
undermine the theory that requires it, not the other way around. Van Seters has not
convinced us that the redactor must be rejected; he has simply shown us how the notion
has been abused. On the basis of his insights we can, and must, discuss how the redactor
can more effectively be defined to fit the purposes of the theory without violating the
rules of common sense. Van Seters most accurate assessment of the redactor comes just
as he is trying to reject it: Only in a very limited sense do editors revise for clarity, to
correct mistakes, or to overcome difficulties in the text. This was as true in antiquity as it
is in modern times, and the degree to which a text is revered as a classic or sacred is the
same degree to which the modern editor producing a new edition of the text is
conservative in reproducing and not modifying it, if at all possible.
129
This is my vision
of the biblical redactor stated nearly perfectly (see chapters 4 and 5 below), and though
he meant to do the theory harm, I will take it as intended for good.

Richard E. Friedman
In an era when Pentateuchal scholarship is largely pushing classical source
criticism to the sidelines, if not out of the stadium altogether, Richard E. Friedman has

129
Edited Bible, 22.
118
consistently been the most outspoken defender of the Documentary Hypothesis. As such,
his arguments will be a part of our discussion throughout this study, and it is worth
offering a brief overview of his ideas at this point as well.
Friedman is, essentially, an unabashed supporter of the classically formulated
Documentary Hypothesis, with the one significant stipulation that he places D later than
P.
130
Fortunately for our purposes, he is one of the few scholars who has made the effort
to explain his views on the combination of J and E, rather than simply describing them as
JE. We are thus able to engage his ideas on the topic directly. In terms of the literary
analysis, Friedman has finally gone beyond Wellhausen and those who followed him, so
that the argument for the combined JE document no longer rests on scholarly inability to
separate the two sources. Friedmans argument is built on the relative completeness of
the two independent sources J and E and the combined JE document, and the use of that
combined text by P. In his opinion,
When the strands of the interwoven source works are untwisted and separated
from one another, neither J nor E can be read as a continuous story. Each is
incomplete. However, J and E together, with only P separated from them, do
form a nearly complete and continuous narrative. It is this combined narrative
that P has been shown to follow. P, as well, when separated from the other
sources is a continuous and nearly complete narrative, with only an occasional
lacuna. This indicates that J and E were combined in a separate and earlier
editorial process and that P was added to them in a subsequent editing.
131

While Friedman has a right to assert that neither J nor E is complete in terms of a modern
narrative, and perhaps even in terms of an ancient one (though in either case such an
assertion is based on ones particular view of what makes a narrative complete, and, as
a corollary, what the function of the narrative originally may have been and I do not

130
Torah (Pentateuch), ABD VI:605-622 (quote on 614). He bases this decision on historical referents
within each document, references in other biblical books, and linguistic classification.

131
Torah (Pentateuch), 618.
119
agree with Friedman on either point), the leap from there to claiming that they must have
been combined in a separate process is not obvious. It presumes that each of these
documents was literarily, and, in fact, physically, preserved in its entirety up to the time
of their combination, which cannot be proven. More important here is the claim that P
follows the narrative structure not of J and/or E individually but of the combined JE
document (this is further discussed in the Excursus after chapter 3 below). Yet questions
remain here as well. To what extent is P dependent on JE? Since, for Friedman, the J
and E narratives were already canonical before their combination with each other (as
we will see below), surely JE was canonical before P wrote; how, therefore, could P
produce an independent narrative in opposition to JE? Is Friedman actually correct in
stating that P follows the same storyline as JE? And most importantly, would the fact
that two books follow the same storyline necessarily mean that one was dependent on the
other? Most scholars assume that there was a common stock of traditions in ancient
Israel upon which each of these authors drew; could not J, E, P and D all be drawing on
the same common stock?
The concept of the common stock of popular tradition, popularized by Gunkel,
von Rad, and Noth, but originating long before them, suggests another possibility than
Friedmans claim that P is consciously writing an alternative version of JE. Friedman
argues, for example, that in the Noah narrative where J has Noah bring seven pairs of
clean animals on board so that they can be sacrificed after the Flood, and P has Noah
bring only one pair, because for P there is no sacrifice before Sinai, this is proof that P is
consciously rewriting JE.
132
But there is no reason for this to be the case: if P simply

132
120
wants to tell the Noah story as part of his narrative, he is of course not going to include
the sacrifice, as it is not in his theological-historical system. It need not have anything to
do with J, who presents the story according to his theological-historical system. The
assumption that, because two authors differ, one must be responding to the other, is not
only problematic by itself, but is clearly also dependent on the prior assumption that these
authors can be dated relative to one another. Thus there are two levels of methodological
problems here. Differences in the narration of the Israelite traditions can be ascribed with
certainty only to one cause: difference in opinion between the authors as to what
happened and why. Everything else is commentary.
Friedman is also one of the most thoughtful source critics on the topic of the
redactor. He basically sees two redactors in the Pentateuch: R
JE
and R (who, he posits,
may have added both P and D to JE
133
). But he is conscious of the argument made above
that in order to claim distinct redactors, one must be able to show that there are distinct
redactorial methodologies at work. He hints at this in his article in ABD:
[E]ach of the respective editors of these stages had a different set of governing
principles and methods. The redactor of JE must have cut substantial portions of
each of the sources in order to produce the desired combined work. The
redactor who merged JE with P appears to have taken enormous pains to retain
as much of the source texts as possible without producing intolerable
contradictions and repetitions.
134

Much more detail is provided, however, in his recent article, Three Major Redactors of
the Torah,
135
in which he delves more deeply into the characteristics of the redactors
(the third being Dtr, whom he sees represented exclusively in the combination of the law
code of Deuteronomy 12-26 with the historical narrative surrounding it). As this article

133

134

135
Forthcoming.
121
will be engaged in greater detail in chapter 5 of this study, I will not go into its specifics
at this point, but will simply applaud Friedman for being the first to recognize that to
posit more than one redactor, one must be able to differentiate their redactorial
techniques.
Finally, Friedman takes the standard approach to the historical aspect of the
combination of J and E, that they were combined following the fall of Israel (see further
discussion of this in chapter 6 below).
136
For most scholars, it is enough simply to state
this as fact, relying on the reader to infer (I suppose) that when the northern kingdom
dissolves and its remaining inhabitants move south to Judah, the northern E document is
also dissolved into the southern J text. But Friedman goes beyond this to provide at least
a little more rationale for such a combination.
The assimilation of recently arrived Israelites into the Judean population after
722 B.C. need not have presented insurmountable difficulties in itself. The
Israelites and the Judeans were kin. They spoke the same language: Hebrew.
They worshiped the same God: Yahweh. They shared ancestral traditions of the
patriarchs and historical traditions of exodus and wilderness. But what were
they to do with two documents, each purporting to recount sacred national
traditions, but emphasizing different persons and events and occasionally
contradicting each other? The solution, apparently, was to combine them.
137

The underlying assumption in this paragraph is one which has been present at least by
implication in source-critical studies for nearly the entire time that the field has existed:
that these independent documents were somehow canonical in their separate forms,
amongst the people of the kingdom that produced them. Friedman recognizes that this is
a slippery slope, and tries to scramble back up it: The editor(s) clearly were not averse to
applying scissors and paste to their received texts. It is therefore difficult to argue that
they retained texts that they did not want simply out of reverence for documents that had

136

137
Who Wrote the Bible? (New York: Harper & Row, 1987), 87.
122
been passed down.
138
Yet the root that he chooses to grab onto for support is no more
firm than his footing: A more probable reason why both J and E were retained is that
both of them may have become sufficiently well known that one simply could not get
away with excluding one or the other.
139
Even Friedman is uncertain about this, as the
word probable suggests. What is required here is that we understand the common
ancient Israelite as being intimately familiar with the text of a document, rather than with
a stock of traditions. There is no question that the northern traditions would have differed
from those of the south, but that is not the argument being made here: here we are
discussing actual, physical documents. But Friedman puts the problem as if it were one
of oral tradition: One could not tell the story of the events at Sinai without referring to
the golden calf incident, for example, because someone in the audience (especially a
former northerner) would remember the story and protest.
140
So we have come across
yet another assumption: that these individual documents, J and E, and presumably their
combined form as well, were commonly read aloud to the Israelites. There is, of course,
no evidence for such reading, certainly not before the time of Deuteronomy, and perhaps
not even before Ezra. And therefore, having found himself trapped by the initial
assumption of canonicity, Friedman is almost forced to revert to it: [P]reserving J and E
separately would challenge the authenticity of both. If both were to be kept side by side
on the same shelf, that would be a reminder of the dual history that produced two
alternate versions. And that would diminish the authoritative quality of each of them.
141

138
Who Wrote the Bible, 88.

139

140

123

Conclusion
For many scholars, and certainly for the non-specialist readership, Friedmans
work represents the standard presentation of the Documentary Hypothesis in the modern
era. As this study intends to take issue with a particular aspect of that hypothesis, it is no
wonder that Friedmans work will in many ways help form the structure of our
investigation. In particular, the points are as has already been laid out above: 1) The idea
that P is dependent upon a combined J and E document. I will challenge this directly in
the Excursus after chapter 3, but will begin by going over its head, so to speak, and
arguing instead that D (which for Friedman is later than P) knows only E. If this can be
shown to be the case, then it will provide a terminus a quo for the combination of J and E
that is later than Friedmans proposed dating of P, thereby obviating the possibility (in
Friedmans reconstruction) that P knew a combined JE text. Furthermore, I hope that this
will help finally resolve the issue of the status of E as a document; if D can be shown to
know only E, then it becomes much more difficult to argue that E never existed
independently. 2) The issue of the role of R
JE
and its methodology with respect to R.
This entails two parts: first, a detailed look at those passages to which R
JE
is commonly
assigned, in which I will argue that these can be better assigned to J, E, or R; and second,
an analysis of the methodologies of R
JE
and R, in which I will attempt to show that, in
spite of Friedmans efforts, they cannot in fact be distinguished. 3) Finally, the issue of
the historical setting of the combination JE and the assumptions inherent in the common
theory of that historical setting. I have already described above what I see to be the

141
124
drawbacks of Friedmans presentation, but further study of this issue will be in order to
show that the common dating of the combination of J and E in 722 BCE is both
impossible on historical grounds and based on fundamentally flawed assumptions
regarding the nature of these documents and their combination.

Chapter Three

The Relationship of D to J and E

It has become a staple of Pentateuchal criticism that the narratives of D are
dependent on those of the so-called JE document, and not at all on P. According to the
still-dominant Wellhausen paradigm, this dependence is the result of the accretive nature
of the growth of the Pentateuch: J and E were combined to create JE; D was composed on
the basis of JE and subsequently combined with it to form JED; and P was composed on
the basis of JED and then combined with it to create the Pentateuch largely as we now
have it.
1
One indisputable aspect of this reconstruction is that the narratives of D are not
at all related to or dependent on P. It has also become a universally recognized fact that
D is in fact dependent on narratives from the J and E sources. Unfortunately, since
Wellhausen it has also become a staple of Pentateuchal criticism, as was shown in the
previous chapters, that J and E were combined to form the so-called JE document before
the writing of D. For that reason, virtually no detailed effort has been made to
demonstrate how D used the J and E narratives, whether in a combined form, as
Wellhausen would have it, or as they existed independently. This chapter will attempt to
correct this problem.
2

1
Wellhausen, Prolegomena, 345 and n. 2.

Chapter Three The Relationship of D to J and E
126
The possibility that D did not have a combined JE text before him was proposed,
if tentatively and only for part of D, already by Kuenen: For it does not appear that the
Deuteronomist himself, i.e. the author of Deut v. sqq,. had JE before him as a whole.
3

Kuenen at least recognized that the author of D did not utilize the combined stories of J
and E: The combined documents, or in other words JE as a whole, cannot be traced with
certainty in the historical allusions of D
1
[Kuenens designation for the author of Deut. 5-
26].
4
Yet it is the conclusion of Wellhausen on this issue which has been most
determinative for subsequent scholarship: Die Thesis ist richtig, JE, nicht Q und nicht
JE+Q, ist fr die geschichtliche Anschauung des Deuteronomiums massgebend.
5
Yet it
must be recalled that for Wellhausen the combination of J and E at a very early date (i.e.,
pre-D) was a foregone conclusion, not because of any evidence from D, but solely
because J and E are difficult to separate in certain passages of the Pentateuch. In fact, in
his analysis of Ds dependence on the earlier narratives, Wellhausen, having already
decided that J and E were combined at an earlier stage, referred to them throughout as JE,
without any attempt to distinguish on which source the author of D had based his
narrative.
6
Thus, though Wellhausens formulation that D knew only JE was put forth as

2
In this study I will examine only the narrative portions of D. A recent book by B. Levinson, however, has
argued in detail that the law code of Deut. 12-26 is directly dependent on the so-called Book of the
Covenant, the E law code of Ex. 20:19-23:33 (Deuteronomy and the Hermeneutics of Legal Innovation
[Oxford: Oxford University, 1998]). At least one D section (Deut. 7:1-5) appears to be based on a
Yahwistic legal passage (Ex. 34:11-16); see, however, S. Bar-On, The Festival Calendars in Exodus xxiii
14-19 and xxxiv 18-26, VT 48 (1998): 161-195, in which he demonstrates that the bulk of the laws in Ex.
34 are not original to J, but are a late composition written under the influence of D.

3
Hexateuch, 249, and cf. 253 n. 27. According to Kuenen, Deut. 1-4 is a later addition to the book
(117ff.), and the author of these first four chapters knew J, E, and the combination JE (253).

4
Hexateuch, 253 n. 27.

5
Composition, 193.

6
Composition, 186-208.
127
decided fact in both his Composition and his Prolegomena,
7
and it was this which was
taken up throughout subsequent scholarship: neither Wellhausen nor most who followed
him bothered to examine the particulars of Ds references to the earlier narratives in order
to ascertain that it had to be the combined J and E narratives that formed the basis of Ds
work. In short, once it was considered an established fact that J and E were combined at
an early stage (as per Wellhausen in the Composition), then, as with the legal material,
the question became solely one of when D was composed in relation to P and JE; this led
to the (partially) correct opinion that D only knew JE, and not P. As with the concept of
the combined JE itself, there seemed to be no impetus to re-evaluate this assertion, as the
majority of scholarship was more concerned with the new issue of the relationship of D
to P.
As evidence for how firmly entrenched this opinion about JE became, we may
examine the argument of W.E. Addis, who, in the introduction to his study of the
underlying documents of the Hexateuch, allowed for three possibilities regarding the
combination of J and E:
Dillmann holds that they remained separate till they fell into the hands of the
final editor, who united all the documents of the Hexateuch together. Kittel
inclines to think that the union of the Jahvist and Elohist was not effected till
both were united with Deuteronomy. Others (Wellhausen, Kuenen, etc.) believe
that Jahvist and Elohist were made into one book before they were joined to any
other part of the Hexateuch. The last view is, as I venture to think, the only
tenable one, and for these reasons: The Jahvist and Elohist were still separate
when the Deuteronomist wrote, for in his summary of the previous history he
almost always follows the Elohist, and few will adopt the unlikely hypothesis
that he took the pains to separate the Elohist elements and assimilated them.
Afterwards the Jahvist and Elohist documents were made into one book.
8

7
E.g.: the dependence of Deuteronomy, as a whole, on the Jehovist came out with the utmost clearness,
11. But, again, in the Prolegomena Wellhausen makes no attempt to differentiate between the Jehovist
and its constituent parts, having already determined in the Composition that such was impossible.

8
Addis, The Documents of the Hexateuch, vol. 1 (London: David Nutt, 1892), lvi-lvii.
128
Addis correctly observed that the narrative portions of D tend to follow E (as Kuenen had
already recognized, and as will be demonstrated in detail below), and deduced from this,
also correctly, that J and E were therefore not combined when D wrote; but he felt it
necessary to say that J and E were combined at some point thereafter. His professed
adoption of Wellhausens theory is misleading, as he misrepresented him: Addis seems to
have claimed that, according to Wellhausen, J and E were combined only before their
combination with the rest of the Hexateuch. In fact, Wellhausens argument was that J
and E were combined quite early, and that the later sources were based on this combined
text. Thus Addis was in fact proposing a real, and important, alternative to the
Wellhausen scheme, though he attempted to place himself still in the Wellhausen camp.
Yet in this attempt, he forced himself into an apparent logical contradiction: J and E were
combined, yet D was based on E.
In order to assimilate his observation regarding Ds primary reliance on E with
the findings of the Wellhausen school, Addis was forced to make two further arguments:
Now, while we find Jahvist and Elohist constantly often, indeed, inextricably
united, they both stand, with few exceptions, quite apart from the Priestly
documentOnce more, a writer of the Deuteronomical school enriched the
Deuteronomical code with a preface (Deut. i.-iv. 44). Why should he have done
so if the Oldest Book of Hebrew History, compiled from the Jahvist and
Elohist, already stood before the Deuteronomical law? Accordingly, we
conclude that the Jahvist and Elohist were united by an editor who belonged
neither to the school of the Deuteronomist nor the Priestly Writer, who had no
direct concern with the Deuteronomical or the Priestly code, but who wrought
independently.
9

Here Addis attempted to show that J and E must have been combined independently of
their combination with P and D. In terms of P, he claimed that while J and E are
frequently closely intertwined, they tend to be, with few exceptions, wholly separate
from P. This, according to Addis, is evidence that the three documents were not

9
Addis, Documents, I:lvii.
129
combined together in one step. Yet those few exceptions can hardly be overlooked, or,
as here, brushed aside. As for D, Addis claimed it to be inexplicable that a Deuteronomic
writer should have created a new historical preface if the narrative of the JE document
was already in place preceding the Deuteronomic law code. This statement assumes,
confusingly, that the author of the historical preface in D was writing after the law code
of Deuteronomy had already been combined with the JE document. There is no reason to
consider this true, or even likely. Addis arguments here are faulty in and of themselves,
and in any case do not affect the fundamental issue, namely, that while it is true that J and
E were not combined by either a Deuteronomic or priestly editor, this in no way proves
that they were combined at any point independently. Addis simply accepted, evidently
on the basis of Wellhausen, the idea that J and E had to be combined at some point,
though he did not demonstrate this, and in fact seems to have provided contradicting
evidence with his note on Ds use of E.
The idea of the early and independent combination of J and E became so
common, therefore, that even when scholars, such as Addis, found evidence to dispute it,
they were forced to argue their way around their own findings. This led to a wonderful
irony in the history of scholarship: perhaps the first person to raise the question of
whether Ds dependence on E required a change in the prevailing consensus was not a
scholar in the field of Pentateuchal criticism, but a voice from the opposing anti-critical
camp, writing against the source-critical theories of composition. The Rev. A.H. Finn
acutely observed that in order for biblical criticism to prove that D relied only on JE and
not on JEP, the verbal coincidences must be with passages where P actually does
130
cross JE [italics original].
10
Finns point here, and it is well taken, was that in order to
demonstrate that D is not based on JEP, one can only bring evidence from narratives in
which JE and P are both present. He stated that in one of Drivers charts of verbal
coincidences between D and the other sources, 21 of 31 examples are taken from Ex. 32-
34, in other words, passages in which P is not present; thus, Finn claimed, these passages
are invalid for determining whether or not D knew JEP. In the course of making this
argument, Finn slipped in the following:
The critical argument, indeed, might be said to prove too much, for the large
majority of these verbal coincidences refer to passages assigned to E, and hardly
one (if there is one) to a passage definitely assigned to J. Hence it might be
plausibly argued that inasmuch as J and E repeatedly cross one another, D
must have been composed when J and E were not yet united into a single
work! Will the critics accept the suggestion?
11

Three points can be gleaned from this paragraph: 1) In Finns mind, the combination of J
and E prior to D is so basic to the Documentary Hypothesis that he considered it a real
coup to have provided evidence to the contrary. 2) It is clear that the standard
presentation of this issue in Pentateuchal criticism had, up to Finns time, never bothered
to fully investigate the actual source division in the early narratives to which D refers. 3)
Finn, in his presentation of the hypothesis he so vehemently opposed, went beyond its
proponents, even beyond Addis, claiming not only that what the critics called the D
source primarily uses what they assigned to the purported E source, but that there is
virtually no evidence of so-called Ds dependence on the supposed J source at all.
Whereas for Finn this constituted an argument against the Documentary Hypothesis
itself, it is nothing of the sort; as we shall see, it is in fact a much-needed corrective to the
hypothesis and a largely accurate reading of the evidence.

10
The Unity of the Pentateuch (London: Marshall Brothers, 1928), 98.

11
Unity, 98.
131
Neither Addis nor Finn had any significant impact on the spread of Wellhausens
conclusions regarding the dependence of D on JE. In fact, it is only recently, in the
works of M. Haran, that anyone has seen fit to propose an alternative.
12
Unfortunately,
the bulk of Harans work on this has been published only in Hebrew, with the result that
the majority of scholarship is unable to access it directly. One can find oblique
references to his theory in two English publications, though in neither case is the
relationship of D to E the primary point, such that in both works statements about his
theory are easily missed or disregarded. In a chapter on the Levites in his book Temples
and Temple-Service in Ancient Israel,
13
Haran writes: To my mind, all this is connected
with the simple fact that E alone (without J) was lying before the writers of Dand it
was from E that the writers of D absorbed a great deal.
14
And in an article in the IDB
Supplement on the route of the Exodus, he writes: It is fitting to point out that E and D
agree, since the latter depends on the former, that is, the narrative portions of D (Deut.
1:9-3:29; 9:8-10:11) are based upon the narrative of E alone.
15

In neither of these cases is hard evidence put forward to support Harans
contention that D only knew E. This evidence is, at least in part, available in two Hebrew
volumes, which go into greater detail.
16
These volumes are considerably more revealing
of Harans arguments and the assumptions on which they are founded, and do contain

12
Though Weinfeld acknowledges that D depends especially on the so-called Elohistic source
(Deuteronomy 1-11 [New York: Doubleday, 1991], 19), he continues to use the designation JE throughout
when referring to the earlier texts on which D was based.

13
Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1985.

14
Temples, 92 (and cf. n. 9 on the same page).

15
The Exodus, IDB Supplement, 308f.

16
T
!
qft msadt bammiqr" (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1972); H""spp"
h
hammiqr"t.
132
more detailed analyses of some of the particular texts in question. Yet nowhere is this
evidence collected systematically, passage-by-passage (nor, it should be pointed out, has
this been accomplished in any other study, by Haran or otherwise, at least not with the
aim of determining the dependence of D on its predecessors). Thus the overall effect of
Harans argument is somewhat diluted, as it is sprinkled amongst passages dealing
largely with other issues.
17
This, then, is the project to be undertaken in this chapter: to
demonstrate in full that D was not dependent on a combined JE text, but only on the
separate sources J and E (and, as we shall see, primarily on E).
The basic protocol of this chapter will be as follows: each narrative pericope in
the historical retrospective in Deut. 1-11, along with all other passages in D that make
reference to events previously narrated in the Pentateuch, will be matched to its
counterpart(s) in Exodus and Numbers. Where necessary, a detailed source-critical
analysis of the earlier narrative will be presented. The narrative of D will then be
compared to the non-Deuteronomic sources in their independent and combined forms,
and a determination will be made as to precisely what part, if any, of the earlier material
the author of D had before him.
18
Before beginning, an important methodological point
must be addressed.
It is of primary importance to determine precisely what is meant by
dependence. The clearest form of dependence is word-for-word or phrase-for-phrase
identity between two sources. If, in the cases to be examined, it can be shown that D

17
Haran briefly touches on some of the terminological and stylistic features held in common between E and
D, though without going into great detail, in H""spp"
h
, 157. For an example of his more general
statements of the dependence of D on E, which summarize the larger argument though without reference to
the detailed evidence, cf. H""spp"
h
, 197ff.

18
In determining the relative dates of D and the non-Deuteronomic sources, I am following here the near-
universal consensus that J and E are both earlier than D.
133
reuses, with practically no variation, the precise wording of an earlier narrative, we can
safely assume that the author of D was dependent on that narrative. We can include also
those passages in which the author of D is clearly making a conscious change to the
earlier narrative, by adding or changing a word here and there to better suit his particular
agenda.
What does not qualify as dependence is the simple fact of two sources each
relating a version of the same event. Both J and P have a plagues narrative, yet there is
no evidence (some scholars arguments to the contrary notwithstanding
19
) that the author
of P was dependent on Js version of the plagues when writing his own. If, as source
critics, we are to take at all seriously the arguments of those scholars who have worked in
the field of oral literature, without relinquishing our own views on the composition of the
Pentateuch, we must be willing to accept the idea that more than one writer, in different
settings and at different times, had access to a body of traditions common to large swaths
of the Israelite population. It was taken for granted that when telling the story of the
Exodus one included some mention of the plagues with which YHWH struck the
Egyptians.
20
But we should not expect, and, in fact, usually do not find, that two versions
of the same story should be identical.
It is recognition of this principle, however, which provides us with one further
mark of dependence. If the two earlier sources tell variations on the same story, as, for
example, the J and E sources do with the revelation at Sinai/Horeb, then if the later
source, D, can be shown to follow the narrative specifics of only one of the two earlier

19
Cf., e.g., W.H.C. Propp, Exodus 1-18 (New York: Doubleday, 1999), 316f.

20
Thus though J and P alone contain the full narrative account of these events, E (Ex. 18:8-10) and D
(Deut. 11:3) also make reference to them.
134
sources, we can assume dependence. Because this is a less obvious method of
determining dependence, it is necessary to be quite certain that enough of the details of
one of the earlier sources are indeed carried over into the later, and that any changes
made in the later source can be explained on the basis of the authors historiographical or
theological agenda.
It should also be noted that throughout this chapter the term D is used to refer to
both of the introductory speeches of Moses (Deut. 1-4, 5-11), as well as the laws
themselves (chs. 12-26), the concluding material (chs. 27-30), and the parts of chs. 31-34
that do not belong to J, E, or P (and excluding the poetic material). Though it is
recognized that there are different authors at work in these various sections (particularly
in the two introductory speeches of Moses), all belong under the name D, as all are
creations of the same Deuteronomic (not Deuteronomistic) school.
21
Evidence of this is
found in the fact that every part of D is dependent on the same earlier narrative sources,
as will be demonstrated below.

Deut. 1:9-18: Appointing of judges
The historical retrospective of Deut. 1-11 begins with 1:9-18, in which Moses
relates to the Israelites how he appointed judges from among the people to help him bear
the burden of leading them through the wilderness. It is widely recognized that this story
reflects traditions present in two earlier passages, Ex. 18:13-27 and parts of Num. 11:10-

21
This represents a significant departure from the theory of Noth regarding the composition of
Deuteronomy and its place in relation to the Deuteronomistic History. Though a detailed discussion is well
outside the scope of this study, a full and convincing argument has been put forth in this regard by Haran,
H""spp"
h
, 195ff.
135
30.
22
The narrative subject of Deut. 1:9-12 is the same as that in the narrative of Num.
11:10-30: in both, Moses complains that the burden of leading the people alone through
the wilderness is too much for him, a complaint unique to these two passages. That the D
version is actually dependent on that of Num. 11:10-30 is demonstrated by the two verbal
correspondences at the beginning and end of these passages:
Deut. 1:9: ::-s -sc :!: :ss
I cannot bear you by myself.
Num. 11:14: :. :-s -sc! :: :.s :ss
I cannot bear all this people by myself.

Deut. 1:12: ::: ::!sc: ::z :: sc!s :s
How can I bear alone your trouble and your burden and
your conflict?
Num. 11:17: z:: -!s sc-s :. sc:: z-s sc.
And they will bear with you the burden of the people, and you
will not bear it alone.

In the first of these pairs, the two verses are nearly identical, especially when we allow
for Ds need to reconfigure the earlier narrative to fit the speech setting of Deuteronomy
(in that his remarks are addressed directly to the people, rather than to YHWH). The
second is not quite so exact, but the use of the root n# repeatedly in both verses, in both
verbal and nominal forms, along with the preposition l
!
bad, strongly suggests
dependence.
Deut. 1:13-18, on the other hand, is equally dependent on Ex. 18:13-27.
23
The
content of the two passages is the same: the appointment of judges to help Moses

22
Cf. R.D. Nelson, Deuteronomy (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 20; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy
1-11, 137-140; Driver, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Deuteronomy (Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
1902), 14-20.

23
In addition to the evidence below, one should take note of the Samaritan Pentateuchs conflation of these
two passages in its text of Exodus 18. On this process, cf. Tigay, Conflation as a Redactional Technique,
136
adjudicate the peoples disputes. In this case, the author of D has made more significant
changes to his source text: Jethro is no longer present; the people agree with the plan and
select their judges; the candidates are chosen for their wisdom; the judges are
accompanied by officers.
24
Yet the source material remains distinct amidst these
changes, as is supported by the verbal correspondences:
Deut. 1:15: -s: c :es c ::. ::!s :-"s - s
::z:: :z: -c. c ::: c
I set them as heads over you, chiefs of thousands, chiefs of
hundreds, chiefs of fifties, and chiefs of tens, and
officials for your tribes.
Ex. 18:25: -s: c :es c :.. ::!s :-"s -
-c. c ::!: c
He set them as heads over the people, chiefs of thousands,
chiefs of hundreds, chiefs of fifties, and chiefs of tens.

Deut. 1:17: -.:: !s :- ::: : :s ::
The matter which is too difficult for you you will bring near to
me and I will hear it.
Ex. 18:26: :: s s: : :: -s
The difficult matter they would bring to Moses.
25

The scope of this study does not allow for detailed investigation of how and why
the author of D combined the narratives of Exodus and Numbers, nor the changes made
to them.
26
For our purposes, it is enough to recognize that the author of D made use of

pp. 53-95 in Tigay, Empirical Models for Biblical Criticism (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania,
1985), 61-68.

24
Cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 139.

25
We may also see a reflex of this in Deut. 17:8-13. (Baruch Schwartz, personal communication). A
clearer example of a D legal passage which is based on, and in fact makes reference to, a non-
Deuteronomic narrative can be found in the law on releasing slaves in Deut. 15:12-15. There the command
to provide the departing slave with goods is linked explicitly to the Exodus from Egypt, and this cannot but
bring to mind particularly the despoiling of the Egyptians in Ex. 12:35-36 (E).

26
For an excellent analysis of this, see M. Brettler, The Creation of History in Ancient Israel (London:
Routledge, 1995), 65-70. See also Haran, H""spp"
h
, 199 n. 18; and especially Weinfeld, Deuteronomy
and the Deuteronomic School (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1992), 244-45 on the use of wisdom in this
137
two earlier narratives when writing his version of the story of the appointment of judges
in the wilderness.
27
Now it must be determined to what source(s) these earlier narratives
are to be attributed.
Scholars are virtually unanimous in assigning Ex. 18:13-27 to E.
28
The results for
Num. 11:10-30, however, are slightly less assured. Num. 11:10-30 is recognized by most
as a composite narrative,
29
with two main parts: a J narrative about the people demanding
meat in addition to the manna (which goes back to 11:4-6),
30
and a different narrative
about the appointing of elders to assist Moses in leading the people. Neither the precise
demarcations of these two narratives, nor to what source or compositional layer the non-J
story should be assigned, has found total agreement. The first step, therefore, is the
separation of the two narratives, without, for the moment at least, deciding to what source
the non-J narrative should be assigned.

D passage. For an unconvincing argument against Ds dependence on these two narratives, see von Rad,
Deuteronomy (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1966), 38-40, in which he ignored the verbal parallels cited
above and claims that D is based on an account not preserved for us (39).

27
An attempt to determine the possible historical backgrounds to the composition of these three passages
has been undertaken by H. Reviv, The Traditions Concerning the Inception of the Legal Sytem in Israel:
Significance and Dating, ZAW 94 (1982): 566-75. Yet Reviv misinterprets the function of Num. 11 by
understanding it as relating the foundation of judicial procedures, while the text itself makes no mention of
any such thing. More importantly, Reviv significantly overestimates the degree of historical information
one can derive from the biblical narrative, assuming that each of the three narratives he treats (Ex. 18,
Num.11, and Deut. 1:9-17) is the direct reflection of a specific reform in the history of the Judahite
monarchy.

28
Note the name of Moses father-in-law, Jethro, and the frequent use of elohim. Cf. Wellhausen,
Composition, 80; Addis, Documents, I:134; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch II:108-9 (all subsequent
references are to the second volume); S.R. Driver, Exodus, 161-67; M. Noth, Exodus, 145ff.; Jenks, Elohist,
44f.; Propp, Exodus 1-18, 622ff.; Friedman, The Bible with Sources Revealed (San Francisco:
HarperSanFrancisco, 2003), 149-51.

29
Although cf. Friedman, Sources Revealed, 258-61, in which he presents the entire chapter as E.

30
This narrative is attributed to J because it is only in J and P that the manna has been previously
mentioned (Ex. 16), and the text of Num. 11 contains no indications that it derives from P. E makes no
mention of manna, here or elsewhere.
138
Leaving aside v. 10, which could theoretically belong to either J or E, vv. 11-12
read as a unity. Moses complains to YHWH that the burden of the people has grown too
much for him. We can note the repetition of the root n# in these lines, both as noun and
as verb. Verses 14-15 continue this theme, again utilizing the root n#. Verse 13 in the
middle, however, relates a very different complaint, that Moses cannot provide meat for
the people: a reaction to their demand in vv. 4-6, a J text. There is no mention of meat in
vv. 11-12, 14-15. These verses represent a completely different story (non-J); the
complaint of Moses therein is not related to the peoples demand for meat in J.
Verses 16-20 appear to be a unity, comprising YHWHs speech to Moses. But
Moses has spoken to YHWH in both the J (v. 13) and the non-J (vv. 11-12, 14-15)
narratives, and in fact YHWHs address to Moses in vv. 16-20 contains two distinct
responses to Moses two distinct complaints in vv. 11-15. Verses 16-17, in which
YHWH tells Moses to gather seventy elders to help bear the burden of leading the people,
are clearly a continuation of the non-J narrative in vv. 11-12, 14-15. Again, in v. 17, we
have the root n#, linking back to the earlier verses. But vv. 18-20 are about meat again,
and are therefore from J. Moses response in vv. 21-23 continues the J narrative; again,
there is no mention of Moses burden in leading the people, only of the peoples demand
for meat.
Verse 24a (Moses went out and reported the words of YHWH to the people)
belongs to the J narrative. As the people have otherwise not been involved in the non-J
narrative, there is no reason for them to be told of the appointment of the elders, and, as is
apparent in vv. 27-30, they have not in fact been informed. Verse 24b, on the other hand,
is the precise fulfillment of YHWHs command to Moses in v. 16 to gather the seventy
139
elders. We are clearly back to the non-J narrative, which in fact continues without break
until the end of v. 30.
We are thus left with the following division of the text:
J: vv. 13, 18-24a
non-J: vv. 11-12, 14-17, 24b-30.

The J narrative is about the peoples demand for meat, and that topic alone; the non-J
narrative is about Moses wish for assistance in leading the people and the appointment
of elders for that purpose. With this textual division, the two sources are coherent and
internally consistent. Furthermore, there is terminological consistency: we now find the
leitmotif of the root n# belongs only to one source (non-J).
As for the assignment of the non-J material: the narrative of appointing the elders
has been variously assigned to E,
31
to a late editorial addition,
32
and to a later stratum of
E.
33
Though there may be places in the Pentateuch where a later stratum of a particular
source or a late editorial addition is present, for the source critic this should be a seldom-
used option, a last resort turned to if, and only if, assignment to one of the primary
sources proves impossible. In this case, however, the non-J narrative has many signs of
E, and is in fact very closely related to an assured E passage in Ex. 33:7-11
34
: 1) The Tent
of Meeting, where the elders are brought to be endowed with the divine spirit, is outside
the camp (as is evident from vv. 26-30), as is the case only and explicitly in the

31
G.B. Gray, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Numbers (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1903), 109-117.

32
Noth, Numbers (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1968), 83.

33
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 202-3.

34
Cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 133; Driver, Exodus, 359-60; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 175-76.
140
conceptualization of E (cf. Ex. 33:7).
35
2) YHWH comes down in a cloud over the Tent
to speak with Moses, again as is the practice detailed in E (Ex. 33:9). 3) The emphasis on
prophecy is typical of E.
36
4) The description of Joshua as Moses youth attendant is that
of E (cf. Ex. 24:13; 33:11);
37
in fact, the J narrative, as often noted, is utterly unfamiliar
with the character of Joshua.
38

The non-J narrative in Num. 11:11-12, 14-17, 24b-30 should, therefore, be firmly
assigned to E. This means that in composing the narrative of Deut. 1:9-18, the D author
has employed two originally unconnected and thematically unrelated E narratives: one
about appointing judges to help Moses with the specific burden of making all the legal
decisions for the people, and one about endowing seventy of the elders with the divine
spirit to help Moses with the general burden of leading the people through the
wilderness.
39
Though Num. 11:10-30 is a composite of J and E, D uses only the E
narrative. If, as Wellhausen and his followers would have it, J and E were combined at a
stage well before the composition of D, we would expect that D would utilize the
combined JE narrative, rather than one of its constituent parts. That being patently not
the case, to accept Wellhausens theory we would be forced to the conclusion that either
the author of D knew that the JE text before him was composite, and moreover, knew
how to separate the stories, and then chose the one that best fit his program; or he made
some remarkably fortuitous choices in his selection of verses and narrative elements from

35
Cf. Haran, Temples, 260-275.

36
Cf. Jenks, Elohist, ABD II:480.

37
Cf. Jenks, Elohist, 54-55.

38
See, e.g., the discussion of the spies pericope below.

39
Though scholars unfortunately have a tendency to consider these passages as two versions of the same
event. Cf. Addis, Documents, I:160f. n. 2.
141
JE, such that they happened to match up perfectly with E, and not at all with the J
material with which it is interwoven.
40
Obviously, neither of these possibilities is likely.
It has not taken us long: here, in the very first pericope of the historical retrospective in
D, we can see that D is based not on the combined JE text, but rather on the independent
E narrative.
We may also note that this D passage provides evidence that the author of D was
fully capable of combining two otherwise unconnected narratives when it suited his
purposes. As we have seen, here he has merged two different parts of the E document
into one. This makes it even more remarkable that nowhere in D are two stories, one
known only from E, and one known only from J, combined in this manner. This
indicates that the author of D was truly following E as his primary source, and may also
be considered evidence for the unity of E as an independent, complete document.

Deut. 1:19-45: The spies
The next pericope of Deuteronomy, which extends to the end of the first chapter,
contains the narrative of the sending of spies to scout the land, recounted earlier in Num.
13-14.
41
Although scholars tend to agree on the main parts of the source division of
Num. 13-14, there are some details on which they diverge. It will therefore be beneficial
to begin with the analysis of these chapters and only subsequently to examine the
relationship of one or more of the sources found therein to the narrative of Deut. 1:19-45.

40
Von Rad wondered of the author of D, Is he really likely to have selected only a small part out of the
abundance of material offered in JE? (Deuteronomy, 39). The question contains the answer within it: the
author of D did not select material from the combined JE, but rather used the independent E text.

41
The relationship between the D and non-D narratives is universally acknowledged, though,
unsurprisingly, with discrepancies in the particulars. Cf. Driver, Deuteronomy, 19-29; von Rad,
Deuteronomy, 38, 40; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 144-45, 153; Nelson, Deuteronomy, 25-26.
142
Unlike Num. 11, which, as we have seen, contains two very different narratives
that have been interwoven, Num. 13-14 contains two similar narratives, both about the
sending of spies to scout the land before the Israelites are to enter Canaan.
42
Yet, for the
most part, these stories are distinguishable by variations in plot and markers of language
and character. Num. 13:1-17a read as a unity, and are typically (and correctly) assigned
to P.
43
Of particular note in this section is the location from which Moses sends the spies,
given in v.3 as the wilderness of Paran; this links back directly to the P notice in Num.
12:16, immediately preceding this narrative, that the Israelites encamped in the
wilderness of Paran.
44
Also of note is the particular verb used for the scouting: tr, which
is used repeatedly by P throughout these chapters (13:1, 16, 17, 21, 25, 32; 14:6, 7, 34,
36, 38). And, crucially, it is in this passage, in v. 16, that P first introduces the character
of Joshua, long known already from E passages (see above).
45

Verses 17b-20 of Num. 13 are what remain of the beginning of the non-P
narrative, the opening of which is clearly missing. A simple reading of these verses may

42
The attempts of Carpenter-Harford (Hexateuch, 204-210) and Haran (H""spp"
h
, 197f. n. 16) to find
both J and E in this narrative (in addition to P) are problematic. In the case of Haran, the attempt evidently
springs from his belief that D only knows E; see discussion below. For Carpenter-Harford, this seems to be
yet another instance of dividing an otherwise unified narrative solely so that both J and E can be said to
contain this story. This is a result of the all-too-common belief in source-critical scholarship that all the
narrative sources must have told the same stories in the same order. There is no compelling reason that this
should be so. Analysis of Num. 13-14 reveals only two strata, P and non-P, and attempts to find a third
source in these chapters unnecessarily complicate the situation and inevitably render one or more of the
proposed sources unreadable.

43
For this and all other scholarly agreements in the analysis of these chapters, cf. Carpenter-Harford,
Hexateuch, 204-10; Gray, Numbers, 128-67; Noth, Numbers, 101-12; Levine, Numbers 1-20, 347-81;
Friedman, Sources Revealed, 262-66; Haran, H""spp"
h
, 197f. n. 16.

44
Num. 12:16 at least, the words wayyah9
a
n b
!
midbar p"r"n, they encamped in the wilderness of
Paran contains the distinctive features of the stereotypical P travel itinerary; cf. Num. 33.

45
As was remarked above, it is not apparent that J, at least in the Pentateuch, has any knowledge of Joshua
whatsoever. All non-Deuteronomic references to Joshua can be ascribed with great certainty to either E or
P.
143
suggest that the people Moses is addressing have not yet been told what their role is to
be; these verses appear to contain the initial instruction to scout the land. It is unclear,
however, whether the impetus to spy out the land came from YHWH, as in P, from
Moses, or from the people themselves (as in D). For the missing opening of the non-P
narrative we can perhaps postulate, at a minimum, something like, Moses selected men
from among the Israelites. This would lead directly into v. 17b: And he said to them,
Go up there into the Negev, etc.
Verse 21 is assigned to P, as it reuses the typical P verb tr, and also makes
mention of the wilderness of Zin (see the P verses Num. 20:1; 27:14; 33:36; Deut. 32:51).
It is agreed by all that vv. 22-24 are non-P, and represent the direct fulfillment of Moses
command to the spies in v. 17b.
46
Two other items stand out as worthy of notice in vv.
22-24: the spies encounter Anakites; and the fulfillment of Moses command to bring
back fruit, when the spies cut down the cluster of grapes at the wadi Eshkol.
Verse 25 (P) narrates the return of the spies after forty days.
47
It is the next verse,
however, which has proven quite difficult; it undoubtedly contains both P and non-P
elements, but their separation is far from easy. The words wayy"bo el-mo%e
h
must be
common to both P and non-P, as to assign them to only one source means that the other
contains no notice of the spies return. Aaron, the $d"
h
, and the reference to Paran (see
above) belong to P, while the displaying of the fruit of the land is the fulfillment of

46
Note the verbal correspondence between the command in v. 17b,
a
l ze
h
bannegeb, and the fulfillment in
v. 22, wayya
a
l bannegeb.

47
Note the use of the typical P verb, tr. This verse is the natural continuation of the last P verse, 13:21.
144
Moses command in v. 20 (non-P).
48
Of greatest difficulty is the phrase in the middle,
wayy"%b t"m d"b"r w
!
et-kol-h"$d"
h
, and they reported back to him and to the
entire community. In either original source narrative, P or non-P, it is redundant, and
the combination of nouns and pronouns is confusing. It is best perhaps tentatively to
assign this entire phrase to the redactor. Verses 27-31, 33 are universally attributed to
non-P (following on the non-P end of v. 26).
49
Verse 32 is P.
50

Num. 14:1-10 is quite difficult source-critically, and has been divided several
different ways by various scholars.
51
Num. 14:1 is most likely composite, with two
accounts of the Israelites crying about the news from the spies.
52
The first half is
obviously from P, with its use of the priestly term $d"
h
. The second half may very well
be the parallel notice from non-P, because it uses the term am (whereas in the first half
of the verse, elsewhere in this narrative, and for most of Exodus-Numbers, P refers to the

48
The plural suffix on wayyarm is probably redactional, perhaps replacing an original l, recognizing that
when the non-P and P stories were combined, the spies would have been showing the fruit to more people
than just Moses (as the original non-P story would have had it).

49
Note that in these verses the spies give their report of the land in almost precisely the reverse order of
Moses instructions to them in the non-P vv. 18-20: first they display the fruit, then they describe the cities
as being large and fortified, and finally they detail the different peoples who inhabit the land, including
mention of the Anakites (cf. v. 22).

50
Again, note the P verb tr. Further, this verse contradicts those of the non-P narrative. In the non-P
narrative, the land is truly dangerous, but Caleb encourages the people to believe that they can overcome
the dangers. According to P, the land is not actually dangerous, but the returning spies lie to the
community and say that it is.

51
The usual candidates for non-P assignment in these verses are vv. 1*, 3-4, 8-9. Cf. Carpenter-Harford,
Hexateuch, 207; Gray, Numbers, 152-54; Haran, H""spp"
h
, 197f. n. 16. Noth (Numbers, 107-8)
attributed only vv. 1*, 4 to non-P; Levine (Numbers 1-20, 348) seems to have only vv. 7b-9 attributable to
JE, though he appears to contradict himself by stating that in fact vv. 1a, 2-4, 7b-9 were taken from JE
(362); Friedman (Sources Revealed, 264) ascribes only v. 4 to the non-P story.

52
Though some see this verse as belonging only to one source (e.g., Friedman, Sources Revealed, 263, who
attributes it to P), most scholars argue that the repetition of crying terminology here probably indicates a
conflated text; cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 207; Gray, Numbers, 152; Levine, Numbers 1-20, 362.
Yet these scholars do not agree on how best to separate the sources here. The redundancy of the
descriptions of the peoples crying are, in fact, less determinative for the source-critical division here than
are the terms used to describe the people, as argued above.
145
people as $d"
h
). Despite the efforts of scholars to find two sources in vv. 2-10 as well,
however, there appears to be no pressing reason to divide these verses; they read as a
unity, and should be kept as such. The rationale for assigning v. 4 to non-P is apparently
the need for YHWH to have something to react to in v. 11 (which is non-P; see below).
53

Yet it seems that there is explanation enough for YHWHs anger in v. 11 simply in the
peoples crying out in v.1b, which demonstrates precisely the lack of faith of which
YHWH accuses them in v. 11. As for vv. 8-9, there is no apparent reason for doubting
that they represent the continuation of Joshua and Calebs speech to the Israelites,
introduced in v. 7, which leads to the conclusion that vv. 8-9 are from P. The most any of
the scholars arguing for the assignment of vv. 8-9 to non-P has said in its support is that
these verses are the continuation not of Joshua and Calebs speech, but of Calebs alone,
in 13:30.
54
Yet this requires major displacement of both parts of Calebs speech so that it
followed, rather than preceded, the comments of the other spies in 13:31, 33. This is
unnecessary; the far simpler explanation is that 14:8-9 are precisely where they belong.
The P narrative therefore appears to continue uninterrupted through vv. 2-10.
Verses 11-25 are the non-P narrative of YHWHs response to the people. This is
indicated by the reference to Caleb alone in v. 24 (cf. 13:30; P always refers to Joshua
and Caleb together in this narrative), and by the complete lack of priestly terminology
and style. In contrast, the parallel narrative in vv. 26-38 is replete with signs of P: Aaron
(v. 26); the acceptance of the peoples wish in v. 2 to die in the wilderness (vv. 28-29);
Caleb and Joshua together (v. 30); the note that the spying took forty days (v. 34). These

53
Cf. Noth, Numbers, 108.

54
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 207; Gray, Numbers, 153-54.
146
signs are unambiguous, and the division here represents the current scholarly
consensus.
55

The status of v. 39 remains undecided. All or part is frequently attributed to the
non-P narrative, though this seems unlikely.
56
This verse reads best as the conclusion of
the P narrative: the people hear their punishment (from vv. 28-35) and grieve (in v. 39).
The non-P narrative, however, has a different conclusion, given in vv. 40-45, in which
the people attempt to make up for their error, though in a manner contrary to the will of
YHWH. Thus v. 39 stands in contradiction to the narrative of vv. 40-45. In the former,
the peoples response is to grieve; in the latter, it is to act.
We have thus divided Num. 13-14 into a P narrative and a non-P narrative as
follows:
P: 13:1-16, 17a, 21, 25-26*, 32; 14:1a, 2-10, 26-39.
non-P: 13:17b-20, 22-24, 26*-31, 33; 14:1b, 11-25, 40-45.

This analysis gives us two narratives about the same episode, but with distinctive
narrative and stylistic features. In the P narrative, YHWH instructs Moses to choose the
spies, who return from traversing the whole length of Canaan and tell lies about what
they have seen; only Joshua and Caleb tell the truth, and are therefore spared by YHWH
when he condemns the entire generation to forty years of wandering in the desert. The
non-P narrative is quite different: the spies visit the Hebron district only, bring back the
fruit of the land, and give a detailed and accurate report about the dangers they have seen

55
Cp., however, McEvenue, A Source-Critical Problem in Nm 14,26-38, Biblica 50 (1969): 453-65, in
which he claims vv. 30-33 as non-P, and v. 34 as very late addition. This ignores, however, the priestly
matching of the judgment of forty years of wandering with the forty days of spying in the land.

56
Those who think all of v. 39 is non-P include Noth, Numbers, 111; and Friedman, Sources Revealed, 266.
Those who think only v. 39b is non-P include Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 209; Gray, Numbers, 165;
Levine, Numbers 1-20, 370.
147
there; Caleb (alone) does not contradict the report, but puts his faith in YHWH to help the
Israelites overcome those dangers;
57
the people are instructed to avoid contact with the
Amalekites and Canaanites, but disobey and are defeated at Hormah.
Having accomplished this separation, we may turn to the version of the story
found in Deut. 1:19-45, and attempt to determine whether D was dependent on both or
either of these narratives.
58

Verses 19-21 are Ds introduction to the story, and have no parallel in the
versions found in Num. 13-14, though it should be remembered that the beginning of the
non-P narrative is missing. In v. 22, D presents the people as suggesting the scouting of
the land. This may have been the case also in the non-P version; it is emphatically not
the situation presented in P, where it is YHWH who instructs Moses to send the spies. In
D, Moses chooses one man from each tribe (v. 23). This resembles the P narrative, but
with slight variations. First, in D it is Moses who decides on his own to choose one man
from each tribe, whereas in P he is commanded to do so by YHWH. Second, no mention
is made of the mens names here, while there is a full listing in P. Third, in P the men are
said each to be a n"#, one of the heads of the people (vv. 2-3). No such distinction is
made in D. And finally, P, as always, uses the term mat9t9e
h
for tribe, while D uses
the non-P term %ebet9.
The D narrative has the spies moving up into the hill country until they reach the
wadi Eshkol, whence they take the fruit of the land (vv. 24-25). This directly reflects the
situation in the non-P story of Num. 13:22-24, complete with the verbal correspondence

57
Cf. Josh. 14:6-15; 15:13, which appear to reflect the non-P narrative.

58
For a side-by-side comparison and subsequent analysis of both the P and non-P narratives, and the D and
non-P narratives, see A. Chapman, An Introduction to the Pentateuch (Cambridge: Cambridge University,
1911), 87-97. Though some errors were made, they are minor; overall the presentation is quite good.
148
in the phrases l
!
qah9tem mipp
!
r h""res9, and take some of the fruit of the land
(Num. 13:20; non-P) and wayyiqh9u b
!
y"d"m mipp
!
r h""res9, and they took in their
hands some of the fruit of the land (Deut. 1:25).
59
The D story continues with the
people refusing to go up because the spies told them of a land filled with danger (vv. 26-
28). The danger is described in D in terms strikingly similar to those in the non-P story
in Numbers: the report of large fortified cities (he"rm b
!
s9urt g
!
dolot m
!
od, the very
large fortified cities [Num. 13:28]; "rm g
!
dolot b
!
s9rot ba%%"m"yim, large cities,
fortified to the heavens [Deut. 1:28]), and the presence of the Anakites (Deut. 1:28;
Num. 13:28).
Moses tells the people not to fear, in a speech reminiscent in spirit of that which
he makes to YHWH in Num. 14:11-19 (non-P). At least one element is common to both
speeches: the reference to YHWHs guiding the people through the wilderness in fire by
night and cloud by day (Num. 14:14; Deut. 1:33). Similarly, in YHWHs angry response

59
Note that this verse also includes the phrase they reported back to us, just as in Num. 13:26, in the
section which above we tentatively assigned to the redactor. Were this simply a matter of similar
phraseology, we might not necessarily conclude that the D and Num. 13:26 are related; the idiom h$%b
d"b"r for giving a report is relatively common and is used by more than one source (cf. Gen. 37:14 [E];
Josh. 22:32 [P]). However, the presence of this phrase in precisely the same setting in both stories (in the
same verse as the bringing back of the fruit of the land) should give pause. If the phrase in Num. 13:26 is
redactional, then are we forced to the conclusion that D knew the redacted narrative? Hardly: D shows no
signs of knowing any of the P narrative whatsoever (see below). Can we assign the phrase in Num. 13:26
to non-P? Perhaps, though this is also difficult. The solution may be found by moving in the other
direction. In Deut. 1:22, the people, in a motif unique to D, suggest to Moses that the spies will report
back to us on the land, and it is to this that the narrative appears to be reacting in v. 25. We do not have
the beginning of the spies narrative in non-P, so it is possible that it looked precisely like this, with the
people taking the initiative. But it is also quite likely that this opening is the invention of D, and
intentionally varies from the (no longer extant) beginning of non-P (on this see Haran, H""spp"
h
, 199 n.
18). If this were the case, then the phrase report back to us belongs originally to D; how, then, did it get
into Num. 13:26? It could only be at the hand of the redactor, who, as was suggested above, inserted the
phrase into Num. 13:26. If this conjecture is correct, the phrase was not borrowed by D from non-P, but
quite the reverse: it was inserted into non-P by the redactor on the basis of the D narrative. This solution
accounts for two problems: the difficulty of assigning the phrase in Num. 13:26 to either of the sources, and
the use of the phrase twice in D, once (and foremost) in what may well be a passage entirely original to D.
149
to the peoples disobedience (Deut. 1:34-36) there are verbal correspondences with the
non-P condemnation of the people in Num. 14:20-24:
Deut. 1:35: .! :# s ::.s: :s s :s
::-:s --! -.::. :s :: s -s
Not one of these men, this evil generation, shall see the
good land which I swore to give to your ancestors.
Num. 14:22-23: -.:!:. :s s -s s :s ::.s :
:-:s
None of the menshall see the land that I promised to their
ancestors.

Deut. 1:36: s s!:
He remained loyal to YHWH.
Num. 14:24: s s!:
He remained loyal to me.

What follows on these verses is a short passage in D which has no parallel in
either the P or the non-P account in Num. 13-14. Here Moses is punished for the
behavior of the people, and is forbidden to enter the land (Deut. 1:37-39). That this
cannot be from P (in which Moses is also explicitly forbidden to enter Canaan) is
apparent: in P, Moses is prohibited from entering the land after the episode at the waters
of Meribah (Num. 20:2-13), in which it is Moses own behavior (obscure though it may
be) that leads to his punishment; here in D, Moses is personally blameless, but is
punished along with the community nonetheless. Neither of the non-P sources, J and E,
contains a narrative of Moses being punished and thereby prohibited from crossing the
Jordan with the people. Whether the author of D has picked up this narrative from a non-
P text which is no longer extant, or whether he is creating it anew, is impossible to know.
What is clear, however, is that the speech in D does not reflect the role of Joshua in the P
narrative of Num. 13-14. In D, Joshua is not elevated to his position as Moses successor
150
on the basis of anything having to do with the spies; rather, it is assumed that Joshua will
take over simply because he is Moses attendant (as in the E narratives of Exodus and
Numbers).
60

YHWHs speech to Moses ends with a nearly verbatim quote from the non-P text
of Num. 14:
Deut. 1:40: :: : :!: .: :: .e :-!s
As for you, turn and march into the wilderness by way of the
Sea of Reeds.
Num. 14:25: :: : :: ::" .: .e
Turn and march into the wilderness by way of the Sea of
Reeds.

But, as in the non-P story in Num. 14, the people disobey and immediately make plans to
invade Canaan regardless of YHWHs command. Moses argument against the attack is
practically identical in both texts:
Deut. 1:42: s :::: ..s : :-s .- s
:::s .e e..-
Do not go up and do not fight, for I [YHWH] am not in your
midst, lest you be smitten before your enemies.
Num. 14:42: .e e..- s :::: s :" .- s
:::s
Do not go up, for YHWH is not in your midst, lest you be
smitten before your enemies.

And, as might now be expected, the notice of the defeat of the Israelites in D is similar to
that of non-P in Num. 14:
Deut. 1:44: ::-s s : :: :s ss
:. .!c: ::"-s -:
The Amorites who dwelled in that hill country came out to
meet youand they crushed you in Seir at Hormah.

60
Note that in E, unlike P, Joshua is not singled out to survive his generation he simply does so. There is
no reason given for his survival; it seems to be assumed that he will be designated as Moses successor (as
he is officially in Deut. 31:14-15, 23; see below).
151
Num. 14:45: :: s : ::! ...: :.

: . :-:
The Amalekites and the Canaanites who dwelled in that hill
country came down and smote them and crushed them
at Hormah.

As should now be apparent, the D narrative of the spies follows the non-P
narrative of Num. 13-14 almost exactly, if we allow for those few changes or additions
that the D author has made.
61
There are both numerous verbal correspondences and plot
specifics which are unique to the non-P version. It is also clear that D makes no
reference to the P narrative of Num. 13-14, but sticks exclusively to the non-P version.
62

As the non-P material in this pericope is best understood as coming from only one
source, the final task remaining, then, is to identify to which of the non-P sources the
non-P narrative of Num. 13-14 belongs. There are only a handful of indications which
might help us in this. The first is the mention of the Nephilim in 13:33. The only other
reference to the Nephilim in the Pentateuch comes in Gen. 6:4, which is a J text.
63
This is
not a particularly strong identification, however, as the two texts are linked by nothing
but the word Nephilim, which may well have been known and used by more than one
source. Still, this might make us lean toward identifying the non-P version as J.

61
It should always be kept in mind that these changes are not unexpected, nor do they harm the overall
thesis presented here; rather, it is precisely these changes that allow us to see how the author of D adapted
his source material to fit his own historical and theological conceptions.

62
The sole exception to this is the phrase your children, who you said would be carried off in Deut.
1:39a!; this is taken directly from P in Num. 14:31a. If this clause is authentically from D, this is the only
place where D seems to have any recognition of the P narrative, and it is easiest to explain this as a
redactorial insertion in D. Note, however, that this clause is in fact missing in LXX
B
(as noted by Addis,
Documents, II:38; Driver, Deuteronomy, 28). It may therefore not be a redactorial addition (inserted in the
process of combining the Pentateuchal documents), but a later scribal addition, perhaps the result of
remembering the phrase from the parallel (combined) narrative of Num. 14, and thinking that it was
missing here.

63
Cf. Addis, Documents, I:10; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 9; von Rad, Genesis, 113; Friedman,
Sources Revealed, 42.
152
Much stronger evidence is found in Moses speech in 14:11-19, which contains
two unmistakable references to J texts. The first is the mention of the pillar of cloud by
day and fire by night which accompanied the Israelites as they moved through the
wilderness. This concept is introduced with virtually identical language in the J text of
Ex. 13:21-22:
Num. 14:14: :s! :.: :: :.e -s .. :.:

In a pillar of cloud you go before them by day and in a pillar of
fire by night.
Ex. 13:21: : :-. .. :.: :: :.e $

:: -:! : s :s! :.:
YHWH went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to guide
them on the way and by night in a pillar of fire to give
them light, to travel by day and by night.

Of perhaps even greater significance is the recollection in Num. 14:17-18 of YHWHs
self-description in Ex. 34:6-7 (J). This is a nearly verbatim quote, and that the Numbers
passage actually makes reference to the only previous time these words were spoken, in
Exodus (as you have declared) leaves little room for doubt that the non-P text in Num.
13-14 is J.
This means that in this case D is dependent on a J text. This creates a significant
problem for the view that D knew only E. Haran, who espouses this view, thus
undertakes to divide the non-P narrative of Num. 13-14 into J and E, but his attempt must
be considered unsuccessful.
64
However, insofar as the argument presented in this chapter

64
According to Haran (H""spp"
h
, 197f. n. 16), all of the non-P material in Num. 13 belongs to E, as well
as 14:25, 40-45. In short, the verses which are used by D, in his view, are E. He neglects, however, the two
verbal correspondences listed above (Num. 14:22-23//Deut. 1:35; Num. 14:24//Deut. 1:36). Furthermore, it
is impossible to separate YHWHs positive judgment on Caleb in 14:24 from the narrative about Caleb in
13:30. In addition, Harans divisions leave both his J and E narratives full of gaping holes. In his E, there is
no bridge from the end of the spies speech in 13:31, 33 to the command of YHWH in 14:25, which is very
awkward. Even worse, however, is what is left of J: the complaint of the people in vv. 3-4 (which is not
153
is concerned, it is enough for our purposes to show that D does not know a combination
of J and E, as we have seen in the narrative of the appointment of judges above. If D
knows the two sources separately, that is perfectly acceptable. That said, we shall see
that Deut. 1:19-45 is one of the few instances in which D is in fact dependent on an
undeniably J text.

Deut. 2:2-3:11: Edom, Sihon, and Og
In his oration, Moses continues from the spies episode to the sequential
encounters of the Israelites with the Edomites, Sihon of the Amorites, and Og of Bashan.
Precisely the same encounters are described, in precisely the same order, in Num. 20:14-
21:35, a composite text by all accounts. There is broad agreement on what portion of this
passage is to be assigned to P: 20:22-29; 21:4a!, 10-11b! (through h"
a
b"rm).
65
The
division of the remainder between J and E is less assured. It is best to take the non-P
material piece by piece; thus we begin with 20:14-21.
Gray made little attempt to separate the sources here, referring to the entirety as
JE.
66
Carpenter-Harford attributed vv.14-18, 21a (and 22a
67
) to E, and vv. 19-20, 21b to
J. The basis for this separation is made explicit in their footnotes, and bears repeating

preceded by any scouting of the land, leaving it unclear to what precisely they are reacting), a speech in vv.
8-9 for which no speaker is named, and the long speech of vv. 11-24, which now has no context.

65
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 221f.; Gray, Numbers, 269-71, 274, 281f.; Noth, Numbers, 152-54, 156
(in which he attributes 21:4a! to the redactor); Levine, Numbers 1-20, 483ff.; Friedman, Sources Revealed,
276ff. (though, as throughout this book, he attributes the travel itineraries of P to the redactor, who, he
believes, had direct access to and is the source of the inclusion of the travel itinerary in Num. 33).

66
Numbers, 264. He admitted, however, that JE seems mostly to be following E. He is followed, as usual,
by Levine (Numbers 1-20, 483ff.).

67
This must be rejected, as it ignores the explicitly P travel language (see n. 44 above), as well as the
connection with the P narrative of 20:1-13, which takes place at Kadesh (v. 1).
154
here as evidence of the major methodological fallacy employed by Carpenter-Harford
throughout their work: J must have contained a duplicate story of the application to
Edom.
68
In fact, of course, there is no reason that this should necessarily be so. 20:14-
21 reads as a continuous whole, in which Israel twice attempts to convince the Edomites
to let them pass, and is twice rebuffed.
69
That these two episodes are not functionally
identical is made evident by the increase of the Israelites offer: the first message
promises not to touch anything or drink from the Edomites water; the second, after
having been refused, offers even to pay for the water.
The question then becomes, to which of the non-P sources should this passage be
assigned? Friedman correctly sees the passage as a unified composition, and assigns it to
J. Yet the basis on which he does so is tenuous at best. He claims that the phrase Moses
sent messengers to Edom in 20:14 should be considered a conscious reference on the
part of the author to Gen. 32:4 (J), in which Jacob sent messengers to Esau.
70
Though
others have noted this parallel,
71
it hardly holds up under scrutiny. The two narratives
have nothing else in common; furthermore, and most importantly, we can hardly define
sources by the use of a phrase so universal as he sent messengers.
72

68
Hexateuch, 221n. It is probably that they were also reacting to what appears to be a doublet in vv. 20,
21a (cf. Gray, Numbers, 268); this is less problematic than it seems. In v. 20 Edom refuses Israel passage
(for the second time) and comes out against them in force; v. 21 should be read as a summary of all that has
occurred, that Edom refused (not just the second time, but both times) to let Israel pass, so that they were
forced to circumvent the Edomite territory.

69
Noth saw these as doublets, and therefore called the passage a composite of J and E, but was quite unable
to separate the sources with any precision: However, the two sources J and E are so closely interwoven
that it is impossible to pursue any real separation of them, not even with the help of the above-mentioned
formal inconsistencies which appear in haphazard fashion (Numbers, 149).

70

71
Cf. Gray, Numbers, 265.

72
This phrase occurs in numerous settings; cf. Gen. 24:7, 40; Ex. 23:20; 33:2; Num. 22:5.
155
There are, however, positive reasons to assign this passage to E. The first is a
phrase which is otherwise only known from E: kol-hatt
!
l""
h

a
%er m
!
s9""tn, all the
hardship which has found us (v.14; cf. Ex. 18:8: kol-hatt
!
l""
h

a
%er m
!
s9""tam, all
the hardship which had found them).
73
The second and perhaps more important reason
is the note in v. 16 that YHWH sent a messenger who brought us out of Egypt.
74
Only
in E can this be considered a true statement. In J it is YHWH himself who leads the
Israelites, as is stated clearly in Ex. 33:1-3 (in which YHWH threatens to send a
messenger to lead the people) and 33:15-17 (in which YHWH acquiesces to Moses plea
and agrees to lead the people himself). In E, however, it is a messenger who goes before
the people, by the word of YHWH (Ex. 23:20-22).
75
The statement in Num. 20:16,
therefore, if it is to be taken seriously, demands that we assign vv. 14-21 to E.
76

The next passage is 21:1-3, describing a brief battle against the king of Arad. The
placement of this passage has long been considered odd, as it would seem to interrupt any

73
As noted already by Gray, Numbers, 264; Noth, Numbers, 149. We might also acknowledge, with
Levine (Numbers 1-20, 492) that the pair fields and vineyards, here in 20:17, is known from other E
narratives: Ex. 22:4; Num. 16:14 (and subsequently here, Num. 21:22). Whether this is a secure enough
basis to assign a passage to E is questionable; surely the combination of the concepts of field and vineyard
would have been available to all.

74
Not freed us from Egypt, as the JPS translation would have it. In none of the sources does an angel or
messenger free the Israelites. The reference here must be to leading the Israelites through the wilderness
away from Egypt.

75
The connection to the messenger in Ex. 23:20 is noted by Levine; but he makes the mistake of also
making the connection to the messenger in Ex. 33:2 (Numbers 1-20, 491), which is not a promise by
YHWH, but a threat, which is subsequently rescinded. Similarly, Noth claims the messenger for E, but
does so on the basis of Ex. 14:19a, which contains a very different image of the messenger (and which is
actually from J; Numbers, 149).

76
Haran assigns both this passage and 21:21-32 to J; only 21:33-35 does he attribute to E (H""spp"
h
,
197f., n. 16). The rationale for this is not entirely clear, but that it must be wrong is certain. Haran claims,
rather dubiously, that the parallel narrative in D (see below) is based not on these narratives in Numbers,
but rather on an E narrative which very closely resembled these J passages (T
!
qft, 65). As we shall see
below, the similarities between D and both 20:14-21 and 21:21-32 are undeniable; to claim that D is not
actually dependent on the narrative of Numbers, but rather on a narrative virtually identical to it, is fraught
with difficulties.
156
of the original source narratives.
77
Friedman assigns it to J on the basis of the location in
the Negev, which fits with the fact that other J stories are disproportionately focused on
the southern kingdom of Judah.
78
Yet this argument is not convincing. To accept it
would be to say, in essence, that every story located in the south is from J, and that no
other source could have told a story about Judah, even when, as in this case, the Israelites
(in all the sources) are traveling in the south.
Carpenter-Harford were torn between J and E (though they nevertheless assigned
it to J, in deference to the practical unanimity of critical opinion
79
). They noted some
stylistic features, including the use of the verb h9rm, which they attributed to E, and more
importantly, noted that there is another etiology of Hormah in a commonly acknowledged
J text, Judg. 1:17; they wondered whether it is likely that one source would contain two
very similar etiologies of the same place in two very different passages.
80
But they also
noted that E places the Canaanites in the Arabah and along the coast, not in the Negev, as
here, and that this passage interrupts the E narrative of the march from Kadesh. Gray

77
Cf., e.g., Noth: The position of this note is remarkable in every respectit has obviously been inserted
at a later date at this particular pointwhere it comes from can no longer be ascertained (Numbers, 154).
Perhaps because of these difficulties, Eissfeldt attributed these verses to his source L (Introduction, 195),
and Fohrer to his source N (Introduction, 162). For a discussion of the many problems of this brief
passage, see J. Milgrom, The JPS Torah Commentary: Numbers (Philadelphia: JPS, 1990), 456ff.

78

79
Hexateuch, 222. This practical unanimity includes such scholars as Addis (Documents, I:171).

80
Similarly, Gray made the point that in Judg. 1:17 Hormah is the name of a city, whereas here it appears
to be that of an entire region (Numbers, 273f.). These arguments undo that of Friedman, who claims that
because Hormah is only known elsewhere in the Pentateuch in the J text of the spies narrative, Num. 14:45,
this must also be J. Yet the various sources surely had equal access to common knowledge about the
geography of Israel and the place names therein; the appearance of a place name in one text of a given
source cannot be used as a criterion for assigning another appearance of that name in a different text to the
same source.
157
also noted that this passage is disruptive, as it breaks the link between Israel turned away
from them (20:21) and by way of the Sea of Reeds (21:4a").
81

All scholars have neglected what seems to be the best option here: that these
verses belong to P. There is little in this passage by itself which indicates that it might be
from the priestly narrative, but there is a very strong indication from an external source.
Num. 21:1 is almost identical to Num. 33:40:
Num. 21:1: sc s: : :.. :: . : ...: .::

:: .:!: :: sc: : :-s :!
The Canaanite, king of Arad, who dwelt in the Negev, heard
that the Israelites had come by way of Atarim, and he
fought against Israel and took some of them captive.
Num. 33:40: s: :..: :: s . : ...: .::
s c .: s:: ..:
The Canaanite, king of Arad, who dwelt in the Negev in the
land of Canaan, heard of the coming of the Israelites.

Num. 33 is either a later summary of the travel of the Israelites derived exclusively from
P, or, more likely, is simply Ps own summary.
82
Whichever is the case, Num. 33
matches up with P throughout the narrative of the wilderness, and not with any of the
other sources. If Num. 21:1-3 were not from P, it would constitute the single exception
to this rule.

81
Gray, Numbers, 277. Whether we should assume a travel notice between these verses which has since
been removed because of the P itinerary of v. 4a! is uncertain, and perhaps unimportant. The reconstituted
E verse here is fine as it is; if one wishes, one could assume something simple like mi%%"m n"#" to fill
this gap (cf. Num. 21:12ff.).

82
The precise nature of the place of Num. 33 in relation to P is a matter of long-standing debate (cf.
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 241; Gray, Numbers, 443-444; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 303-304).
Nevertheless, as it is associated entirely with P, and not at all with the other sources, the above point
remains valid.
158
As was noted previously, the placement of Num. 21:1-3 is odd in any of the
sources, but in P it is subject to the fewest problems.
83
The Israelites are clearly located
at Mt. Hor before and after these verses in P. But the battle against the king of Arad does
not require the Israelites to decamp from the mountain. The location of Hor is unclear in
the text; we know only that it is on the border of Edom. As long as Hor can be
considered somewhere near the south of Judah, near enough for the king of Arad to be
concerned by the presence of the Israelites so close to his territory, then it is logical that
he would come to Mt. Hor to fight against the Israelites; note that they are not said to
have gone anywhere to fight him. Once the battle has been won by the Israelites, they
would naturally return to Mt. Hor; the camp is still located there (we are not told that they
decamp; just that they go out to fight), so it is no surprise that it is from Mt. Hor that they
depart in v. 4a!.
Perhaps more difficult is the use of the verb h9rm in these verses. Though it
certainly appears to be used in the same way as in D, that is, as the total destruction of the
cities and everything in them, this is not made explicit. This narrative has no parallel in
D, so we cannot know if the author of D understood its occurrence here the same way.
To attribute these verses to either J or E runs into the same trouble: neither of these
sources uses the verb h9rm in the Pentateuch. At least we know that P knew the word: it
is used in Lev. 27:28 to describe objects that have been devoted to YHWH, and therefore
cannot be sold. Perhaps more interestingly, it is used in Num. 18:14, where the law is
given that everything in Israel that is h9erem belongs to the priests. In this verse, the
meaning of the word is less clear, but it seems also to refer to anything that has been

83
The particular problems this passage would cause in the E narrative are highlighted by Levine (Numbers
1-20, 83f.
159
devoted to YHWH (as a gift to the deity, e.g.). With this definition in mind, we turn back
to 21:1-3. Is it possible that the priestly usage of h9rm is intended here? I tentatively
suggest that it might; the cities conquered by the Israelites would be given over as a gift
to YHWH, because, according to P, the Israelites are not yet supposed to be conquering
the land of Canaan. Thus, we may imagine that in the mind of the priestly author they
are not taking the cities for themselves; they are conquering them and immediately
turning them over (however this is to be understood) to YHWH.
Though I cannot claim this identification with complete certainty, the parallel in
Num. 33:40 cannot be ignored, and P seems to have the fewest problems assimilating this
story into its narrative flow. Additionally, this provides us with a priestly etiology for
Hormah which differs from that of J in Judg. 1:17.
84

The beginning of v. 4 is undoubtedly from P, as it is the only source in which the
Israelites find themselves at Mt. Hor. The rest of the verse, beginning with derek,
however, belongs to E, as the skirting of Edom is the natural continuation of the
narrative left off in 20:21, in which Edom refuses to let Israel cross its territory.
85
The
pericope that follows, of the making of Nehushtan, belongs to E.
86
It is best paralleled by
the E narrative of Num. 12, in which Miriam is struck with scale-disease, and Moses

84
Cf. Gray, Numbers, 273f., who argued clearly and convincingly for a strong distinction between Num.
21:1-3 and Judg. 1:17.

85
Friedman assigns the whole verse to R, though there is no reason that in P the Israelites should need to go
around Edom, and this is not the case in the parallel itinerary of Num. 33:41.

86
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 222; Eissfeldt, Introduction, 201; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 277f. Cf.
also Gray, Numbers, 274: The rest of the passage [i.e. after the P notice at the beginning of v. 4] is from
JE, and, probably, in particular from E. Cf. Coats, who claims this passage is a late insertion. He makes
this claim, however, solely on the basis of his inability to decide whether it belongs to J or E: Thus it
appears to us that the question of source identification here cannot be solved with certainty; we shall
conclude only that this unit appears as a late secondary insertion into the pentateuchal complex (Rebellion,
117).
160
attempts to intervene on her behalf. Both narratives have a similar structure,
87
and both
present Moses in a prophetic healing role typical of E.
It is 21:10-20 which is perhaps most complicated, as here we have all three
sources in what looks to be one travel itinerary.
88
Yet differences in style among the
sources allow us to make relatively certain divisions here.
89
As already noted, vv. 10-
11b! belong to P: they have precisely the style of Ps travel itineraries, and are paralleled
verbatim in Num. 33:43b-44a. The rest of v. 11 (from bammidb"r), for the same reasons,
cannot be P.
90
In Num. 33:44, Iye-abarim is located within the territory of Moab, and the
Israelites continue from there through Moabite lands. In 21:11, however, Iye-abarim is in
the wilderness outside of Moab. Verses 12-13 of Num. 21 begin with distinctly non-P
travel language: mi%%"m n"#". Furthermore, in v. 13 the Israelites are located at the
Arnon, on the border of Moab and the Amorites, not in Moabite territory. The poem in
vv. 14-15, taken from the Book of the Wars of YHWH, is a digression from, though
from the same source as, the travel notices of vv. 12-13. The assignment of these non-P

87
Both narratives relate a complaint against Moses, followed by a divine plague; the affected group, or
their representative, beseeches Moses to intercede with YHWH on their behalf, and Moses does so.

88
As noted by Friedman, who then proceeds to assign all of vv. 12-20 to J (Sources Revealed, 278). Noth
was perhaps more frank: The whole, however, has, in placesnot only obviously been handed down in
such a textually corrupt state that it is hardly now possible either to translate it or to understand it, but also,
from the point of view of form and content, it is so far from being a unit that we can scarcely attribute it to
any of the Pentateuchal sources or explain it as the product of a compilation from several sourcesAll this
argues for the fact that we are here dealing with editorial material with which a later hand has endeavoured,
as best he could, to compensate for the lack of connection of which he was aware and which really exists,
between the stories already related as still taking place on the edge of the desert and the following accounts
of the conquests (Numbers, 159). Of course, this is simply to shift the blame for the confusion in this
passage from an author to an editor: what editor, in Noths view, would have created an insertion which is,
as he readily admits, far from being a unit? It appears that here Noth has simply given up.

89
Carpenter-Harford did this precisely (Hexateuch, 222f.).

90
Contra Friedman, Sources Revealed, 278.
161
verses, namely, 21:11b"-15, to either J or E must await the analysis of the following
verses; they are to be considered a unit, however.
Verses 16-20 contain yet a third variation on the travel language. Like vv. 12-13,
they begin with mi%%"m, but rather than containing a verb of motion, they simply utilize
the place name with the locative h$. Again, the song that has been included here is part
of the same source as the travel itinerary which surrounds it.
91
It is in vv. 18b-20 that we
can identify the correct source for this section. By the end of this travel itinerary, the
Israelites have arrived at Mt. Pisgah, squarely in the territory of Moab. Yet in what
follows, vv. 21-32, the Israelites have not yet entered Moabite territory (thereby linking
back to vv. 12-15); they are asking permission to do so. The language in 21:21-32 (as we
shall see below) is nearly identical to that of 20:14-21, and therefore must be assigned to
E. Thus 21:11b"-15, which is connected directly to 21:21-32, is also from E; and vv. 16-
20 must be from J.
92

As mentioned above, in vv. 21-32 the Israelites are again asking permission to
cross territory, as they had done with the Edomites in 20:14-21. Here, however, it is the
land of the Amorites (i.e., Moab), and Sihon their king, that the Israelites wish to cross.
93

We have just noted that the language used here is virtually identical to that of 20:14-21
(in particular, 21:21-22 is parallel to 20:14a, 17). E is continuous throughout vv. 21-32.
Carpenter-Harford see vv. 24b-26, 32 as coming from J, based solely on the appearance

91
It has been suggested that because the song is here introduced in a manner similar to that of the Song of
the Sea in Ex. 15, this passage should be attributed to J (Gray, Numbers, 281).

92
Thus vv. 16ff. do not consitute a continuation of the itinerary from v. 13, as stated by Levine (Numbers
1-20, 95).

93
Noth correctly saw the term Amorites as being a sign of E, in a place where J might be expected to use
the term Canaanites (Numbers, 162).
162
of the word Ammonites in the text.
94
But the text does not say that the Israelites fought
against the Ammonites (about which nothing is said elsewhere), but rather that they took
the land of the Amorites up to the border of Ammon, and no further, because the
Ammonite border was strong. Thus there is, in fact, no need to divide the narrative,
which is otherwise relatively straightforward, even including the poem about Heshbon
and Sihon in vv. 27-30.
95

Finally, we have vv. 33-35, the account of the battle against Og, king of Bashan.
That this passage is a unity is denied by no one; its source assignment, however, has been
considered problematic. For now, it is enough to note that, at least within the confines of
the narratives of Numbers, there is no reason not to attribute these verses to E; in v. 34
they make direct reference to the battle against Sihon (known from 21:21-32), which has
already been assigned above to E.
We have divided the sources of Num. 20:14-21:35 on internal grounds as follows:
P: 20:22-29; 21:1-4a! (to h"h"r), 10-11b! (to h"
a
b"rm)
J: 21:16-20
E: 20:14-21; 21:1-3, 4a" (from derek)-9, 11b" (from bammidb"r)-
15, 21-35

We can now turn to the parallel passage in Deut. 2:2-3:11. As in Num. 20:14-21, the
narrative begins with Israel attempting to cross the land of Edom (in D called Seir; 2:2-7).
As has been noted by many, D takes a distinctly different approach to the Edomites.
Here, they are not aggressive as in E in Numbers; rather, they are said to be afraid of the

94
Hexateuch, 223f.

95
The seeming redundancies of vv. 24-25 which so troubled Gray (Numbers, 298f.) are in fact not so
problematic. In v. 24 the Israelites take possession of the land; in v. 25a they take the cities; and in v. 25b
they settle there. There is reasonable progression here, and certainly nothing worth a full-blown source
division or editorial intervention.
163
Israelites (v. 4).
96
There is no parallel here to the Israelites messages to the Edomites in
Numbers; indeed, the narrative never gets that far. All we have is the speech of YHWH
to Moses, commanding him to pass through the territory of Seir. But in this speech we
find a direct parallel to Num. 20:14-21. In Deut. 2:6, YHWH tells Moses to purchase
food and water from the inhabitants of Seir as they pass through, just as in Num. 20:19
the Israelites offer to pay for water as they pass through Edom.
97
After YHWHs speech,
we are told simply that the Israelites crossed away from the sons of Esau. We have no
notice of any encounter between the Israelites and Edomites, but it is clear that the
Israelites do not cross their territory.
98
No reason is given for this in D, but we have the
reason spelled out clearly in E: the Edomites refused to let Israel cross. Why the author
of D has chosen not to include this detail is unclear, though it may well be no more than a
desire not to relate a narrative in which Israel is quite so humbled.
99

D continues with original material, the command of YHWH not to bother the
Moabites (v. 9), and a brief historical sketch of the land of Moab and Seir which is not
paralleled anywhere in Numbers (vv. 10-12). Verse 13, however, relates the command
and action of crossing the wadi Zered (cf. Num. 21:12). This is an important moment for
D, as it is here noted that 38 years had passed between Kadesh-Barnea (the spies episode
and the condemning of that generation to die in the wilderness) and the crossing of the
wadi Zered (v. 14). It is in the wadi Zered, then, that the last of the Exodus generation

96
On the different presentation of D, cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 166; Nelson, Deuteronomy, 36f.,
and especially the full treatment of Brettler, Creation, 71-76.

97
We cannot therefore agree with Driver, that there is no connection at all between Deut. 2:1-8 and Num.
20:14-20 (Deuteronomy, 34).

98
Contra Gray, who claimed that in Deut. 2:1-8 it is related that Israel does cross part of Edom, though this
is manifestly not the case (Numbers, 268f.).

99
Though cf. W. Oswald, Die Revision des Edombildes in Numeri xx 14-21, VT 50 (2000), 218-32.
164
dies, and, concurrently, that the occupation of what will be considered Israelite land is to
begin.
100
In vv. 17-23, Moses is instructed not to bother the Ammonites (again,
interrupted by a historical sketch of the Ammonites, and again, none of this is paralleled
in Numbers). In vv. 24-25 YHWH commands Moses to cross the Arnon (cf. Num.
21:13) and enter Moabite territory, and we are told explicitly that this, according to D, is
the beginning of the occupation of the land promised to the ancestors of Israel.
But here the original D material briefly comes to an end, and the author returns to
writing on the basis of E, with the encounter with Sihon, king of the Amorites.
101
Yet the
passage quoted here, nearly verbatim, is not from the E account of the message to Sihon,
but rather a combination of the two messages to the king of Edom, also an E account,
from Num. 20:14, 17 and 19.
Deut. 2:26-28: :s -: ::: ::s: :s
zss: :.s :s :: :: :: :
:s

s:c : :s s s :!: ::
!-- ::: :: -:s .::- :::
.: :.s ! --:
I sent messengers from the wilderness of Qedemot to Sihon,
king of Heshbon, words of peace: Let me cross
through your land. I will go strictly by the road, turning
neither right nor left. I will pay you for food that I will
eat, and I will give you money for water that I will
drink; only let me cross on foot.
Num. 20:14, 17, 19: : s :!: ::"s: :: :
.. :: : zss: s. :.. :s

100
Cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 175ff. On the particular view of the conquest of the land taken by the
author of D, cf. B. Schwartz, Reexamining the Fate of the Canaanites in the Torah Traditions, pp. 151-
170 in C. Cohen, A. Hurvitz, S.M. Paul, eds., Sefer Moshe: The Moshe Weinfeld Jubilee Volume (Winona
Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2004), 154-59, in which he argues that in this regard, like others, D has its basis in
E.

101
Note that D makes no reference to the P narratives of Num. 20:22-29 or 21:1-3, as expected. D has also
skipped the E narrative of Num. 21:4a"-9, perhaps because it seemed out of place. That he knew it,
however, is clear from a later reference to it in Deut. 8:15; see below.
165
::: -!-. .: .s -:. z:::s
:.s .: ::s
Moses sent messengers from Kadesh to the king of
Edom:Let us cross through your landwe will go up
on the highway, and if we drink water, I or our cattle,
we will give you its payment. Only, it is not an issue,
let me cross by foot.

Further similarities to the D text are found in the narrative parallel of Num. 21:21ff (and
those verses, as mentioned above, are very close to those of 20:14-21).
102
It is likely that
the author of D, having excised the interaction with the Edomites, as we have seen,
combined the two messages to the king of Edom and the single message to Sihon in this
one passage. Note, however, that the sending of messengers at all, which is taken
directly from the E source, fits rather awkwardly in the narrative of D. In Deut. 2:24,
Moses has just been told to engage Sihon in battle, to begin the occupation (a theme
unique to D). Yet, in reverting to the E narrative on which his account is based, the
author of D has Moses attempting to cross peacefully, creating something of a
contradiction within the D story. Moses even reinforces the impression given by the
removal in D of the near-battle with Edom by stating that Sihon should let the Israelites
cross as did the sons of Esau who live in Seir (v. 29) although such an event is
narrated in neither E nor D.
At this point, namely, in 2:30-31, the author of D again writes original material,
claiming that Sihon would not let the Israelites pass because YHWH had hardened his
heart, and again YHWH commands Moses to engage Sihon in battle. Thus, the author of
D adopts the E narrative of having Moses send messengers of peace, but simultaneously

102
See the chart of these similarities provided by Driver (Deuteronomy, 42).
166
undoes it by having YHWH himself contradict Moses offer.
103
Finally, in v. 32ff., the
Israelites battle Sihon. And the language used here is taken directly from E:
104

Deut. 2:32: s :!: :.: s .-s : ss
Sihon came out to meet us in battle, he and all his people, at
Jahaz.
Num. 21: 23a": sc -s ss :. : -s : :s
sc: :! s s: ::
Sihon gathered all his people and he came out to meet Israel in
the wilderness; and he came to Jahaz and fought with
Israel.

The borders of the conquered land are the same in both narratives: from Arnon to the
Jabbok, the border of the Ammonites (Num. 21:24; Deut. 2:36-37). In D, we are told that
the Israelites did not conquer the land of the Ammonites not because the border was too
strong, as in E, but rather because YHWH forbade the Israelites to fight against Ammon.
To this point, D has been almost entirely faithful to the E narrative. We are left,
then, with only the narrative of the battle against Og, in Deut. 3:1-11. The near-identity
of Deut. 3:1-3 and Num. 21:33-35 is extraordinary:
Deut. 3:1-3: ::: .. ss :: :! .. e.

:s

.s :!: :. : s .-s
-s --. z: : -s s-s s
-c. :s: -c. ss -s :.: -s
-

::: ::! :s :s : :
::: ..-s :. .: .s
c s: -: . :. :.: -s

103
The peace offer cannot be read, as Nelson suggests, as a tactical ploy by YHWH so that he can then
harden Sihons heart (Deuteronomy, 46). It plainly contradicts YHWHs direct command; YHWH is
forced to harden Sihons heart after Moses makes the unexpected peace offer.

104
Van Seters has argued the opposite view: that the author of Numbers drew on the text of Deuteronomy
(The Conquest of Sihons Kingdom: A Literary Examination, JBL 91 [1972]:182-97). This is, of course,
in line with his overall theory about the composition of the Pentateuch. See the direct rebuttal by J.R.
Bartlett, The Conquest of Sihons Kingdom: A Literary Re-Examination, JBL 97 (1978): 347-51.
167
We turned and went up the road to Bashan, and Og, king of
Bashan, came out to meet us in battle, he and all his
people, at Edrei. YHWH said to me, Do not fear him,
for I have given him and all his people and all his land
into your hand, and you will do to him as you did to
Sihon, king of the Amorites, who dwelt in Heshbon.
YHWH our God gave into our hands also Og, king of
Bashan, and all his people, and we smote them until no
survivor remained to him.
Num. 21:33-35: ::: .. ss :: :! . .e

:s .s :!: :.: s :-s
--. z: : -s s-s ::s
:s: -c. ss -s :.:-s -s
::: ::! :s :s : : -c.
-:. :. : -s .:-s -%s :

ss -s : c s:
They turned and went up the road to Bashan, and Og, king of
Bashan, came out to meet them in battle, he and all his
people, at Edrei. YHWH said to Moses, Do not fear
him, for I give him and all his people and all his land
into your hand, and you will do to him as you did to
Sihon, king of the Amorites, who dwelt in Heshbon.
They smote him and his sons and all his people until no
survivor remained to him, and they took possession of
his land.

That these passages are virtually identical has long been recognized, but their
extraordinary similarity has led many scholars to propose that the passage in Numbers is
in fact taken from Deuteronomy, rather than the other way around.
105
There is no reason
for this to be the case, however. This is not an isolated instance of quotation from E in D,
as we have already seen. That it is perhaps the most extensive should not require us to
change our perspective on which narrative is earlier and which is later. This passage in E
does not stand out from its context; rather, it directly refers to the immediately preceding

105
Addis, Documents, I:175; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 224; Driver, Deuteronomy, 47; Gray,
Numbers, 306; Noth, Numbers, 162, 166; Levine, Numbers 1-20, 128; A. Rof, Introduction to the
Composition of the Pentateuch (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1999), 118f.; Nelson, Deuteronomy, 44 n.1.
168
narrative of the defeat of Sihon. Commentators may be uncomfortable with the
remarkable similarities here, but this should push them to see the dependence of D on E
even more clearly, rather than assume some Deuteronomic editorial intervention in E.
106

D continues on with further detail of the conquest of Bashan, and a summary of
the defeats of Sihon and Og and the taking of their territory. This is not related in E,
though it is possible that E did contain some of this material, and it has been lost to us.
This is not necessary, however; we have seen that the author of D is more than willing to
make his own changes and additions to the narratives that he has inherited from E.
Thus, we can see that throughout Deut. 2:2-3:11 the author has remained faithful
to the narrative of E, and E only, in Num. 20-21.
107

Deut. 3:12-20: Apportioning the Transjordan
The brief notice in D regarding the assignment of the Transjordanian territory to
the Reubenites and Gadites follows directly on the narrative of the conquest of the
kingdoms of Sihon and Og. In Numbers, however, this narrative is postponed beyond the
Sihon and Og narrative in chapter 21 until chapter 32. Num. 32 has long been considered
exceptionally difficult to divide source-critically; many reconstructions are tortured and
unreadable,
108
and the desperation over this chapter has reached the degree that it has at
times been attributed entirely to the hand of the redactor.
109
In what follows I will first

106
Cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 181; Haran, H""spp"
h
, 197f. n. 16.

107
Cf. also the reference made to these events in Deut. 29:6.

108
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 113ff.; Addis, Documents, I:185ff.

109
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 239ff.; Gray, Numbers, 426; Noth, Numbers, 235f.; Levine, Numbers 1-
20, 478ff.
169
present an entirely new source-critical analysis of the chapter, and then examine its
relationship to Deut. 3:12-20.
As it stands in the canonical version, Num. 32 contains insoluble literary
difficulties. The Reubenites and Gadites are presented as offering both to build new
cities and to take over existing cities; they are said to go both at the front of the Israelites
and simply alongside them; they are given the territory they request by Moses, but it is
also said that they will receive it from Joshua after the conquest. These, and other
smaller issues, are impossible to understand if this chapter was written by one author,
whether an author of one of the documents or as a composition of the redactor. Thus
there is a clear need for a true source-critical division of this passage.
In Num. 32, in fact, we have two distinct narratives which each try to answer the
same two questions: how is it that the Transjordanian territory, technically outside the
natural boundaries of the promised land, came to be occupied by the Israelites tribes of
Gad and Reuben, and to what degree were they reponsible for the conquest of the
Cisjordanian territory?
110
What both narratives have in common is the idea, based,
presumably, in reality, that the rationale for the Reubenites and Gadites wanting to stay
across the Jordan is that the territory of Bashan was famously good pastureland, as well
as the concept that these two tribes did, in fact, participate (at least) equally in the
conquest of Canaan. Also common to the two narratives is the understanding that the
settlement of these tribes in the Transjordan was accomplished at the time of and with the
consent of Moses, such that both traditions relieve the Reubenites and Gadites of any

110
Cf. S.E. Loewenstamm, The Settlement of Gad and Reuben as Related in Nu. 32:1-38 Background
and Composition, Tarbiz 42 (1972): 12-26 (Hebrew; ET: pp. 109-130 in Loewenstamm, From Babylon to
Canaan [Jerusalem: Magnes, 1992]; page numbers refer to the ET), 110.
170
potentially lesser status for not residing in Canaan proper. Virtually everything else
about the narratives is different, however: the form of the request for the land; Moses
reaction to that request; the argument given by the Reubenites and Gadites; Moses
response to that argument; and the nature of the actual assignment of the land. Because
the stories do contain similarities, the redactor is perhaps more than usually active in this
chapter, though his interventions are, for the most part, recognizable once the sources are
correctly separated.
Because this chapter is so complex, the completed source analysis will be
presented first, followed by the justification thereof. This will, it is hoped, allow for a
broader view of how the two narratives are to be distinguished.
The breakdown of the sources is as follows:
E:
111
vv. 1, (2 [wayyom
!
r el-mo%e
h
]), 4, 5a! (to b
!
neyk"), 5b, (6a [wayyomer
mo%e
h
]), 6b, (16 [wayyomer]), 17a, 18-19, (20a [wayyomer
a
lhem
mo%e
h
], 20b, 21, 22a" (from wihytem to miyi#r"$l), 25-27, 32-33, 39-42
P: vv. 2-3, 5a" (from yuttan), 6a, 7-16, 17b, 20a, 22a! (to t"%ub), 22b, 24, 28-
31,34-38

Some notes are required:
v. 2: wayyom
!
r el-mo%e
h
belongs to both sources.
v. 6: wayyomer belongs to both sources, though they diverge immediately
thereafter.
v. 7: The redactor has added the waw at the beginning of the verse.
v. 9: The redactor has inserted the phrase ad-nahal e%kl, thereby bringing this
otherwise P narrative in line with the combined text of Num. 13 (vv. 23-24; see above).

111
Verses in parentheses indicate that some words of that verse (given in brackets) are in fact common to
both E and P; see the notes following the breakdown.
171
vv. 11-12: The redactor has inserted the phrases at the end of each verse, k (lo)
mill
a
har"y (
a
har YHWH), again to match this text with the redacted Num. 14 (v. 24;
see above).
112

v. 16: wayyomer again belongs to both sources (though in this case this is the
only word attributable to E).
v. 17: The redactor has added the waw at the beginning of the verse. In addition,
the word h9%m is most likely a scribal error for h9
a
m%m.
113

v. 20: The entire three-word opening clause is shared between the sources:
wayyomer
a
lhem mo%e
h
. The rest of 20a belongs to P, while 20b is from E.
v. 22: The phrase lipn YHWH here is most likely a scribal error both times it
occurs; the first time for lipnkem (as we find it in v. 29), and the second time perhaps by
vertical dittography. These errors are undoubtedly attributable to the frequent repetition
of the phrase throughout the E narrative.
114

v. 29: The redactor has added a phrase from the E narrative here so as to level the
differences between the two stories: et-hayyard$n kol-h9"ls9 lammilh9"m"
h
lipn$
YHWH.
v. 30: The redactor has added the word h9"ls9m from the E narrative into the P
text here.

112
That this is a redactional insertion, and not original to these verses, may be seen most clearly when these
phrases are removed from the P text. What we are left with is not only a considerably smoother text, but
one which is strikingly similar to the equivalent P verses in Num. 14:29-30.

113
Cf. Ex. 13:18 (E); Josh. 1:14; 4:12 (in which is narrated the attack prefigured in Num. 32); Judg. 7:11.

114
Although cf. Milgrom, Numbers, 492ff., who argues for the unity of the chapter on structural grounds, in
particular the seven-fold repetition of numerous elements. One might be tempted to suggest on these
grounds not that the chapter is a unified composition, but that the redactor inserted additional instances of
some phrases in order to more closely bind the chapter together with these seven-fold repetitions.
172
v. 32: The redactor has added the word
a
h9uzzat from the P narrative into the E
text here.
115

v. 33: The redactor has added the words libn-g"d w
!
libn r
!
b$n w
!
lah9
a
s
%ebet9 m
!
na##e
h
ben-ys$p.
116

There are thus three types of redactorial activity in this chapter. The first, and
simplest, is the removal of speech-introducer doublets (vv. 2, 6, 16, 20). Where both
sources had wayyomer (because in each a new speaker was beginning) and the redactor
combined the two speeches into one, only one speech introducer was necessary. The
second type of activity is the insertion of phrases from one source into the other (vv. 9,
11-12, 29, 30, 32). In the first three instances, the redactor is working not from the
narrative in this chapter, but from the already combined spies narrative in Num. 13-14
(vv. 9, 11-12). In the latter three instances, the redactor has simply taken phrases from
the E source and placed them into the P text, and vice versa, so as to more closely bind
the two together. The third type of activity is the addition of something entirely new
from the hand of the redactor (v. 33).
Thus far I have presented the conclusions, without the supporting evidence. We
now turn to the rationale for the preceding division.

115
Cf. Levine, Numbers 1-20, 493, who notes that the text would read more smoothly without it.

116
The syntax of this verse demands that this be a redactional insertion. When removed, the verse reads
smoothly, and is entirely in line with the preceding E narrative. The redactor, however, wanted to add the
concept of the half-tribe of Manasseh here, otherwise unknown in E, but taken from the parallel narrative in
D (Deut. 3:13; cf. A.G. Auld, Joshua, Moses, and the Land [Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1980],77). To
accomplish this he inserted not just the half-tribe of Manasseh, but also the Reubenites and Gadites, so as to
make the insertion appear to be in apposition with the original l"hem. That this must be redactional rather
than part of the P text is clear from the use of the term %ebet9 rather than the priestly mat9t9e
h
. Cf.
Loewenstamm, Settlement, 112.
173
The stories diverge right from the start. In the E narrative, the Gadites and
Reubenites find themselves in need of land for their cattle; note that the land that has just
been conquered (in E, this is the territory of Sihon and Og, Num. 21) is good
pastureland.
117
Thus they request that they not be forced to cross the Jordan with the
other tribes (vv. 1, 4-5*). In the P narrative, by contrast, there is no mention of the
livestock of the Reubenites and Gadites. They simply request that the nine towns they
enumerate, constituting the land recently conquered (in P this land is known as Midian;
Num. 31), be given to them as a territorial holding (
a
h9uzz"
h
) (vv. 2-3, 5*).
118

In E, Moses replies to the request for pastureland with a simple question: are the
Reubenites and Gadites not going to assist their fellow Israelites in conquering the land of
Canaan (v. 6)? What is important for Moses here is that all the tribes participate in the
conquest of the land, and that even though the Reubenites and Gadites may already have
their land in the Transjordan, they must also cross the river to possess the promised land.
In P (vv. 7-15), by contrast, Moses response is not a question, but an accusation and a
speech. He begins by accusing the Gadites and Reubenites of cowardice: they want to
stay in the Transjordan because they are afraid of the inhabitants of Canaan. By behaving
this way, according to Moses, they will frighten the other Israelites as well, such that all
will be scared to invade Canaan.
119
This is the very crime that caused the forty years of

117
The assignment of the non-priestly material in this chapter to E is fairly clear; if we have correctly
assigned the Sihon and Og narratives in Num. 21 to E, then this must be the continuation of that narrative,
as explicit mention of the story of Num. 21 is made here.

118
Friedman assigns v. 1 to E and v. 4 to P, mostly likely on the basis of the word $d"
h
(Sources Revealed,
300f.; see also Noth, Numbers, 237). But the narrative continuity preserved by assigning both verses to E
outweighs the desire on the part of Friedman and others to assign every single usage of the term $d"
h
to P;
we can surely admit that other sources knew the word, whether they used it in the same sense as the priestly
author or not.

174
wandering in the first place, as described in Num. 13-14, and Moses gives a rather
detailed summary of that narrative, following the P narrative virtually to the letter.
120
He
concludes by describing the new generation of Gadites and Reubenites as a repeat of the
generation that died in the wilderness, and tells them that if they forsake YHWH, they
will be condemning the entire Israelite people.
In E (vv. 17a, 18-19) the Reubenites and Gadites respond to Moses question with
a definitive answer: they will go in the vanguard of the Israelite people when they attack
Canaan, and will remain there until all the other tribes are settled.
121
At that point,
however, they will return to the Transjordan, where they have their own territory.
122
In P,
by contrast, (vv. 16, 17b), the Reubenites and Gadites state that they will build cities in
the newly-conquered territory, in which they will place their children and flocks, to
protect them from the inhabitants of the land while they are away with the other tribes.
Moses responds to the Reubenites and Gadites offer in E by agreeing to the
plan, noting that if they do precisely what they said they would do (Moses uses virtually

119
This response to the fear of battle stands in stark contrast to that presented in D. In P, the fear is to be
suppressed and overcome, and battle entered into regardless. In D, the cowardly soldier is sent home, so
that his fear does not become contagious (Deut. 20:8). This is further evidence that Num. 32, in its present,
redacted form, is not the product of a Deuteronomic editor.
120
The rehearsal of the events of Num. 13-14 here in Num. 32:7-15 so closely follows the contours of the P
spies narrative that no part of it can be assigned to E (contra Friedman, Sources Revealed, 301). We may
note in particular the definition of the sinful generation as all the men above the age of twenty (v. 11); the
naming of Caleb ben Jephunneh and Joshua ben Nun together as the only ones who will be allowed to
survive of that generation (v. 12); and the explicit punishment of forty years of wandering in the wilderness
(v. 13). All of these details are taken directly from the P text of Num. 14:26-35 (see above). Cf. Levine,
Numbers 1-20, 486.

121
The concept of going in the vanguard, represented by the verb h9-l-s9, is used seven times in Num. 32.
This is an uncommon verb and an uncommon concept, and it would be a remarkable coincidence if both E
and P used it for this narrative, and almost exclusively for this narrative. Thus its attribution by Friedman
to both sources must be considered highly improbable (Sources Revealed, 302). Furthermore, P does not
appear to take any real interest in the details of the military campaign; for P, the land will simply be
conquered. In E, by contrast, the military bravery of the Reubenites and Gadites is practically the entire
issue, which is perhaps more understandable when Es northern provenance is taken into consideration.

122
As Moses has not yet formally given the Transjordan to the Reubenites and Gadites, we should almost
certainly re-accent the perfect b""
h
in v. 19 as a participle.
175
the same words as the Reubenites and Gadites), they will have fulfilled their obligation to
YHWH and to the other Israelites (vv. 20b-21, 22*). In P, Moses stipulates that they may
indeed build their cities, but that they may return to them only once the land has been
conquered; at that point, the Transjordan will become their territorial holding. If they do
not do their duty in fighting alongside the other tribes, however, they will have sinned,
and will be duly punished (vv. 20a, 22*-24). Note, however, that they are not required in
any sense to fight in the vanguard of the Israelites. In P, the Israelites are really there
almost as a formality; they are essentially guaranteed victory by YHWH, as the land is
simply going to be conquered, in the passive voice. For that reason, the non-participation
of the Reubenites and Gadites will not result in the Israelites being unable to conquer the
land of Canaan, but rather in divine punishment.
The Reubenites and Gadites respond in E with a statement of formal acceptance.
They will go in the vanguard of the Israelites, while their families and livestock stay in
the towns of Gilead, as long as they can keep their Transjordanian inheritance (vv. 25-27,
32). This highlights a major distinction between the two sources: in E, the Reubenites
and Gadites simply take over the existing cities in the lands of Sihon and Og; in P, they
build the cities anew.
In P the acceptance by the Reubenites and Gadites waits until Moses has given the
appropriate instructions to the leaders who will actually cross the Jordan with the
Israelites, Joshua and Eleazar. Moses tells them exactly what has been agreed with the
Reubenites and Gadites, namely that they will fight alongside the other Israelites until the
land has been conquered, after which they may be given the Transjordan as a territorial
holding. If they do not accompany the tribes, however, they will receive territory in
176
Canaan (vv. 28-30). To this the Reubenites and Gadites agree (v. 31). Note that in the P
narrative, Moses himself does not give them the Transjordanian territory, as he does in E;
this task is reserved for the future, to be performed by Joshua and Eleazar, after the land
has been conquered.
The conclusions of the two narratives are quite distinct, and follow precisely the
lines that have been established in the previous sections. In E, the Reubenites and
Gadites have made a deal for the Transjordanian territory: if Moses gives it to them, they
will fight in the vanguard of the Israelites during the conquest. And indeed, in v. 33,
Moses gives them the lands of Sihon and Og. In a related incident, we are told that some
Manassites captured Gilead from the Amorites, and settled there (vv. 39-42). In P, by
contrast, Moses cannot give them the land, as that task is assigned to Joshua, and is to be
carried out by Joshua only after the land has been conquered. But in P, the Reubenites
and Gadites have been given permission to build their own cities in the Transjordan in
which to keep their children and flocks, and this is precisely what is narrated in vv. 34-
38. Note that these are precisely the cities that are enumerated in v. 3.
It may immediately strike the reader of the now separated texts that a number of
words and phrases are assigned exclusively to one of the two sources:
E: y-%-b; l-k-d; hr%; hayyard$n, eber hayyard$n; gil"d; n-h9-l,
nah9
a
l"
h
; h9-l-s9; lipn YHWH; lammilh9"m"
h

P: -h9-z,
a
h9uzz"
h
; h""res9; k-b-%; b-n-h; "rm; s9on, b
!
h$m"
h
;
eres9 haggil"d

Though the ability to mark the sources with lexical items is certainly suggestive, far more
important is that the sources when correctly separated produce two unique narrative
accounts.
177
Thus we have two narratives of how the Reubenites and Gadites came to occupy
the Transjordan. The principal narrative features of each are worth rehearsing. In E, the
Reubenites and Gadites offer, of their own accord, to go in the vanguard of the Israelites
during the conquest, in exchange for Moses giving them the existing cities of the
territories of Sihon and Og as their inheritance. Moses agrees, and assigns the territory to
them. In P, it is on Moses initiative that the Reubenites and Gadites agree to fight with
the other Israelites, after he accuses them of cowardice and reminds them of the events
narrated in Num. 13-14. They ask to be allowed, for the time being, to build anew cities
in the Transjordan in which to keep their children and flocks while they go into Canaan.
They are told that they will fight alongside, not in the vanguard of, the other tribes, until
the land has been conquered; only then will Joshua give them the Transjordan as their
territorial holding. As they agree to this plan, they go off and build the aforementioned
cities in the Transjordan.
Having presented this source-critical division, let us now turn to the considerably
briefer text of Deut. 3:12-20. In this text we find that the narrative of D follows that of E
in Num. 32, with no hint of P.
123
In D it is Moses who assigns the Transjordanian
territory to the Reubenites and Gadites before the conquest as in E, not Joshua after the
conquest as in P.
124
In D we find the same clans and territories in vv. 12-16 as in the E
text of Num. 32:39-42. We even have the virtually identical notice of the founding of

123
Driver also noted the parallels between D and Num. 32 (Deuteronomy, 51). Note that all of the verses
he cited in Num. 32 are from what we have assigned to the E source. Two major distinctions can be noted
between the D and E versions of the narrative. In D, Moses assigns the land before he instructs the
Reubenites and Gadites to go in the vanguard. And in D, this is Moses own initiative, rather than that of
the tribes in question. This is yet another example of D giving Moses credit for positive innovations that
had previously been assigned to the people.

124
Cf. Deut. 29:7, where this is also presented as having already happened. Also note that the grant of
territory is said to have already happened under Moses in Josh. 1:12-18; 12:6; 13:8-12; 22:1-9.
178
Havvoth-Jair (Deut. 3:14; Num. 32:41). In Deut. 3:18 Moses instructs the Reubenites
and Gadites
125
to go in the vanguard of the Israelites, as only in E.
126
In Deut. 3:19 they
are to be allowed to leave their families and their livestock (of which it is noted that they
have a great deal) in the towns that Moses has given to them. This matches up precisely
with the beginning of Num. 32 in E, in which they want the territory specifically because
they have so much cattle, and with Num. 32:26.
127
We also are made aware in this verse
that according to D (or his source) the Reubenites and Gadites are taking over already-
existing cities; this is the case only in E in Num. 32.
Virtually no scholar argues that the author of D knew the P narratives of the
Pentateuch. Thus it is no surprise that D does not agree with any of the specifics of the P
story in Num. 32. The value of recognizing the relationship between D and E in this
particular narrative is that it completely supports the new source division presented
above. Furthermore, if we are able to recognize the special relationship between D and
E, we can see that it is impossible to attribute Num. 32 entirely to the free composition of
a redactor.
128
Though Num. 32 is an undoubtedly difficult passage, the separation of the
sources therein is in no way impossible, and can in fact be verified by comparison with
the narrative presented in D. The correct division of sources in Num. 32, then, allows for

125
Probably we should understand etkem here as a mistake for ot"m. This relieves the translator of the
need to assume that when Moses says you, he is referring obliquely to the two and a half tribes (cf. A.B.
Ehrlich, Miqra ki-peshuto [New York: Ktav, 1969], I:317.

126
Contra Levine, who believes that the use of the verb h9-l-s9 in Num. 32 is based on its single
appearance in Deut. 3:18 (Numbers 1-20), 503.

127
Weinfeld in his commentary misses this verse, claiming that in Num. 32 wives are not mentioned; this
leads to a fine, though unnecessary, note on the use of t9p to include the entire household (Deuteronomy 1-
11, 188).

128
Or, for that matter, to accept the tortured reconstruction of Loewenstamm, Settlement, who posited for
this tradition three stages of growth, none of which corresponds fully to what is related in D, and who
generally disregards the basic findings of the source-critical enterprise.
179
yet another example of Ds dependence on E, in addition to those already noted (though
without having drawn the appropriate conclusions) by other scholars.

Deut. 4:10-14; 5:2-5, 19-28; 9:8-21, 25-10:5: Horeb
By far the largest and, fortunately, clearest example of Ds dependence on the
earlier Pentateuchal sources is in the presentation of the episode at Horeb. In many cases,
the author of D preserves word for word the narrative of Exodus; in others, the changes
he makes to his sources are evident and eminently explicable. In nearly every verse of
Deuteronomy, it is possible to establish a one-to-one correspondence with a verse from
Exodus. Like the spies narrative, the Horeb episode gives us a chance to see the
relationship of D to Pentateuchal narratives that are recounted in both J and E (and, in
this case, P) versions. As in the spies narrative, we will see that D hews closely to the
line established by E.
129

Because the Horeb episode in Exodus is so extensive, a full-scale source-critical
treatment is not appropriate here. Rather, I will identify precisely those verses on which
D is dependent, and present the necessary source-critical analysis thereof.
The revelation and subsequent events at Horeb are described in both of the
introductory speeches of Moses, Deut. 1-4 and 5-11. These speeches are, as was noted
earlier, the work of two different authors, though both belong under the name D. For that
reason, some elements of the narrative given in the first speech are repeated in the

129
It is the purpose of this study to demonstrate the literary dependence of D on E, not to investigate
precisely how D adapts the Horeb narrative of E to suit his own concept of the covenant between YHWH
and Israel. This has been done in detail and with great perceptiveness already by Haran (H""spp"
h
, 157-
64).
180
second. As we will see, however, in both speeches the story line follows that established
in E.
The passage that begins the story of the episode at Horeb is Deut. 4:10-14, which
gives only a brief overview of the narrative. A few important details are present,
however, and are worthy of mention. First, and most obvious, is Ds location of the
revelation at Horeb (4:10). Of the other Pentateuchal sources, as is well known, only E
places these events at Horeb rather than Sinai. This is not a definitive mark of Ds
dependence on E, because two distinct and unrelated sources could very well draw on the
same tradition regarding the location of the mountain of God where the revelation to
Israel in the wilderness occurred (as J and P, for example, both locate it at Sinai, though
the two sources are entirely independent of each other). Of considerably more value,
however, is the notice in 4:11a that the people approached and stood at the foot of the
mountain. We find the same concept in Ex. 19:17, in which Moses brings the people
out of the camp and stations them at the foot of the mountain. Of equal interest is Deut.
4:11b, which states that the mountain was covered in a dark cloud. This image can be
traced back to Ex. 19:16, which describes the mountain as covered in a heavy cloud (cf.
also 19:9, 20:18). Thus we have in one verse of Deuteronomy reference to two verses in
Exodus which are sequential (though with the order reversed), and which are both readily
identifiable as E.
130
This fact is made even more striking when it is recognized that these
two E verses are isolated in the midst of an otherwise predominantly J passage.
131
In Ex.

130
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 110; Driver, Exodus, 173; Noth, Exodus, 159; Friedman, Sources
Revealed, 152. Note that in Ex. 19:16-17 the people are afraid, and Moses needs to bring them to the
mountain; this stands in contrast to the presentation of J, in which the people have to be restrained from
rushing up the mountain during the theophany.

131
As is recognized by Friedman, Sources Revealed, 152.
181
19:10-25 only vv. 16 (from way
!
h)-17, 19 are from E, and it is precisely two of those
three verses to which D refers.
132

Deut. 4:12 continues by telling that YHWH spoke to the Israelites, giving them
the Ten Commandments, but that they did not see him, hearing only a voice. This is
emphatically the presentation of E in the narrative of Exodus. For E, one of the primary
aims, if not the primary aim, of the giving of the Ten Commandments is so that the
people can hear the voice of YHWH and thereby trust in Moses as a true prophet. This
aim is made evident in Ex. 19:9: I am about to come to you in a thick cloud so that the
people will hear when I speak with you and trust in you forever.
133
And indeed, after
YHWH has given the Ten Commandments, the people not only trust in Moses as prophet,
but demand that he act as intercessor between them and the divine, for they are afraid to
hear any more directly from YHWH (Ex. 20:18-19).
134
It is thus the hearing of YHWHs
voice that is of preeminent importance in E, and it is that same emphasis that is presented
in Deut. 4:12.
135

132
The E material which precedes these three verses is Ex. 19:2b-9a, which includes the Elohistic concept
of YHWH choosing Israel to become a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. This idea is also used by D,
though not in the Horeb pericope; rather, it is found as the basis of law (Deut. 7:6, 14:2, 21) and in the
conclusion to the law (Deut. 26:18-19). This concept of holiness and the relationship between the two
sources with regard to it is detailed in Schwartz, Israels Holiness: The Torah Traditions, pp. 47-59 in M.
Poorthuis and J. Schwartz, eds., Purity and Holiness: The Heritage of Leviticus (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 50-
52.

133
Attributed to E by Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 110; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 152. Driver
(Exodus, 171) assigned vv. 3b-9 to J, though without specific rationale. Noth (Exodus, 154) attributed the
same verse to a later addition, because they anticipate the theophany and refer to a covenant which has
not yet been made. This argument is dashed on the jagged rocks of simple Hebrew grammar: the
references to the theophany and the covenant are all set in the future, not in the past; Noth, it would seem,
was uncomfortable with any author foreshadowing or anticipating later narrative developments.

134
The emphasis on the prophetic role of Moses in the revelation at Horeb is picked up by D also in the law
code. In Deut. 18:15ff., the peoples request at Horeb for Moses to act as their intercessor is used as the
basis for the existence of post-Mosaic prophets.

182
As is well known, the Decalogue is part of the larger Horeb pericope in E (as we
have just seen, the presence of the Decalogue is required to understand Ex. 19:9 and
20:18-19
136
). Thus the statement in Deut. 4:13 that YHWH declared to the Israelites the
Ten Commandments is hardly surprising, as D has followed E up to this point. Equally
important is the description of the Ten Commandments as having been inscribed by
YHWH on two stone tablets (cf. Ex. 24:12); as we shall see below, this concept is equally
peculiar to E.
Deut. 4:14 has no explicit parallel in Exodus, but is crucial for understanding how
the author of D has changed the presentation of the Horeb episode in E. In Exodus, the

135
Whether or not the people actually hear the words of the Decalogue, or only the sound of the deitys
voice (on this cf. Driver, Deuteronomy, 83f.), is therefore largely irrelevant to Es purpose. It is simplest,
perhaps, to understand the people as hearing only the voice of YHWH, and not the precise words, for that
would constitute the minimum needed to produce the intended effect (the peoples fear and subsequent trust
in Moses). This is emphasized further in Deut. 5:5, 22; in the former, Moses stands between YHWH and
the people and conveys the words of YHWH to them; in the latter, they no longer want to hear the voice of
YHWH. The combination of these two verses suggests that, at least according to D, the people were able
to make out the voice of the deity, but not the actual words (the Ten Commandments), which were
conveyed to them by Moses. Cf. von Rad, Deuteronomy, 59f., and especially Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-
11, 240f.

136
Thus the conclusion of Friedman (Sources Revealed, 153-54) and Noth (Exodus, 154-55) that the
Decalogue is a secondary insertion is impossible. Removal of the Ten Commandments renders the E
narrative (which Friedman otherwise delineates accurately in Ex. 19-20) incomprehensible. It is the
hearing of the Decalogue that frightens the people into asking Moses to act as intercessor between them and
YHWH, and this leads directly to the private pronouncement to Moses of the laws of the Covenant Code,
which he then passes on to the people (and which, because they have already witnessed the existence and
terror of YHWH, they accept without reservation). At the very most we might agree with both Friedman
and Noth that the text of the Decalogue is of independent origin, but this is irrelevant to the most
fundamental concept of source criticism, which is that the goal is to reconstruct the documents which made
up the Pentateuch as they existed immediately preceding their combination. That E used an older,
independent set of laws as part of its narrative in no way changes the fact that it is E, and E alone, which
uses them; the Decalogue as found in Ex. 20:1-17 has no place in either J or P, and is, as we have seen,
necessary for the E narrative to be coherent.
We might also take note of the claim of Carpenter-Harford (Hexateuch, 111-12) and Driver
(Exodus, 193-200) that the original Decalogue of E, which consisted only of the briefest phrases, was
secondarily expanded by a Deuteronomic editor. This argument seems to have been based largely on the
striking similarities, and also the slight differences, between the versions of the Decalogue found in Ex. 20
and Deut. 5. There is no apparent reason, however, that, as with the rest of the Horeb episode, the version
in D was not simply dependent on what we have in E. The argument that the Decalogue of E (or, in fact,
any part of Genesis-Numbers) contains Deuteronomic phrases is, in my opinion, quite backward: rather,
it is D which has picked up on the phraseology of its primary source, E.
183
people demand that Moses alone communicate with the deity after they have heard the
Decalogue (20:18-19). Moses agrees (20:20), and, while the people stay back from fear,
he approaches YHWH and receives further instruction: the laws of Ex. 20:23-23:33. In
E, this is the real substance of the law which is transmitted at Horeb, and it is this on
which the covenant in Ex. 24:3-8 is based; the Ten Commandments, while having the
form of law, are delivered with only the explicitly stated aim of getting the people to trust
Moses as prophet so that they will listen when he gives them the real body of law which
follows.
137
In D, it is the same: after the giving of the Ten Commandments, YHWH
gives Moses laws and rules for the peoples behavior in Canaan, which Moses is to
subsequently pass on to the people (Deut. 4:14). But for D, of course, those laws are not
the Book of the Covenant, but the law code of Deut. 12-26. And they are not to be given
to the people at Horeb, but just prior to crossing the Jordan and entering Canaan, in the
land of Moab. D maintains the giving of the Decalogue as in E, at the same time and in
the same place; but the laws which follow have been shifted, not in when they were given
to Moses, but in when he in turn gave them to the people, from Horeb to Moab; and the
content is no longer that of the older Book of the Covenant, but of the updated and much
expanded later version thereof, the Deuteronomic law code. Thus, in Deut. 4:14, we are
presented with a conceptualization of the sequence of the law-giving which, while
differing from E, is wholly dependent on it.
138

The second speech of Moses introduces the Horeb episode in Deut. 5:2-5. In 5:4
it is stated that YHWH spoke to the Israelites face to face on the mountain. The closest

137
Cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 130, 161ff.

138
For a fuller treatment of this issue, see Haran, H""spp"
h
, 158ff.
184
variant of this phrase is attested elsewhere in the Pentateuch only in E: Gen. 32:31; Ex.
33:11; Deut. 34:10.
139
Verse 5 makes reference again to Moses standing between the
people and the deity, because the people were afraid (see above, and cf. Ex. 20:18-20).
140

After the Decalogue,
141
as expected, D resumes the narrative of the Horeb events.
Deut. 5:19 confirms what was stated in Deut. 4:10-14: YHWH spoke the Ten
Commandments to the Israelites, encased in heavy cloud, and inscribed them on two
stone tablets. The author of D makes certain also to emphasize that it was only the Ten
Commandments that the Israelites heard at Horeb. This conforms to the concept of the
law-giving that we have already detailed above: that the Israelites were given only the
Decalogue at Horeb, and Moses alone was given the rest of the laws (Deut. 12-26), to be
delivered to the people in the plains of Moab. Thus it is important for the D author to
stress that all the people got at Horeb was the Decalogue, in both oral and written form.
142

139
Haran, H""spp"
h
, 159 n. 77. For one possible reason for this variation, see Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-
11, 239f.

140
Nelson suggests, confusingly, that perhaps the reason for the separation between the people and the
deity was a concern for ritual propriety (Deuteronomy, 79f.); this not only contradicts the explicit
statement of v. 5, but is also otherwise unattested in D and in the E narrative on which it is based. It is only
in J that the people are cautioned not to approach the mountain (Ex. 19:10-13), and there the issue is that
they might see the deity; in E and D there is never a notion of seeing YHWH, only of hearing him (cf.
Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 241).

141
The detailed comparison of the Decalogues of E and D has been done and will be done further by other
scholars and in other settings (cf., e.g., Koch, The Growth of the Biblical Tradition: The Form-Critical
Method [New York: Charles Scribners Sons, 1969], 44-51; J.J. Stamm and M. Andrew, The Ten
Commandments in Recent Research [London: SCM, 1967]; M. Greenberg, The Decalogue Tradition
Critically Examined, pp. 279-312 in Studies in the Bible and Jewish Thought [Philadelphia: JPS, 1995]; N.
Lohfink, The Decalogue in Deuteronomy 5, pp. 248-264 in Theology of the Pentateuch [Minneapolis:
Fortress, 1994]). Here we are concerned specifically with the narrative parts of D and E.

142
Both E and D agree completely on what precisely was written on the stone tablets: only the Decalogue.
The key verse in E is Ex. 24:12, in which YHWH tells Moses to go up the mountain so that he may be
given the stone tablets and the teachings and the commandments. Though this has frequently been
understood as the stone tablets with the teachings and commandments (as in the JPS translation, e.g.),
this is to contradict both the grammar of the verse and the specific terminology of E in describing the laws.
The stone tablets are to contain the Decalogue and that only, as is made clear in the E verse Ex. 34:28: he
185
The following section, Deut. 5:20-28, presents Ds adaptation of the peoples
request that Moses act as their intermediary with the deity. This passage also contains
what appears to be an idea original to D, YHWHs acceptance of the peoples offer (vv.
25-26; in Ex. 20:20, it is Moses who indirectly accepts the offer, by telling the people that
they need not be afraid). This is followed by YHWHs instruction to Moses, which
returns to echoing E, to return the people to their tents, and to remain with YHWH to
receive the laws which the people are to observe when they enter the land (vv. 27-28).
143

Though the relationship between D and E as detailed above is relatively clear, it
becomes blindingly so when we turn to the description in Deuteronomy of the events that
occurred while Moses was on Mt. Horeb and thereafter (Deut. 9:8-10:5). Not only does
this passage provide us with considerably more material with which to work; it is also
much more directly dependent on the language and phraseology of E.
144

Moses recalls the making of the molten calf and its repercussions in Deut. 9:8-
10:5, with a brief hiatus in the middle to list other times that the Israelites disobeyed their
God (9:22-24).
145
Moses begins his speech here with a rehearsal of how he came to be on
the mountain in the first place: When I ascended the mountain to receive the tablets of

wrote on the tablets the words of the covenant, the Ten Commandments (on the source division of that
chapter, see below).

143
For a full list of the many conceptual and sometimes literal correspondences between these verses and
their parallels in E, see Haran, H""spp"
h
, 159 n. 77.

144
Weinfeld does a particularly nice job of detailing the parallels between D and E here, even going so far
as to admit that the passages from Exodus are really from E, rather than JE (Deuteronomy 1-11, 407ff.).
Driver provided a chart detailing this sections many references to Exodus (Deuteronomy, 112). Every
parallel passage he cites from Exodus is from E, even according to him (in his commentary on Exodus),
with the exception of a few verses from Ex. 34, which he wrongly attributes to J; see below.

145
The compositional history of this section is a subject of considerable scholarly debate (see, e.g., the
discussion of Nelson, Deuteronomy, 119f.). Yet, as we will see, however many compositional layers are
present here, they are all similar in their dependence solely on the E narrative (on the scope of the E calf
narrative in Exodus, cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 202 n. 23). Thus, for our purposes, there is no need to deal
with the various compositional layers independently.
186
stone, the tablets of the covenant which YHWH had made with you, I stayed on the
mountain forty days and forty nights (9:9). The information herein is derived from the E
sections of Ex. 24, particularly vv. 12, 18b (with the notice that Moses refrained from
eating and drinking having been transplanted from the account of the second giving of the
tablets in 34:28b; see below).
146
The next verse, Deut. 9:10, states that YHWH gave to
Moses the two tablets of stone inscribed by the finger of God. This phrase is a direct
quote from Ex. 31:18, which, remarkably enough, is the verse in E that follows directly
upon Ex. 24:18b.
147
In other words, in D we have two consecutive verses, 9:9-10, which
quote directly from two verses in E which are also consecutive, though separated by the
enormous P section of Ex. 25-31. This fact indisputably proves the correctness of the
assignment of Ex. 24:18b and 31:18 to E.
Deut. 9:11 simply recapiluates what was narrated in vv. 9-10. But vv. 12-14 pick
up the E narrative from Ex. 32:7-10 (leaving out Ex. 32:1-6, in which the peoples

146
Carpenter-Harford (Hexateuch, 119) and Driver (Exodus, 255-56) both had very nearly the correct
division of sources in this chapter: vv. 1-2, 8-11 are J; vv. 15b-18a are P; vv. 3-8, 12-15, 18b are E. What
they missed is that the two words at the end of v. 11, and they ate and drank, belong not to the J narrative
of Moses, Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu seeing YHWH (where it is, conceptually, quite jarring) but rather to
the E narrative of the people accepting the covenant, where a feast is entirely appropriate. Friedman
(Sources Revealed, 160-61) attributes nearly the entire chapter to E, with the exception of the P verses 15b-
18a; 18b he gives to J. This ignores the clear distinction between the narrative of the ascension of the
mountain in vv. 1-2, 9-11 and that of the making of the covenant in vv. 3-8. Friedman goes to great lengths
to demonstrate that the E text in Ex. 24 has parallels to the E text of Gen. 22; but all of his parallels come
from vv. 3-8, and none from the surrounding verses. Finally, the attribution of v. 18b to J is impossible.
Even according to Friedmans own source divisions, in what precedes in J (19:25), Moses has just gone
down from the mountain; in what follows, he is instructed to ascend the mountain (34:2). There is no place
in J for Moses to be on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.

147
Ex. 31:18 is a composite verse, and the precise delineation of its two constituent parts, P and E, is not
entirely clear (cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 130; Driver, Exodus, 346). It seems safe to say, however,
that both had a very similar sentence at this point in their respective narratives, and that the redactor has
conflated the two verses into one, removing any repetition but maintaining the distinctive elements of the
original sources. Thus, the first two words, He gave to Moses, or something quite like them, are shared
between the sources. The following phrase, which mentions Mt. Sinai, is clearly P. As for the remainder
of the verse, with its repeated reference to the tablets, all we can say for certainty is that the term $dt
belongs to P, while the description of the two stone tablets inscribed with the finger of God belong to E (as
P does not contain any tablets per se, and would be quite averse to such anthropomorphism in any case).
187
making of the molten calf is described). And these verses are nearly an exact quotation
of the E text:
Deut. 9:12-14: -: : : : : s :s

: : :s:: -ss! :s z:.
::: :! c. :-s :s : :
:. -s -s :s s :s#
:::s .::

s .: :. .
z-s c.s ::: --!: :::-s :s
.:: :! :s. .
And YHWH said to me, Go down quickly from here, because
your people whom you brought out from Egypt have
acted corruptly; they have turned quickly from the path
which I commanded them; they have made themselves
a molten image. And YHWH said to me, I see this
people, and they are a stiff-necked people. Leave me
be that I might destroy them and wipe out their name
from beneath the heavens, and make you into a nation
more vast and numerous than they.
Ex. 32:7-10: :s z:. -: : :: s :
:s : : : :

: s: s: -!.
:s#::: .. : c. :-s
: :. . :.-s -s ::s
:!: es . -.

s .
. .# z-s c.s ::s
YHWH spoke to Moses: Go down, for your people whom you
brought up from the land of Egypt have acted corruptly;
they have turned quickly from the path which I
commanded them; they have made themselves a molten
calf And YHWH said to Moses, I see this people,
and they are a stiff-necked people. Now, leave me
alone, that my anger might burn against them and that I
might annihilate them, and make you into a great
nation.
148

148
These parallels were noted in similar fashion by Driver (Deuteronomy, 113f.).
188
The near-identity of these two passages is indisputable, and is due not to any
Deuteronomic redaction of the text of Exodus, but simply to Ds direct dependence on
the E narrative of the Horeb episode.
149

At this point the author of D jumps over Es narrative of Moses plea on behalf of
the people which is in Ex. 32:11-14 (though he returns to it, as we shall see), and moves
directly to Moses descent of the mountain (Deut. 9:15). This too is taken over almost
exactly from E, in Ex. 32:15.
150
A few points must be made here, however. The verse in
Exodus is composite, a combination of P and E. This is evident from the use of the P
term $dt. Like Ex. 31:18, in which both P and E narrate the receiving of tablets/$dt
from YHWH, 32:15 is the joint narration of Moses descent from the mountain. In both
sources this descent is necessary for the continuity of the storyline. In E this is obvious,
as the plot continues immediately following this verse with Moses approaching the camp;
in P it is equally necessary, as this verse falls between the giving of the law to Moses
(31:18*) and the statement that Moses had the law in his hand when he descended from

149
It is especially noteworthy in this regard that D contains what has long been felt to be an oddity of the E
text, the repetition of the speech introducer in vv. 7 and 9. That D takes over even this part of E is good
evidence that whether some part of Ex. 32:7-14 should be seen as a later addition to the text or not, that
addition was 1) entirely internal to the school which produced the text of E, and 2) took place before E
came into the hands of D. Thus the problems which scholars have seen in Ex. 32:7-14 (cf. Wellhausen,
Composition, 91; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 130-1; McNeile, Exodus, 37; Driver, Exodus, xxviii;
Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, 31n113; Jenks, Elohist, 50-51; Blum, Pentateuch, 73; Childs, Exodus, 559;
Van Seters, Life of Moses, 293-5; Nicholson, Pentateuch, 129, 173, 191-2; B. Sommer, Translation as
Commentary: The Case of the Septuagint to Exodus 32-33, Textus 20 [2000]: 43-60) are not relevant to
the Documentary Hypothesis in its strictest sense, that of uncovering the text of the documents which make
up the Pentateuch in their final form before combination. These are inner-E problems, and are important
only to the study of the development of the E narrative within the school which produced it. No part of
these verses is attributable to the figure R
JE
(as we will see below); there is nothing here which hints of J,
no reference made to an event only mentioned previously in J (which should be the only reason to ascribe a
passage to R
JE
). Nor does it seem necessary to attribute these verses to a Deuteronomistic insertion (cf. von
Rad, Deuteronomy, 78) There may be a secondary insertion here; but it is entirely a product of E.

150
Scholarship is united in ascribing Ex. 32:15-24 to E. Cf. Addis, Documents, I:153; Carpenter-Harford,
Hexateuch, 131; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 174; Propp, Exodus 19-40 (New York: Doubleday, 2006),
540.
189
the moutain (34:29).
151
At a minimum, therefore, both had to share the words Moses
went down and in his hand; otherwise, $dt belongs clearly to P, and the rest can be
ascribed to E.
152
This is confirmed by Ds use of Ex. 32:15, which follows the E portions
of the verse, without the priestly term$dt. On the other end, D adds a description of the
mountain as burning with fire, as he has done throughout his narrative of the revelation at
Horeb.
153

D skips the details of Moses discovering the people worshipping the calf (Ex.
32:17-18), saying only that Moses saw that the people had sinned by making the calf, and
repeats the phrasing of Ex. 32:8 (Deut. 9:12b).
154
The destruction of the stone tablets,
however, is recounted in wording reasonably close to that of E:
Deut. 9:17: -: .!: :::s - . :: ce-s
::.. :!::s
I seized the two tablets and threw them down from my two
hands and smashed them before your eyes.
Ex. 32:19b: :: --s : : :: s
-- :-!s
Moses became angry and threw down from his hands the
tablets and smashed them at the foot of the mountain.

At this point the author of D introduces a new narrative item: Moses prostrates himself
before YHWH for another forty days and forty nights in an attempt to assuage YHWHs

151
Cf. Schwartz, The Priestly Account of the Theophany and Lawgiving at Sinai, pp. 103-134 in M.V.
Fox, et al., eds., Texts, Temples, and Traditions: A Tribute to Menahem Haran (Winona Lake, IN:
Eisenbrauns, 1996), 114.

152
Again, none of the content of the verse should be ascribed to the redactor. E and P both require Moses
to go down from the mountain, and they had very similar verses relating this event. All that we can ascribe
to the redactor is the combination of the two verses into one. Not a single word needed to be added to
effect this combination, and perhaps no word deleted; only the one set of the words which was identical in
the two sources was removed.

153
Cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 240.

154
On the reason for this omission, see Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 409.
190
anger against the people, as well as against Aaron (Deut. 9:18-20). This may be no more
than D attempting to put the events in E into what he saw as a better order: only after
Moses sees the calf and realizes the severity of the sin does he plead for YHWH to spare
the people. D also recognizes, more so than E, that Aaron bears a substantial portion of
the guilt, and also requires pleading on his behalf. Though the placement of Deut. 9:21
might render the order of events somewhat unclear, grammatical considerations make it
certain that D has Moses destroying the calf before the forty days and nights of
supplication: the use of the perfect l"qah9t here can, and on contextual grounds should,
be read in the pluperfect (As for the sin which you had committed, I had taken the calf,
etc.).
155
The destruction of the calf is, as expected, taken directly from E:
Deut. 9:21: - ..-s :-c.:s ::-s:-s

. :z z -s -:s :s: -s cs
.s e. -s :s e. :!:s
:
As for the sin which you had committed, I had taken the calf
and burned it with fire and thoroughly ground it finely
until it was pulverized to dust, and I threw the dust
down into the river which comes down from the
mountain.
Ex. 32:20: . z :s: c c. :s .. -s

.:-s : :: .e. : :s
sc
He took the calf which they had made and burned it with fire
and ground it until it was crushed, and he scattered it
upon the water and he made the Israelites drink it.

155
Contra von Rad (Deuteronomy, 78) and Nelson (Deuteronomy, 124), who believe that the destruction of
the calf was delayed for the forty days and nights while Moses prayed. For the correct analysis, cf. Driver,
Deuteronomy, 115.
191
Though D does not have Moses making the Israelites drink the water, the descriptions are
otherwise remarkably similar.
156

After the references to four other episodes of disobedience in the wilderness in
9:22-23 (see below), a purely Deuteronomic interjection (v. 24), and a verse noting that
Moses prayed on behalf of the people for forty days and forty nights (v. 25; cf. 9:9 and
Ex. 24:18b), D describes those forty days and nights of Moses prostration in greater
detail (Deut. 9:26-29). Here he inserts the words of Moses to YHWH from Ex. 32:11-13
which had previously been skipped:
Deut. 9:26-29: -!e :s z-. z:. -:-s .s
: : :s:: -ss:s z .:
e- s :. !s ::s z:.
-s:s .:s :. :s
:: ::: .-ss :s s :s e
: :: :s s!s :s: -:
:

::: :-: :s!s :-s -s.c:
z.: . z:: -ss :s z-. z:.
z.
O my lord YHWH, do not destroy your people and your
possession whom you redeemed in your greatness,
whom you brought out of Egypt with a strong hand.
Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob;
do not turn to the stiffness of this people, to their
wickedness and their sin, lest the land from which you
brought us out should say, YHWH is unable to bring
them into the land of which he had spoken to them;
because he rejected them, he has brought them out to
kill them in the wilderness. They are your people and
your possession, whom you brought out with your great
strength and with your out-stretched arm.
Ex. 32:11-13: -ss :s z:.: zes :

156
On the differences between the two accounts, cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 412f. Weinfeld also
discusses in detail the theological reasons that D has omitted the account of the Levites slaying those who
were found guilty by means of the water-drinking ordeal (Ex. 32:26-29; Deuteronomy 1-11, 413f.); in fact,
those verses are from J, and were thereby unused by the author of the D account.
192
: : . :: :s: s:
:-s . :ss .: :s :s: :s
: :: :s .e .!: :-: ::
::s :

z:. .! . :. zes
: : -.::. :s z:. sc s
:!::: ::. -s :s : s :-
-s -:s :s -s s: :::
:. . ::.
Why, O Lord, would your anger burn against your people
whom you brought out from Egypt with great strength
and with a strong arm? Why should the Egyptians say,
In wickedness he brought them out to slay them in the
mountains and to destroy them from on the face of the
earth. Turn from your anger and relent from the
wickedness against your people. Remember Abraham,
Isaac, and Israel your servants to whom you swore by
yourself and said to them, I will make your seed as
numerous as the stars of heaven, and all this land which
I have designated I will give to your seed and they will
possess it forever.

Though some of the phrasing has changed between the two versions, much remains the
same, and given the other evidence presented in this chapter, the dependence of
Deuteronomy on the passage in Exodus is assured.
157
We might be justified in thinking
that the author of D was reacting to the odd placement of Moses petition in Ex. 32:11-14
much as modern commentators have. It is frequently wondered that Moses should plead
on behalf of the people before even discovering their activity for himself;
158
this problem
is corrected in D, however, by the new placement of the plea after the discovery of the
sin.

157
Driver (Deuteronomy, 116) had difficulty with the placement of this passage, because of its dislocation
from the position it occupied in E. Yet there can be no doubt that, as D has no record of Moses pleading on
behalf of the people before he descends the mountain the first time (after 9:12-14), but has this pleading
occur in a place where E has none, D has simply transplanted Moses intercession to a later point in the
narrative. Von Rad, on the other hand, believed the passage in Exodus has been copied from that of
Deuteronomy (Deuteronomy, 78f.). The rationale for this seems to be lacking.

158
Cf. Addis, Documents, I:152.
193
The final part of Ds description of the Horeb episode comes in Deut. 10:1-5, and
contains both the most striking invention of the D author and the most striking
dependence of D on E, and on E alone. The correct understanding of the relationship
between these two narratives depends entirely on (and independently confirms) the
correct division of sources in Ex. 34. Very few scholars have succeeded in disentangling
J and E in this chapter with any convincing success.
159
This is almost entirely due to the
long-standing conviction that what we have in Ex. 34 is the J version of the giving of the
Ten Commandments, complete with stone tablets, sometimes called the cultic
Decalogue.
160
Yet if we can accept that P did not contain any mention of the Ten
Commandments, nor of the tablets on which they were written in other words, that the
tradition of the tablets was not common to all the sources we must allow for the
possibility that neither did J.
161

Ex. 34 begins with YHWHs command to Moses to Carve two tablets of stone
like the first, and I will write on the tablets the words which were on the first tablets
which you smashed. Despite the attempts of the majority of scholars to attribute part of

159
Cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 130 n.48, where the correct source division is given, but without any detailed
argumentation.

160
On the somewhat murky (pre-)history of this belief, see the recent article by Levinson, Goethes
Analysis of Exodus 34 and Its Influence on Wellhausen: The Pfropfung of the Documentary Hypothesis,
ZAW 114 (2002): 212-223.

161
Haran acknowledges that J did not contain any mention of the Ten Commandments, nor of the tablets on
which they were written, but does argue that in P it appears that the entire narrative of the tablets and the
ten commandments is subsumed under the designation testimony and the phrase tablets of the
testimony (H""spp"
h
, 129f.). In this he is surely mistaken; all but one of the verses he cites as evidence
contain only the word $dt (Ex. 16:34; 25:16, 21; 27:21), and the one which contains the phrase lh9t
h"$dt (Ex. 34:29) follows immediately on an E verse which contains a mention of the tablets, and thus
the same phrase in P should be seen as a (rare) redactional insertion. Otherwise, those verses which contain
the phrase lh9t h"$dt are composite, including both P and E elements, as argued above (Ex. 31:18;
32:15). Further, outside of these two composite verses and 34:29, E never describes the tablets by the term
$dt, and P never describes the$dt as being inscribed on tablets. There is no indisputable evidence that P
ever conceived of the $dt as being inscribed on tablets. Cf. Schwartz, Priestly Account, 126f.
194
this verse to J, there is absolutely nothing in this verse which is anything other than E.
Every part of it makes reference to what we have already seen in the E narrative: the two
stone tablets, the fact that the first set was smashed by Moses, and the fact that it was
YHWH who wrote the words on the first set. The only possible reason to assign any part
of this verse to J is a preconceived notion that J had to contain a narrative of the tablets.
But there is no evidence for such a notion in the J narrative either before or after this
chapter, whereas we have abundant evidence for it in E, and only in E.
34:2-3, on the other hand, resumes the J narrative, picking up precisely on the
preceding J text, in 33:12-23. In the latter verses, Moses pleads with YHWH not to
abandon the people in the wilderness, and asks to behold the glory of YHWH. YHWH
accepts, and tells Moses that he will pass before him and proclaim his name and his
compassion. Without any gap, we then move directly into 34:2-3, in which YHWH
instructs Moses when, where, and how the encounter is to take place, telling him to be
ready in the morning to ascend to the top of Mt. Sinai alone.
162

The next verse, 34:4, is a composite of J and E, but its parts are quite clearly
delineated. The first phrase, He carved two tablets of stone like the first ones is the
direct fulfillment of YHWHs command in v. 1, and is E. Moses arose early in the
morning is the fulfillment of YHWHs command in v. 2, and is therefore J. He
ascended Mt. Sinai must be divided between the two sources (the term har snay
obviously belongs to J; perhaps E read here simply h"h"r), since both require Moses to
go up the mountain again. As YHWH had commanded him might belong to either
source (or, theoretically, to both); it makes little difference to which it is attributed. The

162
Note the name of the mountain, which marks these verses as J, as well as the use of the word
w
!
nis9s9abt", which echoes the same use of the word in Ex. 33:21.
195
rest of the verse, however, and he took in his hand two stone tablets, is the continuation
of the E narrative, as is the very beginning of v. 5, in which YHWH comes down on the
mountain in a cloud (this is typical of E; cf. Ex. 19:9, 16b). Notice that there is no
reference to tablets in the J narrative at all, but the E narrative continues to make perfect
sense. There is no need to see any insertions by the redactor here, as so many have
suggested.
163
Were the references to the second set of tablets redactional, we would have
to assume that part of the E narrative has gone missing. In fact, it is right before our eyes,
if we can overcome the assumption that both E and J had to contain similar traditions
regarding the tablets.
In vv. 5a"-7, YHWH stands before Moses and proclaims his compassion, just as
he had promised at the end of Ex. 33, and the J narrative continues with the giving of the
laws through v. 26.
164
In v. 27, YHWH commands Moses to write down the
commandments, as they are the basis for the covenant with Israel. This is still J, of
course, but note how incompatible it is with the E narrative, in which the covenant with
the people was made much earlier, in Ex. 24:3-8.
165
And, of course, note that in J, it is
Moses who is to write down the commandments (contradicting YHWHs own words in E
in 34:1), and that there is no mention of any tablets on which he is to do so.
Finally, v. 28 is the conclusion of the E narrative of the revelation at Horeb: He
was there with YHWH forty days and forty nights; bread he did not eat, and water he did
not drink; and he wrote on the tablets the words of the covenant, the Ten
Commandments. The forty days and forty nights are an obvious reference to the forty

163
Cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 134; McNeile, Exodus, 216ff.

164
Although cf. Bar-On, Festival Calendars.

165
Cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 130 (and n. 48).
196
days and forty nights that Moses spent on the mountain to receive the first set of tablets.
According to E, that is simply how long it takes to receive the tablets from YHWH, both
times this happens. The crux of the verse is the phrase and he wrote on the tablets the
words of the covenant. Two items are present here that have thrown scholars off the
right track of ascribing this verse to E. First, the verse initially appears to be the
fulfillment of YHWHs command to Moses in the preceding verse, v. 27. Second, the
reference to the covenant also looks like a continuation of the idea of covenant from the
preceding verse. These connections are misleading, however. We have already seen that
the tablets are mentioned nowhere in J. And while it is true that YHWH commanded
Moses to write down the commandments in v. 27, in v. 1 he said that he would do it
himself. Verse 28, then, relates not Moses writing of the commandments, but YHWHs.
This is the fufillment of YHWHs statement in v. 1 that when Moses brought the new set
of tablets, YHWH would reinscribe the words on them.
166
As for the issue of the
covenant, I have noted that in E, the covenant was already made between YHWH and
Israel, and it was done on the basis of the words written on the tablets (the Ten
Commandments of Ex. 20) and the laws of the Book of the Covenant. But for E only the
Ten Commandments were written on the tablets; those were the words that the Israelites
actually heard with their own ears, rather than those given by YHWH only to Moses. It
is the Ten Commandments which were written on the tablets, to commemorate and
signify in stone the encounter of Israel with its deity. Thus the words of the covenant that
YHWH rewrites on the tablets in 34:28 are the same words that he had written on the first

166
This was already misunderstood by Wellhausen (Composition, 96).
197
tablets: those that the Israelites heard when they stood before YHWH at the foot of
Horeb.
The composition of Ex. 34 is thus as follows:
E: vv. 1, 4*, 5a!, 28
J: vv. 2-3, 4*, 5a"-27
P: vv. 29-35
Though the analysis of Ex. 34 above is strong enough to stand alone, it receives
independent confirmation from the text of Deut. 10:1-4:
Deut. 10:1-4: -.: z:e s :s s -.:
z -c. !s . :.:s: :.:s
:s :::-s - . :-:s . s
:-!:c -:: :s :.:s - .
-.: :es ::: s. s c.s

s:
: - .: .s :.:s: :.:s
-c. -s :s :-::: - . :-:

-: : ::s :: :s :::
s :.- :: :s!
At that time YHWH said to me, Carve for yourself two tablets
of stone like the first ones, and come up to me on the
mountain, and make for yourself an ark of wood. I will
write on the tablets the words which were on the first
tablets which you smashed, and you will place them in
the ark. I made an ark of acacia wood and I carved
two tablets of stone like the first ones, and I went up to
the mountain and the two tablets were in my hand. And
he wrote on the tablets like the first writing, the ten
commandments which YHWH spoke to you on the
mountain from the midst of the fire on the day of the
assembly, and YHWH gave them to me.
Ex. 34:1, 4*, 5a, 28: -.: z :e :: s :s%

:::-s -. -:-: :.:s: :.:s
-:: :s :.:s - . :s
s . :.:s: :.:s - .: :e
- .: : -s s :s:
:. :: ..: :.:s
198
:s s : :.:s : :.:s
:: -s -. :-: -: s ::
::: -c!. -:
YHWH said to Moses, Carve for yourself two tablets of stone
like the first ones, and I will write on the tablets the
words which were on the first tablets which you
smashed. He carved two tablets of stone like the first
ones, and he went up the mountain (as YHWH had
commanded him) and he took in his hand two tablets of
stone. YHWH came down in the cloud, and he was
there with YHWH forty days and forty nights; bread he
did not eat and water he did not drink; and he wrote on
the tablets the words of the covenant, the ten
commandments.

D has followed E exclusively and almost completely up to this point, and this passage is
no exception. The parallels are undeniable, nearly word-for-word.
167
Among the many
remarkable correspondences between these two passages, one in particular is prominent:
the statement of YHWHs re-inscribing of the tablets. It may be recalled that part of the
difficulty scholars have had in correctly assigning Ex. 34:28 to E was the ambiguous verb
and he wrote, without an explicitly stated subject. When we turn, then, to the parallel
verse in Deut. 10:4, we find precisely the same structure: the subject of and he wrote is
left unstated. Obviously, since Moses is the speaker in D, and his actions are therefore in
the first person, the ambiguity is relieved. But the composition of the sentence is
borrowed wholesale from E, down to the lack of explicit subject for that particular verb.
The additions in this D passage are both obvious and explicable. The entire
concept of the ark is foreign to E; it simply does not exist. The ark is obviously a major
aspect of Priestly theology, but the Priestly conceptualization of the ark is very different

167
Driver, in his chart of parallels between Deut. 9:8-10:11 and Exodus (Deuteronomy, 112; cf. also
Chapman, Pentateuch, 82), recognized that the narrative in D is dependent only on these particular verses,
but failed to recognize that if D had been dependent only on E passages to this point, these verses might
also be attributed to E.
199
from that presented here. Although this is not the appropriate setting in which to enter
into a full discussion of the differences between the ark in P and D, let it at least be noted
that one is not at all dependent on the other: in P the ark is the central feature of the
Tabernacle, plated with gold, upon which the kapporet and the cherubim are placed,
while in D (which mentions the ark in only two places, here and 31:25-26) the ark is no
more than a simple wooden box intended solely to contain the tablets of the
Decalogue.
168
The introduction of the ark here in D is necessary for the later
development of the idea in Deut. 31:25ff., and is therefore totally comprehensible. In
fact, it is the addition of the ark that allows us to see precisely how D has used his source
text, not simply adopting it wholesale, but adapting it to serve his particular theological
and historiographical needs.
169
This, if nothing else, demonstrates that D was not meant
to be a supplement to E, but was meant to fully replace it as a document of Israels
history and law.
Thus we have seen that throughout the narrative of the Horeb episode, the author
of D has been faithful, at times almost to the letter, to the narrative of E which he had
before him.
170
Whereas in the canonical account in Exodus E is interwoven throughout
with J and P, the author of D relied only on E as his source text. Whether he knew the J
text of the Sinai episode or not is quite beside the point. What is at issue here is that he

168
Cf. Haran, Temples, 246ff.

169
Contra Driver, who suggested that because, with the exception of the references to the ark, the narrative
in Deut. 10:1-5 is so similar to that of Ex. 34, it is highly probable that the latter passage, at the time when
Dt. was composed, still contained a notice of the ark of acacia-wood (Deuteronomy, xvi; cf. also 117f.).
This is to fundamentally misunderstand the use of sources in Deuteronomy. See also Weinfeld,
Deuteronomy 1-11, 417, who suggests along the same lines that the account of making the ark in E was
suppressed when E was combined with the priestly document and its more detailed account thereof.

170
Although we should not discount Ds capacity to work his sources into the flow of his own creation in
his chosen form, the speech of Moses. Cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 204.
200
used only one of the two possible earlier texts, E and J, not the combination of the two.
No J passage from the Sinai pericope makes an appearance in D, even in passing. This is
emphatic evidence that J and E were not combined before the time of D.

Deut. 8:15-16: Testing in the wilderness
Three types of testing are related in these two verses: desert serpents; the
bringing forth of water from a rock; and the provision of manna. It is tempting to link the
first directly to the E narrative of the divine plague of snakes in Num. 21:4-9. Yet the
discrepancy between the two passages gives reason for pause. In E, the snakes are a
punishment from YHWH for the peoples grumbling. In D, however, they are presented
not as a punishment, but as an aspect of desert existence from which YHWH delivers the
people. It is likely, then, that both texts are based on a common tradition, which is in turn
probably grounded in fact: there are dangerous snakes in the desert.
171
To argue for a
dependence of D on E in this case, one must be willing to concede that D consciously
changed a divine plague into a natural occurrence, which seems unlikely.
Equally uncertain is the source of the other two narratives to which reference is
made here. In the case of both the water from the rock and the provision of manna, these
events are known only from the J and P narratives.
172
In neither case is Ds description
specific enough, either in content or terminology, to claim that it is based on any other
narrative in particular: hamms9 l
!
k" mayim mis9s9r hah9all"m% hamma
a
kilk" m"n

171
In fact, in Num. 21:4-9 the serpents are a divine plague, but they are sent because the people are
complaining about a lack of food and water. Thus both Num. 21:4-9 and Deut. 8:15-16 contain the same
traditional themes regarding the dangers of the vast wilderness.

172
The water from the rock is known from J in Ex. 17:1b"-7 (see below), and from P in Num. 20:2-13. The
manna is known from both J and P in Ex. 16, and further reference is made to it in J in Num. 11 (see
above).
201
bammidb"r
a
%er lo-y"dn
a
boteyk", who brought forth water from the flinty rock,
who fed you with manna in the wilderness, which your fathers had not known. And, in
fact, it is likely that D is not relying directly on any older narrative, but rather on the
common traditions that lie behind both the J and the P stories. The term flinty rock
(s9r hah9all"m%) in Deut. 8:15 is attested elsewhere only in Ps. 114:8, and may be part
of an old traditional way of describing this event.
173
The description of the manna offers
even fewer clues, as it says little more than that YHWH fed the Israelites with manna.
174

As this term is used in both the J and the P narratives, it must also be part of the common
stock of Israelite tradition. This should not be surprising: it is difficult to imagine that
any story of the lengthy wandering in the wilderness would not have included some
notion of how the people were provided with water and food. That these stories appear in
both J and P, and with significant variations between them, is in fact a good indication
that a common Israelite tradition underlies both versions. We must also not neglect the
possibility that E, at some point, contained similar narratives which have now been lost to
us;
175
but this conjecture is not necessary for understanding Ds reference to these stories
in Deut. 8:15-16.

Deut. 9:22-24: Additional examples of disobedience in the wilderness
Within the D Horeb narrative, directly after destroying the golden calf, Moses
lists, in no particular order and with little relation to what came before, four more

173
Cf. Deut. 32:13, where the phrase appears in reverse: wayy$niq$h d
!
ba% missela / w
!
%emen m$h9alm%
s9r.

174
The idea that the manna was part of a test belongs to D, as is evident from the fuller expression of this
idea in Deut. 8:2-3.

175
Perhaps reference is made to this in Num. 21:5, which, as I have already discussed above, is from E.
202
episodes during the wilderness wandering illustrating how the Israelites provoked
YHWH (Deut. 9:22-23). This list is a clear interruption of the otherwise relatively fluid
Horeb narrative, which continues in Deut. 9:25. The author of D has collected these
stories from various places, and simply made reference to them briefly here, as they help
to illustrate his point regarding Israels intransigence. The question we must answer here
is where D found the descriptions of these events.
In 9:22 the first listed provocation of YHWH is that at Taberah. This makes
reference to the very brief episode in Num. 11:1-3, in which YHWH causes a fire to
break out against the people. This small story is usually assigned to E, though virtually
all the scholars doing so consider the assignment tenuous.
176
More properly, the story
belongs to J. The people here are described as complaining, though we are not told the
cause of their grievance. Nonetheless, even this barest of facts can perhaps lead us to
attribute the story to J. In J, the people have departed from Sinai, and are finally moving
through the wilderness on their way to Canaan. It is, of course, only when they have
entered the wilderness that they have cause to complain (whatever the cause may be); one
can hardly imagine that the people, having just witnessed the revelation at Sinai, and still
being at the mountain, would take to complaining. Thus the narrative in Num. 11:1-3
must at the very least belong to a source in which the people have departed from the holy
mountain.
This source is J. E has not yet made an appearance since the end of Exodus, when
the people were still at Horeb. And, in fact, the next assured E section we have is later in
Num. 11, the choosing of seventy elders to assist Moses (see above). It is likely, though

176
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 201; Gray, Numbers, 99f.; Jenks, Elohist, 54; Friedman, Sources
Revealed, 258.
203
not certain, that this selection of elders occurred not in the course of the wandering, but
actually at Horeb itself, before they began their journey. In the wake of the golden calf,
before the wandering even begins, Moses realizes that it will be impossible for him to
manage the people on his own. If this interpretation is accepted, then in E in Num. 11 the
people have not yet left Horeb. It is unlikely that the people would be complaining about
the wilderness while still at the holy mountain, and having just been punished for the sin
of the calf. More important, if the people have not yet left Horeb, then the etiology of
Num. 11:1-3 cannot be E. Wherever the people are when they complain, that place
subsequently receives the name Taberah; after the theophany, it is highly improbable that
Horeb should be renamed on the basis of the communitys complaining. Thus we should
almost certainly assign Num. 11:1-3 to J.
The second episode listed in Deut. 9:22 is that of Massah.
177
The place name
Massah appears twice elsewhere in the Pentateuch, in both cases paired with the name
Meribah: once in prose in Ex. 17:1b"-7
178
, and once in poetry in Deut. 33:8. (The name
also appears in Ps. 95:8, again paired with Meribah.) The various traditions of Massah
and Meribah must all be considered together in order to understand how the various
sources have treated them. Two main factors are at issue here: 1) where did the Israelites
receive water from a rock? 2) what happened at the places designated Massah and
Meribah?
There are two stories of Moses drawing water from a rock: Ex. 17:1b" (from
w
!
n)-7 and Num. 20:1-13. The main part of the latter is unquestionably from P, as is

177
Cf. also Deut. 6:16.

178
Ex. 17:1a, b! belongs to P, as part of the travel itinerary (cf. Num. 33:11-14).
204
universally agreed.
179
There, the episode is said to take place in Kadesh, at the Waters
of Meribah (hence Meribath-Kadesh in Deut. 32:51 [P]
180
). In Ex. 17:1b"-7, which is
certainly not from P,
181
the rock from which the water is drawn is called Horeb, and the
place is subsequently given the dual name Massah and Meribah. We will return to the
question of to which source this passage belongs.
Thus two sources, P and non-P, have the episode of drawing water from a rock
taking place at Meribah, or Massah and Meribah. In Deut. 33:8, however, this place
name is not connected with water in the wilderness, but rather with the testing of the
Levites. There the Levites are said to have proved themselves by valuing the word of
YHWH over their own kinship. The parallel prose account of this event is from J, in Ex.
32:26-29; there the Levites prove themselves by slaughtering their fellow Israelites, but
the episode takes place at Sinai.
It is clear from all this that there must have been a long-standing tradition that
some sort of testing occurred at Massah and Meribah, but that perhaps the nature of this
testing was a matter on which the traditions varied. For the author of Deut. 33:8, it was
the Levites who were tested at Massah and Meribah; but in J that occurred at Sinai. In P,
namely, in Num. 20:1-13, it is the Israelites who were tested at Meribah, which is located
in the wilderness, in Kadesh. According to the source in Ex. 17:1b"-7, this same testing

179
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 220f.; Gray, Numbers, 260ff.; Noth, Numbers, 144; Levine, Numbers 1-
20, 483; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 275f. Note the typical priestly terminology and the presence of
Aaron.

180
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 299; Driver, Deuteronomy, 382. The reference in Deut. 32:48-52 is
unmistakably to the P narrative of Num. 20:1-13.

181
In contrast to Num. 20:1-13, there is no priestly terminology, and Aaron goes unmentioned.
205
of the Israelites occurred at Massah and Meribah, at a rock in the wilderness called
Horeb.
As the D account makes no mention of any positive actions of the Levites, but
rather condemns the entire Israelite people for disobedience, we can effectively dismiss
the account in Deut. 33:8 as the basis for Ds reference in Deut. 9:22. Furthermore, as
the P account in Num. 20 only calls the place Meribah, we can leave that aside as well.
This leaves us with Ex. 17:1b"-7 as the reference point for Ds mention of Massah in
9:22. We may now turn to the question as to which source to assign this text.
Many scholars have been tempted to divide this passage between J and E.
182
This
is because of the double naming of the place, which has struck some as odd.
183
Yet it is
impossible to divide this passage such that two complete narratives are preserved.
184
It is
also evident that the names Massah and Meribah were connected elsewhere, as we have
seen, namely, in Deut. 33:8 and Ps. 95:8.
185
This is not a definite marker of source
division. In fact, Ex. 17:1b"-7 reads relatively smoothly as a unity. Some recent

182
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 106f.; Driver, Exodus, 156ff.; McNeile, Exodus, 101f.; Noth, Exodus,
138ff.; Eissfeldt, Introduction, 199, 201; Jenks, Elohist, 43. For an overview of the scholarship on this
issue, see Houtman, Exodus, vol. 2 (Kampen: Kok, 1996), 358f.

183
The attempt to divide this passage into two (extremely) similar variants is reminiscent of Gunkels
efforts to find two original strands in the Tower of Babel story (Gen. 11:1-9), one describing the building of
a city, and one the building of a tower (Genesis, 94-99). There Gunkel was only suggesting that the story
belonged to two layers of J, rather than to two totally distinct sources, and still his theory was immediately
dismissed. We should be even more skeptical of attempts to provide a complete source division of the
Massah and Meribah narrative.

184
Cf. Propp, Exodus 1-18, 603f. Propp also provides a full analysis of the Massah and Meribah traditions
in his book Water in the Wilderness: A Biblical Motif and Its Mythological Background (Atlanta: Scholars,
1987), 53-69.

185
Thus it has been suggested that these two (perhaps) originally distinct place names were linked in
tradition at the pre-literary stage. Cf. G.W. Coats, Rebellion in the Wilderness (Nashville: Abingdon,
1968), 54f., 62.
206
scholarship has assigned these verses to E.
186
Propp in particular has argued that the key
to this passage is the place-name Horeb in v. 6. He claims that were this passage from J,
the redactorial addition of the name Horeb here would be inexplicable. This is indeed so.
Yet there is an equally unavoidable problem in assigning this passage to E: in v. 5, Moses
is instructed to take your rod with which you struck the Nile. This is an unequivocal
reference to the plagues narrative in Ex. 7:20, which is from J. There is no E narrative in
which Moses strikes the Nile with his rod (indeed, E does not appear in the plagues
narrative at all, contrary to much scholarly speculation
187
). How can we reconcile these
two problems?
We have already seen that Meribah is located in two different places in two
different sources: at Horeb in Ex. 17:1b"-7 (non-P), and at Kadesh in Num. 20 (P).
Similarly, the place called the mountain of God is associated with Horeb in E, but with
the meeting-place of Moses and Aaron in the wilderness in J in Ex. 4:27. On the other
hand, the same major events occur in different places in the different sources. The most
prominent of these, of course, is the distinction between Sinai in J and P and Horeb in E.
Similarly, the death of Aaron occurs at Mt. Hor in P (Num. 20:23-29), but in Moserah in
D (Deut. 10:6). In short, the different sources of the Pentateuch cannot and should not be
obliged to correlate precisely their identifications of places with events. Though E does
not know of a place called Sinai, this does not mean that J does not know of a place
called Horeb. And we should certainly not necessarily expect J to assign the same events

186
Propp, Massah and Meribah, ABD IV:600-602; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 148f.

187
See discussion in chapters 4 and 5 below.

207
to Horeb as does E.
188
This is all to say that it is quite possible that according to J, the
place that was given the name Massah and Meribah was the rock (i.e., mountain)
originally known as Horeb. Whether this should be considered the same geographical
location as the Horeb in E (and it may well be) is quite beside the point. Horeb has no
other function in J. Only in the final form of the text, once it has been combined with the
E narrative of the revelation at Horeb, does this suddenly become a problem. In other
words, if we only had J, we would not hesitate to recognize that Sinai and Horeb are two
different places at which two different events took place. The presence of Horeb here, as
a designation for the episode of Massah and Meribah, in no way contradicts anything else
that occurs in J. On the other hand, assigning Ex. 17:1b"-7 to E creates a true problem,
as there is an undeniable reference to a J event contained therein. This passage belongs
to J: there is one clear positive reason for this assignment, and, if we can remember to
deal with these sources in isolation, rather than in combination, no evidence against it.
If we assign this passage then to J, we can see how J has in fact dealt with the old
tradition of Massah and Meribah. As we saw in Deut. 33:8, at least one relatively early
tradition places the testing of the Levites at Massah and Meribah. In J this pairing has in
effect been split in two, connecting the place name Massah and Meribah with the episode
of getting water from a rock (in fact, using the story as an etiology of the place-name
Horeb, dryness), and the testing of the Levites with the disobedience of the people (at
Sinai).
189

188
Cf. Schwartz, Reexamining the Fate, 155 n. 9.

189
Cf. Loewenstamm, The Investiture of Levi, in From Babylon to Canaan, 55-65 (cf. esp. 56f.).
208
The third reference in Deut. 9:22 is to Kibroth-hattaavah. This place name comes
from Num. 11:34, where it functions as the etiological completion of the narrative of the
peoples demand for meat in the wilderness. We have already seen above that this
narrative is from J, as it is interwoven with the E narrative of Moses appointing seventy
elders to help him lead the people through the wilderness.
Finally, in Deut. 9:23, we find a brief reference to the spies narrative in Num. 13-
14. This allusion to the episode of the spies contains virtually no verbal resemblances to
either the P or the J narratives in Numbers in fact, it contains almost exclusively
language reminiscent of Ds retelling of the story in Deut. 1: the location that the spies
start from is Kadesh-Barnea, which is only in D (Deut. 1:19; cp. Kadesh in P [Num.
13:26]; J does not give the precise origin of the spies mission), and the command that the
spies disobey is to take possession of the land (cf. Deut. 1:21), while both P and J only
describe the venture as exploratory (cf. Num. 13:2 for P; 13:18-20 for J). On the basis of
the other results in this chapter, however, and especially as we have concluded that the
first, fuller D account of the spies narrative was based on the J story in Num. 13-14, we
must conclude that here, too, the brief D reference to the spies is to the J story.
What we have in Deut. 9:22-23, then, is a list of four episodes of Israelite
disobedience in the wilderness, all of which derive from J narratives. To this point, D has
been following the E narrative of the Horeb episode with great fidelity, and continues to
do so hereafter, but here interrupts the sequence of events to insert references to stories
from J. The placement of these references is often considered troublesome, but perhaps
is less so than usually assumed. They occur directly after the destruction of the golden
calf, and before Moses prayer for YHWHs forgiveness, and were most likely inserted
209
here to provide evidence that the Israelites were not one-time offenders, but had a history
of behaving badly; thus Moses prayer (which does not make specific reference to the
calf) can be taken as imploring forgiveness for all of Israels intransigence, before,
during, and after the episode at Horeb. What is more important here is the evidence this
provides for what precisely the author of D had before him when writing. If, according to
the majority of scholars, the D author used the combined text of JE as the basis for his
narrative, we would have to conclude that he was able to select, from the entire JE
document, four stories of disobedience in the wilderness that coincidentally happen to all
come from J. Additionally, and importantly, these are stories in J that are not intertwined
with Es Horeb narrative. J and E are interwoven by the redactor in Ex. 19-24, 32-34; but
these stories are not from that section. Thus in order to account for what we see in D
here, we have to assume not only that he chose only J stories, but that, having
disentangled these J stories from their combined JE form, he then re-inserted them into E
in another place the E Horeb pericope, which he had, in turn, already disentangled from
its JE form. This stretches credulity. However, if we accept that in fact D had before
him two separate documents, J and E, then we can make much better sense of what is
happening here. The D author, as is typical, as we have seen, follows E for the great
majority of his narrative, including, especially, the Horeb episode. In the course of
following Es narrative, the author of D realizes that he can make a historiographical
point about Israelite intransigence by making reference to other episodes of disobedience.
He turns away from E, and inspects J, where he finds four excellent examples to support
his argument. He makes brief reference to these, as giving the full details here would
210
completely break the flow of his narrative, then returns to E to complete the Horeb
episode.
In sum, it is virtually impossible to imagine how D, faced with a combined JE
document, could have selected precisely these four J narratives for these verses. If D had
the two separate documents J and E, however, this problem is neatly resolved.

Deut. 10:6-9: Travel and the Levites.
These verses, which come just at the end of the Horeb narrative in D, contain
information not found anywhere in either the J or the E narratives. Moreover, even in D
they constitute a strange interruption. In the midst of Moses speech about Horeb,
suddenly we have third-person narration, unusual insofar as this is not the introduction or
conclusion to a speech (cf. Deut. 1:1-5; 4:41-44, 45-49; 27:1a, 9a, 11; 29:1a). As the
previous section demonstrated, some of the ostensible interruptions in the D storyline are
attributable to J rather than E; we therefore must be cautious in determining which of
these two documents (if either) provided D with the source material for this passage.
In these verses we are informed firstly (10:6) that the Israelites left Beeroth-bene-
jaakan and traveled to Moserah, where Aaron died. The place names here are known
only from the P itinerary of Num. 33:31, where they appear not only in slightly different
forms, but in the reverse order.
190
If one wishes to argue that D borrowed this itinerary
from P, it would be difficult to explain either of these differences. Although we have
seen that D is willing to make changes to his source material, in every case those
differences are due to the particular style of the D writings (i.e., the paranetic framework

190
Num. 33:31: They set out from Moseroth and encamped at Bene-jaakan.
211
of Moses speeches) or the authors particular historical/theological approach (e.g., the
introduction of the making of the ark during the giving of the stone tablets in Deut. 10:1-
5). The order of events, and, crucially, the places at which they occurred, are unchanged
in Ds reuse of the earlier documents. Indeed, were these different, the connection
between D and the earlier documents would be considerably more tenuous. It would,
thus, be surprising to find D adopting a small part of Ps itinerary from Num. 33 in Deut.
10:6, but changing not only the geographical place-names, but also the order in which
they occur (these are, after all, the two features that constitute an itinerary).
This is doubly true for the notice of Aarons death, as that is explicitly said both
in the P narrative of Num. 20:22-29 and in the P itinerary of Num. 33:38-39 to have taken
place at Mt. Hor, which is in an entirely different region from the places mentioned in
Deut. 10:6-9 and Num. 33:31-33, according to P. Thus we must assume that D is getting
this information from elsewhere.
191
Though the reference to Aarons son Eleazar taking
his fathers place as head priest seems to reflect a particularly Priestly perspective (as
Eleazar does not appear in either the J or the E narratives in Exodus and Numbers), it
should be noted that just as all the sources know of Aarons existence and position at the
head of the cult, so it is likely that they all shared the tradition of Eleazars succession to
Aarons position. We in fact have confirmation of this fact in Josh. 24:33, an E text,
which refers to both Eleazar and Phinehas.
192
The priestly succession as an event would
not be of great interest to either J or E (who also do not tell of Aarons death, much less
his succession), which accounts for Eleazars absence in J (and single, detail-less mention

191
Cf. Driver, Deuteronomy, 118f.; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy 1-11, 419f.

192
As already noted by Kuenen, Hexateuch, 172.
212
in E). Thus the presence of Eleazars name here in D does not necessitate a priestly
origin for the information.
The subsequent verse, 10:7, continues the travel itinerary, from Moserah to
Gudgod, and from Gudgod to Jotbath. Again, these place names are attested elsewhere
only in Num. 33:32-33. Though here the order Gudgod-Jotbath is maintained, two items
indicate that again, D did not receive this information from P. First, as in the previous
verse, there is a discrepancy in the precise place-names.
193
More importantly, however,
the language used to give the itinerary does not match that of the priestly source, as
evident in Num. 33 and numerous other passages throughout the narrative of the
wilderness wandering (cf. Num. 21:10, e.g.). On the contrary, it precisely matches the
language used by E, as we have already seen in Num. 21:12-13.
194

This may be good evidence that in fact Deut. 10:6-7 are derived from a part of the
E source that is no longer extant in the final form of the Pentateuch, but that was
available to the author of D.
195
Whether this missing E section was removed by the
redactor for some reason, or (as is perhaps more likely) was already missing in the E
document with which the redactor was working, is impossible to determine.
Nevertheless, we have seen throughout the above survey of D that it follows E as much

193
Num. 33:33: They set out from Hor-haggidgad and encamped at Jotbath.

194
In P, as noted above, the structure of the itinerary, both in the narrative and in Num. 33, is They set out
from X and encamped at Y. They set out from Y and encamped at Z, etc. In E, as evidenced in Num.
21:12-13, travel notices begin not by explicitly naming the place of departure, but simply by saying from
there they set out and encamped at X, which is precisely the language we find here in 10:7.

195
Cf. Addis, Documents, II:78; Driver, Deuteronomy, 119f.; Haran, H""spp"
h
, 72 n. 58.
213
as possible, and for that reason we may be willing to admit that D has preserved sections
of E that are not actually present in E as currently constituted in Exodus-Numbers.
196

The brief notice in the next two verses of D, Deut. 10:8-9, tells of the separation
of the tribe of Levi and their assignment to carry the ark. These verses are almost
certainly the pure invention of D. E does not contain any reference to an ark, and it has
long been recognized that the ark in P differs dramatically from that of D.
197
Rather, the
view of the ark taken in Deut. 10:8-9 is most in line with that found elsewhere D, where
the ark is little more than a box used to hold the tablets of the covenant.
198
As for the
duty of the Levites to carry the ark, were it based on Ps assignment of the role of the
Levites in Num. 8, and that of the Kohathites in particular in Num. 4, it would have to be
considered a gross simplification, if not an outright contradiction. Indeed, D presents an
entirely new picture of the investiture of the Levites. In D, it is simply a decree of
YHWH, which apparently took place at Jotbath. In J, it is the result of dramatic action on
the part of the Levites (Ex. 32:26-29); in P, it is part of the instruction given at Sinai, and
the Levites are set apart as redemption for the first-born (Lev. 3:11-13). Note also that
the picture of the role of the Levites presented here, as a landless group designated to
attend the ark (and with few other responsibilities or distinguishing features), is also
entirely in tune with that given elsewhere in D.
199
These verses, then, are best seen

196
As argued by Haran, H""spp"
h
, 197f.

197
Cf. Haran, Temples, 246ff.; Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 208.

198
Cf. Deut. 10:3-5; 31:24-26. Cf. also 31:9.

199
Cf. Deut. 17:18; 18:1-2, 5; 31:9, 25.
214
simply as Ds etiology for the Levites position as both tribe and unlanded temple
servants.
200

Deut. 11:2b-6: The acts of YHWH
Just before giving the body of law that occupies Deut. 12-26, Moses contrasts his
adult listeners, the generation of the Exodus, with the younger generation, who did not
witness the great deeds which YHWH had done for them up to that time. D begins in v.
2b with a typical Deuteronomic expression of YHWHs strength: his mighty hand and
outstretched arm.
201
In the next two verses (vv. 3-4), we have Ds description of the
Israelites escape from Egypt, with references to the plagues (here called the signs and
deeds) and to the destruction of the Egyptians in the Sea of Reeds. This passage is far
too general to be connected to any one source with certainty. The language used to
describe the plagues is essentially that of D; the term deed, ma
a
#e
h
, is not used
anywhere else with reference to the plagues.
202
As for the notice about the episode at the
Sea of Reeds, the language used in D to describe Pharaoh and his army is most
reminiscent of the song of Ex. 15.
203
This suggests that the author of D may have been

200
Cf. Haran, Temples, 77 n. 25.

201
Cf. Deut. 4:35; 5:15; 7:19; 9:29; 26:8.

202
Further evidence that D knew of at least some plagues tradition may be found in Deut. 28:27, where
reference is made to %
!
h9n mis9rayim, the Egyptian inflammation (JPS). It is likely, however, that this is
not an allusion to the particular version of the plagues narrative in Ex. 9:8-12. Rather, the Egyptian
inflammation seems to be a colloquial term for a particular type of skin disease, as it comes in the context
of a list of such (hemorrhoids, boil-scars, and itch). The term itself may be derived from the tradition of
the plagues in Exodus, but the use of the term here in D is probably not.

203
Note particularly the combination of the army, horses, and chariots in Deut. 11:4 (cf. Ex. 15:1, 4) and
the use of the name Sea of Reeds, which is prominent in Ex. 15:4, but which occurs in J (with reference
to the crossing of the sea) only after the event has happened (Ex. 15:22), and does not occur (with reference
to the crossing of the sea) in P at all.
215
familiar with the song, either in J as we now have it, or independently, as it must have
originally been.
204
The verb used in D for the rolling back of the waters, h$s9p, is not
attested in any of the other narratives of this episode, and is either original to D or
belongs to the now-missing E narrative of this episode. Though neither the plagues nor
the crossing of the Reed Sea is narrated in any extant E text, certainly E knew of these
events, since it refers to them.
205
Thus it is possible that D is following a lost E text here,
or, as is equally likely, is simply retelling in his own fashion the common Israelite
tradition of the Exodus.
206

It is in 11:6 that we have a clear use of an earlier narrative by D. The reference to
Dathan and Abiram is unambiguously based on the non-P text of Num. 16. Note
especially the nearly verbatim description of the earth swallowing Dathan and Abirams
tents:
Deut. 11:6: :!- :-s :.:- e-s s -se
when the earth opened its mouth and swallowed them and
their houses.
Num. 16:30: :-s .: e -s :s -se

204
A third possibility exists as well: that E also once contained the song, but that its version was dropped
by the redactor (cf. Jenks, Elohist, 43). This perhaps accounts for what appears to be the beginning of the
song in E in Ex. 15:20-21. Here E would have had the song in its entirety, but as it had already been
included in Js narrative, the redactor simply left the first line intact in E, informing us that in fact the entire
song originally followed. These verses in Ex. 15 are to be ascribed to E on the basis of the presence of
Miriam, who is unknown to the other sources. If this possibility can be accepted, then it is also possible
that D knew the song from E.

205
Cf., e.g., Ex. 18:8-10.

206
Cf. Deut. 7:18-19. The same must be said for the two credos, Deut. 6:20-25 and 26:3, 5-10. Neither
of these texts presents the history of YHWHs salvation in terms or details which can be clearly derived
from one or more of the earlier narratives. Nor is there any need for this to be the case. In both passages
only the broadest essentials are given: YHWH delivered the Israelites from Egypt, and brought them to the
land which he had promised to their ancestors. These traditions are common to all the Pentateuchal
sources. We can also add to this category Deut. 29:9ff. and the historical recollections embedded therein.
It must be remembered that not every narrative must be derived from that of another author; common
Israelite tradition can and should account for those similarities which are not accompanied by specific plot
or teminological parallels.
216
and the earth will open (p"s9t"
h
) its mouth and swallow
them.

There can be no question that the D author was familiar with the non-P narrative of Num.
16. The only question is to which source that narrative should be assigned.
207
There
seems to be some good evidence that this text belongs to E. The foremost evidence is the
portrayal in Num. 16 of Moses as a prophet, which, as we have seen above, is typical of
E. Moses calling on YHWH in this chapter to produce a miracle, so as to prove to the
people that he is truly the mouthpiece of YHWH and the executor of YHWHs will on
earth, is a prophetic act, comparable to that of Elijah on Mt. Carmel. We also have the
occurrence here of the typical E phrase #"de
h
w"k"rem, field and vineyard (see above).
Additionally, the Numbers story, with its focus on Israelite rebellion, fits into the larger
arc of the E narrative at this point on the wilderness wandering, since the wandering is
regularly punctuated by brief episodes of uprising. Before this we have Num. 12, in
which Aaron and Miriam complain and are struck with leprosy;
208
after this in Num. 21
we have the murmuring of the people against Moses which leads to the plague of
serpents. The combination of these data leads us to the conclusion that the non-P
narrative of Num. 16 belongs to E, and it is this E narrative to which D makes reference
in Deut. 11:6.

Deut. 23:4-6: Ammonites, Moabites, and Balaam

207
Carpenter-Harford, impossibly, split this narrative between J and E, leaving them, as usual, with two
narratives that are equally unreadable (Hexateuch, 212-215). Gray (Numbers, 186ff.) and Levine (Numbers
1-20, 405ff.) go no further than to ascribe the non-P text to JE. Friedman (Sources Revealed, 268ff.)
attributes the non-P material to J, but without comment.

208
Note the use of this story in the law regarding skin affliction in Deut. 24:8; here again we can see that
even in the legal material, D still makes reference to stories known from E.
217
In the Deuteronomic law on who is not allowed to belong to the congregation of
YHWH, three groups are listed: those with deformed male genitalia (23:2); the bastard
(23:3); and the Ammonites and Moabites (23:4-5). It is only with the third group,
however, that a reason is given for their exclusion, and it is one grounded in the history
which D has already presented, and which is in turn based on the E narrative of Num. 21.
That is, the Ammonites and Moabites are excluded from YHWHs congregation for the
specific historical reason that they refused to provide the Israelites with food and water as
the Israelites left Egypt (cf. Deut. 2:26ff.; Num. 21:21ff.; and see above). The present
passage goes further than the earlier D story, however, as it also mentions the hiring of
Balaam to curse the Israelites and YHWHs turning of Balaams curses into blessings
(23:5-6). Though the Balaam pericope is notoriously difficult to analyse source-
critically,
209
most scholars see the majority, if not all, of the pericope as deriving from
E.
210
As we have seen to this point, the author of D tends to use the E narrative as much
as possible, including stories from J only when they are found in that source alone and
are necessary for his historiographical or theological argument. In this case, because the
references to Ammon and Moab in Deut. 23:4-5 are based on E, it is even more likely
that the references to the Balaam pericope are based on E as well.

Deut. 25:17-19: Amalek
Embedded in the legal material of Deuteronomy is the historical recollection of
the attack of Amalek on the Israelites as they were leaving Egypt (Ex. 17:8-16), with the

209
Cf. Rof, S$fer Bil"m (Jerusalem: Simon, 1981).

210
Cf. Gray, Numbers, 310ff.; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 280ff.
218
demand that the memory of Amalek be blotted out from under heaven. There can be no
question that this D passage is based on the story of Ex. 17.
211
Though details from the
earlier narrative are not given in this much briefer version, and in fact the reverse is true
(the details in Deut. 25:18 seems to be the invention of the author of D), the outline of the
story is unmistakable: as the Israelites were leaving Egypt, Amalek attacked them
without provocation. Furthermore, there is a direct verbal parallel:
Deut. 25:19a": ::: --!: :. :-s :-
You shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven.
Ex. 17:14b: ::: --!: :. : -s :s :
I will surely blot out the memory of Amalek from under
heaven.

The battle against Amalek in Ex. 17:8-16 is from the E source.
212
The staff of
God (v.9) which Moses uses to direct the battle is known only from E (Ex. 4:17) .
213
The
character of Joshua is unknown in J (see above). The figure of Hur (v.10) is attested
elsewhere only in an E narrative (Ex. 24:14), where, like here, he is paired with Aaron.
This represents therefore yet another example of a D passage which is based on a
narrative known from the E document.

Deut. 31:1-8: The authority of Joshua

211
Cf. Driver, Deuteronomy, 286f. Nelson suggests that both versions are based, independently, on the
tradition of a paradigmatic battle (Deuteronomy, 302; cf. von Rad, Deuteronomy, 155); this is possible,
but unnecessary. The verbal similarity between the two stories makes this less plausible.

212
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 107; Driver, Exodus, 158ff.; McNeile, Exodus, 102ff.; Propp, Exodus 1-
18, 615; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 149.

213
This is to be considered a distinct item from the rod with which Moses strikes the Nile and performs the
other signs in Egypt in the J narrative, and therefore also distinct from the rod used in Ex. 17:5-6 (contra
Addis, who believed there is but one magic rod [Documents, I:132]).
219
The final D passage that is based on a pre-Deuteronomic narrative is found in
chapter 31, and is remarkable insofar as it is the only place where the D text precedes, in
the canonical version, the earlier account on which it is based. For this reason, it seems
that while here the separation of the sources is clear, the dependence of D on the earlier
source has been under-emphasized.
The composition of Deut. 31, or at least of the parts that are of interest to us, is
largely agreed upon by scholarship. Within this otherwise Deuteronomic chapter are to
be found three verses from E: vv. 14-15, 23.
214
That these verses cannot be original to D
is evident from their inconsistency with their narrative context. In D in vv. 1-13, Moses
knows he is about to die, and gives the Israelites his final instructions before his death,
presenting Joshua as their next leader. Yet in vv. 14-15, YHWH tells Moses, apparently
for the first time, that he is about to die, and calls him to the Tent of Meeting in order to
transfer authority to Joshua. In vv. 16-22 we have the D introduction to the song of Deut.
32,
215
but in v. 23, we are back at the Tent again, with YHWH finishing his charge to
Joshua.
216
In sum, it is clear that 31:14-15, 23 do not belong to their D context. Where
they do belong is with E. They cannot be J, for as we have seen, Joshua does not exist in
J; they cannot be P, for in P the transfer of authority described here has already taken

214
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 295; Driver, Deuteronomy, 336ff.; von Rad, Deuteronomy, 189; Jenks,
Elohist, 59f.; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 359.

215
The entire section from vv. 14-23 was attributed to JE by Driver, et al.; cf the list of non-D features
found in these verses (Driver, Deuteronomy, 337f.); cf. also Haran, who claims that all of vv. 14-23 are the
product of E (H""spp"
h
, 71ff.). Yet vv. 16-22 cannot be from the same source as vv. 14-15, 23, as a
plain reading of the text makes clear (already noted by Addis, Documents, I:187). There are two
completely different subjects treated in vv. 14-23: YHWHs instructions to Joshua in vv. 14-15, 23, and
YHWHs prediction of the Israels future transgressions and his instruction to Moses to write down the
following poem. If, therefore, we have correctly assigned vv. 14-15, 23 to E, then vv. 16-22 must be from
another source. The Deuteronomic language of these verses suggests that it should be D.

216
Note that in the canonical version, it appears that it is Moses who is charging Joshua here, as in the
previous verse Moses is the only stated subject; cf. Addis, Documents, I:187; Haran, H""spp"
h
, 72.
220
place (Num. 27:15-23). Other reasons as provided by Carpenter-Harford retain their
usefulness: the use of the Tent of Meeting (cf. Ex. 33:7), and the appearance of YHWH
in the cloud at the entrance to the Tent (cf. Ex. 33:9; Num. 12:5).
217

The question, then, is how this E account of Moses transfer of authority to Joshua
relates to that of D. In the canonical text, it appears that the D passage of vv. 1-8, in
which Moses presents Joshua to the Israelites as the one who will lead them into the
promised land, presumes the events described in the E narrative of vv. 14-15, 23 in which
the authority is transferred to Joshua. This is a misconception, however. If we read D
alone, it is apparent that it does not rely on the E narrative to make sense. When D is
read without the E material that has been interwoven, it becomes clear that for D, the
transfer of Moses authority to Joshua does not involve YHWH at all. Rather, it is Moses
who accomplishes the transfer simply by announcing Joshuas leadership to the Israelites
and telling him, in front of the whole community, that YHWH will be with him.
218
Thus
the D account does not require or presume that of E, but is rather a conscious adaptation
of it.
We can be sure that the author of D knew the E narrative here because he has
taken over YHWHs charge to Joshua in v. 23 in almost every respect. This E verse
reads:
-s : :s :s .: .:-s s

-.::.:s s! s sc .:-s s:-
:. s :!.s :

217
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 295.

218
Exactly as he reports that he was instructed in Deut. 3:28. We can now see that YHWHs instructions to
Moses in Deut. 3:28 are dependent on the same E text of Deut. 31:23. In 3:28 (D), Moses is instructed to
command Joshua to be strong and resolute, as he does in 31:7; in 31:14, YHWH says that he himself will
command Joshua to be strong and resolute.
221
And he commanded Joshua, son of Nun: Be strong and
resolute, for it is you who shall bring the Israelites into
the land which I promised to them, and I will be with
you.

Compare this to Moses charge to Joshua before the people in D (vv. 7-8):
ss :.-s s:- -s : :s
-!s : -- :-!:s .::. :s
s

z.e s :-s ..-
s s!- s :. s ze s :.
--
Be strong and resolute, for it is you who will enter with this
people the land which YHWH swore to give to their
fathers, and it is you who will apportion it for them.
And YHWH, he will go before you; he will be with
you; he will not fail you or abandon you. Do not be
afraid and do not be dismayed.

Almost every aspect of Es verse has been re-used by D in vv. 7-8.
219
The first clause has
even been used twice, once addressed to Joshua (as above in v. 7) and once to the people
(v. 6).
220

To summarize: though nearly everyone agrees that Deut. 31:14-15, 23 belong to
E, few have commented on the relationship between these verses and the parallel account

219
For this reason, Haran draws the opposite conclusion: that 31:23 represents a reworking by the author of
D of an original E verse so as to include the D language from vv. 7-8 (H""spp"
h
, 72f.). Yet this process
is the very reverse of what we have seen everywhere else in D (as Haran himself has argued): where D and
E share language, it is because D has borrowed from E, not because D has edited E. Because this E section
happens to be in the canonical book of Deuteronomy does not mean that it should be treated any
differently. We still must assume that these verses were placed here not by D, but by the redactor of the
Pentateuch. While it is evident that the author of D did at times excerpt small chunks of E and insert them
into his own work (e.g., Deut. 10:6-9), in those cases D does not contain its own version of that narrative,
but simply uses E. When the author of D finds something in the E narrative which he thinks deserves
rewriting, he does so, and that is the version we have; we never find both an original E narrative (excerpted
by D) and the D revision of it. Thus, were Haran correct here, this case would be unique in the entirety of
D. It is much better to conclude that the E verses here are authentic and original E material, not excerpted
by D, but inserted by the redactor, at precisely the correct chronological moment in the course of the
narrative.

220
And also into the book of Joshua (1:6, 9, 18).
222
in D.
221
There are two possible reasons for this: 1) this is the only place where the earlier
material on which D is dependent has been placed by the redactor after the adapted D
account, and 2) the present, canonical account makes it appear that the D passage
assumes and continues the E narrative, whereas in fact it contradicts it. If the E narrative
of the transfer of Moses authority to Joshua were found not in Deuteronomy, but earlier
in the Pentateuch, the dependence of the D account on that of E would presumably be
much more readily apparent. But even though they are in the same chapter, as long as we
are able to separate D from E in Deut. 31 we can see here the same pattern of dependence
as in the other examples examined above. It is the contradiction in basic fact (who
transferred the authority, and where) that allows us to separate the sources, but it is the
wholesale adoption of Es phraseology that allows us to see that D is based on E here.

Conclusion
Throughout this chapter we have seen that the basic theory of the Wellhausen
school regarding the dependence of D on the combined JE document is untenable. That
many of the narratives in D are based on those of the non-priestly documents E for the
most part, and in a few cases J is undeniable. But in not a single passage can it be
shown that the author of D was aware of or basing his own work on the combination of J
and E. On the contrary, we have seen that even in those places where J and E are most
closely intertwined in Num. 11, for example, and most prominently in the Sinai/Horeb
narrative in Exodus D uses only one of the two narratives (and sometimes, remarkably,
uses both narratives separately).

221
Though cf. Addis, who suggested in passing that 31:1-8 is founded on the older narrative(Deut. xxxi.
14-23) (Documents, II:143).
223
As noted above, the author of D showed a strong preference for the narratives of
E rather than J. Though this has been observed to various degrees for some time, the
obvious conclusion to be drawn from it has yet to enter the mainstream of scholarship.
Ds preference for E is not the result of Ds preference for Es stories rather than those of
J, at least not in the sense that this is usually intended; that is, D was not faced with the
combined JE, and chose those narratives that we now know to be from E because they
seemed better suited to his purposes. Rather, D simply used as his main source the
independent E document. Almost every single Elohistic story from the Exodus to the
arrival at the Jordan is used or referred to in D. For D, it is J that is used in fragmentary
fashion. The author of D bases only one major section of his writing on a narrative from
J (the spies) and makes reference to only a handful of other J passages. In D, then, we
have the reverse situation to that which is so frequently postulated for the first four books
of the Pentateuch: E supplies the underlying narrative thread, and J appears only in
fragmented pieces.
In fact, the evidence from D stands as a counterweight to the common
contemporary scholarly supposition that E does not represent a full and independent
narrative source.
222
For the period just after the Exodus to the death of Moses in Moab,
and especially including the revelation at Horeb, E actually represents much the fuller
source than J.
223
The E document tells of the attack of Amalek (Ex. 17:8-16) and the
appointing of judges to assist Moses (Ex. 18), gives a full recounting of the divine

222
For a recent argument in favor of Es independent and complete standing, cf. T. Yoreh, Hamm"qr
h"
e
lhst9:
a
h9dt mibne
h
(unpub. diss., Hebrew University, 2003).

223
Cf. Friedman, Torah (Pentateuch), 619; Propp, Exodus 1-18, 50ff. Both of these scholars note that it
is only because J appears more fully in Genesis that it has historically been considered the more complete
source; if scholars began their study of the sources at the revelation in the wilderness, E would undoubtedly
be given considerably more credit as a complete narrative document.
224
revelation in the wilderness (Ex. 19-24*, 32-34*), includes Moses request for and receipt
of elders to assist him in leading the people through the wilderness (Num. 11*), presents
a series of limited rebellions against Moses leadership (Num. 12, 16*, 21:4-9), details
the attempts to cross Edom, the land of the Amorites, and Moab (Num 20-21*) and the
apportioning of those lands to the Reubenites and Gadites (Num. 32*), and concludes
with the transfer of authority to Joshua (Deut. 31*) and the death of Moses (Deut. 34*).
In virtually every one of these narratives we see the particular marks of E, both factual
(the use and location of the Tent of Meeting, for example) and thematic (the portrayal of
Moses as a prophet). In both scope and continuity E represents a far more unified source
than J after the Exodus. This is clear on its own merits, but is independently verified by
the D authors use of E as the basis of his own historical retrospective.
Two significant questions must be answered regarding this state of affairs: 1)
Why did the author of D use E as the basis for his own work, and 2) why has this fact
gone largely unrecognized in scholarship? The arguments of Haran will be especially
important here, although the preceding analysis has not always agreed with his
conclusions.
As stated above, only a handful of J narratives are utilized in D: the spies
narrative in full, and no more than brief reference to the episodes at Massah and Meribah,
Taberah, and Kibroth-hattaavah. We must therefore at least consider the possibility that
D did not have access to any more of J than these few stories. Were this the case, then
we would have to conclude that the author of D simply used all the traditions he found
before him, and the predominance of E is due simply to chance. Yet this possibility must
be ruled out. The J narratives used in D are from diverse parts of the J document, ranging
225
from Ex. 17 to Num. 14. These narratives are not continuous within J; the entire Sinai
pericope stands between them. It is difficult to conceive of a circumstance in which only
these scattered stories would have been preserved without the major blocks in the middle
(and on either side). This is especially so because those major blocks have been
preserved in the final form of the Pentateuchal text, so we cannot argue that they had
already been lost to history when the author of D came to the J document. Thus it seems
that the inclusion of these J stories indicates that the author of D had access to the full J
document, and made the conscious choice to use only those few stories that suited his
overall aims. And again we can note that in fact the stories he takes from J are those 1)
without any parallel in E, and 2) that portray the rebelliousness of the Israelites in the
wilderness, which is a major theme in Ds own representation of the course of Israelite
history. We must conclude that D consciously chose E over J, and used only those stories
from J that he found appropriate.
Why, then, was E the preferable choice over J? The basic similarity of these two
early sources has been recognized since they were discovered, and, as we have seen, this
has led to the inability of many scholars to correctly disentangle them. So we must ask,
what are the particular features of E which would have made it more attractive to the D
school than J? We cannot use the greater continuity and scope of E as an answer here,
for there is no reason that the author D could not have used the J narrative just as
effectively, especially considering the brevity with which he recounts the events from the
Exodus to the plains of Moab. The most obvious answer, then, is to cite the alleged
common northern origin of both sources. Yet this does not really solve anything. If the
origin of two sources in the same region is thought to be the origin of the close
226
relationship between them, then what do we say about J and P, both of which originated
in Judah, and which show none of the signs of dependence we have seen between D and
E? Haran also points out that although there are some signs of northern provenance in D,
these might well be due not to its own northern origin, but rather to that of the document
on which the author of D based the majority of his writing: E, the protoypical northern
source. In his reconstruction, the relationship of D to E was not formed when both
schools were located in the kingdom of Israel (at which point, one guesses, that of E
would have been in full flower, but that of D only just getting started), but rather after the
destruction of the northern kingdom, when E would have been brought to Jerusalem.
There, according to Haran, the scribes of the D school would have become familiar with
the E document.
224
Thus the very idea of the northern provenance of D is at the very
least called into question.
225

As we shall see in chapter 6, this idea is similar to that of many scholars who
argue that the fall of the northern kingdom precipitated the combination of J and E. But
they assume, as Haran does not, that E was a canonical, or nearly canonical, document, as
was J, and the tension between the two led to their combination. Haran, on the contrary,
recognizes that E was not and could not have been canonical at the time that it was used
by D.
226
This is evident from the plain fact that the author of D does not hesitate to
substantially alter the stories found in E. Such a process is difficult to imagine were E
considered canonical in any normal sense of the word.

224
H""spp"
h
, 205.

225
Though cf. H.L. Ginsberg, The Israelian Heritage of Judaism (New York: JTS, 1982), for the full view
that Deuteronomy represents the northern traditions.

226
H""spp"
h
, 206.
227
In Harans mind, therefore, D knows E not because the latter has any canonical
standing, but simply because the school of D happens to come into contact with it as
scribes from the north filter into the southern capital. If we follow Haran entirely,
remembering that he argues that D knew only E, and not J at all, we might be left to ask
whether it was therefore nothing more than chance that D happened to know E rather
than J. But we have seen in the preceding analysis that D in fact knew both E and J.
Thus, unlike Haran, we have to reckon with the fact that D actively preferred one source
to the other. What accounts for this preference?
The main, if not sole, aim of the composition of D was to promulgate the
Deuteronomic law code. This is evident from the very brief narrative introduction and
conclusion, which serve little purpose other than to establish the setting for the giving of
the laws.
227
The point is that the author of D wanted to do more than simply provide a set
of laws; he also wanted to establish his law code as one given by YHWH to form the
basis of the covenant between the deity and the Israelite people. The author of D had
before him two narrative documents, J and E, which each contained an account of the
revelation of YHWH to the Israelite people in the wilderness. As far as that went, either
source would have been suitable. But there are significant differences between the J and
E presentations of that event. E, unlike J, contains an initial revelation to the entire
people (the Ten Commandments), as a result of which the people determine that Moses
should act as their prophet and that they would accept whatever instructions YHWH gave
them through Moses. E, unlike, J, also contained a second law-giving, the so-called

227
In this respect, D is quite similar to P, which in comparison to J and E also has a relatively attenuated
presentation of the history leading up to the law-giving at Sinai, though certainly one more expansive than
that of D.
228
Book of the Covenant, which the people accepted in an explicit covenant-making
ceremony. Finally, as we have seen, E has a much fuller account of the journey from
Horeb to Moab.
The specific attributes of E not found in J, in other words, fit precisely the model
that the author of D required. D, like E, emphasizes (though not to the same degree) the
prophetic role of Moses.
228
This is important in D because the people have to accept the
divine commandments that Moses gives them in Moab. Thus in D, the giving of the Ten
Commandments is retained, with perhaps an even greater emphasis on the peoples fear
of the deity and desire for Moses to act as intercessor. It is the second law-giving in E
that would have been so attractive to the author of D, however. All that was needed was
to replace the law code in E with that of D. And because already in E that law code was
given only to Moses, it would not be difficult for the author of D to relocate it to Moab:
the traditional site of the revelation did not need to be changed, only the location of the
public disclosure of that revelation. In addition, the Elohistic concept of a covenant
between YHWH and Israel based on a law code fit perfectly with the same conception in
D. And finally, the historical retrospective in D has very clear boundaries: from the
departure from Egypt to the arrival in Moab, where the laws are propounded. E was the
naturally superior source for this information. Though J is undoubtedly more complete in
the primeval and patriarchal periods, and even for the time spent in Egypt, D simply had
no use for those narratives. The only setting D required for its law code was the narrative
of how the Israelites got to Moab, because that journey came between the revelation and
the law-giving, and could not be skipped. For all these reasons, E was the source most

228
Cf. Driver, Deuteronomy, lx.
229
conducive to the aims of the author of D, and his choice for the basis of his own
presentation.
As mentioned above, it is important to note that D was written not to continue the
E document, but to replace it. The surest sign of this is the complete replacement of Es
law code with that of D, and the relocation of the presentation (though not the initial
giving) of the law code from Horeb to Moab.
229
D makes perfectly clear that it was only
the Ten Commandments which were presented to the people at Horeb (Deut. 5:19); this
stands in blatant contradiction to the narrative of E (in which the Ten Commandments are
followed directly by the giving of the laws of the Covenant Code, Ex. 21-23). It is
difficult to imagine that the author of D ever considered it possible to read both E and D
together, as this contradiction would be obvious. It would also undermine Ds claim that
its law code was the only one given by YHWH to Moses.
For the purposes of this study, it is the second question which is perhaps more
important: how is it that scholars have been unable or unwilling to accept that D had a
special dependence on E? Here Haran has provided an astute analysis of the problem.
Haran claims two major reasons: 1) the acknowledged chronological priority of J, and 2)
the common assumption that in the Pentateuch we have preserved before us the entirety
of the sources J, E, and P, without anything missing.
230

The priority of J is, in fact, not a problem in and of itself; rather, it is the unstated
belief that every source knew and used all those which preceded it (which as we have
already seen was a basic tenet of the Wellhausen school). Thus, for Haran, the mere fact

229
Cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 160.

230
H""spp"
h
, 202ff.
230
that J was earlier than E prevented generations of scholars from accepting the idea that D
could have been familiar only with E. In light of the preceding analysis, in which it has
been demonstrated that D in fact did know both J and E, we can take this argument a step
further. The problem for previous scholarship was not the priority of J to D, as Haran
presents it; rather, it was the priority of J to E, and the correlate belief that these two
documents had to have been combined at an early stage (based, as we have seen, less on
literary evidence than on scholars inability to separate the two). This prevented scholars
from appreciating that D was dependent on J and E in their independent forms, and not in
combination. Once the concept that J and E were first combined into JE was firmly
entrenched in scholarship, there was simply no need to investigate further: D shows
dependence on stories in JE, and not on narratives found in P, and this was considered
the important point for the relative dating of the sources and the concomitant views of the
history of Israelite religion.
It can be said that one of the underlying reasons for the assumption that later
sources know and use all earlier sources is the fundamental belief that each document
was canonical at a very early stage. I will return to this point in chapter 6, but it should
be observed that it is this belief that also forms the basis for the second scholarly
assumption which Haran criticizes. If all the documents were canonical, then it is hard to
imagine how any part of one of the documents would have been removed by subsequent
scribes or redactors. Therefore, what we have of J, E, and P must be all that ever was.
Yet it is this very assumption which comes under scutiny with the work of scholars such
as Volz and Rudolph (see above, chapter 2), who point out that there are significant gaps
in the sources, particularly in E. Their solution was to deny E the status of an
231
independent document. In doing so, they value the assumption of the canonicity of the
documents over the observable and verifiable signs of continuity in the E narratives. If
we set aside this assumption of canonicity and deal only with the text before us, it is
evident that E was at one time a complete and independent document (and the results of
the preceding analysis provide confirmation for this). We are left, then, to state simply
that parts of E are missing. This can be attributed either to the work of the redactor, who
removed parts of E in favor of J or P, or to the fragmented state of the E document itself
at the time that it was combined with the other sources. Thus it is possible that D, which
as we have seen used E in its independent state, preserved traditions from E which are not
extant in the text of E as we have it in the final form of the Pentateuch.
Ths assumption that what we have remaining of E is the entirety of the E
composition gave rise to an even more serious problem in previous scholarship, namely,
the inability to separate J from E effectively. And this, as we have seen, is what led
Wellhausen and others to the conclusion that these two documents must have been
combined at an early stage. But we can again go a step further. What may have
contributed most to the difficulty of separating J from E is the still all too common
assumption that each of these sources must have told the same stories in basically the
same order, and even more, with the same intent. One need look only at Carpenter-
Harford to see where this assumption leads: highly fractured sources which are
essentially unreadable, divided so finely on the basis of linguistic features that any
semblance of overall structure or plot is lost. This presentation, of course, became the
basis of the anti-source-critical movement which remains dominant in much of
scholarship today. The objection that source criticism has led to unreadable splinters of
232
text, with sometimes only a word or phrase here and there representing a narrative, has
stood as a challenge to the Documentary Hypothesis since its inception. Yet it is based
on a fundamental misunderstanding of how the documents were combined: a
misunderstanding on the part of the critics of the hypothesis, but even more importantly
on the part of many of its main proponents. J and E were under no constraints to tell the
same stories in the same manner. They were obliged only to their own sense of how best
to present Israelite history in order to support their particular historiographical and
theological points. In all cases, this meant using the traditions that were available to them
and with which they were familiar to create an overarching narrative. But these traditions
varied from source to source, and the arc of the resulting narrative varied as well.
As I have tried to demonstrate above, when J and E are separated cleanly and
correctly, it is undeniable that D knew them independently, and not in the combination
JE. For too long this fact has been buried beneath the dominant hypothesis of the
existence of the JE document. Indeed, Driver and others could go so far as to state that D
is dependent on JE, and even to list the very verses on which D was based, yet not take
the obvious next step. When the assumption of the JE document is set aside and only the
literary aspects of the text are examined, there can be no question but that D could not
have been based on a combination of J and E, but only on those sources independently.
The ramifications of this fact for the historical reconstruction of the creation of the JE
document, and of the Pentateuch as a whole, will be dealt with in subsequent chapters.

Excursus
The Relationship of P to JE
1

In the preceding chapter I tried to demonstrate that J and E were independent
documents when they were used by the author(s) of D. This finding, though important
for the history of the growth of the Pentateuch, does not fully address the question of
whether J and E were ever combined into a so-called JE document. If, in fact, the priestly
document can be shown to have known and used J and E in combination, then all I have
done is simply pushed the date of that combination further forward in time,
demonstrating in the process that P was written at a later point than D. It is worth
examining at least briefly, therefore, the evidence (or lack thereof) for Ps dependence on
J and E.
Although the idea, recurrent in Pentateuchal scholarship, that P is not an
independent source at all, but rather a layer of redaction, composed to supplement the
earlier sources and interwoven with them in order to exist alongside them, suggested in
the latter part of the twentieth century by Frank Moore Cross, among others, has been
successfully rebutted,
2
there remains in scholarship the nearly universal belief that P was

1
Throughout this excursus the term JE will be used, not to mark acceptance of the existence of this
purported document, but simply for greater ease of conversation with scholarship that is based on the
premise that such a document did exist.

Excursus The Relationship of P to JE
234
dependent on the supposed JE document. This dependence is conceptualized in a variety
of ways: as an updating of the older writings, as a rebuttal to the theological
presentation of JE, as something like an homage to the traditional narratives embodied in
the JE narrative, etc. Regardless of the type of dependence or the presumed rationale
behind it, scholars are virtually unanimous in accepting that whatever the authors of P
intended, they worked on the basis of the non-priestly material, and not independently of
it.
First and foremost amongst these scholars is Noth, who stated of the composition
of P: The major Vorlage, of course, was the old Pentateuchal narrative, which in all
probability already existed in literary form.
3
Noths insistence on this state of affairs, in
particular his claim that P has shaped the whole Pentateuchal narrative anew from the
standpoint of his particular intentions,
4
has been decisive in the history of scholarship.
We find this approach taken in the works of such diverse (and influential on their own
part) scholars such as McEvenue,
5
Lohfink,
6
and Carr.
7
The following discussion will
consist primarily of a dialogue with these four scholars.

2
Cross, Canaanite Myth, 293-325; on the side of P as redaction see also the works of Van Seters (e.g., Life
of Moses); Rendtorff (Problem); and Blum (Studien). For the effective rebuttal to this view, see most
importantly Koch, P kein Redaktor!, Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, 8ff., Schwartz, The Priestly
Account, as well as the useful review of these issues in Nicholson, Pentateuch, 196-221.

3

4

5
[P] was writing from a Yahwist narrative, which he either knew by heart, or had in front of him, and very
probably writing for a readership as familiar with the Yahwist as he was. The Narrative Style of the
Priestly Writer (Rome: Biblical Institute, 1971), 27.

6
Even a priestly historical narrative that was originally self-contained should perhaps not be regarded
simply as an independent tradition parallel to the other, older Pentateuch traditions; instead, it may be seen
as a new conception that consciously relates itself to and distinguishes itself from the others. The
Priestly Narrative and History, pp. 136-172 in Theology of the Pentateuch (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994),
144.
235
In looking for evidence of Ps dependence on earlier material, we should first ask
precisely what we would expect to find in a source written as a response to another. How
could we identify literary dependence over against reliance on a common tradition? First,
we might hope, perhaps unrealistically, to find an unequivocal rebuttal of the early
material, history narrated partially in the negative, rather than exclusively in the positive:
Noah did not bring seven pairs of each clean animal onto the ark with him, he only
brought one pair of every animal, because he obviously wasnt going to sacrifice
anything. This type of statement is entirely unknown to the priestly authors, of course,
as it is to all the biblical authors. But this fact is not therefore to be brushed aside lightly.
The lack of this most explicit evidence (in fact, the only incontrovertible proof of one
texts response to another) requires that the more subtle evidence be strong and consistent
enough to sustain the theory.
In the absence of the first, the second trait we might hope to find in a text written
as a response to an earlier document is direct verbal correspondence. Even with the
changes in the P version of events, a rebuttal would be substantially clearer to the
listener/reader if we could hear, at least here and there, the wording and cadences of the
earlier document, the one to which it is held to be responding, but with the new accents of
the revised version. So, in the Flood story, we might expect that the command to bring
the animals onto the ark would be written in something approaching the wording of the J
document, but with the word seven replaced by the word one. This is, of course,
precisely what we find in Chronicles in relation to Kings: see, for example, 2 Chron. 5:4,
which parallels 1 Kgs. 8:3. In the earlier passage from 1 Kings, the ark is lifted by the

7
The bulk of P material is dependent on and even designed to correct non-P material. Fractures, 47.
236
priests (hakkoh
a
nm); the author of Chronicles, recognizing in this a contradiction to his
own ideas of priestly roles, replaces the word priests with Levites (hall
!
wiyym). In
this example from Chronicles, we can see clearly that a direct response to the text of
Kings is being offered. In other words, we have an excellent example from within the
Bible of one text being dependent on another, and that dependence being demonstrated
through re-use of earlier material with distinctive and identifiably theological changes.
And it is precisely this type of literary evidence that we do not find in P. As is well
known, however, one of the great distinguishing features of P is its distinct language,
easily identifiable and separable from the other sources. There are no cases in the
Pentateuch of P using non-priestly wording, neither when it is narrating something
differently from JE, nor anywhere else.
If neither of the first two types of potential evidence is present in the text of P, our
options become much more limited, and any reconstruction of P as a response to JE is
that much more tenuous. Of course, one might perhaps suspect that perhaps P was
written, in its priestly style and with its priestly theology, as a direct response to the
historical-theological presentation of JE, but that the authors desired that it be
considered entirely separate from the earlier document, perhaps simply replacing it
altogether. If this is in fact how the authors of P imagined their own work, as the
complete replacement of the earlier JE document, they would then not have been
required to create any verbal reference to or correspondences with JE, as, in fact, they
were trying to obliterate any traces of JE entirely. One wonders, then, how in such a
case we would ever know that the intention of the authors was to write a response to
JE.
237
From the evidence of those texts that are dependent on earlier material, i.e., D
with regard to E, and Chronicles with regard to Kings, we can identify three types of
correspondence that lead to the conclusion of literary dependence. The first two are
specific to a given narrative section: clear verbal correspondence, and the precise
following in the later text of the story presented in the earlier. It has already been noted
that the type of verbal correspondence one finds between Chronicles and Kings, and to an
equal extent between D and E (see the examples in the previous chapter), are not found
anywhere in the priestly material. Indeed, this is in large part why P has been so easily
defined and separated from the non-priestly sources. In terms of following an earlier
storyline, this is indisputable in the case of Chronicles and Kings, and has been
demonstrated above in the case of D and E. In the examples given in the previous
chapter, there can be no doubt that the author of D based his work on that of E, because
he adopts features of a given narrative that are particular to E (in contrast to J or P), and
follows the narrative of E with remarkable precision. The same, however, cannot be said
for P with regard to what scholars call JE.
We may observe that the lack of verbal correspondence makes it necessary for the
supposedly shared storyline to be closer than it might be if verbal correspondences were
present, if one wants to prove literary dependence. Let us then briefly examine an
argument frequently used to support the notion of Ps dependence on JE, that regarding
the Flood narrative in Genesis 6-9.
Scholars have attempted, in studying the relationship between the P and J
accounts of the Flood, to find the sort of verbal correspondence that we have claimed
does not exist between the two documents. Thus it is argued that the word mabbl,
238
which occurs in both (J: 7:10; P: 7:6, et al.), was borrowed by P from his source text, J.
8

Yet, as even these scholars admit, the word is used differently in each source. J uses the
word simply to refer to the tremendous amount of rain-water, while P conceives of the
Flood as a release of the waters that had been contained in the act of creation (Gen. 1:6-
7).
9
The use of mabbl, then, is not evidence of dependence, as in fact the word has a
different meaning in the two documents. Similar cases can be found elsewhere in the
Pentateuch, in which one source (frequently P) uses a term in a manner peculiar to its
own historical-theological presentation.
10
Such distinctive uses of words and phrases, as
long as they are part of the common stock of ordinary Hebrew vocabulary and
phraseology and not unattested outside of one of the two sources, should be treated in the
same way as if the two sources used entirely different words.
11
In this particular case, we
should note that Ps use of the term mabbl as referring to the cosmic waters, is attested
elsewhere (Ps. 29:10); if we feel compelled to find dependence in the use of this term in
both J and P, we might be best served, in fact, to see Js use of the term as the
development from the more original priestly use! Other attempts to find verbal
correspondences are based largely on faulty source-critical division of the two stories,
and therefore need not be dealt with in detail here.
12

8
McEvenue, Narrative Style, 26; Carr, Fractures, 60.

9
McEvenue, Narrative Style, 26.

10
Cf., e.g., the use of nah9
a
l"
h
in P as referring specifically to inherited possession in Canaan, or the
restrictive use of the term minh9"
h
as a particular sacrifice, as opposed to its more general application in the
non-priestly sources.

11
As in the distinction between "m"
h
and %iph9"
h
in E and J, respectively, or any number of other
examples.

12
McEvenue, for example, attributes the notice of the forty-day length of the Flood in 7:17a to P (Narrative
Style, 24), and uses this as evidence that P knows J (in which we find the forty-day theme throughout); yet
239
Beyond the attempt to find verbal correspondences, however, the two narratives
are often compared in their overall design. Carr notes that P is more expansive than its
non-P counterpart, singling out in particular the lengthier description of the rising
waters, the ending of the Flood by divine mandate rather than by natural means, the
ending of the prohibition on eating meat, and the making of a covenant rather than a
promise at the conclusion of the narrative.
13
McEvenue gives a general summary of the
differences: [P] changed a free-running narrative into a relatively mannered account
marked by symmetry and repetition; he eliminated the psychological aspects, the
interiority of both Noah and God, and so turned a dramatic interaction into a simple act of
divine power; he replaced a story-teller art of writing with the arts of rhetoric.
14
What is
common to all of these observations is that they very nicely describe the unique quailities
of P, but are ineffectual in proving the dependence of P on J: they merely assert it, as a
postulate with no need of argumentation. What are effectively listed in these statements
are the differences between P and J; but differences do not necessarily equal changes.
Prov. 8:22ff. presents a novel description of creation, at which Wisdom was present as
something of a muse, a description not found anywhere in Genesis or elsewhere in the
Bible; are we to assume that the author of Proverbs was dependent on and making a
conscious change to the creation narrative of P? Or perhaps of J, or of Isaiah? What we
have in Proverbs is not a change to the other creation stories in the Bible, but a different
presentation thereof, unique to the wisdom perspective of the document. Similarly, the

7:17a belongs to J. Similarly, Carr sees the order Noah, his sons, and his sons wives, in its various
permutations, in both P (6:18b; 8:16) and in non-P (7:7), yet 7:7 and this phrasing in general belongs
entirely to P.

13
Fractures, 61.

14
Narrative Style, 78.
240
differences between P and J in the Flood narrative need not be attributed to dependence
or conscious change, but are rather simply an expression of the uniquely priestly
perspective of the P document.
The claim is frequently made that P is consciously rewriting the non-priestly
narratives what scholars call JE in order to make them more priestly, more in line
with the historical and, importantly, theological aspects of priestly thought. Thus one
may find scholars claiming that the difference between Js seven pairs of clean animals
and Ps one pair of clean animals in the Flood story is due to the author of P directly
responding to and correcting the J narrative: In P, however, no sacrifices are pictured
prior to Aaron, and therefore Noah needs no extra animals.
15
With this sentence we can
certainly agree; yet it has absolutely nothing to do with whether P knew and rewrote the J
Flood narrative. It states only that in the P version of the story, priestly concepts about
the theology and history of Israel were followed. And this is hardly news. The question
is: were these stories written independently, would they be any different? Would Ps
Flood narrative look at all different if we had simply asked a member of the P school to
write his own version of that well-known Israelite (and Near Eastern) tradition? It is hard
to imagine how, as there is nothing in the P Flood story that can be singled out as a direct
response to the narrative of J, as opposed to being simply the priestly presentation of the
basic Flood story.
There is, however, a more essential underlying motivation for the scholarly
assumption that P knew the non-priestly story, here and elsewhere in the Pentateuch: the
relative dating of the sources and their place in Wellhausens evolutionary schema. Most

15
Friedman, Torah (Pentateuch), 616.
241
scholars agree that, at least for the bulk of their respective materials, P is a later text than
J or E. In Wellhausens evolutionary reconstruction, firmly rooted in the intellectual
environment of his time, this meant that P was not only chronologically later, but was
also an evolutionary outgrowth of the religious traditions represented by the earlier
documents. Because each different presentation of Israelite religion must be placed in
sequence with all the others, because each is axiomatically assumed to be a development
from the one before it, a later document must have been aware of its predecessors, and
written with the purpose of updating them according to the new religious concepts
embodied in the new document. Thus the author of P, with its new systematic ordering
of the universe and restrictive legislation, so abhorrent to Wellhausen, must have written
his document in order to update the now-backward thinking of the earlier, more
natural, prophetic JE document. This argument is, of course, dependent on the a
priori determination that the process of Pentateuchal growth was evolutionary, rather than
being dependent on any actual literary evidence. Wellhausens Enlightenment mindset
prevented him from accepting the possibility, now accepted with little hesitation, that
more than one concept of Israelite religion and history could have existed simultaneously.
Even if we date P later than JE (and even this requires more proof than has been adduced
to this point), we need not think that P was aware of, knew, or was dependent on any
earlier JE document.
Although I cannot survey the entire Pentateuch here, the preceding arguments
regarding the Flood narrative can be applied to every passage in which P and JE appear to
tell the same story. There are no direct verbal correspondences of any probative value,
242
and the differences in presentation should be taken as no more than precisely that,
differences, rather than conscious changes.
The third type of correspondence between P and JE that might lead to the
conclusion of literary dependence is that of the overarching outline of the entire source,
that is, the appearance and order of the various episodes that make up the narrative. Here
again we might note the examples of Chronicles and D, both of which hew closely to the
storyline established by their source texts. Thus D, as we have seen, follows in chapters
2-3 precisely the order of events as found in E in the book of Numbers. Chronicles, of
course, follows the order of its sources (from Genesis through 2 Kings) just as precisely.
The question is whether we find a similar correpondence between P and JE.
Noth stated this quite clearly: The arrangement of the individual elements of the
P narrative was determined by the progression of the narrative constructed from the old
sources,
16
and this has become the accepted opinion for the majority of Pentateuchal
scholars. Yet upon inspection of the P and JE storylines, it becomes clear that the
evidence for this claim is tenuous. Some of the major events of Israelite history are
indeed in largely the same place in the priestly and non-priestly stories, but certainly not
all of them, not even a majority. In fact, only the broad contours of the story-line can be
said to correspond (just as they do in J and E, because there is common Israelite tradition
underlying all three presentations). We cannot go through the entire Pentateuch to prove
this, but even a small sampling should suffice. In the primeval history in Genesis, though
both versions begin with the creation story (indeed, how could it be otherwise?), the P

16
Pentateuchal Traditions, 13. Cf. also p. 234: It seems to me that the harmony of the Priestly narrative
sequence, as a whole and in its particulars, suggests very strongly that P drew the material of the
Pentateuchal narrative from the J narrative, probably from a form of the J narrative which had been
previously expanded through the incorporation of E elements.
243
narrative does not include major features crucial to the J story, such as the story of Cain
and Abel, the intermingling of deities and men, and the Tower of Babel. When we move
into the patriarchal narratives, the differences between P and JE are even more
apparent. According to J, God speaks to Abraham while the patriarch is still in Haran
(12:1-3), after which he goes to Egypt with his wife (12:10-20), and then to the Negev
(13:1), and God speaks to him again somewhere between Bethel and Ai (13:14-17), and
Sarah convinces Abraham to have a child with Hagar (16:1-2), whom Sarah then sends
into the wilderness (16:5-14). The P narrative, on the other hand, is almost completely
different: Abraham, Sarah, and Lot leave Haran (without divine instruction to do so;
12:4b-5), Abraham and Lot split up because their camps have become too large to
continue on together (13:6, 11b-12a), Sarah gives Hagar to Abraham (16:3), and only
then does God first speak to Abraham and reveal himself (17).
We can, of course, follow this train of thought through the end of the patriarchal
narratives and on into the Exodus and wilderness wanderings. Briefly deserving of
mention is the Sinai pericope, in which the differences between the priestly and non-
priestly stories are so significant as to have been made the basis for Cross determination
that P could not have originally been a narrative source.
17
Throughout the Pentateuch,
the two presentations can be said to be similar only in the broadest of outlines, while the
details are quite different, so much so, in fact, that it is difficult to explain how one could

17
See his famous statement: To suppose that the Priestly tradent simply had no tradition of the covenant
rites at Sinai is incredible (Canaanite Myth, 319). This claim is obviously based in Cross theory of an
Israelite poetic epic underlying all the Pentateuchal narratives, and has been justly disputed by Koch (Kein
Redaktor, among others. The differences between the priestly and non-priestly accounts of the
Sinai/Horeb episode, and their independence from each other, are argued fully in Schwartz, Priestly
Account.
244
be based on the other, or seen as a response to the other by anyone hearing or reading it
independently of the older material.
It is undeniable that P follows the same overall design as the purported JE text.
Yet, ironically, it is the work of Noth and his followers that has provided the explanation
for this circumstance, in the field of tradition criticism. Simply to note that P and JE
follow the same storyline is not to prove that P is dependent on the JE presentation of
events. If we value at all the contributions to biblical scholarship of tradition critics and
scholars of oral literature, we can surely recognize the distinct, even likely possibility that
P is simply working from a similar, traditional, broad outline of the history of Israel. It is
admitted that J and E follow a virtually identical storyline, such that Noth argues for a
common Vorlage, which he designates G (for Grundlage).
18
This suggestion has not
been widely accepted, but has rather been adapted, so that it is now common to claim that
J and E are based on a common stock of Israelite traditions.
19
Why should this be true of
J and E, but not of P as well?
Because Noth is seen as one of the originators of tradition criticism, it is all the
more surprising that he argued that even [P], at the expense of the strict compactness of
his work, included various matters just because he found them in his Vorlage.
20
His two
examples of this are the very brief mention of Lots separation from Abraham and rescue
from the cities of the Plain (Gen. 12:5; 13:6, 11b, 12ab!; 19:29) and the narrative of the
spies in Num. 13-14. Yet the story of Lot and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah

18
Pentateuchal Traditions, 38ff.

19
For example, Friedman: there may have ben an old, traditional cycle of stories about the patriarchs,
exodus, etc. which both the authors of J and E used as a basis for their works (Torah [Pentateuch], 616).

20
245
surely belongs to the common stock of Israelite tradition, and the priestly version of these
events is certainly told with strict compactness, comprising as it does only four verses.
Further, we might ask what Noth meant by strict compactness, when P is so expansive
in so many places, from creation to the purchase of a burial plot to the instructions for
and building of the Tabernacle. Indeed, what, in Noths mind, is the purpose of any of
the patriarchal material in the overall program of P? As for the spies narrative, Noth
claimed that this story belonged basically to the subject of the occupation, a subject not
dealt with by him, and which in the old Pentateuchal narrative was an important story.
21

Yet this is a remarkably subjective argument, dependent on Noths peculiar view of the
scope and intent of P, and unsubstantiated by the textual evidence. Noth created a
circular argument here, viewing parts of P as dependent on JE (rather than essential parts
of the P narrative) because he had already determined (evidently from non-textual
evidence) that P was not interested in these matters.
In short, to claim that P is dependent on a presumed JE document for its overall
storyline, in the absence of direct verbal correspondences, is essentially to deny
completely the idea of common Israelite tradition, and is certainly (and ironically, in the
case of Noth) an attack on the traditio-critical approach. For what is being said here is
that P did not simply draw on the common well of Israelite historical traditions and
present them from a priestly perspective, but rather that the only place the authors of P
could have found these traditions was in the writing of JE. This theory also assumes,
obviously, the canonicity of JE before the corrections of P,
22
which begs the question of

21

22
Cf. Lohfinks statement: The author of the work was not only familiar with the pre-priestly Pentateuch
and at least the preliminary stages of the early and later prophets, but also presumed such knowledge on
246
how the author of P thought it was possible to replace canonical writings with entirely
new ones, especially when the older texts were popular and prophetic, and the
priestly document at least somewhat esoteric. If we give credence to the now virtually
undisputed notion that the various Pentateuchal (and non-Pentateuchal) authors were
drawing on a common stock of Israelite traditions, which had already been set in a rough
order (patriarchs, Exodus, wilderness, etc.), then there is absolutely no reason to think
that P was doing anything but presenting the priestly version of that tradition, completely
independent from that of J or E.
Finally, we may note two frequent arguments by scholars who claim the
dependence of P on JE: that P occasionally presupposes information provided in the JE
text and that there are gaps in the P material that are filled only by what we know from
JE. To the first it may be replied that in virtually all of these cases, the presupposition of
earlier material by P is largely in the mind of the scholar who sits with both before him.
If it is believed that P was written not to supplement, but as a complete replacement for,
the non-priestly material, then P should be coherent and comprehensible on its own
terms, without any necessary reference to JE. And this is virtually always the case, as
long as we do not judge the completeness of P on the basis of comparison with the non-
priestly sources. Thus, for example, the priestly narrative of Lot, mentioned above, does
not presuppose the longer and more detailed story in J. Someone reading the P text alone
would have no difficulty understanding the admittedly brief story, certainly no more than
one has understanding an equally brief story from J, such as that of Gen. 6:1-4. This, and

the part of his readers (Priestly Narrative, 146f.). He assumes here not only canonicity but relative
lateness of the P text.
247
nothing else, should be the measure of whether P is presupposing the JE narratives: is the
P narrative coherent and comprehensible on its own terms.
As for the broader argument that there are gaps in P that are filled only by JE
material, to the extent that convincing examples of this phenomenon exist at all, this is in
fact not a result of dependence at all, but rather of redaction. An example is Ps lack of a
birth narrative for Jacob and Esau. The missing P text here is not missing because the
author of P assumed that the listener or reader knew the JE narrative; it is missing either
because when the P document came into the redactors hands this section was absent (as
we might postulate for the beginning of the E source, for example), or, more likely,
because the redactor chose not to use the P version of this story. Knowing Ps tendencies
from elsewhere, we might assume that the birth of Jacob and Esau was a relatively brief
notice; the redactor, who had in hand the lengthy version of J, recognized that he could
not include both Js and Ps version of the birth, and so used the longer and more
interesting version.
23
Thus the gaps in P (which are very few) are to be attributed to the
redactional process, and emphatically not the compositional process.
As it turns out, the best response to the two preceding arguments has ironically
been made perhaps most clearly and forcefully in the context of an argument for the
dependence of P on JE.
24
Regarding the reliance on the presentation of JE when judging
the completeness of that of P (i.e., the extent to which P presupposes JE): this rests on
a postulate regarding genre that is derived, not from texts that are certainly P, but from
the old sources[.] As to the differences between the P and JE narratives, and the belief

23
Note that frequently in the Pentateuch births and deaths are narrated by only one source, even though we
must assume that all three sources contained these notices. Thus, in this case, we have only the J account
of Jacob and Esaus birth, and not those of P or E.

24
Lohfink, Priestly Narrative, 146f. n.31.
248
that ostensible gaps in P are the result of its dependence on earlier material: we find here
an unfounded postulate: namely, that P must have narrated everything that JE had told.
As for those places where information missing from P seems to be filled in by JE: this
can be completely explained by the redactional activity involved in editing P and the old
Pentateuchal material together.

Throughout, I have been speaking of P in relation to the supposed JE document,
although it is the aim of this project to deny the existence of such. It is worth noting,
then, that the arguments mustered above against the dependence of P on JE are equally, if
not more, applicable to the relationship of P to the individual sources. For if it is shown
that P does not in fact follow the overarching narrative of the combined JE document,
how much more so does it fail to follow the larger design of either J or E independently?
If we compare P to J or E alone, we find substantially more differences between the two
presentations than we do when we compare P to JE. Each of the arguments above can be
fruitfully applied to a discussion of the relationship of P to J, or P to E, and with the same
results: there is no evidence that P is dependent on either.

Chapter Four
R
JE
The Reliance on the Redactor

In the previous chapter, it was observed that the inability to separate J from E with
any certainty prevented scholars from seeing the clear dependence of D on J and E in
their independent manifestations, rather than in their purported combined form, as well as
Ds particular dependence on E. Beyond this, the failure of scholarship to arrive at
persuasive conclusions regarding the separation of J from E had a substantial impact on
the approach to the composition of the Pentateuch: the over-reliance on the concept of the
redactor to solve apparent source-critical difficulties. For the majority of scholars of the
classical Documentary Hypothesis, passages that did not fit neatly into their source
divisions were assigned to one of the redactors. Because J and E are universally
acknowledged as the most difficult to separate, the supposed redactor of these two
documents, commonly designated R
JE
, was assigned an active and ever-expanding role in
their combination.
In most source-critical reconstructions (see following discussion), R
JE
has been
seen as responsible not only for the interweaving of J and E, but also for numerous
additions from his own hand. In some cases, these additions have been considered
necessary corrections for the factual discrepancies between J and E. Thus a narrative
datum that a scholar assigned to J could not appear in another text that he had assigned
Chapter Four R
JE
250
(on other grounds) to E; the inclusion of that J datum in an E passage, therefore, had to be
due to R
JE
. In other cases, the appearance in a passage assigned to one source of stylistic
or terminological features that were considered peculiar to another was seen as an
indication of the hand of R
JE
. These cases are almost entirely ones in which a J feature
(the divine name YHWH, for example) was found in an E passage. Finally, a large
number of passages that were considered secondary additions of one sort or another
were assigned to R
JE
.
In this chapter, I will examine these three scholarly uses of R
JE
. We will see that
though the first class, the resolution of factual discrepancies, is legitimate theoretically,
when the sources are correctly separated the number of sustainable examples of original
redactional composition dwindles from a significant pile to a mere handful. It will be
argued that the second group, terminological and stylistic overlap, also shrinks
considerably when the sources are distinguished accurately, and is in any case founded on
a mistaken (or at least misunderstood) source-critical principle. As for the third class of
examples, secondary additions, we will see that not only are the majority of the cases not
secondary, but that even when they might be considered secondary, there is no reason to
attribute them to R
JE
. In short, when the sources are correctly analyzed, and we abandon
certain assumptions, almost all the proposed examples of original R
JE
composition
disappear. Those few that remain will be discussed in the next chapter.
Thus I will be largely accepting Van Seters criticism of the use of the concept of
the redactor in source criticism.
1
He cogently argues that over the course of the
development of the Documentary Hypothesis, the redactor has been forced into a role that

1
Edited Bible; see chapter 2 above.
Chapter Four R
JE
251
is greatly and untenably expanded from its original conception, i.e., as the necessary
figure who combined the various documents, and we agree in large part with this
assessment. Though his conclusion, that there never was such a figure, is, I believe, and
as I have argued above, ultimately mistaken, his criticism of the ever-expanding nature of
the redactor remains accurate. I will provide evidence for this criticism in my analysis of
the expanding role of R
JE
in particular.
The significant reduction of redactional activity in the Pentateuch (at least in the J
and E portions thereof) presented in this chapter has wide-ranging effects on both older
and more recent Pentateuchal scholarship. In the latter part of this chapter, I will
examine how the role of the redactor expanded to such a degree in the scholarship of the
classical Documentary Hypothesis. I will also uncover the largely unnoted relationship
between the classical reliance on the redactor (as a result of the inability to separate J
from E) and contemporary theories of Pentateuchal composition.
This chapter will not present a complete theory of how the redaction of the
Pentateuch was achieved; that will be the focus of the next chapter. I will attempt in this
chapter, therefore, to address the arguments of other scholars on their own grounds, rather
than as they fit or do not fit into our own overall construct. This process will, inevitably,
reveal parts of the next chapters conclusions, though in piecemeal fashion. More
importantly, however, it will be seen that the great majority of the examples of
purportedly original R
JE
material found by other scholars can be dismissed on basic
logical or source-critical grounds, without any overarching theory of the redactor at all.

Chapter Four R
JE
252
Factual Discrepancies
The first, and most important, class of supposed R
JE
insertions are those that
attempt to resolve narrative factual discrepancies between J and E. As I shall argue more
fully in the next chapter, this is a valid category. For now we can simply say that this is
the least that can be expected of any redactor of two conflicting texts. In order for a
conflated text to be readable at the most basic level, stark inconsistencies, particularly of
fundamental narrative features such as characters or location of events, ought to be
resolved in some manner, in particular when the contradictory passages are in close
proximity to each other. Thus we can at least admit the possibility of original redactional
composition in cases where this type of correction appears to be made. As we shall see in
the following examples, however, correctly identifying redactional insertions is
dependent on correctly analyzing the sources of the text.
2

Genesis 16:8-10
The general source division of Gen. 16 is largely a matter of universal consensus:
vv. 1-2, 4-7, 11-14 are from J, and vv. 3, 15-16 are from P.
3
The J narrative in this
chapter recounts the sending of Hagar into the wilderness, her meeting there with a
messenger of YHWH, and the messengers address to her, instructing her to return to
Abrahams household and informing her of the future birth of Ishmael. Among
Wellhausens generation of scholars, it was almost universally agreed that Gen. 16:8-10,

2
Here, and throughout this chapter, it is impossible to examine every example of the group in question.
Thus we will deal only with a small number of representative samples, with similar cases mentioned only
in the footnotes.

3
Addis, Documents, I:23-25; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 23-24; J. Skinner, A Critical and Exegetical
Commentary on Genesis (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1930), 284-286; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 55.
Chapter Four R
JE
253
in which Hagar is instructed to return to Abrahams household, or at the very least some
part of them, derived from the hand of R
JE
.
4
The rationale for this assignment was
twofold: first, that later in the canonical text (Gen. 21:9) there is an E narrative in which
Hagar is sent away from Abrahams household, and therefore the redactor needed to
return Hagar to Sarah to provide the logical opportunity for this later episode.
5
The
second reason to view these verses as redactional was the thrice-repeated introduction to
the angels speech in vv. 9, 10 , and 11, seen as stylistically awkward and therefore not
from the hand of J.
The assignment of Gen. 16:1-2, 7-9, 11-14 to J and Gen. 21:9-21 to E is correct.
But the claim that the angels speech in Gen. 16:8-10 exists only for the sake of setting up
the later narrative in Gen. 21:9-21 is impossible to verify. Once Gen. 16 ends, there is no
further reference in J to Hagar. We therefore cannot know whether in the original J story
she returned to Abrahams household, following the command of the angel, or remained
in the wilderness, as would be the case if we accepted vv. 8-10 as redactional. Because
there is no further mention of Hagar in J, the two possiblities are equally likely. The fact
that in E, namely, in Gen. 21:9-21, she is thrown out of Abrahams household should not
be a consideration here. If we only had J, and knew nothing of E, it is certain that we
would find this story, including 16:8-10, narratively acceptable.
6
It is only because we

4
Wellhausen, Composition, 20; Kuenen, Hexateuch, 254 n. 29; Addis, Documents, I:24. For the view that
R
JE
wrote only vv. 9-10, see Skinner, Genesis, 285; Gunkel, Genesis, 183. Those who believe that only v.
9 is from the hand of the redactor (and that v. 10 is a later addition) include Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch,
23; Noth, Pentateuchal Traditions, 28 n. 86.

5
On the source assignment of Gen. 21:9-21, cf. Addis, Documents, I:33-34; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch,
30-31; Skinner, Genesis, 304-305; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 63.

6
Cf. Friedmans analysis of Gen. 20:1 (Sources Revealed, 61). According to Friedman, Gen. 20 is the first
E material we have in the Pentateuch, and he notes that we are missing the beginning of the E narrative.
Nevertheless, he assigns 20:1 to R
JE
, evidently because it says that Abraham traveled from there to the
Chapter Four R
JE
254
know that later (and only in the canonical text) Hagar is again thrown out of Abrahams
household that we even consider the possibility that these verses are from R
JE
.
Dillmann already argued for the assignment of Gen. 16:8-10 to J. He noted that
removing vv. 8-10 leaves the messenger of YHWH to deliver, in v. 11, a message whose
contents Hagar already knew (i.e., that she was pregnant). Further, Dillmann wondered if
Ishmael could be counted as one of Abrahams sons if he was born and raised in the
wilderness. And finally, Dillmann noted that the language of vv. 8-10 is entirely that of
J.
7
Here Dillmann raised an important methodological point regarding the assignment of
verses to a redactor: if the content of the verses could be read as being from one of the
sources, and if the language of the verses gives no indication that it comes from another
hand, we should, for the sake of simplicity, assume that the verses are from that source,
and not from a redactor. Only if the content of the verses directly contradicts its narrative
context should we ask whether they might be redactional; and only then should we look
for linguistic markers that might indicate that the verses are not from the author of one of
the sources. As for the repetition of the speech introducer, Dillmann also pointed to the
very next chapter, in which there are three speech introducers in one continuous speech
(Gen. 17:3, 9, 15).
8

Negev, and from there must therefore be an editorial link with the J story that preceded Gen. 20. But if it
is admitted that we are missing the beginning of the E narrative, we have no way to know that this travel
notice does not fit in perfectly with the now missing E narrative that preceded it. To make the same point
in another way: if we did not have the J story at all, but only Gen. 20 and the rest of the E narrative, we
would almost certainly assume that 20:1 was a transitional sentence in E from a text we no longer have.
This verse is clearly a link to an earlier narrative; it is not at all clear, however, that the earlier narrative in
question is the preceding J story as opposed to the preceding E story, now lost.

7
Genesis, 68.

8
Genesis, 72 n. 3. While Gen. 17 is from P, which is generally seen as a less literarily artistic source than
J, it is still worth noting that no one has suggested that there is any tension in this chapter because of the
tripled speech introducer. This may simply be a common means in Biblical Hebrew prose for the narrator
Chapter Four R
JE
255
In short, there is no need to assume that Gen. 16:8-10 is from R
JE
, rather than
being an original part of the J narrative in which it is found. And we have arrived at a
methodological observation: the assignment of any text to a redactor should be a last
resort. Only in those cases where a word or phrase or verse absolutely cannot be part of
its original context should we venture to propose a redactional insertion.
9

Genesis 21:32, 34 and 26:15, 18
The three wife-sister episodes, in Gen. 12, 20, and 26, have long been pointed
to by source critics as evidence for the plurality of sources in the Pentateuch. Since there
are three versions of the same story, the critics argue, so it is impossible for them all to
have been from the same author.
10
This approach is fundamentally in error, however, as
their own analysis proves. Although there are indeed three distinct wife-sister episodes in
Genesis, no critic has ever thought to assign one to each of the three main sources, J, E,
and P. Rather, Gen. 12 and 26 are almost universally assigned to J, and Gen. 20 to E. In
other words, in the case of the wife-sister episodes, the critics allow for a doublet
within the J document.

to signal that a new topic is being taken up by the speaker. Alternatively, these repeated speech introducers
may be a narrative signal that the speaker is leaving a space for the addressee to respond (but the addressee
does not do so); cf. J. Kugel, The God of Old: Inside the Lost World of the Hebrew Bible (New York: Free
Press, 2003), 131 (in his translation of Ex. 33:17-23), and B. Septimus, Iterated Quotation Formulae in
Talmudic Narrative and Exegesis, pp. 371-398 in H. Najman and J.H. Newman, eds., The Idea of Biblical
Interpretation: Essays in Honor of James L. Kugel (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 371-375.

9
Cf. Carpenter-Harford (Hexateuch, 71) and Addis (Documents, I:95) on Gen. 46:1b. They assumed that
since in the E narrative Jacob lives in Beersheba, the J story cannot ever have him there, even when he is
supposed to be moving from Hebron to Egypt (such that Beersheba would be a natural stopping place).

10
Thus already in the work of J.W. Colenso (The Pentateuch and Book of Joshua Critically Examined
[London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1867], 106).
Chapter Four R
JE
256
Although the critics would be unwilling to say so, their analysis demonstrates the
actual nature of the wife-sister episodes, and others like it in the Pentateuch: they are not
actually repetitions of the same story, but different representations of the same
tradition.
11
The story of the Flood in Gen. 6-9 can be divided into two sources that do, in
fact, tell the same story. A redactor faced with the J and P accounts of the Flood would
be compelled to combine them into one unified text, as the redactor of the Pentateuch
has, because it would be impossible to suggest, after having given only one of the
narratives, that a second Flood came upon the earth, and again the same single family
survived. After one Flood, there could be no more.
The same cannot be said for the wife-sister episodes. Although each is
unquestionably derived from the same traditional base, the story in each is different, or at
least different enough that all three could be easily included by the redactor without any
fear of actual narrative contradiction. Those stories that involve Abraham take place in
two different places; those that are set in the same place involve two different patriarchs.
There is no overlap between the stories; they are not functionally equivalent in the
narration, as the two Flood stories are.
The upshot of recognizing this is that we could, if the evidence were in favor of
such, claim that the three wife-sister narratives were all in fact from only one of the
documents of the Pentateuch, and it would not create any source-critical difficulties. If
we are to take seriously the efforts of tradition-criticism (while still maintaining the basic

11
Some notion of this was expressed in the analysis of Noth, who claimed that the story in Gen. 26 is the
oldest form of the tradition, and that those that involve Abraham are derived from that told about Isaac
(Pentateuchal Traditions, 110; see also Kuenen, Hexateuch, 234f.). But Noth did not get at the heart of the
literary problem here; even if we recognize that the three passages may represent three steps in the
development of the tradition, we must then observe that these three variant traditions existed
simultaneously and were adopted by the J and E authors as independent narratives.
Chapter Four R
JE
257
reliance on the Documentary Hypothesis), we must be able to perceive that one source
may relay more than one version of the same tradition. In this case, for example,
according to most critics, J has retained two distinct traditions of the wife-sister episode:
one involving Abraham going to Egypt, and one involving Isaac going to Gerar.
As it stands, however, the critics are generally correct, at least in their specific
source assignments for the three stories. Gen. 12 and 26 are from J, and Gen. 20 is from
E.
12
The section that has caused a real problem is what has often been seen as the sequel
to the E wife-sister story, the narrative of Gen. 21:22-34. The reason for believing that
this is E is clear enough: here, as in Gen. 20, we have an account of the interaction
between Abraham and an authority figure named Abimelech. Other than this, the two
stories bear little resemblance to each other. Nevertheless, virtually every critic has
assigned this passage to E, and has subsequently had to face a major problem: in Gen.
26:15 and 18 (which are in a J context) reference is made to the wells that Abraham had
dug when he was in the land of the Philistines, and that the Philistines had stopped up
after Abrahams death. It is common to see in these verses a reference to the story in
Gen. 21:22-34 (assigned to E), in which Abraham is in Gerar and has troubles with
Abimelechs servants regarding a well. As we might expect, the solution of most
scholars was to simply make Gen. 26:15 and 18 redactional. Since there was a reference
to an E story in a J narrative, this must have been the work of R
JE
.
13

12
Cf. Addis, Documents, I:19-20, 31-32, 45-46; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 19-20, 28-29, 38; Skinner,
Genesis, 241, 363; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 51, 61-62, 72-73. Note the use of divine names, the
description of Abraham as a prophet in Gen. 20, and the direct reference in 26:1 to the episode of 12:10-20.

13
Wellhausen, Composition, 20f.; Kuenen, Hexateuch, 254; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 38f.; Addis,
Documents, I:46.
Chapter Four R
JE
258
But Gen. 26:15 and 18 make reference to the Philistines, which is also a problem.
The Philistines are part of the J narrative of Gen. 26 (vv. 1, 8); yet here R
JE
ostensibly
refers to their presence back in the days of Abraham (and back in Gen. 21). Surprisingly,
this reference was not acknowledged by those who saw Gen. 26:15 and 18 as redactional,
though they might very well have said that these verses contain both J and E narrative
elements (the Philistines from J, the wells from E). Perhaps this went unsaid because it
would have revealed the circular nature of the source-critical analysis being done in these
chapters. For in the canonical text, the Philistines do appear in the Abraham narrative of
Gen. 21, and precisely in the same passage where the digging of wells is mentioned, Gen.
21:22-34. So why would scholars not have seized upon this as evidence that Gen. 26:15,
18 and Gen. 21:22-34 are referring to the same story? They did not, because they had
already decided that the verses in Gen. 21 that mentioned the Philistines, vv. 32 and 34,
were also from R
JE
.
14
Why? Precisely because they mentioned the Philistines, who
otherwise play no part in the Abraham wife-sister episode of Gen. 20. The mention of
the Philistines in Gen. 21, in their view, must be a reference to the narrative of Gen. 26,
which does take place in Philistine territory.
15
Thus what has happened is that scholars
have identified four verses, two in Gen. 21 and two in Gen. 26, which are connected by
virtue of their mutual references to Abraham living among the Philistines, and that either
contain or are found in a context containing reference to Abraham digging wells in
Philistine territory and have declared all four verses redactional.

14
Wellhausen, Composition, 18; Driver, The Book of Genesis (London: Methuen & Co., 1926), 215;
Skinner, Genesis, 326.

15
So Driver: Nothing has been said before about Abimelech being king of the Philistinesit seems as
though vv. 32b, 34 were added, or modified, by a compiler, who read the narrative here in the light of xxvi.,
and imported into it the same local conditions (Genesis, 215). The narratives of 21:22-34 and 26,
however, are both located in Gerar, and we should therefore expect the same local conditions.
Chapter Four R
JE
259
This is remarkable: the redactor, according to this analysis, not only combined the
stories of J and E that were before him, but in effect created a new story (of Abraham
being in the land of the Philistines) where there was no need for it, and even cross-
referenced this new story between a J chapter and an E chapter.
The first part of the solution to this problematic situation is to give priority to the
connection between story lines, over the use of the same character names, when
analyzing a text source-critically. In other words, if Gen. 26 contains references to an
event that occurred in Gen. 21:22-34, then we should try to place both passages in the
same source. What, then, has prevented scholars from assigning Gen. 21:22-34 to J?
Though it does use the name Elohim, it does so only when spoken by a foreigner
(Abimelech), which is widely recognized as standard procedure for J (as commonly noted
in the Joseph narrative in particular)
16
. Furthermore, it contains the divine name,
YHWH, and says even that Abraham invoked the name of YHWH (v. 33), which
would be impossible in E according to the critical theory.
17
As we have seen, reference is
made to this story in a J narrative. The primary reason, therefore, that Gen. 21:22-34 has
been thought to be from E is the name Abimelech.
We might first note that character names, like place names, cannot be firmly
linked to one particular document and one particular narrative (cf. the use of the place
name Horeb in J and E; see chapter 3). Beyond this, however, we know that the name

16
In J, the divine name YHWH is rarely used by foreigners, and is frequently replaced by elohim when
Israelites are speaking to foreigners. Cf. on Gen. 39:9, e.g., Skinner, Genesis, 458; N. Sarna, The JPS
Torah Commentary: Genesis (Philadelphia: JPS, 1989), 273.

17
Friedman does not flinch from making this verse E without comment (Sources Revealed, 64). Addis
impossibly claims that 21:32-34 alone are from J (Documents, I:35), while vv. 22-31 are from E. Similarly,
Driver assigned only v. 33 to J, without any connection to another J passage (Genesis, 215).
Chapter Four R
JE
260
Abimelech was known also to the author of J, as it is used in Gen. 26.
18
Therefore even
those scholars who see Gen. 21:22-34 as being from E are forced to admit that both J and
E knew of a wife-sister tradition involving a character named Abimelech. Why should
Gen. 21:22-34 necessarily belong to one and not the other? Only because of its proximity
to Gen. 20, one must conclude. And this is in no way an adequate rationale for source
assignment, especially as there are significant data suggesting an alternative.
Thus if we undo the methodological mistakes that have been made in the analysis
of these chapters, we see that there is no need to consider either Gen. 21:32, 34 or Gen.
26:15, 18 redactional, even (especially) if they do make reference to one another. We
might also, however, point out the strong possibility that Gen. 26:13-15, 18 are not part
of their narrative context (J) at all, but are rather from P. Not only does this analysis
recognize that vv. 15, 18 fit poorly into their context, but also that they naturally follow
on one another.
19
In addition, although the critics have all attempted to link the oblique
reference in 26:15, 18 to the story of Abraham in Gen. 21, there is really little similarity

18
There is a recognizable difference between the character of Abimelech in J and that in E. The Abimelech
in Gen. 26 is identified as the king of the Philistines (26:1, 8), who has as chief of his troops a man named
Phicol (26:26; cf. 21:22, 32). In Gen. 20, Abimelech is called only king of Gerar (20:2). It is possible,
however, that this is the redactional insertion in the narrative. If we consider the possibility that 20:1 is
from J (connecting to 21:22ff.), then the narrative in E loses its connection with Gerar. The redactor may
have identified Abimelech as king of Gerar in order to combine the two stories. Whether 20:2 originally
named Abimelech as king of somewhere else is impossible to know. If 21:22-34 is J, however, it would
make sense for it to be located in Gerar (20:1), as it would then connect more completely with the narrative
of Gen. 26. If 21:22-34 were from E, we would have to believe that not only did both J and E know of a
wife-sister episode involving someone named Abimelech, but that in both cases he was king of the same
city, and had the same chief of his troops. This is precisely the type of detail that we would expect to vary
from source to source; or, to put it more positively, this is the type of detail that we should use to identify
two passages as being from one document.

19
In vv. 16-17, 19ff., Isaacs servants locate wells and then fight with the local herdsmen over the right to
the water, a process that continues until a treaty is made with Abimelech, after which they find a well to
which they can lay sole claim (26:32). In vv. 15, 18 Isaac simply goes to his fathers old well sites and re-
opens them; there is no process of discovery, simply the manual labor of digging them again.
Chapter Four R
JE
261
between the two.
20
Though both include mention of Abraham having trouble over a well,
that much does not make up a story, but rather a tradition; one that was used differently
by the authors of J and P.
21
Removing vv. 13-15, 18 from Gen. 26 makes much more
apparent the connection between the J narratives of Gen. 26 and 21:22-34; in both a
patriarch locates and digs wells in the vicinity of Gerar, where he argues with the local
inhabitants over the rights to the water. Just as J includes two wife-sister stories, one
involving Abraham and one Isaac, so it also includes two patriarchal well stories, one
with Abraham and one with Isaac.
22
Stories, with specific locales, characters, and plot
details, cannot be confused with traditions.
23

In this example, we can see how faulty source analysis can lead not only to the
assignment of verses to R
JE
that belong more properly to one of the sources (whether, in
this case, J or, as suggested above, P),
24
but also to a broadening of the activity of the
redactor, such that he is seen to have not only combined documents but also invented
scenarios and embedded them in his source texts.

20
As noted by Rendtorff, Problem, 47f.

21
In the J narrative, Abraham digs one well, and argues with Abimelechs servants over whose property it
is (Gen. 21:25). In the P narrative, Abraham is said to have dug multiple wells which had been stopped up
after Abraham died; there is no mention of any strife while Abraham still lived.

22
Ps oblique reference in Gen. 26:13-15, 18 cannot be considered a variant of the same patriarchal well
motif, as there is no conflict between either Abraham or Isaac and the local inhabitants in the P story; the
Philistines (whoever P considers them to be) are simply said to have filled Abrahams wells after his death,
and Isaac, seemingly without any trouble, re-opens them.

23
As, e.g., Carpenter-Harford do in their analysis of Gen. 31:10, 12, which they assigned to R
JE
. Here they
found in an E context what appears to be reference to the J narrative of Gen. 30. Indeed, both passages
mention Jacob and some striped and spotted flocks. This only means, however, that they have a tradition in
common; the details are different. Note that the specific words for the markings on the flock are not
identical, and, more importantly, in Gen. 30 Jacob effects the increase of the flock essentially by magical
means, and completely of his own invention, whereas in Gen. 31, the messenger of God appeared to Jacob
in a dream and informed him that the flocks would increase by divine fiat.

24
In this vein cf. also Carpenter-Harford on Gen. 37:15-17 (Hexateuch, 59), in which their incorrect source
division required them to posit a major redactional insertion to connect the stories; this fact alone indicates
that their analysis is problematic.
Chapter Four R
JE
262

Exodus 4:13-16, et al.
A.H. McNeile, in his commentary on Exodus,
25
argued that Ex. 4:13-16, in which
YHWH appoints Aaron to act as Moses spokesman before Pharaoh, is from the hand of
R
JE
. His rationale for this was the appearance of Aaron in the continuation of a passage
he had assigned (correctly) to J (4:1-12)
26
. He claimed that in the original narrative of J,
Aaron played no leading part in the deliverance from Egypt.
27
In his view, these verses,
which elevate Aaron, are an addition based on 4:27-28, which he ascribed to E, in which
Moses meets Aaron in the wilderness. Verses 29 and 30 (in which Moses and Aaron go
to the Israelite elders) which he assigned to J, must, like vv. 13-16, have also been edited
by R
JE
to include Aaron. This led him further to assign the words and Aaron to R
JE
in
numerous other places in the plagues narrative: 8:8, 10:3, 16.
28

McNeiles claim can be considered correct only insofar as he recognized that
Aaron does not play a substantial role in Js telling of the plagues narrative. But his
arguments for assigning these references to Aaron to R
JE
are seriously flawed. He first
stated that Aaron did not hold in the J narrative the leading position that is assigned to
him in E.
29
But even in his own source division, Aaron appears in E only in 4:27-28 and

25
The Book of Exodus (London: Methuen & Co., 1917).

26
These verses are the direct continuation of the preceding J passage in Ex. 3:16-20, and contain mention
of the rod with which Moses is to perform the signs and bring about the plagues later in the J narrative.

27
Exodus, xiv.

28
Addis also claimed numerous occurrences of and Aaron in the plagues narrative for R
JE
(5:1, 4, 20;
8:4, 21; 10:3, 8, 16; 12:31), although he did not see a problem with anything in chapter 4 (Documents,
I:115ff.)

29
Exodus, 28.
Chapter Four R
JE
263
5:1-2, 4.
30
Nowhere in the actual commands or execution of his suggested E plagues
does Aaron appear; everywhere it is Moses alone. Thus it is difficult to understand why a
redactor would insert Aaron into the J plagues on the basis of those thought to belong to
E when the supposed E plagues themselves do not contain any mention of Aaron
whatsoever. It is also confusing that the author of E should introduce Aaron as simply
meeting Moses in the wilderness and accompanying him to meet Pharaoh, only to neglect
his presence altogether thereafter.
McNeiles second argument was that R
JE
s addition of Aaron can be identified by
the grammar: and Aaron is added after a singular verb which originally belonged to
Moses alone, in 8:8, for example.
31
But the use of a singular verb with a compound
subject is a very common feature of Biblical Hebrew,
32
as even McNeile acknowledged,
33

and cannot be used to identify redactional insertions. More important for McNeile were
places such as 8:21, in which Moses and Aaron are summoned by Pharaoh, but in 8:26
only Moses leaves (he also cites 10:3 [and 6] and 16 [and 18] in this category). Yet this
is hardly a real problem. If we accept that Aaron did have a place in the J narrative as
nothing more than Moses spokesman, then there is little need to remind us constantly
that he is there. Rather, it is only when Moses is going in to speak with Pharaoh that J
tells us that Aaron is with him, as it is only at those moments that Aarons services are
needed. And Moses is the one who is said to be doing the speaking, it simply being
understood that he is talking through Aaron. In J, Aaron is little more than a tool for

30
Exodus, 28ff.

31
Exodus, 28.

32
Cf. GKC 146f.

33
Exodus, 28.
Chapter Four R
JE
264
Moses, and so we should not expect him to be treated as a major character. McNeile
assumed that if Aaron is mentioned, it must be because he is being given a significant
role; this contradicts the evidence from J itself, however, and is only a valid argument if
we have already determined that J did not include Aaron in his narrative.
Finally, McNeile noted that in the J narrative Aaron does not take part in any of
the actual bringing of the plagues, but is mentioned only in passing.
34
Here McNeile
correctly identified what the author of J had in mind: it is Moses who does everything,
and Aaron is there only as his mouthpiece. But for McNeile, this was evidence that
Aaron has been added to the J narrative by R
JE
. The argument here is both circular and
contradictory: because he does not believe that Aaron had an active role in J, then those
places where Aaron occurs in J are redactional; because the redactional insertions of
Aaron do not give him an active role in the narrative, they cannot be original. It is clear,
however, that simply to attribute all of these references, beginning with 4:13-16, to the
original J document, removes this difficulty altogether.
Thus McNeiles arguments for the secondary nature of the words and Aaron in
his J narrative cannot be accepted. A final nail in the coffin may be the observation that
the insertions of and Aaron are in no way uniform or predictable. These words are not
inserted into every J passage, and so it is difficult to understand why a redactor would
have chosen only these few places to make such an addition. Furthermore, and even
more importantly, we must recognize that even if we were convinced that these were

34
McNeile cited 4:30 as the sole exception to this (Exodus, 28), but even here he misunderstood the text.
He claimed that in 4:30 it is problematic that Aaron should be said to both speak and do signs before the
people, when YHWH never commanded him to do the signs. In fact, v. 30 says only that Aaron spoke the
words that YHWH had said to Moses, as was his assigned role; the following clause, and he did the signs
before the people almost certainly has Moses as its subject (especially since Moses is the figure
immediately preceding this clause).
Chapter Four R
JE
265
secondary insertions, there is no reason at all to assign them to R
JE
. It is, in fact, not E
that gives Aaron a major role in the plagues narrative, but P. This is obvious from
McNeiles own analysis, in which it is the P passages in which Aaron has an active role
(7:19, 8:1, 12; 9:8 all correctly identified as P by McNeile). Were the references to
Aaron in J redactional, it would be much better to attribute them to the final redactor,
rather than to R
JE
. As we have seen, however, there is no need for any of these steps.
Perhaps the most damning proof against McNeiles attribution of the Aaron
passages to R
JE
is the fact that the plagues narrative consists only of J and P.
35
The
analysis of this part of Exodus has long been a source of confusion for source-critical
scholars. The chief difficulty, apparently, stems from the conflict between, on the one
hand, the desire to see all three sources, J, E, and P, represented in what is taken by many
critics to be a most important pericope and, on the other, the plain fact that it is
impossible to divide the text into three equally coherent and complete narratives. As has
been argued above, only the second of these forces has any validity. There is no reason
to assume that any given story is told in all the documents. Thus, when we find that the
plagues narrative is difficult to divide into three coherent strands, we are not prevented
from accepting that only two variants of the plagues episode are retained in the canonical
text.
When the text is correctly separated between J and P only, it becomes clear that
each source presents Aaron in a unique and distinguishable way. In P, Aaron is a main
character, who receives commands from YHWH (via Moses) and takes an active part in

35
Cf. Greenberg, Understanding Exodus (New York: Behrman House, 1969), 183ff. Though Greenberg
successfully (in my opinion) argues that the two strands are J and P, both Propp (Exodus 1-18, 286ff.) and
Friedman (Sources Revealed, 130ff.) argue for E, rather than J. This is largely irrelevant to the issue at
hand, however; what is important is that Greenbergs analysis of the plagues into two, rather than three,
sources is maintained as the only way to preserve readable original documents.
Chapter Four R
JE
266
bringing about the plagues. In J, just as he is introduced in 4:13-16, Aaron is simply
Moses mouthpiece, who accompanies him when he speaks to Pharaoh and the people,
but who does not have a significant role in the actual accomplishment of any of the
plagues. There is no need for any redactional activity regarding Aaron anywhere in the
plagues narrative.

Exodus 34:1, 4
Although this passage was already discussed in the previous chapter, it is
important to examine it again briefly in this context. According to both Carpenter-
Harford and Friedman, the words like the first ones and that were on the first tablets
which you shattered in 34:1 and like the first ones in 34:4 are to be ascribed to R
JE
.
36

Friedman claims that Ex. 34 is the J account of the tablets, and that R
JE
adds these
words to align this passage with the earlier narrative of E.
37
This requires him also to
state that the shattered tablets of E are not replaced, and that therefore, according to E,
the ark that is housed in the Temple in Judah to the south either contains broken tablets or
no tablets at all. As in other places, the northern Israel source E has clashing religious
symbols from those of the southern kingdom of Judah.
38
The underlying claim here,
that there were differences in religious symbols between the northern and southern
kingdoms (and probably even within those kingdoms),
39
is reasonable enough, but one

36
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 134; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 177. Friedman includes the rest of v.
1b (and I will write on the tablets the words) in R
JE
, presumably because he, like most commentators,
believes that the subject of v. 28 is Moses. See the discussion of Ex. 34 in chapter 3 above.

37

38

Chapter Four R
JE
267
wonders if in this case Friedmans religious-historical claim is based on his source
division, or vice versa.
Carpenter-Harford were a bit more cautious. They accepted as possible the notion
that the instructions regarding the tablets are from E, but noted Wellhausens objection
that the natural place for such would have been before Es account of the sanctuary
which contained the ark in Ex. 33:7-11.
40
This argument falls apart when it is realized
that there is no mention at all of the ark in Ex. 33:7-11; these verses describe the place
where Moses would communicate with YHWH, and no more.
41
E, as we have seen, does
not in fact contain any reference to the ark whatsoever. Carpenter-Harford also
considered the idea that the words I will write in v. 1 have been changed from an
original you will write; the original second-person form would have conformed to v.
27, in which Moses is commanded to write the words, and the first-person form would
have been inserted to bring the narrative into line with Es presentation of the tablets.
This possibility must also be rejected, as it assumes an editor who made a change that
flatly contradicts the present narrative in favor of one that is at a considerable remove;
this change would also be totally unnecessary, as there would be no reason that YHWH
could not have simply decided to have Moses write the second set of tablets. Finally,
Carpenter-Harford suggested that the use of the name Moses in the middle of v. 4 adds

39
E.g., the bull imagery prevalent in the north (1 Kgs. 12:28, et al.), which was most likely disdained in the
south.

40
Hexateuch, 134.

41
Cf. Haran, Temples, 260ff.
Chapter Four R
JE
268
probability to the idea that vv. 1, 4ac are foreign elements wrought into Js text.
42
In
this, of course, they were correct; but the foreign elements are not R
JE
, but simply E itself.
For both Friedman and Carpenter-Harford, the major issue here is their arbitrary
assumption that both J and E should have contained the tradition of the tablets. As we
have argued in the previous chapter, this is an assumption without any basis. If 34:1, 4*
(and, importantly, 28) are correctly attributed to E,
43
the tablets disappear entirely from
the J narrative. There is then no reason to propose any redactional interference, as there
is no longer any problem (the origin of the tablets in J) which needs rectifying.
Furthermore, as we have already seen, these verses fit squarely into the E story line, and
this is given independent confirmation from the D narrative of Deut. 10:1-5.
Here, as elsewhere, positing the figure of R
JE
is unnecessary. When the sources
are correctly divided, what was thought to be redactional falls comfortably into one of the
two documents.
44
This correct separation of sources, however, is itself dependent on the
absence of preconceived notions regarding the contents of the documents: each must be
read independently, without assuming that the contents of one must have an equivalent in
another.

42
Hexateuch, 134.

43
Here and wherever else the E portion of Ex. 34:4* is mentioned, we are referring to the words Moses
carved two tablets of stone, like the first and he went up the mountain as YHWH had commanded him,
and he took in his hands the two tablets of stone.

44
Another example of this is Drivers analysis of Ex. 7:15, in which he stated that the words which you
turned into a serpent are from the hand of R
JE
, as they are a reference to a J event (from 4:3) embedded in
a text that he assigns to E (7:15b). This problem is solved, however, when it is recognized that in fact 7:14-
18 is from J (and, of course, that there is no E in the plagues narrative). Cf. also Carpenter-Harford on
Num. 21:26 (Hexateuch, 223).
Chapter Four R
JE
269
Exodus 32-34
Perhaps the most egregious example of the over-reliance on R
JE
comes from
Wellhausen, who, as we have already repeatedly noted, was fully conscious of his
inability to effectively separate J from E. After discussing in brief the source-critical
problems he found in Ex. 32-34, Wellhausen made the following remarkable statement:
berschauen wir noch einmal die Ergebnisse der mhsamen und verwickelten
Untersuchung. Der Jehovist ist hier mehr als Redaktor, er kann als der
eigentliche Verfasser des Abschnittes von der Gesetzgebung auf Sinai gelten.
Whrend er sonst ganz hinter seinen Quellen zurcktritt, teilt er sie zwar auch
hier grossenteils wrtlich mit, aber doch so, dass er sie nur als Material zu dem
eigenen Bau benutzt.Es versteht sich, dass es bei so bewandten Umstnden
usserst schwierig wird, aus dem einheitlichen Gewirke die differenten Fden zu
erkennen und jeden in seinem eigentmlichen Zusammenhange zu verfolgen.
45

This is no more than an admission that, faced with a passage which he knew to be made
up of J and E but which he could not find a way to separate cleanly, he was willing to say
that R
JE
has thoroughly rewritten the text so as to blur the distinction between the original
sources. To this there is one easy counter-argument, which is to simply separate the text
into J and E in such a way that the two sources are coherent. But the specific manner in
which one accomplishes this is unimportant; it is the fact that it can be done at all which
undermines Wellhausens analysis.
46
Virtually any reconstruction of the composition of
these chapters that has even the faintest possibility of being correct immediately removes
the need for any R
JE
here.
Even though Wellhausens analysis (or lack thereof) of these particular chapters
was not widely followed, his general approach to the issue of R
JE
became relatively

45
Composition, 94f.

46
Wellhausen performed a similar (non-) analysis elsewhere: in the Abraham narrative and the call of
Moses (Composition, 95), as well as, strangely, in the non-J narrative of Num. 11, of which he states, Den
Stoff zu beiden Geschichten mag er [R
JE
] schon vorgefunden haben; doch ist auch der zu specifisch
prophetisch, zu wenig volkstmlich, um alt zu sein (Composition, 100). As we have already seen, this
passage is easily assigned to E.
Chapter Four R
JE
270
standard in the field. When a passage was determined to be composite, and the
separation of sources therein considered particularly difficult, the easy fallback was to
claim extraordinary activity on the part of the redactor.
47

In the examples discussed above, we have seen how R
JE
was used to solve
passages which appeared source-critically difficult because details from one source
seemed to be included in passages assigned to the other. Though this is theoretically a
proper function of the redactor, it is clear that these types of redactional insertions are not
nearly as prevalent as one might think from perusing the scholarly literature. In some
cases, assumptions about the nature of the narrative in a given document led to the
mistaken conclusion that certain verses belonged to R
JE
. In others, the problem that the
purported insertion of R
JE
supposedly solved can be eliminated by a more accurate
source-critical division. In all these examples, the passages attributed to R
JE
can be
shown to belong more properly to either J or E.

47
Cf. Skinners approach to the entirety of Gen. 15: an Elohistic basis, recast by R
JE
, and afterwards
combined with extracts from its own original (Genesis, 277). Kuenen said essentially the same about Ex.
1-11: the prophetic narrative, in its present form, is due to JE, who did not simply interweave his
documents, in this case, but made their statements the groundwork of a narrative of his own (Hexateuch,
254; cf. also 151), and Num. 32: the older account was completely recast by JEall that remains of it,
then, has passed through the hand of JE, and must be regarded as his work (Hexateuch, 255). We might
also consider Gunkels analysis of Gen. 34 to fall into this category. Though he identified two earlier
narratives in this chapter, only one is at all complete (his J), and the other (his E) is present only in a few
words inserted here and there by R
JE
, leaving us with one relatively readable story, and one which is
composed only of fragments of clauses, at best (Genesis, 362). This is not, then, merely the combination of
two narratives, as we would normally consider the work of the redactor, but the total obliteration of one in
favor of the other, and the subsequent reintroduction, entirely at the redactors whim, of elements from that
destroyed source into the one which remained intact.
Chapter Four R
JE
271
Terminological Overlap
For the scholars of the formative period of the classical Documentary Hypothesis,
and indeed for many up to the present day, the main determining factor in source
criticism is the divergence in terminology and stylistic features among the documents.
Thus we are accustomed to seeing lists of words and phrases that belong to one source
or the other, and which, if found in a passage assigned to another source, immediately
become cause for source-critical speculation.
48
Although the practice of assigning
passages to sources solely on the basis of terminology (rather than on narrative continuity
and coherence) is thankfully becoming less prevalent, its dominance in the earlier stages
of the field has influenced all the scholarship since, such that source analyses that were
originally based exclusively or primarily on these subjective types of terminological
distinction continue to be accepted in the literature without re-examination.
Remarkably, the most persistent of these terminological distinctions is that which
has come under the most continuous attack: the use of the divine names. As the variation
between YHWH and Elohim was the basis for the initial discoveries in the source-critical
field, it has been difficult for scholars to be convinced that, while the alternation in divine
names may function as a general guide, we cannot reflexively assign all instances of
YHWH to J and all non-priestly uses of Elohim to E. The reliance on the divine names
as one, if not the, major tool in source criticism was held by scholars both pro- and anti-
Documentary Hypothesis, such that most, if not all, anti-critical works take up the issue
of the divine names as a major battleground.
49
This not only reflects their own

48
Most famous among these, of course, is the enormous list in Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, but even
more recently in Friedman, Torah (Pentateuch), 610, we find a list of characteristic words and phrases.

Chapter Four R
JE
272
misunderstanding of how good source criticism is done, but, more importantly, reveals
the emphases of the source criticism that was being published in their time.
The alternation of divine names must be counted only as one of many
terminological features that can be divided regularly among the sources (although
admittedly by far the most common such feature). And, like other such features, it is
mostly a corroborative phenomenon, not determinative. The flaw with the majority of
the scholarship that still relies on these distinctions is that for any given word or phrase
that is said to belong to only one document, the underlying assumption that only one
source either knew the word or was allowed to use it is both unprovable and almost
certainly wrong. What makes for useful source distinction is not a words existence, but
its particular usage. A given term is helpful primarily if it can be shown to have been
used with a specific meaning or connotation, or in a particular context, in one of the
sources as compared with another. Lists of terminological and stylistic features that are
apparently preferred (not known, or used exclusively) by one source as opposed to
another should be made only after the sources have been separated on narrative grounds;
they should not be used as a basis for textual analysis.
With regard to the divine names, this rule still basically applies, although it must
be altered a bit. It remains clear that J uses the name YHWH much more frequently than
E before Ex. 3, and that E prefers the title Elohim. Further, it is not to be denied that in
the historical presentation of E, the name YHWH is not known to the Israelites before it
is revealed to Moses, and so it is part of the E narrative that the characters in E should
not say the divine name. It is emphatically not because the author of E cannot use the

49
E.g., Cassuto, Documentary Hypothesis, 15-41. See also the criticism of Volz and Rudolph, Der Elohist,
in chapter 2 above.
Chapter Four R
JE
273
name YHWH. It is the characters in the story who do not know the name YHWH, not
the narrator. Moreover, there is nothing prohibiting either the narrator or the characters
in J from using either the title Elohim to designate YHWH (as they do, for instance, when
speaking to non-Israelites), or the common noun
e
lohm, "a deity," which they do
frequently, when context requires. Thus, when analyzing narrative, we cannot use the
divine names as the primary feature for source assignment, and when analyzing direct
speech, we can do so only when the name YHWH is used, as Elohim would have been
available to the characters in both J and E. Even when YHWH is used in direct speech,
however, we should at least be aware of the possibility that there may have been an
error made somewhere in the line of transmission from authorship to today: perhaps the
author of E accidentally wrote the wrong name (which is perfectly conceivable, as he
certainly knew both words); perhaps a scribe, whether early or late, not realizing the
function of the divine names for the storyline of a given source (of whose existence he
was entirely unaware), wrote YHWH instead of Elohim. Of all text-critical mistakes, this
would seem to be a particularly easy one to make.
50

The understanding of the divine names just presented was entirely unknown to
earlier source-critical scholars, for whom, for the most part, YHWH belonged entirely to
J, and Elohim to E.
51
This meant that, in particular, the appearance of YHWH in a

50
We may note in this regard the evidence of the versions, which demonstrate the ease with which the
divine names could have been interchanged, either in translation or in a Vorlage. It should be remembered
that although the interchange of YHWH for Elohim is common in the versions, particularly in the LXX, it
is only relevant to this discussion if it occurs before Ex. 3:13 (for E) or 6:2 (for P), after which the sources
are free to use the divine names interchangeably. Cf. the Samaritan Pentateuch at Gen. 31:7, 9, 16
(YHWH for MT Elohim); Ex. 3:4 (Elohim for MT YHWH). The data for the LXX are reasonably well-
documented; cf. in particular R. Hendel, The Text of Genesis 1-11 (Oxford: Oxford University, 1998),
36ff., who shows not only that there is regular variation between YHWH and Elohim (and YHWH Elohim)
in the LXX of the primeval history, but suggests that this is an intentional harmonizing choice on the part
of the translator (38f.).

Chapter Four R
JE
274
passage otherwise assigned to E was cause for alarm. More recently, it has been
gradually understood that there can be the occasional variation within a source, although
the names remain at the top of most lists of reasons behind the entire source-critical
enterprise. Note the presentation of Friedman in his ABD article, who puts the following
at the top of his list of characteristic terms and names that can be disproportionately or
even unexceptionally identified with a particular division:
The names of the deity. Though periodically challenged in scholarship, this
remains a strong indication of authorship. J excludes the word God in
narration, with perhaps one or two exceptions out of all the occurrences in the
Pentateuch; P maintains its distinction of the divine names with one possible
exception in hundreds of occurrences; E maintains the distinction with two
possible exceptions.
52

While still holding to the notion that the divine names are an important means for
determining source divisions, Friedman allows for the fact that all three sources contain
at least one mistake. Allowing for one, however, means necessarily allowing for
others; either we demand that the sources unerringly stick to their chosen terminology, or
it must be admitted that they can vary not only once, but as often as they want (or, more
accurately, as often as it may happen). This is not to say that J uses Elohim with any
regularity, or E YHWH; it remains an undeniable feature of these sources that they are
generally regular with regard to their use of the divine names. It is, however, necessary
to accept that any given use of a divine name cannot automatically be linked to either J or
E.
The following examples present cases in which a text is assigned to R
JE
not
because there is any need to resolve factual discrepancies between the sources, but
because terminology determined to belong to one source appears in another (in three of

51
C.f., e.g., Kuenen, Hexateuch, 55-58.

52
Chapter Four R
JE
275
the four examples, it is the divine name YHWH used in a supposed E context). We will
see that, like the cases in the first group presented above, these R
JE
passages can be
eliminated, either by recognizing that the use of the divine names is a bit more fluid than
was previously accepted or simply through more accurate source division. More
importantly, however, we will see that the combination of faulty source-critical analysis
and mistaken approaches to the usage of the divine names led scholars, perhaps
unwittingly, to expand the role of the redactor in an unacceptable manner.

Genesis 20:18
As noted in the previous section, for most scholars the narrative of Gen. 20
belongs to E. Because it was considered impossible for E to use the divine name YHWH
before Ex. 3,
53
the last verse of Gen. 20, v. 18, in which we are told that YHWH had
closed the wombs of the women in Abimelechs household, was deemed problematic.
This was especially so because in the preceding verse, it is said that Abraham prayed to
Elohim, and Elohim healed Abimelech. The variation of the divine names here was
deemed a sure sign of some source-critical break. The verse was assigned by a number
of scholars to R
JE
rather than simply J, because there is no J narrative with which to
connect the verse.
54

53
And, according to some, evidently it was problematic even thereafter: McNeile stated that Ex. 18:1b
because of the sudden change from Elohim to Yahweh, seems to be redactional (Exodus, xxiii). In fact,
the sudden change is not to YHWH, but to Elohim; E uses YHWH three times in the immediately
preceding three verses (Ex. 17:14-16), and continues to do so in the continuation of Ex. 18 (vv. 8, 9, 10,
11).

54
Wellhausen, Composition, 17; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 29; Addis, Documents, I:33; Kuenen,
Hexateuch, 144.
Chapter Four R
JE
276
To resolve the source-critical problem, it should first be noted that this occurrence
of YHWH appears in narration rather than direct speech. Such an occurrence not only
can be found in J, it is also, as we have seen, permissible, if unusual, in E. Therefore, if
the name YHWH appears in narration, we cannot use this datum to determine whether
the passage belongs to J or E; the passage could, in fact, fit nicely with either source.
55

Thus, by acknowledging the true situation in the Pentateuch regarding the divine names,
we can remove entirely the impetus for the scholarly assignment of Gen. 20:18 to R
JE
.
We should, however, recognize that having assigned the verse to R
JE
on purely
terminological grounds, at least some scholars deemed it necessary to demonstrate in
other ways the redactional nature of the verse. To this end, both Addis and Kuenen
claimed that the verse is identifiably secondary because its author misunderstands the
Elohist document which he used,
56
or misrepresents the meaning.
57
For both scholars,
the mistake that R
JE
has made is to forget that in the E story which he had before him, not
only the women were afflicted (since v. 18 mentions only the women), but Abimelech as
well (as v. 17 makes clear).
Let us first observe that, in fact, there is no misunderstanding between v. 17 and
v. 18, whoever their authors may have been. It is true that v. 17 mentions Abimelech and
the women of his household as the objects of Gods healing, whereas v. 18 mentions only
the women. But v. 18 does not stand alone; it constitutes an explanation (it is a k

55
Note Friedman, Source Revealed, 62, who assigns this verse, like the rest of the chapter, to E, and
without so much as a comment on the present of the divine name. Cf. also Wellhausens analysis of Gen.
21:1, the subsequent verse, which twice contains the name YHWH immediately preceding an E narrative,
and which he assigned to R
JE
(Composition, 17).

56
Addis, Documents, I:33.

57
Kuenen, Hexateuch, 144.
Chapter Four R
JE
277
clause). What, in what precedes it, is in need of explanation? Throughout the narrative
we have heard only about Abimelech, whom God threatened in v. 7. When Abraham
prays to Elohim in v. 17, we expect that it is on Abimelechs behalf, as we have not
encountered any other members of his household, or even his entire kingdom. For this
reason, when it is stated in v. 17 that God healed not only Abimelech but also the women
of his household, we are left to wonder how the women had been stricken. Abimelech,
we know, was at least under the threat of some sort of punishment from God, if he had
not been afflicted in some way already. But a close reader should be surprised by the
appearance of the women in this verse. Verse 18 is necessary, therefore, to explain what
it was that the women were healed of. To remove it would leave a significant gap in the
logic of the narrative.
More troubling than the practical problem with Addis and Kuenens analysis is
the theoretical concept of the redactor that evidently underlies it. Both scholars claimed,
as we have observed, that R
JE
somehow misunderstood the E text he had before him.
This assumes not only a redactor who cannot successfully combine his documents, but
one who is so incompetent as not even to know what the documents themselves are
saying. This is a remarkably hubristic stance for a modern scholar. We should much
rather take precisely the opposite approach when dealing with the redaction of the
documents: when in doubt, we should assume that the redactor understood the texts much
better than we, and try to adjust our own readings accordingly.
But even this leaves the most important methodological question: why would the
redactor have added this verse? There is no contradiction between J and E in play here,
as this is a unified narrative. The redactor was not an editor, correcting the grammar and
Chapter Four R
JE
278
logic of his source documents; why would this verse have been deemed a necessary
addition? The only explanation that even approaches probability is that the redactor felt
that v. 17 was confusing, as the inclusion of the women in Gods healing was
unexpected; yet this is the very thing that Addis and Kuenen claimed that the redactor
misunderstood! In doing so, they removed any rationale for the insertion of this verse by
R
JE
. And thus their work demonstrates the danger of assuming that the redactor is
responsible for passages that contain terminological difficulties: one must also be able to
show that the insertion was necessary on other grounds. Otherwise we have no choice
but to believe that R
JE
not only combined his source documents, but edited them as well;
but only very occasionally, and without any obvious theological or historiographical
purpose.

Genesis 28:21
The episode of Jacob at Bethel has long been a source of consternation for critics
of all stripes. The frequent interchange of the divine names in particular has led to any
number of tortured reconstructions of both the literary strata and the underlying traditions
that make up this relatively brief narrative. It is not my objective here to evaluate these
myriad suggestions, but, in keeping with the theme of the present chapter, to focus on one
particular method of solving the problems this passage presents: the reliance on the
redactor.
I will focus on the vow section at the end of the story (vv. 20-22), which contains
both the name Elohim (vv. 20, 21, 22) and the name YHWH (v. 21).
58
Jacobs vow is

58
The promise section, vv. 13-15 (16) will be examined later in this chapter.
Chapter Four R
JE
279
attributed by virtually all scholars to E, not only because of the repeated use of Elohim,
but also because references are made to the vow in other E passages (Gen. 31:13; 35:3).
Yet this leaves the problem of v. 21b, and YHWH shall be my God. Even in the most
generous understanding of Es use of the divine names, this half-verse is difficult to
accept, as it places the divine name directly and unequivocally in the mouth of the
patriarch. Scholars have proposed a variety of solutions in attempting to solve this
problem: simply accept that E uses the divine name here;
59
attribute this half-verse to J;
60

or attribute it to a variously defined later insertion.
61

Though each of these has its problems, they are all superior to the proposal that
the clause derives from the hand of R
JE
.
62
To assume that R
JE
added these words requires
that we believe that in order to combine the documents effectively, there was a need for

59
Friedman, Sources Revealed, 77. He notes that this is one of the few places where E uses the divine
name YHWH, but gives no further explanation for why it is necessary to accept here and not elsewhere
(just a few verses earlier in 28:16, for example). One assumes that it is the variation of divine names which
led to his source analysis in the first place, as the pericope reads quite smoothly as a unity; it is unclear why
he is willing to accept the incongruent name in this verse but not in those previous.

60
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 43; Skinner, Genesis, 376; Yoreh, Hammaqr h#elhst, 46ff. The
problem with Carpenter-Harfords analysis here is that this clause does not connect with what precedes it in
the J narrative (although it is to be admitted that this is typical of their analysis, which took the
fragmentation of the Pentateuch to spectacular heights). Skinner was more circumspect, allowing that it
might be a later interpolation, but his first instinct was to call it J, and thereby open himself to the same
objection. Yoreh, of course, does not suffer from the same problem, as he sees J as a later layer written to
complement the already extant E story.

61
Dillmann, Genesis, 229; Kuenen, Hexateuch, 147; Driver, Genesis, 266f. We might also suggest two
other, more speculative possibilities: 1) The pericope is a unity, from E, which relates YHWHs revelation
of his name to Jacob at Bethel. The founding legend of the Bethel sanctuary, then, would be that it was the
place where YHWH first revealed his name to a patriarch (although one might wonder about Gen. 15 as
well), and as E was transmitting traditions, not inventing stories, he kept this detail in the narrative even
though it conflicted with his presentation of the divine names elsewhere. 2) The word YHWH in v. 21b is
a scribal error under the influence of the preceding word w
!
h"y"
h
. The phrase originally would have read
only and he will be my God, thereby employing a slight play on words as the occurrence of Elohim in v.
20 would be the title of the specific deity, and the same word in v. 21b would be the generic word for God.
There is, admittedly, no text-critical evidence for any scribal error here, and this rconstruction requires that
we accept the division of the pericope into J and E (because of the use of YHWH in v. 16).

62
Wellhausen, Composition, 31; Addis, Documents, I:52.
Chapter Four R
JE
280
an addition in this verse. It is unclear what need this clause fulfills.
63
The simple
combination of the J and E narratives here already makes unmistakably clear the
identification of Elohim with YHWH, even in Jacobs own words (v. 16). The only
reason that it was ever suggested that these words belonged to R
JE
is that scholars could
not fit them easily into either J or E, and in those sections that are composed of J and E,
the only other identifiable figure in the compositional history was their purported
redactor, R
JE
. Though the difficulty of this passage renders any source-critical division
speculative, the worst solution is to ascribe v. 21b to a redactor; it more appropriately
belongs to either J (if we assume some lacuna in the J narrative) or E (if we accept an
unusual use of the divine name). The assignment of this half-verse to a redactor is
nothing more than a scramble to remove an offending terminological item from an
otherwise relatively acceptable source analysis. The need for this half-verse to be
redactional is the scholars, not the texts.

Genesis 31:3
Carpenter-Harford attributed the entirety of Gen. 31:3, in which YHWH tells
Jacob to return from Labans household to Canaan, to R
JE
. Though this verse contains
the divine name YHWH, this is not the reason they gave for its assignment to the
redactor. Rather, it is by virtue of the verses containing a combination of linguistic
features from both J and E that it is recognizable as secondary, according to their
analysis. Their comment on the verse is as follows: [Verse 3]may belong to the

63
It should be noted that grammatically the insertion must begin not with the word w
!
h"y"
h
, but rather with
the divine name YHWH, and continue through the waw at the beginning of v. 22, as the converted perfect
is needed at the beginning of the apodosis of the vow. This was already noted by Dillmann (Genesis, 229),
and recognized by most, although cf. Wellhausen (Composition, 31), and Yoreh (Hammaqr h#elhst,
46).
Chapter Four R
JE
281
compiler, whose double phrase land of thy fathers and kindred may be founded on the
language of J and E.
64
We are to believe that this verse is redactional, in other words,
because it contains two expressions denoting the same place, one thought to be more
common to J, and one to E. Yet Carpenter-Harford did not divide Gen. 12:1, which
contains three such expressions (including one of the same found here, and a variation on
the other).
65
Furthermore, it is unclear why they saw these two expressions as deriving
from different sources. For the first phrase, land of your fathers, they directed our
attention to the same in Gen. 48:21, which belongs to E. Yet this single occurrence is
hardly enough to justify the assertion that the phrase land of your fathers is unique to E.
The word kindred, on the other hand, does appear with some regularity in J (as in Gen.
12:1), as Carpenter-Harford noted in their list of characteristic phrases; yet they admitted
that the same word appears also in E just a few verses later, in Gen. 31:13. This
admission would seem to undermine their claim that in 31:3 the word cannot be original
to E. It is clear, thus, that 31:3 could easily belong to either J or E, as the terminology
that Carpenter-Harford claimed as typical of either source cannot in fact be demonstrated
to be so.
The assignment of fairly common words and phrases to particular sources is
methodologically flawed in and of itself, as it cannot be stated with any assurance that
another source may not have known or used the same terminology. Indeed, if any
biblical author wanted to say kindred or place of birth, what other word would he use
than mledet? More problematic, however, is the selective use of these sorts of lists, as

64
Hexateuch, 47.

65
Gen. 12:1 says m$ars9
!
k" mimmladt
!
k", as compared with the seemingly problematic el-eres9
a
bteyk" l
!
mladtek" in Gen. 31:3.
Chapter Four R
JE
282
Carpenter-Harford made here. Once it is admitted that E both knows and uses the word
even once, and with precisely the same meaning as in J, it can no longer be considered a
factor in source division.
To their credit, Carpenter-Harford attempted to justify the redactional nature of
Gen. 31:3 by other means. They claimed that this verse is placed before Jacobs start; as
this is represented as superseding the motive for departure supplied by v. 1.
66
Yet this
raises more questions than it answers. According to their analysis, vv. 1 and 17 belong to
J, and 2, 4-16 are from E. In the J narrative, then, Jacobs departure is precipitated by the
complaints of Labans sons. In the E story, it is the changed countenance of Laban
himself which causes Jacob to propose to his wives that they leave. Theoretically, then,
31:3 could be seen as superseding either of these initial impetuses for departure. But
this is only to beg the question: why would a redactor insert this verse here? As there is
no linguistic reason to think the verse is redactional (as there rarely is, in fact), we must
look for another motivation. Yet what could this possibly be? Were this verse
redactional, we would have to suggest that the redactor had a theological point to make:
perhaps that Jacob needed YHWHs command in order to go back to Canaan. Yet in the
canonical version, this command is already present in v. 13; why would a redactor feel
the need to insert a different version a few verses earlier?
This highlights one of the major problems with the reflexive assignment of
difficult verses to the redactor: every word, phrase, or verse that a redactor added must
have been added for a reason. It is not enough to say that because a verse contains what
appear to be elements of both J and E, or because it contains the divine name where it is

66
Hexateuch, 47.
Chapter Four R
JE
283
unexpected, it therefore must be redactional. If the verse does not solve a problem
caused by the combining of J and E, or more closely link the two competing narratives,
then what possible reason would a redactor have for inserting it? Moreover, why would a
redactor add a passage which causes a contradiction, as in this case?
67
There is no
evidence that R
JE
, in virtually any scholarly reconstruction, had any obvious theological
claims to make. The purpose of the redactor is to combine documents, and no more than
that. If a purportedly redactional insertion cannot be said to serve that sole purpose, then
we must conclude that it is not, in fact, redactional.

Exodus 3:7
In his commentary on Exodus,
68
Propp expresses his belief that Exod 3:7-10 is
extremely difficult.
69
He determines, although without any great certainty, that v. 7 is
from E, because it resembles 4:31 (E), and anticipates chap. 5 (E).
70
Having done so,
he is faced with an apparent problem: Yet the verse begins with a reference to Yahweh,
ordinarily a sign of J. Thus, if v. 7 is Elohistic, perhaps Yahweh said was added by
Redactor
JE
.
71

67
Cf. also Carpenter-Harford on Gen. 25:6 (Hexateuch, 36), which is, according to them, identifiable as
redactional precisely because it conflicts with the evidence of the sources.

68
Though he agrees with his predecessors that J and E were combined into a document JE, Propp
remarkably assigns only two phrases in the entirety of Ex. 1-18 to R
JE
. Both are in the same chapter. One
is in 3:7, which is under discussion here; the other is in 3:4, and will be discussed in the next chapter.

69
Exodus 1-18, 192.

70
Exodus 1-18, 193.

71
Exodus 1-18, 193.
Chapter Four R
JE
284
This particular example may be dismissed fairly easily by simply noting that, in
fact, 4:31 and much of chapter 5 are from J, not E as Propp would have it.
72
This
undermines Propps main rationale for assigning 3:7 to E. As it turns out, 3:6b-8 are also
from J.
73
This then solves the problem of the words and Yahweh said in v. 7: they are
not in an E context, but are, more naturally, from J. In terms of the arguments made in
this chapter, however, it is worth demonstrating that Propps assignment of and Yahweh
said to R
JE
is also untenable on purely methodological grounds.
In the first place, it has already been observed that the narrator in E is free to use
the divine name YHWH, in narrative at least, at his discretion. Though he may not
choose to do so frequently, we cannot dismiss the possibility that this is one of those
places, especially because of the context in which it occurs. This is the chapter in which,
in E, YHWH makes his name known to Moses, and through him all Israel, for the first
time. Thus, if there were ever a place in which it might be appropriate for the narrator in
E to begin using the divine name, it would be here. Propp himself, though not in
reference to this verse, admits that E elsewhere uses the name YHWH in narrative (his
example is Gen. 22:11; see below).
74
Again: if it is permissible once (or, as we have

72
Ex. 4:31 is the direct continuation of vv. 27-30, in which Moses (and Aaron) fulfill YHWHs commands
from 3:16-18 (J); note also the roots %-m- and -m-n (hiphil), which are Leitworter for J in the Exodus
narrative. Ex. 5, in turn, is the continuation of the end of Ex. 4. Moses and Aaron go from the Israelite
elders to Pharaoh, just as YHWH commanded in the J narrative in 3:18 (as opposed to in E, in which
Moses is told to go first to Pharaoh, and then to the Israelites; cf. 3:10-15); the demand to worship YHWH
in the wilderness (5:1) is a J theme known also from the plagues narrative (cf. 3:18; 7:16, 26, et al.); the
taskmasters and labor (5:6-23) are known elsewhere only in the J narrative of 1:11-12; 2:11).

73
These verses are the continuation of YHWHs speech to Moses out of the burning bush in vv. 2-4b, 5.
Note also the typical J list of the peoples who occupy Canaan in v. 8. Cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch,
83; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 122.

74
Exodus 1-18, 192.
Chapter Four R
JE
285
seen, more than once), it is permissible at any point. The mere occurrence of the divine
name YHWH, therefore, is not grounds for assigning any words to R
JE
.
Secondly, if and Yahweh said were added by a redactor, then in the original E
narrative (which, for Propp, begins in v. 6) the divine speech in v.7a!-8 would be left
without a speech introducer. This problem could be solved, of course, by suggesting that
in fact the redactor already had wayyomer in the E text before him, and added only the
divine name.
But this only sharpens the most important problem with Propps analysis, and it is
the same problem we have already encountered elsewhere: why would the redactor feel
the need to add the divine name, and only the divine name, here? It is already clear in the
combined text that it is God who would be speaking; though the immediately preceding
subject is Moses, the content of the speech leaves no room for doubt that these are Gods
words. In short, there is absolutely no reason to expect the redactor to have added
YHWH here. We are forced to ask: if here, why not elsewhere? Why not everywhere?
The incongruity of such a redactional insertion is highlighted by the virtual absence of
R
JE
anywhere else in Propps analysis. The purported addition of the divine name in Ex.
3:7 would accomplish nothing, beyond the simple joy of using the divine name. It would
clarify nothing, it would solve no contradictions, and it is therefore impossible to accept.

Through these examples, we see the danger of relying on R
JE
to solve source-
critical problems involving the divine name or other terminological features. Almost
invariably, where scholars have claimed that the hand of the redactor is evidenced by the
improper use of the divine name, the problem is not one inherent in the text itself, but
Chapter Four R
JE
286
manufactured by the scholar as a result of his particular source divisions. If we accept
this common type of analysis, we are forced to assume that the theoretical redactor has
made a very few select additions to the documents he was combining, almost completely
at random, and to virtually no apparent purpose. The violation of common sense is
readily apparent. Why, then, did scholars fall into this trap? We might theorize that,
having needed to attribute to the redactor those passages that authentically solved
contradictions in plot (those cases that would fall under the first category above, and
which will be discussed in the next chapter), scholars discovered that the figure of the
redactor could be used to solve other difficulties as well. Thus, having already
established that terminological features were particular to individual sources, they saw no
problem in assigning to the redactor those passages which contradicted their
terminological lists. What they failed to foresee was the effect that this would have on
the nature of the redactor, who went from merely combining documents into a minimally
readable storyline to adding words, phrases, and verses at random, identifiable only
because they contained typical characteristics of the wrong source, or of both
sources. The combination of incorrect source division and a misunderstanding of the
nature of the divine names, together with the realization that an easy solution to
problematic passages was close at hand in the already presupposed figure of the R
JE
, led
to the overuse of the redactor in passages that had no authentic reason to be considered
redactional.
Unfortunately, this process seems to have snowballed, such that virtually any
passages that seemed out of place, though they neither solved a plot contradiction nor had
Chapter Four R
JE
287
any terminological problem, have been assigned to R
JE
. It is to these secondary
additions that we now turn.

Secondary Additions
In most scholarly analyses of the Pentateuch, there are passages that are deemed
secondary to their context. These secondary additions are identifiable not because
they solve contradictions in content between the various sources, nor because they
contain terminological features that are deemed particular to a given document, nor do
they serve to more closely link the underlying sources. The rationale for the description
as secondary varies from case to case, although as we will see, there are some
identifiable types of passages that are regularly given this designation. Most scholars
have been unwilling, however, to simply call a text secondary; it is also necessary, in
their view, to make a previously acknowledged figure responsible for these additions.
Once it is decided that the text cannot belong to one of the original documents (hence
secondary), the only figures left are those of the various purported redactors. This
being the case, the generally accepted rule seems to have been that when a secondary
addition falls in either a J or an E context, it is to be attributed to R
JE
; when P is
involved, it is to be attributed to R (the final redactor).
75

The logical fallacy here is apparent. Secondary additions, by their very nature,
are not redactional; that is, they do not participate in the process of combining the

75
This seems to be the case even when the insertion is recognized as nothing more than a gloss, i.e., a word
or phrase inserted solely for the purpose of clarifying an obscure or obsolete word or phrase from an earlier
pen; cf. Wellhausen on Gen. 28:19b (Composition, 31). Why R
JE
is assumed to have needed to gloss
anything, particularly in Wellhausens conception, in which R
JE
is barely separated from J by any time at
all, is of course left unstated. Cf. also Addis on Gen. 31:47 (due to the pedantry of a later hand;
Documents, I:63)
Chapter Four R
JE
288
various sources, which is the definition of the role of the redactor. Further, there is
nothing inherent in the secondary text to link it to one or more of the sources
(otherwise, one assumes, scholars would simply assign it to that source, or sources).
There is therefore no reason to assume that any given secondary addition is the work of
one redactor as opposed to another, or of any redactor at all. We might take the case of
Gen. 14: it is believed by virtually all scholars that this chapter is a later addition to the
Pentateuch, as it does not fit in either content or style with any of the known sources. Yet
its text is not attributed by anyone to a redactor, but is simply called a late addition.
In the examples that follow, I will examine a handful of passages which have
been deemed not only secondary, but also the work of R
JE
. It is the defining quality of
this entire class that there is no reason to call these passages R
JE
(or redactional at all);
otherwise we would have placed them in one of the previous two sections. Yet they are
worth inspecting briefly, as they further reveal the variety of ways in which the figure of
the redactor has been made to serve essentially non-redactional duty.

Exodus 3:14, 15*
Carpenter-Harford claimed that Ex. 3:14, the famous expression of the divine
name as ehye
h

a
%er ehye
h
, comes not from the hand of E, but from R
JE
.
76
Their
argument was that the original disclosure of the divine name in E is found in v. 15, and
that the form employed in 14b is never employed elsewhere, and 14 appears to be a later
insertion designed to explain the name Yahweh which is here connected with the verb
hayah to be. Having made this claim, they were then forced to posit that the word d

76
Hexateuch, 83.
Chapter Four R
JE
289
in v. 15 is also redactional.
77
Yet there is nothing redactional about this later insertion;
if it was designed only to demonstrate the derivation from h"y"
h
, as Carpenter-Harford
suggested, there is no reason to call it R
JE
, as there is nothing anywhere in the J document
that suggests that the author of J had any particular conception of the etymology of the
divine name that might be contradicted by the presentation of E. If one is adamant that
this verse is a secondary insertion into the original E story, that is, an addition made by
someone from the Elohistic school, before the E document was included in the
Pentateuch, a marginal case can be made; to call this insertion R
JE
, however, is entirely
groundless.

Exodus 4:21-23
McNeile attributed these verses, in which YHWH tells Moses in advance about
the general course of the plagues episode, to R
JE
. His rationale was that the vv. are
prematurenothing has yet been said of any wonders to be performed before Pharaoh.
21 anticipates the whole story of the first nine plagues, and 22, 23 the story of the last
plague; and the message to be given to Pharaoh (22) is never delivered.
78
A few of the
specifics of this argument can be easily dismissed. That the message described in v. 22 is
never delivered cannot be evidence of redaction, for the error of omission later in the
story can as easily be attributable to an author as to a redactor (perhaps even more easily
to an author). Verse 21 does not necessarily anticipate the whole story of the first nine

77
It has also been suggested that v. 15 is from R
JE
, probably for similar reasons (i.e., that the presentation
of the divine name here is apparently a doublet of that in v. 14); cf. McNeile, Exodus, 19. Yoreh claims
that all of vv. 15-17 are from J, and are intended by the author of J to insert his theology into the original E
narrative (Hammaqr h#elhst, 5f.).

78
Exodus, xiv.
Chapter Four R
JE
290
plagues, as there are no specific plagues mentioned. It anticipates only the plagues which
are part of the original source to which it belongs, which it would naturally call all, not
being aware of the plagues from any other document. The same can be said of the
anticipated final plague, the story of which appears in both J and P.
This leaves us with really only one overriding reason for McNeile to have termed
this passage redactional, and it is reasonably clear that it was the dominant reason in his
mind as well: these verses foreshadow events that occur later in the text. Remarkably,
this seems to be justification enough for McNeile to have declared the passage
redactional. He evidently could not accept that a biblical author could have managed a
rhetorical device like foreshadowing (although he evidently did think it possible of a
redactor). Though this seems absurd, there are, sadly, a number of other examples of
scholars viewing both foreshadowing and summation as redactional.
79

The condescension of this scholarly assessment of the biblical authors
notwithstanding, we might also point out that there is nothing in this passage that
indicates that it is from R
JE
in particular. In fact, we have already noted that the plagues
narrative contains no E at all, rendering McNeiles analysis moot.
80

79
Cf. McNeile on Ex. 3:19-20 (Exodus, xiv; cf. also Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 84), 11:9-10 (Exodus,
xvii), 32:30-34 (Exodus, 209); Carpenter-Harford on Gen. 15:12-15 (Hexateuch, 23), Ex. 14:31
(Hexateuch, 103); Addis on Ex. 9:14-16 (Documents, I:121); Driver on Gen. 26:15 (Genesis, 252). Even
some cross-references within a source are evidently not permitted to the ancient authors; cf. Addis
(Documents, I:45), Driver (Genesis, 249) and Skinner (Genesis, 363) on Gen. 26:1b (beside the first
famine which was in the days of Abraham), which is in a J context, and refers to a J narrative (Gen. 12),
but which they nevertheless assign to R
JE
.

80
Carpenter-Harford were closer to the truth when they attributed these verses to R, rather than R
JE

(Hexateuch, 85; cf. also Yoreh, Hammaqr h#elhst, 154f.). They noted in particular the use of the
phrase harden his heart (h9"zaq et-libb), which is unique to the P plagues narrative. This phrase,
however, is the only priestly feature of the passage, and it is probably more reasonable to agree with
Friedman that verse 21b is the first occurrence of a formula used by R to organize the E [J] and P accounts
of the plagues into a united narrative (Sources Revealed, 125). We cannot agree with Friedman, however,
that the subsequent words, and he will not let the people go, also belong to R. This phrase is typical of J
Chapter Four R
JE
291

Covenant Code expansions
While virtually everyone recognizes that inclusion of the law code in Ex. 21-23 is
attributable to E, it is understood that the author of the E narrative was not the author of
said law code, but rather adopted and inserted it into his work.
81
Form- and tradition-
critically, this means that the narrative and law of E are of separate origins. From a
source-critical perspective, however, the document we call E encompasses both narrative
and law equally. Thus it has long been common practice, when assigning sources to text,
to call the law code simply E, as is correct.
It is also recognized, however, that there are passages within the law code that are
almost certainly not original to it: passages that provide a paranetic framework for the
laws, or relate a law to an event in Israelite history or a narrative theme (frequently
termed hortatory expansions). We find an example of this in Ex. 22:20: You shall not
wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt. The
reference to the period of Egyptian slavery is taken by many to be a secondary addition to
the original law. While we might agree with this assessment, the conclusion of some that
this addition is due to R
JE
is rather confusing.
82
This half-verse could only be attributed
to R
JE
if it were assumed that E had no concept of the Israelites tenure in Egypt; there is
no reference to any uniquely J plot element here. In this case, as in the others like it (Ex.

(cf. 7:14, 16, 26; 8:4, 16, 17, 25, 28; 9:1, 7, 13; 10:3, 4), and is probably therefore original to the J section
of 4:21-23.

81
Cf. Driver, Exodus, 202; Friedman, Sources Revealed, 154.

82
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 89f.; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 116; Addis, Documents, I:146;
Driver, Exodus, 231. The supposed insertion here, according to all these scholars, comprises both v. 20b
and 21, on the basis of the singular pronominal suffix in v. 22 (ot), which refers back to the stranger in v.
20a, and not the widow and orphan of v. 21.
Chapter Four R
JE
292
22:23,
83
24b;
84
23:9b,
85
31b-33
86
), it seems considerably more logical to assume not that
R
JE
inserted these passages, but rather that they belong to the author of E. If we admit
that, though he did not compose the laws, it was the author of E who brought them into
the context of his narrative, then surely it is reasonable to assume that any expansions of
the law code, whether simply paranetic or with references to the surrounding narrative,
would also be attributable to E, especially as they do not conflict with the Elohistic
presentation of Israelite history elsewhere.
87

Other passages in the Covenant Code have been termed secondary for a variety of
reasons, and these also are deemed the work of R
JE
.
88
Like those that are termed
hortatory expansions, these have no relationship to the process of the combination of
sources.
89
A more astonishing example is Ex. 23:13. This verse, which contains a
reference to all that I have said to you, apparently referring to the entire body of law,
has been deemed by Carpenter-Harford a conclusion left stranded by successive

83
Cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 116; Addis, Documents, I:146; Driver, Exodus, 232.

84
Cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 116; Addis, Documents, I:146; Driver, Exodus, 232.

85
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 90; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 117; Addis, Documents, I:147; Driver,
Exodus, 239.

86
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 91; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 118; Addis, Documents, I:149; Driver,
Exodus, 250.

87
Cf. Schwartz, Selected Chapters of the Holiness Code A Literary Study of Leviticus 17-19, [Hebrew]
(unpub. diss., Hebrew University, 1987), 1-24; Trat haqq
!
d%"
h
(Jerusalem: Magnes, 1999), 12-17. Even
passages outside the law code which are considered parenetic additions have been attributed to R
JE
; e.g.,
Ex. 15:26 (Driver, Exodus, 143).

88
E.g., Ex. 20:22-23 (McNeile, Exodus, xxviii-xxix); Ex. 22:30 (Wellhausen, Composition, 90; Addis,
Documents, I:147). Cf. also Ex. 23:27, which Carpenter-Harford call R
JE
because it is apparently a
duplicate of 28 (Hexateuch, 118). This only begs the question of why anyone would insert a duplication
of a verse that already exists in his source text, not to mention why it should be R
JE
.

89
An ostensible exception to this are those passages that have a parallel in the law code of Ex. 34 (23:15b,
17, 19a; cf. also Wellhausen on 13:3-16), but the analysis of Bar-On (Ex 12,21-27) demonstrates that in
fact Ex. 34 is a later addition based on the laws of Ex. 21-23.
Chapter Four R
JE
293
manipulations of the text.
90
This assessment is certainly possible; we must take into
account the possibility that the law code went through numerous stages of formation,
both oral and written, before it was adopted by the author of E. But given this
assessment, it seems impossible to assign the verse to R
JE
. And yet this is what a number
of scholars have seen fit to do.
91

In all these cases, we can see that R
JE
is no longer considered simply a redactor,
that is, a combiner of original documents; rather, he has become the theoretical source of
virtually any purportedly secondary material in passages otherwise attributed to E.

Deuteronomic affinities
One of the contradictory aspects of the earlier critics theory of composition is
that though they were perfectly willing to say that the author of Deuteronomy knew JE,
they were somehow unwilling to admit that the author of D learned anything from
JE.
92
Thus, when these scholars encountered a phrase in Exodus that was reminiscent
of Deuteronomic language, they did not consider it possible for the passage in question to
be original to either J or E. At the same time, the idea that there were substantial
Deuteronomistic additions to the Tetrateuch had not yet come into vogue. The solution,
then, was to assign this passage to R
JE
. Once this had been done in one passage, of
course, it became a simple matter to argue that all Deuteronomic language in the

90
Hexateuch, 117.

91
Wellhausen, Composition, 90; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 117; Addis, Documents, I:148; Driver,
Exodus, 241.

92
This criticism is equally applicable to those contemporary scholars who maintain that there is extensive
Deuteronomistic material in Genesis-Numbers. Cf. M. Vervenne, The Question of Deuteronomistic
Elements in Genesis to Numbers, pp. 243-268 in F. Garca Martinez, et al., eds. Studies in Deuteronomy
(Leiden: Brill, 1994).
Chapter Four R
JE
294
Tetrateuch was the work of R
JE
, and to say simply that R
JE
had affinities with D. Thus
Carpenter-Harford:
In the secondary passageswhich may with great probability be ascribed to R
JE
,
the language and ideas approximate more and more to those of DThey mark
the transition between the directness of the earlier narratives and the later and
more devotional style.
93

Thus we find a group of scholars attributing to R
JE
verses that they have
determined are Deuteronomic, such as Ex. 23:23-24.
94
We may again note the
commentary of Carpenter-Harford here:
This passage does not seem to belong to the context where it interrupts the
enunciation of the divine promises to Israel; the demand for the destruction of
the consecrated pillars can hardly proceed from the writer who immediately
after describes Moses as erecting twelve, and who narrated the origin of the
pillars at Bethel and Galeed; while the affinities of language with D point clearly
to editorial amplification.
95

These verses do undoubtedly interrupt the list of promises, but this means only that they
were not part of the original law code; they may have been inserted at any time after the
promises were composed, either orally or in writing. The placement of this insertion is
easily rationalized: God has just promised to be an enemy to Israels enemies (v. 22), so
this is the natural place to mention the upcoming destruction of the inhabitants of Canaan.
As for the pillars, 23:24 does not say that all mas9s9$bt are forbidden, but only those of
the Canaanites; the verse also says that the Israelites are not to bow down to the
Canaanite gods, but the critics do not take this to mean that the Israelites are forbidden to
bow down to their own god! Finally, it is admitted that the language of this passage and

93
Hexateuch, I:174. Cf. also Kuenen: Though not directly dependent on the Deuteronomist, he [R
JE
] has
nevertheless a close affinity to him, and incorporates at any rate some few fragments that issued from
deuteronomistic cirles (Hexateuch, 249).

94
Wellhausen, Composition, 91; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 118; Addis, Documents, I:149; Driver,
Exodus, 248. Cf. also Ex. 10:1b-2 (Wellhausen, Composition, 67; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 94:
terms which seem to show affinities with Deuteronomic phraseology); 24:12b (Carpenter-Harford,
Hexateuch, 119; Addis, Documents, I:150; McNeile, Exodus, xxxiv).

95
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 118.
Chapter Four R
JE
295
some of the language in D are similar; but affinity cannot demonstrate chronological
dependence. Since it is widely accepted that D is later than E, and since there is no
reason not to think that the author of E was capable of adding comments to the law code
included in his narrative, it is simplest to assume that 23:23-24 are E, and that D, who
everyone accepts was familiar with E, adopted the language of the earlier source. Just
because D used it more frequently, and perhaps more powerfully, does not mean that the
author of D invented these phrases.
It should not be forgotten that even if these are secondary additions, and even if
they are ostensibly in the style of D, there is no reason to call them R
JE
. These passages
are not redactional; they are theologically and historiographically motivated (if we can
even say that much about them), and can therefore not be considered the work of a
redactor.
96

Promise formulae
Even among supporters of the Documentary Hypothesis, there has long been
suspicion that some, if not all, of the promise formulae in Genesis are secondary.
97
This
is due to the very close similarities among the formulae, even as they are found in both J
and E contexts. For the earlier critics, this led to only one conclusion: the author of the
promise formulae must be R
JE
. Let us look, first, at the example of Gen. 22:15-18, which

96
Cf. Driver on Ex. 33:4b-5 (the compiler emphasizes afresh Israels stiffneckedness; Exodus, 358); how
is this part of the process of compilation? How can we tell that this is the compiler and not the original
author? And why do we assume this to be the work of R
JE
and not every other possible passage like it?

97
See most recently the detailed study by S. Boorer, The Promise of the Land as Oath: A Key to the
Formation of the Pentateuch (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1992). On the early origins of the concept of the
promise, cf. Brettler, The Promise of the Land of Israel to the Patriarchs in the Pentateuch, Shenaton 5-6
(1983): vii-xxiv.
Chapter Four R
JE
296
is found at the end of the E story of the binding of Isaac. These verses, as they come after
what seems to be the natural conclusion to the narrative in v. 14, and particularly with the
suspicious and the messenger of YHWH called to Abraham a second time, do have
some of the marks of a secondary insertion.
98
Furthermore, it has been noted that the
language of this promise is very similar to that of the promises in J in Gen. 12:1-3 and
18:18.
99
For these reasons, scholars have found virtual unanimity in assigning this
passage to R
JE
.
100
The same approach is taken with regard to Gen. 26:3b-5. Here it has
been noted not only that the passage sits poorly in its context (bears all the marks of
amplification by a later hand), but that (in keeping with the preceding examples) v. 5 in
particular closely resembles the style of the Deuteronomist.
101
Thus it, too, is attributed
to R
JE
. And the same holds true for Gen. 28:13-15, as they are considered a complete
parallel to xxii. 15-18.
102

98
Driver called them an appendix (Genesis, 220).

99
As pointed out by Kuenen (the yahwistic promise to Abraham has been incorporated into a story of
Es; Hexateuch, 254), amongst others.

100
Wellhausen, Composition, 19; Kuenen, Hexateuch, 254; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 32; Addis,
Documents, I:36f.; Driver, Genesis, 219ff.; Skinner, Genesis, 331f. Note that Friedman takes a contrary
stance, claiming that vv. 16-18 are part of the original story, while vv. 11-15 are the work of R
JE
. This
unusual position is the result of Friedmans belief that in the original E narrative, Isaac was actually
sacrificed, and that this was considered repugnant by R
JE
, who substituted the version we find in the
canonical text (cf. Yoreh, Hammaqr h#elhst, 27ff.). This leads him to conclude that Gen. 25:5-6
must also be from R
JE
, as Isaac is mentioned in an E context, after he was supposedly sacrificed (Sources
Revealed, 70).

101
Addis, Documents, I:45. Cf. also Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 38; Driver, Genesis, 250. Addis and
Driver also considered v. 2b to be from the hand of R
JE
, on the grounds that it conflicts with v. 3a. As with
so many of the theorized redactional insertions, this only begs the question of why a redactor would insert
something into his source texts that is (according to the critics) so obviously a contradiction of them?

102
Kuenen, Hexateuch, 254. Cf. Addis, Documents, I:51. Cf. Carpenter-Harford on Gen. 32:7-12, which
they suggested is related to the expanded promise formulae (Hexateuch, 50; cf. Wellhausen, Composition,
50), as well as Ex. 32:7-14 (Hexateuch, 130f.; cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 91; Driver, Exodus, 351f.),
which they then connected with Num. 14:11-24 (Hexateuch, 207f.; cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 102;
Gray, Numbers, 155); all these are attributed to R
JE
.
Chapter Four R
JE
297
A closer examination of these promise formulae reveals, however, that all but one
in fact belong to one of the Pentateuchal documents. The general assumption that these
formulae were redactional seems to have prevented scholars from asking whether each
individual promise fits into its narrative context, and whether the promises are consistent
in content and presentation, not throughout the entire Pentateuch, but within the
individual sources. As it turns out, they are (with one exception, as we will see).
There are two promises given to the patriarchs in the P narrative, and a number of
references to those promises. The first is to Abraham in Gen. 17:2-8, and the second is to
Jacob in 35:11-12. Yet we must assume that there was in fact a third promise, given to
Isaac, that is now missing from the P text preserved in the canonical Pentateuch. In the
promise to Jacob in 35:12, God says that he is giving to Jacob the land that he had
previously assigned to both Abraham and Isaac. In the references to these promises
outside of Genesis (Ex. 2:24; 6:8; Num. 32:11), the covenant is described as being made
with all three patriarchs. And, importantly, it seems that for P the promise was passed
down from father to son in addition to being given to each individual by God. In Gen.
28:3-4, Isaac transfers the blessing to Jacob, referring to it as the blessing of Abraham;
this suggests that Abraham had passed it to him, and, presumably, that Isaac had received
it from God himself, just as Abraham did and Jacob would. All these data indicate that
we are probably missing a portion of P in which Isaac received the blessing from
Abraham and also from God. This is not totally unexpected, however, as there is a clear
gap in P in the Isaac narrative (we do not have, for instance, any notice of the birth of
Jacob and Esau).
Chapter Four R
JE
298
The Priestly promises are consistent in style and content. In each one, the deity is
referred to by the name El Shaddai (17:1; 28:3; 35:11; 48:3). In addition to the promise
of land, all the promises also contain the promise of increased offspring, and all use the
verbal root p-r-h, to be fertile, which, of the promise formulae, is only found in P (17:6;
28:3; 35:11; 48:4).
In the J narrative, a divine promise is given to each of the three patriarchs
(Abraham: Gen. 12:2-3, 7; 13:14-17; Isaac: 26:2-5, 24; Jacob: 28:13-14). All three are
promised increase of offspring and possession of the land, and in the same terms: in each
case YHWH promises possession of the land to you and your offspring (13:15; 26:3;
28:13), and in each the verb n-t-n is used in the imperfective (either in the imperfect or in
the converted perfect; 12:7; 13:15, 17; 26:3, 4; 28:13). The J promises are further marked
by the repeated phrase all the nations will bless themselves by you (12:3; 26:4; 28:14).
Even the references to the promises elsewhere in J fit these patterns: in Gen. 18:18
YHWH recalls that all the nations of the earth are going to bless themselves by Abraham,
referring back to Gen. 12:3; in Gen. 24:7, Abraham recalls that YHWH had promised
l
!
zar
a
k" ett$n et-h""res9 hazzot, to your seed I will give this land, the precise
words used in Gen. 12:7. Furthermore, the J promises tend to be given in the context of
the travels of the patriarchs: just before Abraham leaves his fathers house in Gen. 12:2-3,
while he is on the road in 12:7, and before he travels to Hebron in 13:14-17; while Isaac
is traveling to Gerar in 26:2-5, and just upon his arrival in Beersheba in 26:24; while
Jacob is on the road from Beersheba to Haran in 28:13-14. And finally, the receipt of the
promises in J is frequently accompanied by the construction of an altar: Gen. 12:8, 13:18;
Chapter Four R
JE
299
26:25 (and in the first and last of these cases, we also find the patriarch invoking YHWH
by name).
The promise to the patriarchs in the E narrative is made only once, in Gen. 15 (vv.
5, 18-21), to Abraham. As in P and J, in E Abraham is promised increase of offspring
and possession of the land. As with P and J, however, the Elohistic promise has a
number of unique features that distinguish it from the others. The first is the setting of
the promise: typically for E, the divine promise is given in a vision, and Abraham is
presented as something of a prophet (15:1).
103
More important, however, is the content
of the promise. Unlike in P and J, in E God does not promise to give the land to you and
your offspring (cf. Gen. 17:8; 13:15); rather, the land is promised only to Abrahams
offspring (15:18). This distinctive feature of the Elohistic promise can be explained by
the context in which the promise is delivered. E is the only source in which the
enslavement in Egypt is announced to one of the patriarchs in advance (15:13-14).
104

This announcement colors the divine promise to Abraham: if his line is not going to hold
the land continuously, then it makes little sense to give the land to Abraham; rather, it is
given to his offspring, the ones who will return from the Exodus. It is important to note
that this aspect of the Elohistic promise, the granting of the land only to the offspring,
rather than to the patriarch himself, is present also in the two later E references back to
this promise, in Ex. 32:13 and Deut. 34:4, thereby reinforcing this as a defining
characteristic of Es narrative. A final distinctive aspect of the E promise is that although
the verb used for the assigning of the land is still n-t-n, in E, as opposed to J, the verb is

103
Jenks, Elohist, 34.

104
Note the comment that the Israelites will go out with great wealth (15:14); this is a clear reference to
the despoiling of the Egyptians (Ex. 13:36), which we have already noted is from E.
Chapter Four R
JE
300
used in the perfect, and should be understood as performative: I hereby assign the
land (v. 18).
In the foregoing discussion of the promise formulae in P, J, and E, I have
studiously neglected to discuss the example with which this section began: Gen. 22:15-
18. It was noted above that these verses seem to be secondary even within their narrative
context. This impression is reinforced by the content and style of this promise. Although
it is in an E setting, the promise in 22:15-18 contains a number of elements known from
the various J promises: w
!
harb"
h
arbe
h
et-zar
a
k" k
!
kk
!
b ha%%"mayim, I will greatly
increase you descendants like the stars of heaven (cf. Gen. 26:4: w
!
hirbt et-zar
a
k"
k
!
kk
!
b ha%%"mayim); kah9l al-#
!
pat hayy"m, like the sand on the shore of the sea
(cf. Gen. 32:13: k
!
h9l hayy"m); w
!
hitb"r
a
k b
!
zar
a
k" kol gy h""res9, all the nations
of the earth shall bless themselves by your descendants (cf. Gen. 12:3; 26:4; 28:14).
Gen. 22:15-18, then, appears to be a later insertion into the E narrative, one based on the
promises found in the J story.
This does not suggest, however that Gen. 22:15-18 should be considered the work
of R
JE
. Even when we admit that this passage is most likely secondary, and even though
it is based on J but found in an E context, this does not prove, or even suggest, that the
author of this promise formula was R
JE
as opposed to the final redactor of the Pentateuch,
or even a later scribe, who might have sensed a need for something more impressive with
which to conclude this narrative than the etiology in 22:14.
When the promise formulae (with the exception of Gen. 22:15-18) are examined
carefully, it is apparent that they belong firmly to the sources in which they are found.
Though all three non-Deuteronomic sources contain divine promises to the patriarchs,
Chapter Four R
JE
301
each has characteristic features, both in terms of content and style, that allow us to
distinguish one from the other. To this point in scholarship, too much attention has been
paid to the similarities among the promises, and not enough to the important differences
that provide the basis for their source assignments. The promise to the patriarchs was
evidently an important Israelite tradition, as it is in fact one of the very few that is found
in all the documents. We can identify as the main features of this tradition the aspects of
progeny and land. It is the issues of to whom the promise was given (only to Abraham,
or to all the patriarchs?), where (in the course of travels, or while the patriarch was settled
somewhere?), and how (in a dream, or a vision, or neither?) that mark the contributions
of the individual sources.

Whether because it contains unusual terminology, or seems Deuteronomistic, or
otherwise secondary, for every passage that is considered to be an addition, the simple
question must be asked: does this passage contribute in any away to the process of
combining two originally independent sources? If the answer is no, then there is no
reason to deem the passage the work of a redactor. If one finds it necessary to deem a
passage secondary, one must be willing to admit the possibility that the passage has
been inserted not by a redactor, but by some undefined later figure. This at least gives
respect to the scholarly recognition that the composition and compilation of the
Pentateuch, like the rest of the Bible, was a long and complicated process.
The quite lengthy list of passages attributed to R
JE
by a number of critics is both a
product of and a theoretical support for the idea that J and E were combined into a
document JE. Obviously one must already believe in a figure called R
JE
before one can
Chapter Four R
JE
302
ascribe any text to him. On the other hand, the more passages that are called R
JE
, the
stronger the argument seems for the redactional process that resulted in JE. This leads
us to the question, for many of the examples in this chapter: why R
JE
, rather than R? If
scholars consider a passage secondary, and want to attribute it to a redactor, why call that
figure R
JE
? The answer is as clear as it is flawed: because the passages in question are in
a J or E context. In other words, it is assumed that the final redactor of the Torah left
JE essentially untouched, so any redactional activity found in J or E must be the work
of R
JE
. But this assumption is groundless. Any redactional activity anywhere in the
Pentateuch can be assigned to the final redactor, particularly in the cases of secondary
additions. The only reason to call the redactional passages in J and E R
JE
is that one
already assumes that J and E were combined at an early stage. And I have already argued
at length that there is no basis for this assumption in the text; rather, it was a scholarly
hypothesis driven by the inability to effectively separate J from E with any assurance.

The Effect of the Expansion of the Redactor
Van Seters states, quite correctly, that the notion of an editor has become
pervasive within a wide range of methodologies, both among those who have remained
committed to the Documentary Hypothesis, and those who have replaced the
Documentary Hypothesis with a traditiohistorical or redaction-critical methodology.
105

We might go yet a step further, and point out that not only has the notion of the editor (or
redactor) remained constant through much of source-critical and anti-source-critical
Pentateuchal scholarship since the 19
th
century, but frequently it is the very same

105
Edited Bible, 282f.
Chapter Four R
JE
303
passages that have been labeled redactional, regardless of which school we are
discussing. I wish to demonstrate briefly that many of the passages that are central to
contemporary, non-Documentary Hypothesis theories of Pentateuchal composition are, in
fact, the very same passages that the classical critics assigned to R
JE
. Further, we will see
that it is the theoretically redactional nature of these passages that has given them such
prominence in contemporary scholarship.

Promise formulae
Recent approaches to the composition of the Pentateuch tend to focus strongly on
the promise formulae. This trend can undoubtedly be traced to the foundational work of
Rendtorff, for whom the promise formulae were a, if not the, basic key to unlocking the
history of Pentateuchal growth. Rendtorff writes, This promise, that each of the three
patriarchs is to be a blessing for the whole human race, brings the traditions about them
together into one large unit.
106
The promises, then, are not merely later interpolations,
nor are they part of what I have defined above as a redactional process. Rather, they have
become in Rendtorffs view a means for someone in the murky history of Pentateuchal
growth to connect the disparate patriarchal traditions in one thematic and theological
framework; they have been carefully and consciously made a part of the reworking and
theological interpretation of the patriarchal stories.
107

According to the older critics, and many contemporary ones as well, the promise
formulae are secondary additions to their current literary contexts. Although I have

106
Problem, 77.

107
Problem, 83.
Chapter Four R
JE
304
argued in the previous section that this is true only of Gen. 22:15-18, it is important to
understand the implications of the standard critical view. To call the promise formulae
secondary additions is to say that the patriarchal narratives were composed and put
down in writing already before someone added these promises. The rationale for adding
these passages cannot be discerned, although one may speculate about various political
and historiographical viewpoints that might be considered to be reinforced thereby. It
seems, however, that these additions were not made as part of the process of source
combination as we usually conceive of it in the classical Documentary Hypothesis, and
therefore should not be attributed to a redactor. If, however, one decides to work from an
angle other than the Documentary Hypothesis, as Rendtorff does, it is possible to see the
addition of the promise formulae as something considerably more important in the
growth of the Pentateuch. Thus Rendtorff states, the promise addresses have been used
to frame the individual patriarchal stories and to join them together.
108
Note that, though
he disavows the fundamental outline of the Documentary Hypothesis, Rendtorff is here
adopting (perhaps unconsciously) the mistaken conclusions of the older critics, that the
promise formulae are not only additions, but are redactional. Indeed, he goes even
further down the path blazed by Wellhausen and his followers when he attributes to this
redactor a motive beyond simple source combination: the patriarchal stories present an
independent larger unit which, in the course of the process of its formation, has been
reworked in different stages and provided with theological interpretations; and the divine
promise addresses dominate both the reworking and the interpretation.
109
Though he

108
Problem, 83.

Chapter Four R
JE
305
would undoubtedly disavow any connection with the approach of the classical source
critics, it is clear that Rendtorffs approach to the promise formulae ends up at the same
place as does theirs: these formulae are part of a redactional process, and have been
inserted to create a theological link between the various patriarchal narratives.

Exodus 32-34
As we saw above, Wellhausen despaired of being able to source-critically divide
Ex. 32-34, and so attributed the entire pericope to R
JE
. In more recent scholarship, we
find a similar approach to these chapters, though for reasons that are at least expressed
differently. Blum, therefore, states that
drngt sich demnach die Arbeitshypothese auf, da unser Haupttext von Ex 32-
34 diachron seine Gestalt in Kap. 32 einer bearbeitenden Weiterfhrung, in Kap.
33f. hingegen einer (mehr oder weniger freien) Neugestaltung und/oder
durchgreifenden Neuprgung (vorgegebener berlieferung) verdankt. Wir
sprechen deshalb im Blick auf diese formativen Gestaltungselemente wiederum
von einer Kompositionsschicht.
110

Similarly, Childs claims that there are many signs which indicate that chs. 32-34 were
structured into a compositional unit in one of the final stages of the development of the
book of Exodus,
111
and that this new composition, both by its scope and depth, offered
a profoundly theological interpretation of the meaning of the Sinai covenant which left a
decisive stamp on the entire Old Testament.
112
Furthermore, the achieving of this
compositional unity appears to stem from the hand of a literary redactor, who composed

109
Problem, 83. This conclusion has been adopted and restated by a number of scholars who have
followed Rendtorffs approach to Pentateuchal composition. Cf. Blum, Vtergeschichte, 297ff.; Carr,
Fractures, 177ff.; C. Levin, Der Jahwist (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), 44f. and ad loc.

110
Studien, 75.

111
Exodus, 557.

112
Exodus, 610.
Chapter Four R
JE
306
his story.
113
This is virtually the same statement as that of Wellhausen, although the
approaches to the Pentateuch are quite different.
Both Blum and Childs work within a very different interpretive framework from
Wellhausen and the classical source critics, yet their conclusions are so similar as to
nearly be indistinguishable. What accounts for this similarity? The answer may be that,
though Blum almost completely and Childs to a lesser degree do not accept the
methodology of the Documentary Hypothesis, they cannot avoid being influenced by its
most famous practitioners and their results. Further, their more immediate scholarly
predecessors worked within the framework of the Documentary Hypothesis, even as they
were laying the groundwork for its eventual rejection. So Rendtorff chides Noth for
attempting to preserve the source-critical methodology while doing tradition criticism, in
particular with regard to Ex. 32-34. Noting that Noth was unable (like Wellhausen,
though Rendtorff does not acknowledge this) to analyze the sources of Ex. 32-34
convincingly, Rendtorff concludes that the criteria for source criticism have proved
unsuitable to explain the literary problems of the Sinai pericope!
114

What we see, then, is anti-source-critical scholars basing their arguments not on
any opposition to source-critical analysis of these chapters per se, but rather on the
inability of earlier scholars to effectively apply the older methods to the text. If, the
argument seems to run, it is difficult for Wellhausen (or Noth) to separate the sources in
Ex. 32-34, this is because the entire concept of sources is incorrect. Thus they
conclude that Ex. 32-34 are the work of a single author (basing his work on older

113
Exodus, 558.

114
Problem, 112.
Chapter Four R
JE
307
materials, of course, though not documents in the classical sense), and claim this as a
new and theologically important observation. Yet this is precisely the conclusion to
which Wellhausen came, using the methodology that has now been rejected. One has to
wonder if, had Wellhausen and Noth and others been able to convincingly separate the
sources of Ex. 32-34, Rendtorff, Blum, and Childs would have ever thought that these
chapters were the work of a single hand.

Exodus 34:1, 4*, 28
We may look more specifically again at those portions of Ex. 34 that I have
argued above are from E, but that have usually been assigned to either R
D
or R
JE
: vv. 1,
4*, and 28. For the earlier scholars, the reason to assign these verses (or the pertinent
parts thereof) to the redactor was that they were considered to have been inserted in order
to connect the J narrative in Ex. 34 with the E narrative of Ex. 32. In other words, they
were purely redactional, serving only to make the combined text less self-contradictory.
Though the conclusion was incorrect in this case, the theory was at least reasonable.
Typically, however, Childs has reimagined and expanded greatly the role of the
redactor in these verses. While he ostensibly adopts the notion of the JE redactor, this
figure is no longer simply a combiner of source documents, but a theological shaper of
the final form of the text. Thus Childs analysis of Ex. 34:
The redaction of Ex. 34 by the same hand [R
JE
] was also far-reaching and
decisive. The redactor built ch. 34 into the pattern of sin and forgiveness by
joining it to chs. 32 and 33. He did this by introducing the tablet motif of a
covenant restoration into Js account and transforming it into a renewal of the
broken covenant (34.1, 4). He also added the words of v. 28b to match his
introduction.
115

115
Exodus, 608.
Chapter Four R
JE
308
Childs view of the redactor, then, makes the redactor into the determinative factor in the
theological shaping of the Sinai pericope. This is, of course, consonant with his overall
approach to the composition of the Bible as a whole. Yet it is remarkable that Childs
bases his analysis on the specific verses that were labeled as redactional by earlier
scholars, and for very different reasons. In other words, the redactional nature of these
verses is determined not by Childs theological understanding of the redactors role, but
on (mistaken, but still authentically) purely source-critical grounds. As in the previous
example, one wonders whether Childs conclusions would have been so easily reached
had earlier scholarship recognized that these verses were simply part of the E narrative,
and were not redactional at all.

The relationship between contemporary anti-source-critical approaches to the
composition of the Pentateuch and the earlier source-critical analyses demonstrated in the
three preceding examples (the promise formulae, Ex. 32-34, and Ex. 34:1, 4*, 28) holds
for virtually every passage discussed in this chapter. Thus Gen. 16:8-10 are considered
by Levin to be redactional (or post-redactional).
116
Gen. 26:15 creates room in the
Isaac narrative for the story of Isaacs digging and naming of the well at Beer-Sheba.
117

Ex. 4:13-16 are considered a late addition in the analysis of Gertz.
118
Gen. 20:18 belongs
to a redactional stage according to Levin.
119
Carr states that Gen. 28:21b is a later

116
Jahwist, 150ff.

117
Carr, Fractures, 200; cf. Levin, Jahwist, 205.

118
J. Gertz, Tradition und Redaktion in der Exoduserzhlung: Untersuchungen zur Endredaktion des
Pentateuch (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2000), 308f.; cf. Blum, Studien, 27f.

119
Jahwist, 180.
Chapter Four R
JE
309
addition[which] had Jacob commit to making YHWH his God in anticipation of later
Deuteronomistic descriptions, particularly in Joshua 24, of Israel making YHWH their
God.
120
Gen. 31:3, according to Rendtorff, breaks the narrative thread and is not part
of the narrative, but serves the theological interpretation of the Jacob story in the
context.
121
Levin considers Ex. 3:7a part of the Yahwistic redaction responsible for the
shaping of the Pentateuchal narrative.
122
Ex. 3:14 is part of the Endredaktion of the
Exodus narrative, according to Gertz.
123
In short, nearly every passage considered
redactional by the source critics is also considered in some manner redactional (or, as
they might rather put it, authorial) by contemporary anti-source-critical scholars.
124

The result of this observation is the realization of a remarkable irony in the history
of Pentateuchal scholarship. The passages on which contemporary scholars depend for
their new, anti-source-critical analysis of the growth of the Pentateuch are those same
passages which the earlier source-critics assigned to R
JE
. The identification, therefore, of
redactional passages has stayed relatively stable, while the subsequent interpretation of
those passages and their import for the compositional history of the Pentateuch has

120
Fractures, 168; cf. Levin, Jahwist, 218f.

121
Problem, 75; cf. Carr, Fractures, 212; Levin, Jahwist, 237f.

122
Jahwist, 326ff.

123
Exoduserzhlung, 394.

124
We may extend this observation also to those passages noted above only in the footnotes. Thus, to Gen.
15 (Rendtorff, Problem, 52; Blum, Vtergeschichte, 362ff.; Carr, Fractures, 163ff.; Levin, Jahwist, 151);
15:12-15 (Childs, Introduction, 151; Rendtorff, Pentateuch, 85); 20:1 (Rendtorff, Problem, 51); 28:19b
(Levin, Jahwist, 220); 31:47 (Levin, Jahwist, 244); 31:10, 12b (Levin, Jahwist, 244); 32:7-12 (Carr,
Fractures, 168f.; Levin, Jahwist, 248f.); 34 (Levin, Jahwist, 263f.); 37:15-17 (Levin, Jahwist, 265ff.);
46:1b (Levin, Jahwist, 305); Ex. 3:19-20 (Gertz, Exoduserzhlung, 394); 7:15 (Gertz, Exoduserzhlung,
98f.); 11:9-10 (Gertz, Exoduserzhlung, 396); 14:31 (Rendtorff, Problem, 186; Blum, Studien, 30f.; Levin,
Jahwist, 346; Gertz, Exoduserzhlung, 221ff.); Num. 11-12 (Blum, Studien, 82ff.; R. Achenbach, Die
Vollendung der Tora: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Numeribuches im Kontext von Hexateuch und
Pentateuch (Wiesbaden: Otto Harassowitz, 2003), 219ff.); Num. 32 (Achenbach, Vollendung, 369ff.).
Chapter Four R
JE
310
changed. Yet this change is no more than the obvious development of the conception of
the redactor. Historically, the figure of the redactor was necessary by virtue of the
identification of multiple sources in the text; that is, if there are multiple sources, then
they must have been combined at some point, by someone. That someone was called the
redactor. The passages that one could attribute to the original composition of the
redactor, then, were those that functioned to combine the documents, levelling
contradictions, etc. As the theory of the use of the divine names was so firmly (and
wrongly) entrenched, the redactors role was expanded to take in also those passages that
did not seem to fit the terminological boundaries established, correctly or not, by the
critics. Thus the redactor became responsible for additions that had nothing to do with
the combination of narratives; this led to the redactor being held responsible for a wide
variety of passages that were, for various reasons, considered secondary additions.
Frequently these additions were theologically or historiographically motivated, it seemed,
and so the redactor became a theologian or historian, rather than a simple combiner of
source texts. This all happened within the framework of the Documentary Hypothesis;
but is this stance so different from that of the contemporary scholars who disavow the
methodology of source criticism? On the contrary: the conclusions implicit in the
classical application of the redactor are the same as those that are made explicit in
contemporary scholarship: the redactor is a theologian, a historian, and is responsible for
the theological shaping of the Pentateuch.

Chapter Four R
JE
311
Conclusion
As this chapter has tried to demonstrate, the classical source-critical usage of the
redactor was grossly expanded beyond its original, or necessary, boundaries. Almost
every single passage attributed by the critics to R
JE
is in reality not redactional at all. Yet
these are the passages on which contemporary scholars have based their entire theories of
Pentateuchal growth, in part because they find support for identifying these passages as
redactional in the classical scholarship (whose methodology they firmly reject). The
great irony, then, is that if the source critics had been able to effectively separate J from
E, rather than creating a new and active role for R
JE
, the passages so crucial to
contemporary scholars would never have been an issue in the first place. It seems likely
to me that had earlier scholars been more aware of the necessary and natural development
of the role of the redactor implicit in their assignment of passages to him, the
contemporary approach to the growth of the Pentateuch would have been crippled, if it
existed at all. It was only because the earlier scholars had already identified a striking
number of theologically important passages as redactional that a compositional theory
based on a theologically motivated redactor could be launched.
While in this chapter I have criticized the approaches of earlier and more
contemporary scholars, in the next chapter I will take a more positive approach to the role
of the redactor in the formation of the Pentateuch. As I have now eliminated above a
great majority of the passages usually assigned to a redactor, in what follows I will
examine those passages that are authentically redactional, as well as other processes that
contribute to the combination of the sources.

Chapter Five
The Singularity of the Redactor(s)

In the preceding chapter it was argued that there are many fewer redactional
insertions in J or E contexts than has usually been claimed. The vast majority of
purported R
JE
passages, it was shown, can be dismissed as based on faulty source-critical
analysis or, more often, as methodologically problematic. Nevertheless, it is undeniable
that there are at least a small handful of words and phrases in J and E contexts that are
redactional. The question therefore becomes whether these can rightfully be called R
JE
,
i.e., whether they can properly be viewed as the work of a redactor responsible for
forging J and E into a single composition.
The most important, and most frequently disregarded, aspect of the redactor is his
origins, which should (but almost never do) determine the way in which he is used by
scholars. The redactor is not on an equal footing with the authors of the various sources.
The redactor is a completely invented figure, necessitated only once it is concluded that
the Pentateuch is composed of multiple sources. That is to say, once one has determined
that there are four sources of the Pentateuch, and in light of the indisputable fact that they
are now combined into one work, it is logically required that someone must have
combined them. This necessity, and this alone, is what gives rise to the redactor: his
Chapter Five The Singularity of the Redactor(s)
313
actual historical existence must be postulated in order to account for the facts: no more,
and no less.
A number of observations can be made on the basis of this realization. First, the
term redactor shows itself to be at best too imprecise, and at worse highly misleading.
The Latin word on which the term is based, redigere (past participle: redactum), means
to restore,
1
though this meaning is ill-suited to its modern usage. In current
Pentateuchal scholarship, the word is most often used to describe one of two processes:
either the simple compilation of the Pentateuchal sources into a single document, or the
gradual growth of the Pentateuch through accretion, each layer of which is called a
redaction. When used to describe the compilation of the sources, however, the term is
frequently taken at least one step further, as in the notion of redaction criticism, and its
close relative, canonical criticism, in which the redactor is transformed into an active
theologian. When used to describe the various figures responsible for the stages in a
purportedly gradual growth through accretion, the redactor has become nothing less than
an author. The term is, thus, used far too broadly, and though we cannot agree with the
conclusions Van Seters draws from his study of the concept, we can admit that his
arguments against the use of the terms redactor and editor in Pentateuchal studies are
important, and should perhaps be accepted, if for nothing more than clarity. Thus we
may be better served, when referring to the figure or figures who put together the
Pentateuch by combining the four original source documents, by using the term compiler,
which more accurately describes the process associated with the figure in question.

1
As pointed out by Van Seters, Edited Bible, 14.
314
Second, the realization that positing the existence of the redactor is no more than
a necessary implication of the Documentary Hypothesis requires that we be particularly
cautious about identifying passages as redactional. A text should be attributed to the
redactor only if it cannot belong to any of the sources. Following this simple rule
substantially reduces the number of redactional passages in the the Pentateuch, relative to
the analyses of the majority of critics. From our study, it has emerged that the number of
passages that fit this qualification is quite small. It is only after these passages have been
identified not because they fit a particular theological or stylistic model, but precisely
because they do not fit the models of the Pentateuchal sources that we can examine
their function within the compiled text.
Following on this point, if we accept that the existence of the sources necessitates
the existence of the redactor, then the fact that the sources have been combined requires
that the redactor combined them but nothing more than that. In order to argue that the
redactor did anything more than combine the sources, that is, that he added to,
substracted from, or changed them, this must be demonstrated textually, whereas the
actual compiling of the text is a given, and requires no further proof. Therefore, the only
proof that the redactor has done anything more than simply compile the documents would
be the existence of passages that do not belong to one of the sources. But not simply
their existence; what is then in question is the nature of these passages: can they be
shown to serve a function other than contributing to the process of combining the
sources? As I have tried to show, and we shall further see, when the sources are correctly
disentangled, only the smallest pieces are attributable to the redactor. These small pieces
are easily seen to contribute to the process of combining the sources and to this process
315
alone. This leads to the conclusion that they were added by the redactor specifically, and
only, for that purpose.
Thirdly, though virtually all source-critical scholarship assumes the existence of
three or more redactors, beginning with R
JE
and ending with the final redactor, R, this is a
conclusion to be drawn from the literary analysis of the text, not a presupposition to be
applied to it. Scholars arrived at the idea that there were multiple redactors while
operating under the influence of theories of history and religion that favored an
evolutionary scheme. It was thus natural to assume that the Pentateuch had grown in this
way as well, and Wellhausen and his followers argued this persuasively. Over time, the
evolutionary theories that served as the underpinning for the classical model have been
abandoned; the model itself, however, has remained in place, even without explicit
textual support. This is not to discount the possibility that there were multiple redactors
simply because the underlying theory is outdated; rather, it is to demand that the common
model of multiple redactors be subject to scrutiny based on the textual evidence itself.
There are two possible ways to prove the existence of more than one redactor.
The first would be to provide clear evidence that one of the sources was familiar with the
combined form of two of the other sources. Attempts at adducing evidence of this type
have been made; they were shown above, in chapter 4, to be unsuccessful. The second
way is one that, surprisingly enough, has almost never even been considered: to provide
evidence that the process of redaction either the manner in which the integration of the
documents was accomplished, or the character of the compiler's own contribution (or lack
thereof), or its extent differs in some consistent manner from passage to passage,
suggesting the existence of multiple redactors, each with his own method of
316
accomplishing his task. In the absence of evidence of the former type, namely, of the
awareness by one source of the combined form of two other sources, the only way to
argue successfully for the existence of more than one redactor is to show that these
redactors can be differentiated. And yet, this need to demonstrate distinctive redactional
techniques in order to buttress the argument for distinct redactors has basically been
ignored in scholarship. This fact is further evidence of how automatically, and how
unquestioningly, scholarship has proceeded along the Wellhausenian assumption that
each source implies a separate redactional stage.
Only very recently, in an as-yet unpublished article by R.E. Friedman, has the
need to address this issue finally been raised.
2
Yet Friedman begins with the assumption
that J and E were combined into a document JE, and proceeds from this point to argue
that this was carried out in a manner distinguishable from that in which the combination
of JE with D was carried out, and that the latter was performed in a way different from
that in which JED was combined with P. I will address Friedmans arguments below;
for now it can be noted that the supposed combination of J and E should have been the
conclusion drawn from the redactional evidence, not the presupposition on the basis of
which the analysis of the redactional evidence was subsequently founded. It is not enough
simply to assert that one redactor worked on J and E, while one worked on JE and P,
since, if the redactional methods can be shown to be the same in both cases, the simplest
logical conclusion is that one redactor combined all three at the same time. This will be
the aim of the present chapter.

2
R.E. Friedman, Three Major Redactors of the Torah, (forthcoming). Cf. the discussion of this paper in
the footnotes below.
317
Proof of different redactional methods between the various supposed redactors is
not just a desideratum; it is necessary if one wishes to argue that the Pentateuchal sources
were combined sequentially. Conversely, if the techniques used in the combination of J
+ E can be shown to have been precisely those of the combination of J + P, or E + P, then
there are no grounds for distinguishing between different redactors. In such a case we
can, and should, say no more than that the three (four, including D; see below) sources
were combined at one time by one redactor. In addition to being the only legitimate
conclusion from the absence of consistently differentiated redactional methods (if this
should indeed turn out to be the case), this is also the more logical outgrowth of the
recognition that the redactor is not an active part of the creation of the sources of the
Pentateuch, but is necessitated by the pre-existing fact of the compilation of the
Pentateuch.
This chapter, then, will address this very question: can we distinguish any
difference in redactional method among the various source combinations in the
Pentateuch? Because the D material is confined entirely to Deuteronomy, and because
even there it is virtually all one solid block of text, I will concentrate mainly on the
various interactions of J, E, and P (though, as we shall see, D fits perfectly into the theory
espoused here). It will be argued that, once we correctly separate the sources and come
to realize that the identifiable redactional contributions are restricted to those that
participate in the process of source combination, it becomes evident that the same
redactional methods are used in combining all three sources, and that therefore only one
process of combination (and therefore only one redactor) should be assumed.

318
Combining Documents
The Pentateuchal redactor had one overarching aim: to take independent source
documents and, while maintaining as much of the original text as possible, fuse them into
a single whole.
3
The determining feature in this process was simply the chronological
ordering of the texts, such that they created a continuous storyline from creation to the
death of Moses. Ideally, the redactor would not have needed to add or subtract any text
in order to accomplish this goal. In the great majority of cases, as has long been known
(if not explicitly recognized), this is precisely what happens. In simply combining
sources, without making any textual changes, the redactor had two possible choices at his
disposal: simply to place blocks of text next to each other, or to interweave them. When
possible, the first choice was always preferable, as this removed nearly entirely the need
to change or add any text. If, in other words, if the episodes in the text could somehow be
understood to be separate events in history, and if reading them sequentially would not
create logical or chronological confusion, the redactor was free simply to place them
beside each other, in whichever sequence seemed historically accurate, and allow the
reader to draw any necessary connections. Such is the case, for example, with the
priestly plague of lice (Ex. 8:12-15) and the J plague of swarms (8:16-28). Though
similar, the redactor knew that there could be no objection if they were placed one

3
This is in contrast to Friedmans contention (Three Major Redactors) that R
JE
made the conscious
decision to neglect E until some time in the middle of the Abraham narratives because the E source
derived from the non-Aaronid Levites, who favored Moses and therefore concentrated on the Mosaic age,
in which case this would be an understandable editorial decision. Here Friedman has confused editorial
and authorial choice: why would the compiler care about the motivations of the Elohistic authors when he
combined J and E? And if he did care, why begin E in the patriarchal cycle, rather than in Egypt? And
why preserve any of J in the Exodus and wilderness traditions? We must assume rather that E at least in
the form in which it was available to the redactor simply did not contain any material prior to the
covenant with Abraham. Furthermore, Friedman seems to be basing his literary criticism on historical
considerations, such as the role of the Levites in pre-exilic Israel, rather than basing his historical
considerations on what emerges from the correct literary analysis of text.
319
directly following the other, as the Egyptians could plausibly have been smitten with
both, one after another. The redactor followed this same protocol even when faced with
two stories that not only appear similar, but serve similar functions within their respective
original documents. An example of this is the pair of stories that tell of Moses getting
water from a rock (in J, Ex. 17:2-7, and in P, Num. 20:2-13): these narratives each
purport to describe how YHWH and Moses dealt with the issue of the Israelites thirst in
the desert, but they occur, in their respective sources, in different places, at different
points in the narrative, and have different conclusions. The redactor thus assumed that
both events occurred, and the respective reports could therefore remain separate.
4

If, however, two independent narratives related what the redactor viewed as two
accounts of precisely the same event, the redactor had no choice but to interweave them
such that, in combination, they appear to be telling of a single event. A fine example of
this is the Flood narrative. There was simply no way that the redactor could place two
stories of the Flood beside each other; all of mankind is destroyed in each, and at the end
of each God promises that he will never do so again. Neither the redactor nor the reader
thought that there were two such floods. It would therefore be impossible to read the two
texts in sequence. The redactor had no choice but to form them into a single story by
interweaving them.
As we will see in the following examples, the redactional process described above
is consistent throughout the Pentateuch. There is no distinction between the manner of

4
They were not, therefore, put in this order because Moses cannot get in trouble for hitting the rock and
then be told to hit a rock, as Friedman suggests was Rs basis for placing the texts in their current
locations (Three Major Redactors, 11). They are where they are because, in the original source
documents, that is where they were. The redactor has not moved them from one place to another; he has
simply left them where he found them.
320
combining J and E and that of combining J and P, or E and P, or, in fact, D and any other
sources.
5

Block Sequence
I will leave aside the primeval history of Gen. 1-11, as it is admitted by all that E
has no place in those chapters, and they therefore cannot be used to prove anything about
the relationship of J and E as opposed to J or E and P.
It hardly needs to be demonstrated in detail that we find the block ordering of
texts throughout the Pentateuch. Gen. 22, the binding of Isaac, is widely recognized as
deriving from the hand of the Elohist.
6
Even if we accept the possibility of secondary
additions to the text, the basic story is from E, without any interference from either P or J.
Gen. 23, a priestly text,
7
is an entirely self-contained narrative about the purchasing of a
burial plot by Abraham. It is followed by Gen. 24, a J narrative,
8
which tells the story of
Abrahams servant finding a wife for Isaac. These three chapters are independent blocks
of text, placed in sequence, without any interweaving at all. They tell self-contained

5
Friedmans claim (Three Major Redactors, 9) that R
JE
was willing to cut out portions of his sources,
as opposed to R, who retained as much as possible, is based on the relative incompleteness of J and E
(individually) as opposed to P. These data, however, cannot be used to determine the procedure of the
redactor, but more probably relate to the state of the documents that the redactor was using, as well as the
undeniable stylistic similarities between J and E (which led, eventually, to the belief that E never actually
existed).

6
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 17; Addis, Documents, I:36-37; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 31-32;
Skinner, Genesis, 315, et al.

7
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 27; Addis, Documents, I:38; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 32-33;
Skinner, Genesis, 335, et al.

8
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 28; Addis, Documents, I:38-43; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 33-36;
Skinner, Genesis, 339-340, et al.
321
narratives, and there was no need for the redactor to bring part of one source into the
narrative of another.
We find a similar process at work in the plagues narrative. Although it is
universally known that the plagues narrative as a whole is a composite text, most of the
individual plagues are the work of either J or P alone. Thus, for example, we have Ex. 9,
which contains three blocks of text, one from J (vv. 1-7), one from P (vv. 8-12), and
another from J (vv. 13-34). Each block contains the narration of an individual plague,
and as these can easily be read in sequence, without any logical confusion, the redactor
could simply place them in sequence, without any interweaving. We can note also Ex.
17, which contains a complete J narrative about the peoples desire for water (vv. 2-7)
followed by a complete E narrative about the battle with Amalek (vv. 8-16) completely
different stories, placed beside one another as blocks of text.
The most significant of these blocks, of course, is the bulk of Deuteronomy,
which is not placed at the end of the Pentateuch because it has any relationship with the
Deuteronomistic History of Judges-Kings, but rather because that is its appropriate place
chronologically. The speech of Moses is set in the plains of Moab, after the wilderness
wanderings and before Moses dies and the people are to cross the Jordan to enter Canaan.
It cannot therefore be put anywhere but in its current place, that is, after the other sources
have narrated the wilderness wanderings, but before they narrate the death of Moses (and
the entry into the land, if we continue reading the sources into the Deuteronomistic
History).

322
Interweaving Texts
We can now turn to those places where the redactor has interwoven two or more
sources into a single narrative. We find this prominently in the Joseph narrative, Gen.
37-50.
9
Here the redactor could hardly leave the two stories, from J and E, standing
beside each other, as both begin with Joseph and his family in Canaan, and end with them
in Egypt. One simply could not tell this story twice and expect a reader to make any
sense of it. Thus the redactor has broadly interwoven them. We can see, then, that the
redactor interweaves J and E where necessary; it is equally evident that he does this with
all the sources.
10

We can turn again to the plagues narrative to see how the redactor interweaves J
and P. This is necessary, for example, in Ex. 7:14-24. Both J and P contained a plague
of blood in the waters of Egypt (J: vv. 14-18, 20a" [from wayy"rem]-21a, 23-24; P: vv.
19-20a! [to yhwh], 21b-22), Js being localized to just the Nile, and Ps afflicting all the
water sources in Egypt. In combining the two documents, it is evident that the redactor
could not have two different plagues of blood; they are simply too similar to read in
sequence (and perhaps he was conscious of, and wanted to preserve, the final number of

9
Although there are some scholars who see the Joseph narrative in Gen. 37-50 as a unified work (cf., e.g.,
R.N. Whybray, The Joseph Story and Pentateuchal Criticism, VT 18 [1968]: 522-528), the narrative
inconsistencies and contradictions in these chapters are of precisely the same order as those found
elsewhere in the Pentateuch, and the solution should therefore be the same. The admitted difficulty of
disentangling the sources in Gen. 37-50 is not a valid reason to assume single authorship, especially when
there are parts of the Joseph narrative which divide relatively easily into two or more strands.

10
Friedman (Three Major Redactors) seems to believe that only R interweaved texts in this way, because
he did not have the freedom of R
JE
to cut parts of his source documents. Yet this requires us to wonder
why R
JE
ever interweaved conflicting J and E accounts, rather than simply removing one, if he was so
free to do so. Why, one might ask, in Gen. 37:27-28, did the redactor not simply take out either the J story
of the Ishmaelites or the E story of the Midianites? Surely it was because, as Friedman suggests is only the
case for R, throughout the Pentateuch the redactor attempted to retain as much of the original source
documents as possible.
323
ten for the plagues). Thus the two stories were interwoven, such that they appear to
represent but one plague.
E and P are interwoven, as we have already seen in chapter 3, in Num. 16. Here
two stories of rebellion against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness were judged, it
appears, to be dealing with such similar issues that they made better sense as one
narrative rather than two separate stories. This may be because these are the only two
stories in the wilderness wanderings that explicitly challenge Moses and Aarons
authority as leaders of the people; elsewhere the people may grumble and complain about
aspects of the wilderness, such as hunger and thirst, but the actual authority of Moses and
Aaron is not directly challenged. Since the defeat of one of the rebellions would seem to
indicate that Moses and Aarons authority was confirmed, and thereby preclude a second
uprising (especially in any close chronological proximity), the redactor decided to
combine the two events into one, such that the question of the leadership of Moses and
Aaron would be dealt with once and finally.
We find even that D and E have been interwoven, as we have already argued in
chapter 3 above, in Deut. 31. Both sources contained a narrative of Joshua being told that
he is to lead the people into the promised land (D: vv. 7-8; E: vv. 14-15, 23). In both
documents, this took place at the end of the wilderness wandering, just before the death
of Moses. Thus the redactor could hardly have placed Es account before the beginning
of Deuteronomy, as Moses still had a major act of law-giving to accomplish. Thus the
redactor put Deuteronomy where it is, and in reading through it, came to the D account of
Joshuas elevation to leader. The D and E accounts of this were so similar (since, of
course, the author of D based his version on that of E, as we have seen), that the redactor
324
had little choice but to combine them into one narrative.
11
This he did by interweaving
the D and E accounts such that they form a single story.
We can see, then, that this redactional interweaving of sources to form unified
narratives can be found in J and E contexts, J and P, E and P, D and E. The process
appears to be the same in every case.

Insertions
Occasionally, however, in order to accomplish what the redactor took to be the
smooth integration of the documents into a single text, he found it necessary to make an
insertion. These will occupy the bulk of our attention in this chapter, as it is the passages
that come from the hand of the redactor himself that provide the best indication of his
methods and aims.
If we assume only the most basic of possible motivations for the redactor, that is,
the simple combining of his source documents, we can theoretically expect three distinct
types of redactional insertions in the text. The first would be the simplest: factual
corrections necessitated by the conflicting presentations of the narrative in the different
sources. This is not to suggest that the redactor was engaged in any large-scale rewriting
or relocating of texts so as to remove inconsistencies; close examination of the final text,
replete as it is with inconsistencies of every sort, and of the reconstructed documents,
readily readable as continuous wholes in most cases, confirm that he was not. And

11
The reason this happens only here, even though D is almost entirely based on E, is that the majority of D
is presented as a speech of Moses recounting what had already happened. It therefore did not present a
doublet of the same event as E. The transfer of authority in Deut. 31, however, is not a Mosaic speech, but
is the third-person narration of the author of D, and so directly conflicts with the third-person narration of E
regarding the same event. This is the only place that the D narrative, based on that of E, is in the third
person, and is therefore the only place that the redactor would have seen fit to combine the two sources.
325
indeed, upon reflection, we should not really even expect this type of editing, since the
purpose of the combination of the Pentateuchal sources was to preserve a group of texts
considered to be sacred, or nearly so, and therefore essentially unalterable. Insertions of
this sort should thus be few, occurring only when absolutely unavoidable (and as we shall
see below, this is indeed the case). The second type of insertion would be a subset of the
first: the addition of phrases or information taken from one source and inserted into
another, but in a different pericope. These derivative additions would serve to integrate
more fully the different presentations of the narrative among the different sources. The
third type of insertion might be called pattern corrections; passages in which a phrase
used repeatedly in one source is inserted into the other, again only in those cases where
the two documents are being combined to narrate a single episode. These pattern
corrections would be used by the redactor to create a more closely unified text. Without
removing any text, making any large-scale additions, or relocating any text, these three
are the only types of additions by which the redactor might be reasonably expected to
address inconsistencies and achieve a more closely unified text.
All three processes are found in the Pentateuch, and each is fairly uncommon.
The first, factual correction, almost exclusively comprises the changing of character
names and event locations such that stories which were once independent could be united
into a single narrative. This is perhaps not surprising, as we do not expect the redactor to
have made changes unless completely necessary. Only what we might refer to as pure
facts, like character names and event locations, were evidently considered so inflexible
that they could not be left in conflict with each other. Again, this reticence to make
large-scale changes is evidence that the redactors aim was not to remove all
326
inconsistencies; had that been his purpose, we would not be able today to identify those
inconsistencies and thereby separate the original sources. Indeed, we would never have
realized that there were sources, and therefore, ironically, would never have needed to
infer the existence of the redactor at all. On the other hand, the fact that we can
recognize the redactional insertions discussed in this chapter means that the redactor
occasionally found it necessary to diverge from the practice of simply cutting and pasting
the sources. The nature of these insertions, however, indicates that the redactor was
considerably closer to the latter extreme than to the former that is, he made a very few
small insertions, rather than many large ones such that his redactional interventions are
restricted only to the most blatant of inconsistencies. As persuasively argued by Baruch
Halpern in 1995, the detailed study of the editing of the Pentateuch suggests a redactor
whose primary concern was to put together the smoothest possible story given the
imperative to preserve [the] narrative sources insofar as possible, or even absolutely.
12

In all three of these processes, it will be noted, there is no theological or
historiographical motivation behind the insertions. They are used solely to better
integrate the independent documents into a unified whole, by resolving contradictions,
collapsing narrative distinctions, and smoothing over occasional stylistic differences. All
three can thus be said to participate in the process of combining the source documents.
We will see that all three of these types are found equally across the four sources of the
Pentateuch.

12
What They Dont Know Wont Hurt Them: Genesis 6-9, pp. 16-34 in A.B. Beck, A.H. Bartlelt, P.R.
Raabe, and C.A. Franke, eds., Fortunate the Eyes that See: Essays in Honor of David Noel Freedman in
Celebration of His Seventieth Birthday (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995), 33.
327
Factual Corrections
The number of redactional insertions intended to correct factual discrepancies
between the sources is considerably smaller than one might expect, especially
considering earlier scholarly treatments. As we saw in the previous chapter, many of the
common attributions of text to the redactor can be dismissed, and on a variety of grounds.
There are, however, a few remaining examples, and some of those will be discussed here.

Genesis 33:18a
It is universally recognized that the name Paddan-Aram belongs only to P. For
this reason, some scholars have seen fit to assign the entirety of Gen. 33:18a to P (most
everyone assigns 33:18b to E).
13
Others have tried to make the mention of Paddan-Aram
redactional.
14
A third solution presents itself, however, as most plausible: 33:18a is from
P, but the words r %
!
kem are redactional.
It is reasonably clear that the substance of Gen. 33:18a is part of the P narrative.
It follows directly on the priestly narrative in Gen. 31:17-18, which tells us that Jacob
took his family and belongings and left Paddan-Aram to come to his father Isaac in the
land of Canaan. The only part of the verse whose status as P is questionable is the
notice that he arrived in the city of Shechem. The verse in the P narrative that follows

13
Driver, Genesis, 300; Dillmann, Genesis, 291; Addis, Documents, I:67. Carpenter-Harford were
essentially in agreement, though they took the first three words as an independent sentence belonging to E
(And Jacob came to Shalem, reading %"l$m as a proper name), and therefore had to assume that and
Jacob came was also part of the P narrative (Hexateuch, 52).

14
Wellhausen, Composition, 48; Kuenen, Hexateuch, 145. As Dillmann already pointed out, were the
verse originally non-priestly, it would not be possible to understand why anyone should have inserted the
wholly superfluous words b
!
bo mippaddan
a
r"m. We also find Skinner (Genesis, 416) and von Rad
(Genesis, 328) raising the possibility that just the words which was in the land of Canaan, when he came
from Paddan-Aram are from P. This is untenable, of course, as this is not a sentence, and does not
connect with anything at all. Such analyses are far too frequent in older works of source criticism, which
seem to have forgotten the basic premise of the Documentary Hypothesis: continuous sources.
328
this is 35:9, in which God blesses Jacob when he arrived from Paddan-Aram.
15
If we
read only the P narrative, including Gen 33:18a in present form, it thus appears that this
blessing took place at Shechem, for P contains no indication that Jacob proceeded from
Shechem to Bethel.
16
The problem with this is that the later priestly reference to this
blessing, in Gen. 48:3, places it not at Shechem, but rather at Luz, i.e., Bethel.
Furthermore, in 35:13, also part of the priestly narrative, Jacob names the site of the
divine revelation Bethel.
17
If there is but one blessing conferred upon Jacob on his arrival
in Canaan in P (and it appears that this is the case), and if the priestly narrator is not
informing us that Jacob renamed Shechem Bethel (which cannot be the case, since they
are not one and the same, and further, since Jacob himself refers to Bethel as Luz in
48:3), then 33:18, in its present form, creates a discrepancy regarding the place where this
blessing was pronounced.
We might therefore assume that the P narrative in 33:18 originally read something
like, Jacob arrived safely in Luz, as this would then match the story in 48:3, and would
connect better to the continuation of the narrative in 35:9ff. The question then becomes
why the redactor changed the name Luz to the city of Shechem. The answer is
provided by the context in which the verse is placed: the redactor could not have a verse
saying that Jacob arrived in Luz when the subsequent narrative (in the canonical text)

15
The verb here, b, means not simply to come, but in this case more specifically to arrive, to enter,
and thereby denotes here not the lengthy process of travel, but the moment at which he entered the land of
Canaan.

16
See below for discussion of the word d in Gen. 35:9.

17
This is clearly P, and not E, as in the Elohistic narrative Jacob has already renamed the city Bethel
(28:19). We know that there was a common Israelite tradition that the holy site of Bethel was related
somehow to Jacobs having encountered God there (Gen. 28:11ff.; E); though P does not present the story
as an etiology of the temple, naturally, it nevertheless retains the tradition of some interaction with the deity
having happened there.
329
takes place in Shechem (Gen. 33:19-20; 34).
18
So why did the redactor place this verse
in front of the Shechem narrative (thereby necessitating a change) rather than before the
Bethel narrative in Gen. 35? There is no intervening P material to account for, so
theoretically he could have done just this and thereby saved himself from any redactional
alterations. But 33:18 announces Jacobs return from Paddan-Aram to Canaan, and the
redactor knew as well as anyone that Shechem is in Canaan. He was therefore unable to
place the announcement of the return to Canaan after an episode (Gen. 33:19-34:31)
which clearly took place within its borders. So he put the P verse in the only logical
place for it, i.e., just before Jacobs first episode in Canaan upon returning from his stay
with Laban. This required him to change the place name in P from Luz to Shechem to
match the subsequent non-priestly narrative.
In this verse we can clearly see the methodology of the redactor. He puts the P
verse in its only logical place in the canonical text. He recognizes that this creates a
contradiction in the most basic of information, the location of the subsequent event. This
forces him to make a minor change in the P verse so that it matches with the subsequent
E narrative.
Having identified this phrase as redactional on the basis of its content, we might
also note that its form might have provided a clue that it was not original to the P
narrative in which it has been placed. The words r %
!
kem are a construct phrase: the
city of Shechem, and this can only mean the city of [the person named] Shechem.
With the exception of the famous city of David, this is a relatively infrequent

18
The attempt of some to assign a large part of Gen. 34 to P is impossible (cf. Addis, Documents, I:68-69;
Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 52-54; Driver, Genesis, 303-306). It is done almost exclusively on a very
few bits of style or terminology, none of which are probative in the least. Even Carpenter-Harford admitted
that it is so different in kind from Ps other narratives of the patriarchal age (Hexateuch, 52). The chapter
is in fact composed of a combination of J and E, the details of which do not concern us here.
330
construction, found in Gen. 24:10; Num. 21:26-27; and we might perhaps include Josh
18:14. In all three of these cases, we find r in construct with a personal name or
gentilic, and in all three the second element denotes not the name of the town, but the
people who live therein. Thus in Gen. 24:10, the r n"h9r is called Aram-Naharaim; in
Num. 21:26-27 the r sh9on is called Heshbon; and in Josh. 18:14 the r b
!
n y
!
hd"
h
is
called Kiryat-Baal (or Kiryat-yearim). We should thus understand the word %
!
kem in
Gen. 33:18 similarly: not as an indication of the citys name, but of its inhabitants. This
being the case, it is impossible for these words to be original to Ps narrative, as an
episode involving the person Shechem takes place only in J and E (in Gen. 34). And it
should be noted that in Gen. 34, the name of the town in which the episode takes place is
never stated. Rather, it is referred to as their city (34:20) or his city (34:24). In other
words, the author of Gen. 34 does not give the city a name, but refers to it only by its
inhabitants, Hamor and Shechem. It is for this reason that when the redactor went to
replace whatever originally stood in P with a phrase that linked the priestly narrative to
that of Gen. 34, he did not say that Jacob arrived in Shechem rather, he arrived in the
city of Shechem, a description taken entirely from the subsequent non-priestly story.

Genesis 35:9
We have seen that the priestly narrative tells of only one blessing conferred by
God upon Jacob, in 35:9-12, and that it takes place in Luz, i.e., Bethel.
19
According to P,
this is not only the sole divine blessing, but also the sole divine revelation to Jacob.

19
P does tell of Isaac passing the divine blessing to Jacob (Gen. 28:3-4), but this does not change the basic
nature of the promises as envisioned in P: each patriarch receives a single visit from the deity in which the
blessing is personally reestablished (although the narrative of Isaacs blessing is missing, it must be
inferred from his passing it on to his son, as Abraham presumably did to him).
331
Therefore the word d in 35:9 must be redactional, as the other revelations to Jacob (in
both J and E in 28:10ff.) are non-priestly.
20
Here, rather than changing one place name to
another, the redactor adds a single, unobtrusive word so as to make clear that God did
appear to Jacob multiple times, as the canonical version says, rather than just once, as
would seem the case if he maintained the original language of P in this verse.

Genesis 39:1
It has long been recognized that Potiphar, Pharaohs eunuch, belongs exclusively
to the Elohistic narrative (Gen. 37:36), and that the name of the man who bought Joseph
from the Ishmaelites in the J narrative is not given (39:2, 3, 5, 19, 20). This recognition
brings along with it the realization that in Gen. 39:1 the redactor has assimilated the two
characters into one by inserting the phrase Potiphar, eunuch of Pharaoh, chief of the
stewards into the J narrative.
21
This procedure is similar to that in Gen. 33:18, in which
the P and E stories gave conflicting place names for what canonically would read as the
same event. Here J and E speak of different characters, with different names, who were
deemed by the redactor to have been one and the same and therefore needed to be united.
Thus the redactor in Gen. 33:18 replaces Ps place name with that of E; in this text,
however, Josephs master in J is unnamed, which allows the redactor to simply insert the
E name and title into the introduction of the J character. This creates, as has frequently

20
This was already recognized by Dillmann, Genesis, 305; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 55; von Rad,
Genesis, 339. Friedman (Sources Revealed, 89) attributes not only the word again but also the phrase
which follows it, when he was coming from Paddan-Aram, to the redactor. It is unclear why he thinks
the very priestly travel notice there is redactional, especially since he knows that in P Jacob is coming from
Paddan-Aram (31:18). In fact, the verses containing this phrase were originally sequential in the P
document (31:18, 35:9). Thus we should either attribute the repetition to the style of the priestly writing, or
perhaps suggest that what we have here is an example of vertical dittography within the P document.

21
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 54; Dillmann, Genesis, 354f.; Carpenter-Harford Hexateuch, 61; Addis,
Documents, I:77; Driver, Genesis, 333; Skinner, Genesis, 457.
332
been observed, a redundancy, as the J description, an Egyptian man, is no longer
necessary.
22
But this very redundancy illuminates part of the redactors methodology: he
does not delete text from his sources unless it is in complete contradiction to either
another source or the combined canonical text. Thus it was simply impossible to
maintain Luz in Gen. 33:18, as it was totally incompatible with the next pericopes
placement in Shechem. But here, though stylistically awkward and informationally
redundant, the redactor did not remove the J phrase an Egyptian man, as it did not
contradict either the E narrative or the combined narrative.
23

Exodus 3:4
The burning bush in Ex. 3 is a feature of the J narrative; this is agreed by all.
24

The question is whether it rightfully belongs also to the E narrative; is it possible that
both sources might have preserved a tradition that Gods revelation to Moses was through
the medium of a bush?
25
This possibility must be dismissed, as the word for bush, s
!
ne
h
,
is clearly being used as a folk etymology for Sinai, and therefore is useful only to the

22
Driver, Genesis, 333; Skinner, Genesis, 457.

23
This example is but one of a handful from the Joseph story; cf. also 40:3, 5, in which the references to
Josephs being imprisoned are redactional. Gen. 40 is from E, in which Joseph is not in prison at all, but is
simply owned by Potiphar, into whose house the butler and baker are placed; it is in J that Joseph is
imprisoned, because of his dalliance with the wife of the Egyptian who purchased him from the
Ishmaelites. Cf. Dillmann, Genesis, 360f.; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 62; Driver, Genesis, 336f.
Again we may note the impossibility of Skinners suggestion that these phrases represent fragments of a
parallel narrative in J (Genesis, 460). A less commonly recognized example is found in the priestly verse
47:27, in which the phrase in the land of Goshen has clearly been added by the redactor in order to
accommodate the J narratives insistence that the Israelites settled specifically in Goshen (47:4, 6b; in P the
Israelites live in Rameses, 47:11); cf. Skinner, Genesis, 501.

24
Cf. Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 83; Driver, Exodus, 19-20; McNeile, Exodus, 16-17; Friedman,
Sources Revealed, 121-122.

25
As suggested, explicitly or implicitly, by Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 83; Driver, Exodus, 20;
McNeile, Exodus, 16f. The argument that hass
!
ne
h
in 3:4 can mean a bush as well as the bush is
irrelevant; see below.
333
source to which Sinai has any importance, i.e., J.
26
Scholars have rightly determined that
the two divine names in this verse are indicative of two sources, such that 3:4a is
assigned to J, and 3:4b to E;
27
but this puts the reference to the bush into the E half of the
verse, where it does not belong. For this reason, some have correctly seen fit to assign
the phrase from within the bush to the redactor.
28

Yet this deals only with half of the issue. For once it is recognized that the phrase
from within the bush is not original to E, but is from the redactor, it must be asked why
the redactor felt the need to insert the phrase. The easy response is that by placing the
Elohistic revelation to Moses in the bush, the redactor more effectively unites the two
independent revelation narratives into one. On closer inspection, however, this is
unsatisfactory. Undoubtedly the reference to the bush in E ensures that in the readers
mind both stories are describing the same event, but were we to remove the phrase
entirely, we would come to the same conclusion, as in the canonical text the bush is
mentioned in vv. 2 and 3 (J). Even without the phrase from within the bush, no reader
would ever find the canonical text confusing, nor does it read any more smoothly with or
without these two words. The redactor has left dozens, if not hundreds, of this type of
verse alone; if there is no need for any redactional insertion, he does not provide one. It
is only where a blatant contradiction needs to be resolved that he is forced to make a

26
Contrary to Noths claim that s
!
ne
h
and Sinai are totally unrelated (Exodus, 39f.). He may have been
correct that the word s
!
ne
h
refers to a specific type of plant, but this does not consitute evidence that this
specific shrub is an important element in the local tradition behind the narrative. Rather, the tradition
should be assumed to have grown precisely because of the closeness of the (otherwise unexplained) place
name Sinai to the name of a desert plant.

27
See the comments of Addis, Documents, I:109 n. 1.

28
Noth, Exodus, 39; Propp, Exodus 1-18, 180. These words cannot be from J, as they constitute no more
than a prepositional phrase, without connection, grammatical or logical, to what comes either before or
after in the continuous J narrative.
334
change. What, then, is the contradiction in Ex. 3:4? We must assume that from within
the bush is not simply a redactional addition, but is in fact a redactional correction:
something else must have stood there in the original E narrative that contradicted the J
narrative. We are left only to guess what this might have been, but based on verses from
elsewhere in E, it is likely that the text originally read from the mountain here (min-
h"h"r).
29
Were this the original E text, it would have stood in contradiction to the J
narrative in which the voice comes from within the bush.
30

Exodus 34:29
I have argued in chapter 3 that the stone tablets are unique to E, and that therefore
when they appear in conjunction with the priestly term $dt we should recognize that
some redactional combination of sources and terms has taken place. In two verses, Ex.
31:18 and 32:15, the redactor has combined similar P and E verses into single sentences,
such that the tablets from E and the $dt from P appear to constitute one item. Note,
however, that in purely E contexts, the tablets are never described as containing the $dt,
and that, with one exception, in purely P contexts the $dt is never described as being
written on tablets. We will look briefly at that sole exception here.
It occurs in Ex. 34:29, right after the very end of the Horeb pericope in E, and at
the very beginning of the tabernacle instructions in P. In short, this verse is the border

29
The mountain in E is usually referred to simply as the mountain, h"h"r. Cf. Ex. 19:1, 16, 17; 20:15;
24:4, 15a; 32:19, and especially Ex. 19:3; 32:1, 15, which contain this precise phrase.

30
Recognition of the redactional nature of this phrase illuminates the difference between the J and E
presentations of how God spoke to Moses. In J, it is a primarily visual encounter: it is the sight of burning
bush that indicates YHWHs presence. In E, on the other hand, Moses simply hears a voice coming from
the mountain; it is a purely auditory experience, with no visual component. This precise distinction
between the two stories recurs on a larger scale in the Sinai/Horeb pericope, where again the J account is
largely visual (Ex. 19:18; 24:10; cf. also 33:18-23), while the E account is exclusively auditory (Ex.
19:16a"-b, 19).
335
between a section dominated by E, namely, Ex. 32-34, and one containing exclusively P,
namely, Ex. 35-40. The last E verse, 34:28, mentions the tablets, and the first P verse,
34:29, mentions the $dt. The redactor would be aware that in two previous places he
has artificially created the concept of %
!
n luh9ot$dt. Here, then, as a major section (in
which the $dt is repeatedly mentioned) is about to begin, the redactor seems to have
recognized that he could reinforce his own equation of the two terms by simply inserting
the phrase two tablets before the priestly word $dt in 34:29.

Numbers 16:24, 27, 32
The analysis of Numbers 16 has already been given in detail in Chapter 3. Here I
am mainly concerned with the redactional insertions in the text: the combination of
Korah with Dathan and Abiram in these three verses. The need for these insertions is
obvious: the redactor had combined two stories about revolt, one featuring Korah, and
one featuring Dathan and Abiram, into a single episode, a single revolt. We can even
explain why it is only in these three verses that the redactor had to insert the missing
names. The combination of the revolts meant the combination of the punishments. The
two punishments differ not only in content but in narrative style. In E, the earth swallows
Dathan and Abiram and their households, a process which is described in great detail (vv.
27b-34). In P, the punishment is simply that fire comes from YHWH and consumes
Korah and his followers, and takes up but one verse (v. 35).
31
YHWHs demand in P,
that the people withdraw from Korahs dwelling, is not because the dwellings themselves

31
Although 16:35 does not explicitly mention Korah by name, but only his 250 followers, it is to be
understood that Korah is also consumed by the fire (contra the speculation of Noth, Numbers, 129). Note
that Korah and his followers are referred to as sharing the same fate in the continuation of the P story, in
Num. 17:5.
336
are in danger (as in E), but because everything associated with Korah and his men has
become taboo; as Moses says in v. 26 (P), the people are to touch nothing that belongs
to them, lest you be wiped out for their sins. It is the touching of Korahs possessions
that constitutes the danger.
32
When these two stories are combined, however, the redactor
inserts Dathan and Abirams names into vv. 24 and 27. This insertion connects the
withdrawal from Korahs dwelling to the destruction of Dathan and Abirams tents, even
though they were originally totally unrelated.
33
Now the reason for staying away from
Korahs dwelling, regardless of Moses words in v. 26, is that it, along with the tents of
Dathan and Abiram, is about to be swallowed by the earth. In other words, the
punishments have been artfully combined by the redactor simply by the addition of
Dathan and Abiram to the priestly narrative in these verses.
The same sort of change is made in v. 32, where Korah and all his people are
inserted into the notice of Dathan and Abirams deaths. In this chapter, then, just as in
Gen. 39, we see that the redactor combines two stories into one by making two originally
distinct characters (in Gen. 39) or groups (in Num. 16) into one by doing no more than
adding the appropriate names where necessary.
34
There is no deletion of text here; this
conforms to what we must imagine was the redactors main concern, that is, to preserve
as much of the original source text as possible. He only removed text when it created

32
This is only so, however, after Moses has interceded on behalf of the people. At first, YHWH is
prepared to destroy the entire community for the sins of Korah and his group (cf. 16:21).

33
This is confirmed by the peoples fear in v. 34, in which they flee when Dathan and Abirams tents fall
into the earth, and they say, Perhaps the earth will swallow us! This shows that they had not been
warned to withdraw from Dathan and Abirams tents.

34
We see a similar process in Num. 13:26. There the J narrative has the spies returning to Moses alone,
while the P narrative naturally includes Aaron and the entire community. Thus, when the J story says that
they showed the fruit of the land, the redactor, seeing that in J the spies are dealing only with Moses,
combines the various characters of J and P by adding the mem at the end of wayyar(m), so that the spies
now appear to be reporting back to Moses and Aaron and the community.
337
unsustainable contradictions, as we have seen; otherwise, if discrepancies could be
resolved through small additions, this was the preferred method.

The examples discussed in the preceding section, Gen. 33:18a; 35:9; 39:1; Ex.
3:4; 34:29; and Num. 16:24, 27, 32, demonstrate the manner in which the redactor
combined originally independent stories into a single narrative episode. In all these
cases, it was by making the smallest of changes: either adding a word or phrase or
replacing a problematic phrase with another. Note that not only are these insertions
found in both J/E and E/P contexts (and J/P, in Gen. 47:27), but that both sub-types are
attested in both contexts. In other words, this method of redaction cannot be attributed to
R
JE
as distinct from R or any other theoretical redactor. The method is identical
regardless of the context.

Derivative Additions
While the first category above dealt specifically with those places where two
stories were combined to form a single episode, the redactional insertions described
below are found specifically in those places where reference is made to a narrative known
to more than one source. As the presentations of the narrative differ among the various
documents, the redactor felt it necessary to take a phrase from one of the sources and
insert it into the other. This is not the resolution of contradictory stories, then, as in all
these cases the narratives would be perfectly readable even without the redactional
insertion. It is, rather, the closer combination of disparate presentations.

338
Exodus 4:21
In Exodus 4:21-23, YHWH gives Moses a preview of what will happen upon his
arrival at Pharaohs court. Though scholars tend to disagree on the precise source
assignment of these three verses, all agree that they are non-priestly. For those earlier
scholars who found three distinct sources in the plagues narrative,
35
this entire section
was typically assigned with little hesitation to E.
36
In more recent times, there has been
some consensus that the plagues contain but two narrative sources.
37
In these treatments
4:21-23 is still assigned firmly, and correctly, to the non-priestly narrative. This creates a
problem, however, as v. 21 contains a distinctly priestly phrase known from the later
plagues narrative: I will harden his heart,
a
h9azz$q et-libb.
38
(The motif of YHWH
hardening Pharaohs heart, both in the actual narrative and in the theological concept
underlying it, is entirely priestly, and explicitly contradicts the non-priestly passage in
Ex. 3:19-20 and other texts throughout the non-priestly account of the plagues.) Both

35
At least at the beginning of the plagues narrative. It is to be noted that those critics who adhered to the
theory of a three-source plagues narrative (e.g., Addis, Documents, 117ff.; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch,
89; Driver, Exodus, 55ff.) had a tendency to quickly drop all pretense of Es presence, with nothing
attributed to the Elohist between the blood and the hail. The only criteria for assigning text to E in this
pericope seem to have been 1) the availability of excess text, in the form of a foreshadowing, as in 4:21-
23, or in a confusing verse or two, as in 9:31-32, or 2) most prominently, in any verse which mentions a
staff: most scholars, as noted above, have been unable to see the difference between the staff which Moses
uses to perform the plagues in J and the staff of God which he takes with him from Midian in E. This
leads to such treatments as Drivers, who attributed 7:15, 17 to J, but said that they also contain fragments
of E where mention is made of the staff (Exodus, 60). These fragments, of course, connect to nothing, and
thus require us to view the redactor as having simply inserted a few words from an E document, which he
otherwise barely used, into the dominant J narrative. It is, as always, unclear why the redactor would have
felt this necessary.

36
Cf. Wellhausen, Composition, 71; Addis, Documents, I:114; Driver, Exodus, 30f. We have also seen in
the previous chapter that the very fact that this passage contains foreshadowing convinced some scholars
that it cannot be original; hence both Carpenter-Harford (Hexateuch, 85) and McNeile (Exodus, xiv)
assigned vv. 21-23 to a redactor rather than an author.

37
See chapter 4, n. 35.

38
Cf. 7:13, 22; 8:15; 9:12; 10:27. As opposed to the similar J phrase, wayyakb$d et-l$b (cf. 8:11, 28; 9:7;
10:1). In the three-source analyses, this phrase was evidently believed to be common to both E and P.
339
Friedman and Propp recognize that these words must therefore be redactional, as they do
not connect to any P text before or after these verses.
39

In this passage the redactor could have left the J narrative as it was; it is not
combined with a P narrative to form a single story at this point, and there is nothing
inherently contradictory about Js presentation of the upcoming events. Yet the redactor
recognized that in the combined plagues narrative, the priestly refrain of hardening
Pharaohs heart is prominent, and moreover, changes the focus of the story, such that the
plagues become a means for YHWH to demonstrate his power, rather than an attempt to
convince Pharaoh to release the Israelites from slavery. For the redactor, evidently, this
concept dominated the simpler presentation in 4:21-23, such that he felt it necessary to
place YHWHs announcement of this intention earlier in the combined text than it would
have appeared had he relied only on the order of presentation in the priestly source itself
(in 7:3-5).
Thus the redactor in this instance took a phrase,
a
h9azz$q et-libb, derived from
one source (P) and inserted it into another (J), not because he was faced with a blatant
contradiction between two narratives at this point (in the commissioning of Moses), but
because doing so served to more tightly bind the narratives he had combined elsewhere
(in the plagues narrative). In this particular case, however, we can say even more. The
end of Ex. 4 is a combination of J (vv. 19, 20a, 21a, 21b", 22-31) and E (vv. 18, 20b). As
argued above, v. 21b! is from the hand of the redactor. But what is unique in this

39
Friedman, Sources Revealed, 125; Propp, Exodus 1-18, 196f. Both, however, attribute the entire phrase,
I will harden his heart and he will not let the people go, to the redactor. Yet the phrase to let the people
go is really part of the J narrative (cf. 7:14; 8:4, 25, 28; 9:7; cf. also 3:19-20), and does not appear in the P
narrative at all. In the interests of assigning to the redactor only that which is necessary, it is best to restrict
the redactional insertion in v. 21 to the words which are derived specifically from P, I will harden his
heart. The verse reads perfectly smoothly when these words, and these words only, are removed.
340
situation is that the redactor, in a J and E context, has inserted material taken exclusively
from P, and in a place where there is no P anywhere nearby. This may be the single place
in the entire Pentateuch where such a thing occurs (which is in itself an argument against
those who equate the redactor and P, or who suppose that the redactor had some sort of
priestly agenda). This is important on its own, but its implications will be more fully
apparent when we deal with Ex. 9:35 and 10:20, below.

Numbers 13:26
The complete source-critical division of Num. 13-14 has already been presented
above in chapter 3, and will not be repeated here. Nonetheless, it is worth revisiting the
sole redactional insertion in this pericope, Num. 13:26. According to the P narrative in
Num. 13-14, the scouts return to Moses, Aaron, and the whole community, and spread
lies about the dangers of the land (13:26a, 32). In the J narrative, they return to Moses
(alone) and show him the fruit of the land, as he had requested (13:20, 26b). Between the
P and J parts of 13:26, the redactor has inserted the phrase, they brought them a report
(wayy"%b t"m d"b"r). As was argued above, this phrase derives neither from J nor
from P, nor from a combination thereof, but from the Deuteronomic version of the
narrative, in which the people volunteer to inspect the land and bring back a report about
the route they would take through it (w!y"%b t"n d"b"r; Deut. 1:22). When the
people return in D, they naturally do as they said (wayy"%b t"n d"b"r; 1:25). This
phrase must be original to D, rather than being part of the source text on which the author
of D based his account. This is evident because D has the fuller version, with both the
proposal to bring back the report and the actual event. It may also be that D had a
341
different concept of the purpose of the scouting; it may be proposed that in D, the spies
enter the land not only to describe it, but to report on the best route to take through it
(1:22), a concept which is entirely foreign to both J and P.
There are, then, three versions of this pericope, and though it is admitted that the
D account is based on that of J in Numbers, the author of D created a new and distinct
narrative. The redactor combined in Numbers only those of J and P, naturally, as the D
account is presented as part of Moses speech, and therefore belongs chronologically with
the rest of Deuteronomy at the end of the wilderness wanderings, in the plains of Moab.
But he recognized that there was a distinct element of the D narrative which was
unaccounted for in Numbers, and since his aim in combining all the documents was to
create a single account of Israelite history, and since it is clear enough that all three
stories relate the same event, he felt it necessary, in the text of Numbers, to include the
element from D which was missing there.
40

In this case, then, the redactor combined two versions of a narrative into a single
account, and took from the third version one phrase which he then inserted into the
combined narrative. This small move demands that we recognize that all three versions
are relating the same story. Though no contradiction was resolved, and, in fact, the
addition disrupts somewhat the syntactical flow of the verse, this redactional insertion
served again to more closely associate various presentations of a single event.

40
The redactor did not do the reverse, that is, insert into D the many aspects of the combined Numbers
narrative which are missing there. In fact, as far as we can tell, the redactor barely touched D at all (one
exception will be discussed later in this chapter). This may have simply been due to the distance, textually,
between the narratives of Exodus-Numbers and those of Deuteronomy; we might also suggest that, since
the speech of Moses does not purport to give a full rendering of the events of the Exodus and wilderness
periods, the redactor did not find it necessary to fill out the speech with all the details of the earlier, fuller
narratives. Knowing that the versions in D were no more than a prcis of the earlier events, the redactor
considered it reasonable to simply leave the Deuteronomic stories alone. Finally, it should be remembered
that, chronologically, the entirety of D takes place forty years later, and is couched as a speech of Moses,
and therefore, since it is not the words of the narrator, needs no correction.
342

Numbers 32:9, 11, 12
Again, the full source-critical analysis of this chapter has already been presented
above in chapter 3. We need here only to look again at the redactional insertions into the
P narrative in vv. 9, 11, and 12. In this chapter, as will be recalled, we have not only the
apportioning of the Transjordanian territories, but also a rehearsal of the spies narrative
presented in Num. 13-14. In Num. 32 the rehearsal of the story of the spies occurs only
in the P narrative; the E narrative of Num. 32, naturally, makes no reference to these
events, as they are not related anywhere in E. The redactor, then, was faced with a
situation in which he had already combined the J and P spies stories in Num. 13-14, but
here in Num. 32 had a passage in which only the P version of that episode was described.
Though he could have left this text alone, as it contains no contradictions to the previous
account in Num. 13-14 (since the details of the P version had already been given in full),
he recognized that there might be some confusion on the part of the reader, as aspects of
the J narrative were seemingly unaccounted for in this later retelling. His solution was
simple: take some elements of the J narrative in Num. 13-14 and place them in the P
narrative in Num. 32. Thus he included the notice of the arrival at the Wadi Eshkol
(32:9) and the language of Calebs loyalty to YHWH (32:11, 12). By inserting these J
phrases into the P account, he confirmed the combination of the two narratives in Num.
13-14.
This redactional process, then, is similar to that of Ex. 4:21: two variant accounts
of a single event have been combined in one place, but a reference to that event is found
in another place in which only one of the two source texts is represented. The solution to
343
this situation was the same in both places: take elements from the source not represented
in the retelling (or foreshadowing, in Ex. 4:21) and insert them where appropriate. Like
the previous example, however, the text which makes reference to the event is not
intended as a complete retelling, but only as a brief description thereof, so it was not
necessary to fully integrate all the differences between the two sources. Just a few
phrases here and there served the purpose of keeping the originally distinct narratives
locked together.

Numbers 32:33
Another example of this process is found later in Num. 32, in an E verse. The
original E narrative read, Moses gave them the kingdom of Sihon, king of Amorites, and
the kingdom of Og, king of Bashan, in which them refers quite obviously to the
Reubenites and Gadites. This, however, contradicts the account in Deut. 3:12-16, which,
though based on the E narrative of Num. 32, varies from it by assigning the kingdom of
Og specifically to the half-tribe of Manasseh. As has been noted already (see chapter 3),
this half-tribe is unknown to E. The redactor, recognizing the discrepancy between the
two accounts, expanded the E text of Num. 32:33 by providing a full listing of precisely
who is meant by them: to the Gadites and the Reubenites and the half-tribe of
Manasseh, son of Joseph. This small addition, which brings up the half-tribe of
Manasseh for the first time in Num. 32, resolved the contradiction between the two
versions of the narrative. Removing this appositional phrase makes the text read
considerably more smoothly.
344
Again, we see here that the redactor was dealing not with two versions of an
episode which he had chosen to combine into a single account, but two versions which
are in completely different places in the text, and, on simple chronological grounds, could
not be combined into a single account. Thus it was not a matter of creating a unified,
readable story, but rather of making certain that details peculiar to one account were
somehow represented, even if obliquely, in the other, such that when the entire
Pentateuch is read, one does not wonder why one narrative seems so different from the
other. In this case, because the D version is based on that of E, the only change necessary
was to take the sole distinct feature of Moses description of the event in D and retroject
it into the E narrative.

Deuteronomy 1:39
Here we come to what may be the sole redactional insertion into Moses
speech(es) in Deut. 1-11 or, for that matter, in the whole of D. As we have seen in
detail, the author of D used the J account of the spies pericope in Num. 13-14 as the basis
for his own version of the events. Yet we find one solitary verse, 1:39, which is clearly
derived from the P version (Num. 13:31). We may posit the same thought process for the
redactor here as elsewhere: he had already combined the J and P versions, and here is
another variant which represents only the details known from the J account. To eliminate
confusion, the redactor took a line from the P narrative and inserted it into that of D,
thereby making it look as if D is referring to the combined story of Num. 13-14, rather
than only to the J version.
345
Yet in this case we must wonder why the redactor chose to do so here, and not
elsewhere in D. As we have seen, D contains other passages based on E (and
occasionally J) texts from Exodus-Numbers which, in the earlier books, the redactor
combined with P material (like Num. 32 and the entire Horeb pericope). Still, it seems,
nowhere else did the redactor seem to have found this enough of a problem to require
inserting supplementary material into the speeches of Moses. We can hardly speculate as
to why this particular pericope warranted a redactional insertion, while others did not. At
most, we might note that this is the first episode in Moses speech that makes reference to
a source already combined with P, and perhaps this one insertion was enough, in the
redactors mind, to make his case. But this is already to go well beyond the limits of
reasonable conjecture.
41

In all five of the above examples, Ex. 4:21; Num. 13:26; 32:9, 11, 12, and 33; and
Deut. 1:39, we see the same process at work. These redactional insertions were meant to
unify stories which had not been combined into a single account, but which make
reference across a significant textual distance to a single event. And, like the previous
group of examples, we can see this happening across the four Pentateuchal sources. We
have seen here examples of J material inserted into P; D into J and P; D into P; D into E;
and P into D. The redactional method is identical throughout.

41
This type of redactional insertion is similar to the changes found in the Samaritan Pentateuch,
particularly, it should be noted, in the early chapters of Deuteronomy (cf. E. Tov, Textual Criticism of the
Hebrew Bible [Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992], 86-89).
346
Pattern Corrections
The third and final category of redactional insertions comprises those few places
where a pattern or formula has been established in one source, and, when that source was
combined with another, the redactor inserted the formula into the second document. Like
the first group of examples, concerning factual corrections, these occur only when two
narratives are being fused into a single story, as it is only there that we encounter the
irregularity of the pattern when combined with another source.

Exodus 9:35, 10:20
We find ourselves again in the plagues narrative, and again dealing with the
priestly phrase to harden Pharaohs heart. But in the previous section we were
examining a passage which was not really part of the plagues narrative itself, but rather
foreshadowed it. Here, on the other hand, we are firmly in the midst of the combined J
and P plagues. The verses in question, Ex. 9:35 and 10:20, both come at the end of non-
priestly plagues, yet contain the priestly formula used at the completion of each of the
plagues in P.
42
For those older scholars who held that there were three sources present
here, these verses were usually ascribed to E, as it was believed that E also contained this
expression.
43
More recently, scholars have recognized that, like Ex. 4:21, these verses
must also be redactional.
44

42
Cf. 7:13, 22; 8:15; 9:12; 10:27.

43
Wellhausen, Composition, 66; Addis, Documents, I:124; Carpenter-Harford, Hexateuch, 95; Driver,
Exodus, 77, 82; McNeile, Exodus, 57, 59.

44
Friedman, Sources Revealed, 135f.; Propp, Exodus 1-18, 290f. Credit for this idea belongs to M.
Greenberg (The Redaction of the Plague Narrative in Exodus, pp. 243252 in H. Goedicke, ed., Near
Eastern Studies in Honor of William Foxwell Albright [Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1971]). His contention
347
The nature of this redactional insertion is different from those we have seen thus
far. There is no factual contradiction in play here, either within the pericope or from
some external source. This represents, rather, a purely stylistic decision on the part of the
redactor, as is proven by the example in 9:35. Here the priestly formula for hardening
Pharaohs heart follows directly on the non-priestly formula for Pharaohs heart
becoming heavy (9:34b). This indicates that its insertion is not due to any lack of
conclusion to the plague of hail, but rather to the regularity with which the priestly phrase
is used in comparison to the non-priestly. It is not obvious why this passage was felt to
have needed the priestly conclusion, as there are other plagues that are entirely non-
priestly and were left untouched by the redactor.
45

Ex. 10:20 presents a slightly different problem, but one with the same solution. In
the J narrative, the plague of the locusts was the last before the death of the first-born. As
such, it ended not with the usual non-priestly formula, but rather with a confrontation and
negotation between Moses and Pharaoh that concluded dramatically with Moses
declaration that Pharaoh would not see his face again (10:24-26, 28-29). The redactor
recognized that, according to the logic of the narrative, this discussion had to be placed
just before the narrative of the death of the first-born, and that is in fact precisely where it
is located. But he had a plague from P still to be included, that of darkness. He therefore
placed the priestly darkness plague after the J locusts plague. But this separated the J
plague from its natural continuation in the negotations between Moses and Pharaoh, and

that these insertions, and the combination of the sources throughout, are an example of artistic work on the
part of the redactor, however, is debatable; see the discussion below.

45
The "rob (8:16-28), the dever (9:1-7), the hail (9:13-34), and the locusts (10:1-19).
348
made it seem as if that discussion was the continuation of the P narrative.
46
This left the J
passage without a concluding sentence, much less the usual concluding formula. To
remedy the situation, to keep the pattern consistent throughout the combined plagues
pericope, the redactor inserted, in 9:35 and 10:20, a concluding formula modeled upon
the ones he found occuring throughout the P account.
But note that these verses, 9:35 and 10:20, while they are indeed drawn from the
recurring formula in P, are not identical to it. They do include the typical priestly phrase
to harden the heart, and they attribute Pharaohs intransigence to Gods own deliberate
action as throughout the P account. But they also use the non-priestly phrase to let the
people go (see above). This phrase does not appear in the authentic priestly conclusions
to the plagues (cf. 7:13, 22; 8:15; 9:12, in which it says rather that Pharaoh did not heed
them). Its presence in these verses is due to the combining of priestly and non-priestly
phraseology, thus marking these verses as the free composition of the redactor.
Thus, in these two places, where, for various reasons, there was no priestly
ending, the redactor supplied it, thereby integrating the non-priestly plagues into the
structure of the priestly document. Beyond this structural improvement, we might also
wonder if the redactor did not view the E endings to the plagues also as factually
contradictory to the P versions: was Pharaohs stubbornness of his own accord (J), or was
it the work of God (P)? By inserting P-like conclusions in these two places, the redactor
insured that there would be no confusion in this regard. Whatever the underlying reason,
these redactional insertions had the unfortunate effect of making it considerably more

46
Cf. Greenberg, Understanding Exodus, 191f.
349
difficult to separate the sources confidently, and probably contributed to the confusion
regarding the composition of these chapters in earlier scholarship.
These two insertions are relevant also to the discussion of Ex. 4:21 above. That
the redactional passages in 4:21, 9:35, and 10:20 are all from the same hand is clear not
only from the obvious verbal similarities, but from the similarity of purpose as well: all
three serve to resolve the apparent tension between the conflicting explanations for
Pharaohs intransigence. Yet this simple fact has important ramifications for the theory
advanced in this chapter. In Ex. 4:21, the redactional insertion (based on P) is placed in
the middle of a section composed entirely of J and E; in 9:35 and 10:20, however, a a
very similar insertion is placed in section composed entirely of J and P, with no E
anywhere in sight. Thus we have virtually identical redactional insertions involving J + E
(Ex. 4:21) and J + P (Ex. 9:35, 10:20). This observation alone suggests that the same
person combined both J + E and J + P.

Numbers 32:29, 30
The dominant feature of the Elohistic narrative in Num. 32 is its description of the
Reubenites and Gadites as crossing the Jordan kol-h9
a
ls9, or as h9
a
ls9m (vv. 17, 20,
21, 27, 32). The priestly story originally contained nothing like this, as was argued in
chapter 3 above. Yet the redactor chose to insert the E phrases into the P narrative in two
verses, 32:29 and 30.
47
When there are other notable discrepancies between the two

47
These verses belong to P, as argued above in chapter 3, because they are part of Moses instructions to
Joshua regarding the apportioning of the Transjordanian territory after the conquest of Canaan, while in E it
is Moses who apportions the land before they cross the Jordan.
350
stories, why did the redactor choose this phrase and these verses in which to make a
change?
It seems plausible that the redactor recognized the strangeness of the word
h9
a
ls9, and sensed that the repeated use of the word formed a leitmotif in the Elohistic
narrative. Even so, however, Num. 32 is not a long chapter, and the E and P documents
are relatively tightly interwoven, such that even without redactional interference the
reader probably would not sense that the word h9
a
ls9 was not present in any particular
verse or verses. The rationale for the insertion seems to be rather simple, then: in the E
story the verb -b-r, to cross, is always followed by the word h9
a
ls9 in one of its forms.
Thus when the P narrative uses the verb, as it does once in v. 29 and once in v. 30, the
redactor placed the word h9
a
ls9, once in each form, after the verb.
Like the example above from the plagues narrative, here the redactor essentially
extends a pattern into a source that originally did not contain it, creating a false sense of
continuity and unity among the various documents. Though this happens only rarely, it is
highly effective; as we have seen, the plagues narrative and Num. 32 are two passages
which have been the source of much scholarly disagreement and confusion. This
indicates that, in attempting to more closely link his two narratives, the redactor has done
a particularly good job. It may be pointed out that this feature, like the previous two, is
found in both J-P and E-P contexts, once again demonstrating that the actual literary
process of redaction is the same across the various sources.

It is apparent from the examples given above that, at least with regard to
insertions in the text, there is a discernible, consistent methodology on the part of the
351
redactor, and that this methodology remains the same across all four sources of the
Pentateuch.
48
This provides evidence against the notion that there were multiple
redactors; given one methodology, it makes sense to suppose that it reflects the work of
one redactor.

Amalgamating Verses
There remains one category that deserves our attention: another secondary result
of the combination of the sources, i.e., the amalgamation of two independent, but similar,
verses into a single verse. It happens occasionally in the Pentateuch that two sources
contain very similar sentences, which the redactor combines into a single verse. These
moments can be recognized by either a combination of terms unique to individual
sources, or by the simple observation that a given narrative requires a clause which
otherwise seems to be missing. With so few examples, it seems improbable that we
would be able to find them spread amongst J, E, and P equally, yet that is precisely what
occurs, as we shall see below.

Exodus 31:18
In both the E and P narratives of the Sinai/Horeb revelation, Moses goes up the
mountain to receive something from YHWH. In the case of E, as we have seen, this is
the stone tablets; in P, it is the $dt, whatever that may be imagined to have been. Yet in

48
Friedman (Three Major Redactors, 6) correctly notes that in the combination of J and E, redactional
additions occur only infrequently (though his examples are all incorrect). However, he maintains that this
is in distinction to R, who, he claims, composed entire legal texts (Num. 15, 28-29). The attribution of
these sections to R is necessary for Friedman because he has already decided that the priestly text was
added last to the Pentateuch, and therefore the only figure who might have made subsequent additions to a
priestly section is the final redactor, R. It is, in fact, more likely that if these chapters are secondary, they
are secondary to P; this, however, is irrelevant to the issue of the redaction of the Pentateuch.
352
the canonical text, there is but one sentence that describes the actual giving of anything to
Moses on the mountain: When he finished speaking with Moses on Mt. Sinai, he gave
him the two tablets of the $dt, stone tablets inscribed by the finger of God (Ex. 31:18).
Here, as we have seen, we have both the tablets from E and the $dt from P. This alone
indicates that the sources have been combined here. It is impossible, however, to simply
take the identifiable parts of each document and create two independent sentences.
49

Since we already know that this verse contains both E and P material, and since it must
have been the case that both documents contained something essentially identical to the
beginning of the canonical 31:18, the easiest conclusion is that the redactor simply
deleted the exact repetition of and he gave to Moses. If we assume that these two
Hebrew words (or something almost exactly like them) were present in both E and P, the
redactors choice is understandable. He had already committed to making the stone
tablets and the $dt into one object; as there is only one object in the canonical text,
there cannot be two verbs of giving to deal with it.
We find a similar example, as it turns out, in the subsequent chapter, Ex. 32. In
both E and P, Moses had to come down from the mountain to deliver word to the people
of what he had received while speaking with God. There is but one sentence in this
chapter that narrates Moses descent from the mountain, however: 32:15. Again, this
verse contains both the tablets and the $dt, by which we recognize it as composite. As
we know, in E this is followed by the destruction of the first tablets (32:17ff.), while in

49
Although Driver, typically, tried to do just this (Exodus, 346). He was left, however, with a complete
sentence in P (And he gave unto Moses, when he had made an end of communing with him upon Mt.
Sinai, the two tables of the testimony) but only a fragment from E (tables of stone, written with the finger
of God). He correctly noted that the E narrative must have contained some statement of Moses actually
receiving the tablets, but believed that it has been displaced by the P passage in 24:15b-31:18a.
353
the original narrative of P it led directly to the notice of Moses appearance when he was
finished speaking with God (34:29ff.).

Exodus 34:4
The previous example involved the combination of E and P verses. In Ex. 34:4,
we see the combination of J and E in precisely the same manner. Here we do not have
such easy indications as the distinction between the tablets and the $dt, but there are
indications of a composite text. If I have separated J from E correctly in vv. 1 and 2, the
command to carve new stone tablets in v. 1 belongs to E, and the command to be ready to
ascend the mountain in the morning in v. 2 belongs to J. Both elements are featured in v.
4: Moses carved two tablets of stone like the first, and he got up early in the morning
and ascended Mt. Sinai. In the E narrative, Moses is to ascend the mountain a second
time to receive the new version of the tablets. In J, Moses is to ascend the mountain not
to receive any tablets, but to receive a covenant from YHWH (v. 10ff.). In both cases,
Moses has to go to the top of the mountain; yet there is only one verb of ascent, wayyaal,
in v. 4. Though in this case we could create two coherent sentences by simply separating
the J and E features, we would be missing Moses ascent of the mountain in one of the
two. It is therefore more reasonable to assume that both sources contained a notice of
Moses ascent here, as in both cases this is the logical place for it to take place. The
redactor, again trying to make the carving of the new tablets and the reception of the
covenant into a single event, could hardly have Moses ascending the mountain twice;
thus he has removed one of the two (probably identical) verbs, leaving us with a single
ascent of the mountain.
354
We can briefly note a second place where J and E are combined in this way: Num.
11:11. If the analysis of this chapter presented above in chapter 3 is correct, then the
words and YHWH said to Moses in this verse must have originally been part of both
source documents. The verse sits squarely in an E context, and this phrase introducing
YHWHs speech is followed directly in the canonical version by YHWHs command to
Moses to gather seventy elders. But when the J narrative picks up again in v. 18, with
YHWHs command to Moses to tell the people to sanctify themselves, there is no new
verb of speech. The J narrative must, therefore, have contained this clause. The redactor,
in attempting to combine these two independent narratives into a single narrative,
removed Js and YHWH said to Moses, as it would interrupt what is, in the canonical
version, a single speech.

Numbers 13:26
We have now seen both E and P and J and E verses amalgamated in an identical
way. I will conclude this section, then, with an example from J and P.
As long as it is agreed that the spies narrative is composite, it must be admitted
that in both the J and the P versions of the story the spies not only had to inspect the land,
but had to return to Moses to tell him what they had found. Yet, as in the previous
examples, we find only one clause describing this return, in Num. 13:26: They came to
Moses. In the Hebrew, there are two verbs here: wayy$lk wayy"bo. One might make
the argument that one belonged to J, and the other to P (although it would be impossible
to determine which is which). But even if we attribute both verbs to one source, and
assume therefore that the other source had an identical or similar formulation, only one
355
indirect object is given, to Moses, and this would have to have originally belonged to
both sources. In J, it will be recalled, the people come back only to Moses, while in P
they return to Moses, Aaron, and the whole community. Both sources, then, would have
noted the return to Moses, and even if we split the verbs between them, we have to assign
the object phrase to both. The redactor had no choice but to make the two spies
narratives into a single episode, and he could therefore not have the spies returning twice.
Thus, as in the previous examples, he simply removed the doubled phrase from one of the
two sources, thereby making two originally separate events into a single moment.

In the preceding section, as in all the examples given in this chapter, it has been
demonstrated that a given redactional process is identical across all the sources. There is
no difference between the way the redactor amalgamated verses in J and E, or J and P, or
E and P.

Conclusion
If it could be demonstrated that there is a clearly distinct manner in which the
redactor combined J and E, as opposed to J and P, or E and P, or D and E, etc., that would
be excellent evidence for more than one stage in the redactional process. Yet this is not
the case. Quite to the contrary, we have found that every variety of redactional
methodology, from insertions to ordering of texts to amalgamation of verses, is uniform
throughout the Pentateuch, and across all four sources. We may remember Dillmanns
statement: It is just the thorough similarity in the method of combining J with E and J
with Pthat speaks strongly in favor of the idea that the same hand effected both
356
combinations.
50
There are, therefore, absolutely no literary criteria for assuming more
than one redactor. The fact that J and E are combined in some places does not mean that
there was a separate redactor for these two sources alone. The tendency among critics to
call the combination of J and E the work of R
JE
is completely without basis in the text.
Indeed, on a purely literary basis, we would have to also assume figures such as R
JP
, R
EP
,
R
ED
, etc.; and we would have to assume that they all worked in precisely the same
manner. It is infinitely simpler to say that there was but one redactor who was
responsible for combining all four sources. This is, in fact, the only logical explanation
for the phenomena examined in this chapter.
It is, in addition, the conclusion most appropriate when we consider the origins of
the concept of the redactor. As I have noted above, the redactor was not an independent
writer whose work was identified in the text, as if he were another author like J or E. The
redactor was, and remains, nothing more than a necessary theoretical figure, whose
existence is entirely dependent on the fact that the canonical version is made up of
multiple sources, and someone, somewhere, at some time, had to combine them.
The implications of this chapter for the theory of a JE document are obvious. If
we cannot identify the work of R
JE
as distinct from any other redactor, and if we are
therefore left with the conclusion that only one redactor existed, then J and E cannot have
been combined only with each other. Wellhausens idea that J and E were combined at
an early stage was based mostly on an inability to separate the sources effectively. But
this did not necessarily mean that the idea itself was wrong. Were it possible to show that
J and E had been combined using a particular methodology peculiar only to them,

50
Genesis, 21.
357
Wellhausens conclusion, if not his arguments, would have been vindicated. But I have
tried to demonstrate quite the opposite, thereby not only removing a possible means of
saving Wellhausens theory, but in fact erecting a strong barrier against it.

Chapter Six
Unstated Assumptions Underlying the JE Theory

As I have had repeated opportunity to note in the previous chapters, Wellhausens
claim that J and E were combined at an early stage into a document JE was based not on
any strictly literary evidence, but mainly on his admitted inability to separate effectively
the two sources in many Pentateuchal passages. It is also well known that Wellhausen
was heavily influenced by the mode of thinking current in his day, which manifested
itself in his work in the idea of a gradual, evolutionary process of growth for the biblical
text.
1
As we have discussed, the combination of these factors led Wellhausen to his
theory that the Pentateuch grew in stages: J + E; JE + D; JED + P. If we are able in
modern scholarship to recognize the influence of Enlightenment thinking on Wellhausen,
and even if we are willing to reject the theoretical underpinnings of that mode of
thinking, we may not simply discount Wellhausens conclusions as mistaken; as with so
many cases, he may have arrived at the right conclusion by the wrong means. Yet
realizing that this may be the case does not allow us simply to accept Wellhausens
claims because they seem right, or were argued effectively (as, undoubtedly,
Wellhausens were); rather, we must examine the claims on their own merits,
uninfluenced by the intellectual environment in which they were produced.

1
On the intellectual and religious influences on Wellhausens work, cf. Weinfeld, Place of the Law, 3-15;
L. Silberman, Wellhausen and Judaism, pp. 75-82 in Semeia 25.
Chapter Six Unstated Assumptions Underlying the JE Theory
359
So far in this study, this is precisely what I have tried to do. Realizing that
Wellhausens widely-accepted argument for the early combination of J and E had never
been put to the literary test, I have attempted to do so, and this has resulted in the
realization that not only is there no textual evidence for this purported combination, there
is in fact good evidence to the contrary: the fact that D uses J and E in their independent
states, and the fact that the Pentateuchal redactor can be shown to have worked in
precisely the same manner across all four Pentateuchal sources. The primary evidence,
that of the text itself, thus speaks directly against the claim of a JE document.
As we have also seen, in the absence of any detailed studies proving or disproving
the veracity of Wellhausens theory, scholars over the past century and a half seem
simply to have accepted the notion of a combined JE document, in some cases making it
a focal point of their analyses. But in accepting this notion, they have also accepted a
significant set of secondary claims, almost entirely implicit, but required by the theory
itself. For once it was accepted as historical fact that the J and E documents were
combined at some stage, it became necessary to theorize regarding the historical moment
at which this combination may have occurred, the parties responsible for bringing it
about, the motivation for it and rationale behind it, the canonicity, or lack thereof, of the
independent J and E source documents, and the very nature of these documents
themselves: how and when they were known to the Israelite community at large. The fact
that scholarly views on these and other matters are often implicit rather than explicit is
further evidence of the influence of Wellhausens work, insofar as his conclusions are
accepted even without the necessary textual support.
360
But the textual evidence must be primary. Were we to find, for example,
indisputable textual evidence that J and E had been combined at an early stage, we would
then be required to provide a historical circumstance in which that combination would
have taken place, as well as theories regarding the nature of those independent documents
and the use to which the combined document may have been put. The reverse is not true:
we cannot develop theories about the way the Pentateuch was composed and compiled
before having any textual evidence to support those theories, using the text as a proof for
our historical assumptions. Theories about the growth of the Pentateuch must grow out
of the text, not be read into it.
It is thus surprising, and indeed somewhat frustrating, to find that so much of
contemporary scholarship on the formation of the Pentateuch continues to accept
Wellhausens claim for the existence of JE without any textual evidence. Moreover, it is
frustrating to find that the majority of this scholarship does not recognize the necessary
historical and theoretical assumptions that such a claim entails. The result of this is that
virtually no effort has been made, since Wellhausen, to prove (or disprove) these
assumptions, assumptions that are in fact fundamental to how we view the nature of the
Pentateuchal source documents and their combination. My task in this chapter, then, is to
examine the claim for the combination of J and E not from the textual perspective, as I
have already disproven it on those grounds, but from a more theoretical and logical
standpoint. I will try to bring to the fore some of the assumptions necessary to maintain
this claim, and attempt to examine these assumptions on their own merits.
As each of these topics is in fact worthy of a book-length study by itself, I am
unfortunately restricted only to adumbrating the issues involved. More complete work on
361
each of these issues is a desideratum of scholarship; here it is my purpose merely to
highlight the effect that the acceptance of Wellhausens textually and theoretically
unfounded claim can have and has had on the criticism of the Pentateuch.

When we accept that the Pentateuch comprises four originally independent
documents, we are forced not only to the conclusion that someone must have combined
them (see the previous chapters), but also to the conclusion that this combination must
have happened at a particular historical moment (or moments, if we were to conclude that
it had been accomplished in stages), and it would be, and is, the task of scholarship to
suggest plausible historical circumstances for this to have taken place. Thus, the
Wellhausenian claim that J and E were combined at an early stage requires the
assignment of that combination to a particular historical moment; this should be part of
the theory. Yet, remarkably, for most early scholars it was enough simply to state that
the combination had occurred, without providing any historical or religious background
for it.
2
This, presumably, was due in part to the massive influence of Wellhausen, and in
part to the general lack of interest in the pre-Deuteronomic sources (see above).
Subsequently, however, scholars seem to have realized that the composition and
combination of the sources did not take place in a literary vacuum, but needed to be
assigned to particular historical eras and, in some cases, tied to specific historical events,
that might be considered appropriate for each stage. The result was the now-popular
theory that the combination of J and E took place after the fall of the northern kingdom in

2
Thus no theory of the dating or location of the combination is found in the analyses of, e.g., Wellhausen,
Addis, Carpenter-Harford, Simpson, Skinner, or Eissfeldt. The exception to this general rule is Kuenen,
who, as we have already had occasion to note, determined that J and E were probably not combined before
the time of D (or at least the main part thereof), and should therefore be dated after 621 BCE (Hexateuch,
249). Kuenens keen perception of this issue, however, was sadly not taken up into scholarship as a whole.
362
722 BCE, when scribes and other cultural elite from the north came south to Judah,
where their literary epic (E) was combined with the southern counterpart (J). This theory
is now put forward, with detailed explanations ranging from quite short to virtually non-
existent, in a wide range of commentaries and introductions.
3

Yet, remarkably, none of the scholars who espouse this theory has put forward
any fully fleshed-out arguments regarding either the details of these supposed historical
circumstances nor the origins of the theory itself. In some cases, it seems that the
connection between the fall of the northern kingdom and the combination of J and E is to
be taken somewhat for granted: This combination, which was made after the fall of the
northern kingdom (722 B.C.)
4
Elsewhere we find that the impetus for the
combination of the documents is assumed to be the destruction of Israel, but the details of
how it actually took place are left relatively vague: The two narrative sources were
probably combined after the fall of the northern kingdom in 722, when many refugees
from the north fled to Jerusalem, and the size of the city was greatly expandedIt is
most probablethat these sources were compiled and combined before the reform of
King Josiah in the late seventh century B.C.E.
5
Propp gives a bit more detail, stating
that after the demise of the Northern Kingdom of Israel (721 B.C.E. [2 Kings 17]),
refugees brought south to Judah a document telling the national history from a Northern
perspectiveIn Judah, a scribe we call Redactor
JE
combined E with a parallel, southern

3
A second, older theory should be mentioned here: that the documents were combined sometime in the
seventh century (invariably without further specification); cf. Driver, Exodus, xi; Gray, Numbers, xxx;
Levine, Numbers 1-20, 48. None of these proposals dating the combination of the sources to the seventh
century provide further information or rationale for their dating.

4
W.H. Schmidt, Old Testament Introduction (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1995), 49.

5
J. Collins, Introduction to the Hebrew Bible (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2004), 61. Here Collins appears to be
incorporating both the older and newer ideas regarding the dating of the combination of J and E, but
without providing any details regarding either.
363
version, J.
6
Propp (perhaps like the others mentioned above) is here explicitly
following Friedman, who appears to be the first to have put forth this theory, and whose
ideas in this regard we will have the opportunity to deal with a bit more fully below.
7
Yet
none of these scholars, including Friedman, has published a complete, thorough analysis
of the theory and its underlying assumptions.
As a result of the findings in chapter three above, however, we are in a position to
refute the basic dating of the combination of J and E in the period soon after the fall of
the northern kingdom. I have demonstrated that the author or authors of D, commonly
dated to 621 BCE, knew J and E not in combination, but as independent documents.
8

The consequence of this fact for the historical dating of the supposed combination of J
and E is self-evident: even if one still wants to hold to the idea that the two were
combined into an independent document JE, this could only have occurred after 621
BCE. The dominant model, which places the combination sometime soon after 722 BCE,
therefore, cannot be maintained.
Of course, the only reason that this theory was developed in the first place was
that the concept of a combined JE document was accepted as a priori fact. If we
recognize that the literary evidence points away from the existence of this purported

6
Propp, Exodus 1-18, 49.

7
Who Wrote the Bible, 87ff., Sources, 4. As noted above, it is suprising that classical scholarship failed to
inquire as to the precise historical and social setting for the combination of J and E, let alone provide an
answer to the problem. Friedman is thus to be commended for finally realizing the need to at least examine
possible settings for this combination. Nevertheless, as we shall see below, his solution is unsatisfactory.

8
The opinion of Blum (Studien, 215ff.) that the D-composition (his K
D
) was written in the post-exilic
period (and subsequent to the creation of the Deuteronomistic History) is not to be ignored, as it has
certainly proved influential among an important group of scholars. See the counter-arguments, however, in
Nicholson, Pentateuch, 171ff. It should also be remembered that virtually every scholar who ascribes to
the theory that J and E were combined as a result of the fall of the northern kingdom in 722 BCE also
follows the traditional dating of Deuteronomy to around 621 BCE.
364
document, there is no reason for the 722 BCE date to have any meaning in the history of
the growth of the Pentateuch.
Just as Wellhausens claim for a combined JE brings with it a group of unstated
assumptions, so does the notion that the fall of the northern kingdom precipitated the
combination of J and E. It is worth making an effort to examine this claim independent
of the literary evidence, as we may reveal some scholarly presuppositions regarding the
Pentateuchal documents in general.
Two major rationales exist for considering the fall of the northern kingdom and
the supposed subsequent migration of its literate elite to Judah as an appropriate historical
moment for the combination of the J and E documents. The first is the suggestion that in
times of national crisis or when a communitys survival is threatened and its end,
perceived or real, is near, cultures are driven, perhaps intuitively, to preserve the
documents of the past, and that in eighth-century Israel, this drive was manifested in the
combination of the J and E documents. The second is that the northern and southern
documents, upon being brought into such close geographical proximity, would have
inevitably conflicted, and that this would have necessitated combining them into a single
document reflecting the newly-formed single political and cultural state in Judah.
Both of these possibilities are problematic. The first is essentially rooted in the
tragedy of 722 itself: the fall of the northern kingdom is thought to have precipitated
something of an intellectual crisis for the scribes of the north, who felt the need to
preserve their now-threatened document; further, it is thought that they did so by
365
combining it (or having it combined) with its southern counterpart.
9
The necessary
question is what evidence there is for this process.
It should first be noted that the other purported stages in the sequential
combination of the sources (as proposed by Wellhausen), the combination of JE with
D, or JED with P, are not attributed to periods of historical crisis; why should the
combination of J and E be treated differently?
Second, surely the greatest historical crisis in Israelite history was the Babylonian
exile in 586 BCE. Yet the vast majority of critics still hold to the belief, based on the
Graf-Wellhausen reconstruction, that much of the Pentateuch, notably the entire priestly
document, is the product of the post-exilic period, which means that at least one stage of
the compilation, the final, decisive one, must have taken place in the post-exilic period as
well. These scholars, then, have implicitly abandoned the underlying assumption that the
combination of documents is a result of the trauma of exile and the dangers it ostensibly
poses to the survival of a civilizations literature. The same is true of recent scholars,
who adhere to the increasingly accepted theory that the compilation of the Pentateuch
took place under Persian imperial authorization;
10
their view locates this process not in a

9
Cf., e.g., P. McNutt, Reconstructing the Society of Ancient Israel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox,
1999: It is also important to consider who may have been responsible for having collected and edited the
independent literary units over time, as well as when and why they may have been collected and edited.
Particularly in crisis situations, such as political subordination or exile, or periods of rapid social change,
the biblical writers in various periods would have appealed to and reinterpreted sacred history (myth) to
legitimate claims about the present and encourage others to accept these claims, with such intentions as
strengthening national identity or emphasizing the superiority of Israels God. This type of response is well
documented by anthropologists in societies experiencing rapid cultural change or crisis brought on by other
factors (5). While the anthropological claim made here is no doubt true, it is primarily descriptive, not
prescriptive: we can observe that collections of texts are made in times of crisis, but this does not mean that
any given textual collection was made as the result of a crisis, and we certainly cannot date a particular
collection of texts to a specific crisis without any supporting evidence for that dating.

10
Cf. Blum, Studien, 333-360, and the discussion of this topic in J.W. Watts, Persia and Torah: The
Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch (Atlanta: SBL, 2001).
366
time of crisis, but in precisely the opposite: a time of social and cultural optimism and
renewal.
11

Finally, it should be noted that one cannot find comparative examples of
document combination in other Near Eastern societies. The process of Pentateuchal
composition as envisioned in the Documentary Hypothesis is unique. Certainly aspects
of it the collection of texts, or the canonization thereby of revered books are known
from elsewhere. Even from approximately the same historical period we have the library
of Assurbanipal in Nineveh, which represented an attempt, apparently, to collect a
majority of the scribal texts extant at the time.
12
Yet these texts were not combined into a
single composition that was then understood as a unified work. The process of
canonization through collection is known from within the Bible itself: the example of the
Book of the Twelve demonstrates that individual books could be brought together and
ordered with the intention of creating a new setting for them, so that they might be read in
a particular succession and within a particular theological framework.
13
Yet even here
the books of the prophets retained their independence from one another; Isaiah and Micah
are not interwoven, although the two prophets were active at the same time.
14
In short, as

11
Cf. Isa. 44:26ff.

12
A.L. Oppenheim, Ancient Mesopotamia: Portrait of a Dead Civilization (Chicago: University of
Chicago, 1977), 15ff.

13
This process of canonization through collection is certainly older than the compilation of the Book of the
Twelve; according to Haran (H""spp"
h
, passim), the first stage of the canonization process was the
compilation of the book of Deuteronomy from its constituent elements, which would have in fact well
preceded the compilation of the Pentateuch.

14
It has long been suspected that redactional elements have been inserted into these books in order to tie
them more closely, but even this is not remotely equivalent to the full-scale interweaving we find in the
Pentateuch. For a survey of the scholarship on the redaction or editing of the Book of the Twelve, cf. B.A.
Jones, The Formation of the Book of the Twelve: A Study in Text and Canon (Atlanta: Scholars, 1995), 13-
42.
367
there is no text from the ancient (or modern) world that resembles the Pentateuch in its
composition, we cannot search for a similar model of document combination in a period
of crisis with which to compare the theory that J and E were combined after 722 BCE.
15

The second argument for the theory that J and E were combined after the fall of
the northern kingdom in 722 BCE is that the different presentations of Israelite history in
the two documents would have conflicted, and therefore needed to be combined.
Friedman puts it thusly: But what were they to do with two documents, each purporting
to recount sacred national traditions, but emphasizing different persons and events and
occasionally contradicting each other? The solution, apparently, was to combine them.
16

Although I have already demonstrated that the particular historical scenario in which this
combination is pictured can no longer be maintained, the underlying assumption in this
theory still needs to be investigated: would there in fact be a conflict between J and E if
both existed in the same place at the same time?
The answer to this question implicit in the idea of the combination of J and E is
yes: J and E were combined in order to remove the conflict between the two competing
narratives of Israels history. Yet though this sounds logical, it is belied by the simple
evidence of the state of the Pentateuch as we now have it. The conflicts between J and E
(and P, and D) are hardly removed by the combination of the documents; they are
maintained, and in many cases even highlighted. The canonical form of the Pentateuch
itself shows that the aim of the combination of sources was not to remove the
contradictions. Had the aim of the redactor been to remove those contradictions, we

15
The closest parallel remains Tatians Diatessaron, the compilation of the four gospels of the New
Testament (cf. Moore, Tatians Diatessaron).

16
368
would have before us a cleaner text, presumably one entirely rewritten so as to include
the various traditions represented in each of the documents, but re-ordered and
reformulated such that those inconsistencies were smoothed over. The very fact that
those contradictions remain is a powerful argument that the redactors aim was to
preserve the documents as fully as possible, without regard for the contradictions in the
final form this may have created. Thus it is quite unreasonable to claim that J and E were
combined for the purpose of resolving the inconsistencies between the two presentations.
Even if we admit that there could have been conflict between J and E when they
existed simultaneously, this was evidently not the impetus for their purported
combination.
Friedman takes this even a step further, and argues that the documents had to be
combined because a northerner would have protested if the narrative had not included the
stories from E, and a southerner if it left out stories from J.
17
Yet this assumes much. It
assumes some sort of widespread familiarity with the component documents among their
respective purported communities, and there are no grounds for this in eighth- or early
seventh-century Judah and Israel. It also assumes that the resulting, combined text would
be made public in such a way as to enable the constituents of both communities to realize
what had been preserved of their own (textual!) traditions and what had been discarded.
This necessitates assuming either the widespread distribution of copies of all of these
texts (which in turn necessitates an assumption of widespread literacy) or else regular
public reading, for which there is no evidence (see below). Moreover, this theory also
takes it for granted that the audience for the narrative, however it is to be imagined,

17
369
would have objected had its local traditions not been recognized but this too raises
serious doubts. Paradoxically, it is also implied that this same audience would not have
objected had a contradictory tradition been present in addition to its own. According to
this theory, a northerner would have been very unhappy had, for example, the Elohistic
narrative of Moses call in Exodus 3 been excluded, but was perfectly content to have his
beloved tradition incorporated into (and nearly obliterated by) the J story of the same
event. Moreover, it is Friedmans claim that the editor(s) [of JE] clearly were not averse
to applying scissors and paste to their received texts.
18
How does this square with what
he argues regarding the audience? Surely, if these northern and southern listeners were
as familiar with their local documents as he would have us believe, they would
immediately recognize that part of their story was missing (for example, the entire
beginning of the E document, according to Friedman). In short, there are insurmountable
difficulties with Friedmans rationale for the independent combination of J and E, both
historically and theoretically.
Yet underlying this theory is a substantially larger issue, which is inevitable, if
implicit, in any reconstruction of the growth of the Pentateuch that assumes sequential
combination of the texts, and it returns us squarely to the larger issue of the purported JE
document itself: the question of the canonicity of the independent (and combined)
documents. For both the belief in the necessity to combine incompatible documents lest
they remain in conflict, and the belief that that each community adhered loyally to a
textual tradition of its own, imply that the texts in question had arrived by this time at a
status that can only be called canonical. The assumption that each of these independent

18
370
documents (and their intermediate combined stages) was canonical is thus a necessary,
though usually unstated, component of the theory: if J and E were not canonical, there
would be no way to explain their combination, especially when the inconsistencies and
contradictions between them were preserved in the combined text. Perhaps the reason
that this was invariably left unstated is that it was, as we have noted, not a step on the
path to arguing for the sequential combination of the documents, but was rather a
necessary consequence of the intellectual environment in which the theory of the
evolutionary growth of the Pentateuch was formulated. Again, we may wonder at the
fact that although modern scholarship has reached a point where we are able to recognize
and discount the effects of Enlightenment thinking in most biblical scholarship, it is
seemingly impossible to rid ourselves of some of its results. Thus, although we can see
that Wellhausens theory of sequential combination of the documents is not rooted in any
textual or even historical evidence, but primarily in the era in which he wrote, we still
find his formulations of the manner of the growth of the Pentateuch influencing much of
current source-critical scholarship.
The realization that the theory that J and E were combined depends on the
assumption that the independent documents were already canonical requires us to ask
whether there is any evidence for the canonicity of the independent sources.
We must be careful to distinguish between types, or stages, of canonicity. The
inclusion of the four documents in the final form of the Pentateuch does in fact indicate
that, at least in their latest stages, the sources were canonical; as noted above, the very
fact that they were maintained in their final form, preserved whole, or nearly so the
resulting duplications, contradictions and inconsistency notwithstanding means that the
371
documents were accorded some sort of canonical status. But whereas stating this obvious
fact regarding the final form of the Pentateuch, which was probably assembled several
hundred years after the sources came into existence, is perfectly reasonable, the
Wellhausenian JE theory claims that J and E were combined at an early stage; in other
words, at some point within one, or at most two, hundred years after they were created,
no later than early seventh-century Judah. The specific issue, then, is what evidence
there may be for the canonicity of the J and E documents virtually as soon as they were
authored.
What, in fact, would constitute such evidence? There are two categories of clues
to the authority of these texts: internal and external. Internally, we might expect that a
text that is canonized virtually upon creation, as Wellhausens JE theory requires, would
define itself somehow as canonical; that it would claim sole authoritative status for itself
to the exclusion of all other alternatives. Externally, we might expect to find that some
other author or document attributes canonicity to a source, or provides evidence that the
contents of a given source (whether the historical, religious, or legal views expressed
therein) were actually applied.
The only one of the four Pentateuchal sources that provides internal evidence of
its own canonicity, or desire for canonicity, is D. Although all four documents contain
material that is purported to have come directly from the deity, only D suggests that its
laws exist and are to be followed to the exclusion of all others. Thus the famous warning
in Deut. 13:1: Be careful to observe everything that I command you; do not add to it nor
take away from it.
19
We find nothing like this in any other Pentateuchal source, even

19
For detailed discussion of this warning, cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 86ff.
372
those that are centered around their law collections (E and P). Thus the first requirement
for canonicity, i.e., stability of the textual tradition, is inherent in the Deuteronomic
material, where it is stated explicitly but is completely absent from J, E, or P. It is
likely, though certainly not assured, that D is the only document to include this rule
because it is the only source that is aware of, or based on, another Pentateuchal source.
D, as we have seen in great detail in chapter 3, is based largely on E, both in its narrative
portions, as we have argued, as well as in its legal formulations.
20
The author of D must
have been aware that in the very act of rewriting and replacing an early source he had
opened the door for later scribes to do the same to his own work; he may have included
the warning in 13:1 to forestall just such an eventuality.
Furthermore, D is the only one of the sources that provides a means for its own
promulgation, as has long been recognized. Deuteronomy contains three instructions to
this effect: that this book of Torah (meaning the legal material in chs. 12-26) should be
placed beside the ark in the sanctuary as a witness (31:26); that it is to be read by the
king all the days of his life (17:18-19); and, most crucially, that it is to be read aloud, in
its entirety, before the entire community men, women, children, and the ger in your
gates every seven years, during the festival of Sukkot (31:10-13). In E, the Decalogue
is written on the stone tablets (Ex. 34:28), but no further mention is made of them.
21

According to E Moses writes down the laws of the Book of the Covenant (Ex. 24:4), and
reads them aloud to the Israelites, upon the basis of which the Israelites make a covenant
with Yahweh but no further mention is made of this book, and no instruction is given

20
Cf. Levinson, Deuteronomy.

21
The purpose of the tablets in E is apparently to serve as testimony to the fact of Gods having spoken,
just as the divine revelation itself is intended to instill the fear of God into the people (Ex. 24:17).
373
for any subsequent reading thereof, as its function, as far as the text itself indicates, is
solely to serve as part of the covenant ratification ceremony. Similarly, in J Moses writes
down the words of the covenant between Yahweh and Israel made at Sinai (Ex. 34:27),
but again there is no further mention of this document anywhere in the J text. P, it should
be noted, never claims that Moses wrote down any of the laws contained therein:
Nowhere does the Priestly work claim to be the Torah; like J and E, it is the account of
an anonymous, omniscient, third-person narrator, who does not ever claim to have been a
witness to the events.
22
It is only D, in short, that contains any notice regarding the
means by which the document is to be promulgated and published.
To this we might add the instructions in D for private contemplation on the
Deuteronomic laws, famously found in Deut. 6:6-9.
23
Though it is unclear to what extent
some of these instructions are meant literally (though they have certainly been taken that
way in rabbinic Judaism, and were evidently taken that way quite early, as phylacteries
have been found at Qumran),
24
even if they are to be taken figuratively, it is clear that the
thrust of these verses is that the Israelites are to contemplate, recite, and observe the laws
constantly, and these instructions are unique amongst the Pentateuchal sources.
25

Nowhere in J, E, or P do we find the author of the source enjoining his audience not only
to obey the laws (which is, one assumes, inherent in the giving of them), but to recite

22
Schwartz, Priestly Account, 132.

23
Cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 178ff.

24
On the literal versus figurative reading of these instructions, see most recently N. MacDonald,
Deuteronomy and the Meaning of Monotheism (Tbingen: J.C.B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 2003), 128ff.

25
Note the Deuteronomistic instruction supporting that of D: Let not this book of Torah cease from your
lips, but recite it day and night (Josh. 1:8). In light of the Deuteronomic material on which this verse is
based, the verb hgh should clearly be taken literally here, to speak, rather than figuratively, to
contemplate, as has often been claimed.
374
them at any point, much less daily. Finally, one might consider the engraving of all the
words of this Torah on the stones that Joshua is to set up on Mt Ebal.
26
While it is
unclear to what purpose these stones are to be put, it is at least certain that the Mt. Ebal
stones are to be public and to be viewed by any one at any time.
Just as D is the only Pentateuchal document that shows internal evidence of
immediate canonization, or at least a desire for such, it is only with regard to D that we
have any external evidence that the document actually achieved immediate, or in fact any
type of independent, canonicity. The Deuteronomistic History refers repeatedly, and with
great reverence, to the Torah, or the book of the Torah, or the Torah of Moses.
27

These references are undoubtedly to what we now call D (whether in its restricted form,
chs. 12-26, or, perhaps, to the entirety of the document).
28
D becomes, in the hands of
the Deuteronomistic historians, the basis of the historical judgments rendered throughout
the books of Joshua-Kings on the actions of Israel and its leaders. In other words, the
rulings of D are rendered normative through their application to the history of Israel.
This cannot be said of either J or E, which are not only not made the basis for any
subsequent writings, but which are not even referred to as independent documents (they
have no titles equivalent to book of the Torah, as D does). P is, admittedly, the basis
on which Ezekiel formulated his theology, but even in this case Ezekiel never refers to
the priestly legislation or narrative in the Pentateuch as a document qua document. Of

26
Cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 182ff.

27
Josh. 1:8; 8:31, 34; 23:6; 2 Kgs. 14:6; 22:8, 11; 23:25.

28
Haran claims that all of these references are to be understood as referring to D in its entirety
(H""spp"
h
, 291f.).
375
the individual documents of the Pentateuch, only D is granted this status by an external
biblical source.
29

Not only is the text of D made the basis for the work of the Deuteronomists, but
(at least according to those same Deuteronomists) it is the book of Torah that is made
the basis of the Josianic reform program (2 Kgs. 22:8). The identification of this book
of Torah with the one referred to repeatedly in D was first and famously made by de
Wette, and not merely on the basis of the fact that the phrase book of Torah in Dtr
refers consistently to D, but because the reforms of Josiah so closely match the rules
regarding cultic centralization and destruction of traces of Canaanite religion found in D.
Despite the occasional challenge, this identification of the scroll described in 2 Kgs. 22
with with the Torah-book referred to in D has remained a linchpin of biblical criticism,
one might even say the single datum on which virtually all scholars can agree, and one
which forms the basis for not only all current hypotheses regarding the Deuteronomistic
History, but for the dating of all the Pentateuchal sources. In short, the placement of D,
in whatever form, at the basis of the Josianic reforms is the starting point, whether
explicit or implicit, for virtually all subsequent work on the Pentateuch and Dtr. To
recognize this is to acknowledge again the unique status of D amongst the other
Pentateuchal documents. For not only is D alone given its own title (the book of
Torah), but it is the only one of the individual Pentateuchal documents whose
implementation is historically achieved. Though this is commonly acknowledged, its
importance is usually not. For though it is frequently assumed that D was promulgated in
opposition to, or in supersession of, the earlier laws of the Covenant Code, there is no

29
Ezra-Nehemiah and Chronicles refer to the Torah, (Ez. 7:10; Neh. 8:1, 18; 9:3; 10:29; 2 Chr. 17:9;
34:14) but they are, in fact, referring to the canonical Torah, not any one of its constituent parts.
376
evidence for this anywhere in the biblical text.
30
Nowhere in the narrative of Josiahs
reform are we told that the book of the Torah replaced an existing law code that had
been operative for any given period. Rather, the testimony of the Deuteronomistic
History is that there was simply no law code under which the Israelite polity operated,
and it was this lack of obedience to the (lost) Deuteronomic laws that led to the
destructive situations from the era of the Judges down to the fall of the northern kingdom.
Not only is there no notice in D that any earlier law collection was ever operative, no
other biblical (or, one hardly needs to say, extra-biblical) source suggests that any other
laws, whether the Covenant Code or those of P, were promulgated in any fashion at any
point in Israelite history. D, or at the very least the laws contained therein, is the only
book of which there is any record of publication, promulgation, or implementation.
Why, then, did Wellhausen (and so many others) believe that J and E (and P)
were canonical virtually from the start? First, it should be noted again that this was not
a stated opinion on Wellhausens part, but was rather a logical requirement of his theory
of the evolutionary growth of the Pentateuch. Still, it is clear that, had he been
challenged on this, he would have held that it was undoubtedly the case. We can, in fact,
see the principle of early canonicity for J and E evident in the most fundamental aspects
of Wellhausens work. As is well known, the first principle of Pentateuchal criticism for
Wellhausen (following Graf) was that the priestly legislation was a late development, one

30
Certainly the authors of D knew the Covenant Code, as has been shown in particular detail by Levinson
(Deuteronomy). But Levinson goes too far in arguing that the reworking of the earlier law code was an
explicit and publicly recognizable move to replace the older material in the collective mind of the
community. The use of source material does not necessarily signify the intended supersession of that
material; even in the case of two distinct law codes, as in D and the Covenant Code, in order for there to be
supersession there must be evidence that the earlier material had some sort of authority to be superseded. It
is this evidence for the authority of the Covenant Code in the Israelite community that is noticeably
lacking.
377
that marked a degrading of Israelite religion from its earlier stages, represented by the
earthy narratives of J as well as the earlier agricultural legislation of the Covenant
Code. If, according to Wellhausen, the Deuteronomic and priestly law codes are a step
down from an earlier, pristine religious state, then the true Torah must have been that
of J and E (or JE). In other words, Wellhausens theory of the degrading of Israelite
religion required that the earlier sources be canonical, that they represent the original
Torah.
For Wellhausen and those that have followed him to this day, this idea of an
original Torah is thus implicit in the notion of the sequential combination and
evolutionary development of the Pentateuchal sources. This is in some ways an almost
confessional stance: since Wellhausens distaste for the later priestly legislation was in
fact based largely in his own Protestant beliefs, set up in contradistinction to doctrinarian
(read: priestly) Catholicism, it was crucial to postulate an original Torah to which
Protestantism could be seen as a return. The value placed on the early forms of
Israelite religion meant that the texts in which those early religious beliefs and practices
were found (JE) were granted canonical status within the ancient Israelite community.
Yet, as we have seen, if one pulls back from the historically and confessionally
particular approach of Wellhausen, one finds that there is no textual or otherwise
empirical evidence for the existence of an original Torah. There is no evidence for the
canonicity of J or E at any point prior to their being combined with P and D in the final
form of the Pentateuch. And, we might argue, it was the very act of combining these four
documents which in fact secured for J and E (and P) the canonical status which they now
enjoy (as part of the Torah). Only when the early sources were combined with D into the
378
complete Torah, with Ds rules and instructions regarding the promulgation of the
book of Torah, were they considered truly canonical, as they were now included under
the rubric Torah, now expanded to include everything from Genesis-Deuteronomy.
31

The idea of early canonicity for the sources J and E, then, must be discarded, or at
the very least strenuously doubted. Although there is no way to disprove it totally, those
who would hold to it must provide some evidence for it, evidence which is, apparently,
not easily forthcoming. This highlights one of the problems with Friedmans
reconstruction. He seems to want to have it both ways: first by stating that the editor of
JE was not averse to applying scissors and paste to the documents, but also but stating
that it was necessary to preserve them, because they had achieved some sort of
recognition (read: canonicity).
32
Yet Friedman can provide no more evidence for this
than the fact of their early combination, which is, of course, the very thing that the
canonicity of the documents is required to prove. The circular argumentation is evident,
and is even admitted by Friedman to a degree: To whatever extent J and E narratives had
become known by this time, to that extent it was necessary to preserve both.
33
If, of
course, there is no evidence that the J and E narratives were known publicly to any
extent, as the evidence would indicate (or at least as no evidence counter-indicates), then
there is no longer a rationale for their combination before the compilation of the entire
Pentateuch.

31
Thus the Chronicler, and everyone thereafter until de Wette, understood 2 Kgs. 22:8 to refer not to D
alone, but to the entirety of the Torah.

32

33
379
In order to arrive at some plausible inference regarding the extent to which these
documents were known, it must be remembered that J and E are written sources. We are
not speaking here of the oral traditions that stood behind the documents. Surely those
traditions were known, in one form or another, to many or most Israelites. Yet the
written formulations of these traditions in the Pentateuchal documents (particularly J, E,
and P) do not represent the pristine oral forms; in their written forms the traditions have
been adjusted and reworked so as to fit into the overarching themes and aims of each of
the sources, Judahite and monarchical for J, Ephraimite and prophetic for E, Jerusalemite
and priestly for P (to paint the documents with a very broad brush). In other words, it is
likely that the common Israelite traditions as presented in each of these sources would not
have been known to the common Israelite in those forms at all, as these were specific to
the written documents alone. Indeed, the variations between the traditions of the
Pentateuchal documents and similar traditions in other biblical texts (e.g., the picture of
the plagues in J and P over against that in Pss. 78 or 105) indicates that although there
may have been common bases for the various written versions of these narratives, the
specific presentation in any given Pentateuchal document was unique to that document.
If this is indeed the case, then how would a common Israelite, much less the entire
populace of either the northern or southern kingdom, have come to know the written
documents? Certainly not by reading them firsthand; not only was the vast, vast majority
of the Israelite population illiterate, but we cannot imagine that there were multiple
copies of these documents available for public consumption.
34
Any copies that may have

34
On the issue of copies of biblical books, cf. Haran, H""spp"
h
, 223ff.; though he deals there with the
chronicles of the kings of Judah and Israel and other books mentioned in Dtr, his observations regarding
public access (or lack thereof) to written documents apply equally well here.
380
existed, and there is no evidence that there was ever necessarily more than one, would
have been closely held by the school or community of intelligentsia that produced it,
whether it be the royal court (presumably) in the case of J, or the Jerusalem Temple
priesthood in the case of P. The only means by which the public might come to know the
contents of these documents, or even their very existence, would be public reading.
Friedman assumes this type of public reading for J and E, but without any support; the
only evidence that any book was ever read aloud before the time of Ezra and the
compilation of the final form of the Pentateuch (Neh. 8) comes from Deut. 31:10-13 and
2 Kgs. 23:2, in which Josiah fulfills the instructions of Deut. 31:10-13. Again, it is only
with D that we have any textual reference to the idea of public reading; J and E are
completely lacking any such notice.

I have attempted in the present chapter to bring to light some of the unstated,
especially historical, assumptions inherent in the claim for sequential combination of the
Pentateuchal sources and the gradual composition of the Pentateuch. We have seen that
the historical dating that is commonly associated with such a claim cannot be supported,
either textually (because J and E were independent before D was written) or theoretically.
Further, I have tried to show that this theory requires the J and E documents to have been
canonical at a very early stage, nearly immediately after their composition. This, I
have argued, though implicit in the work of Wellhausen and others, is an unprovable
claim, for which there is not only a lack of evidence, but some counter-evidence: we
know the signs that indicate when a text desires and is granted canonical status, from the
evidence of D and Dtr, and J and E have none of those marks. Even beyond canonicity,
381
the idea that the J and E documents were known at all in the wider Israelite community
has been challenged and shown to be without grounds. What is most troublesome about
these assumptions is that they are just that: assumptions. Too much of scholarship, even
today, takes for granted conclusions which are based on these ideas, without taking the
time and effort to prove that the ideas themselves are worthwhile and supported by the
evidence. No theory of the growth of the Pentateuch can be effectively put forward
without investigating these concepts, of canonicity, the nature of the documents, and the
historical situation of their combination, as a prerequisite, not as a result of the theory
itself. Only once the literary analysis of the text and the collecting of evidence regarding
these ideas have been accomplished can one formulate a theory about the growth of the
Pentateuch as a whole. The great problem with Wellhausens reconstruction is that he
skips both of these steps.
If, therefore, we remove these assumptions as being without basis, what remains
of Wellhausens claims for sequential combination of the sources, i.e., for the non-literary
arguments regarding the existence of JE? Only Wellhausens own particular historical
and confessional situation: his Enlightenment- and Romantic-based theories of textual
development, which can be discarded as specific to the intellectual environment of the
19
th
century and which have been passed over in modern thought; and his Protestant, anti-
Catholic belief in the primacy of the type of religion he believed to be described in his JE
and the degradation of that religion with the rise of the priesthood and its legislation, a
belief that certainly cannot withstand rationale, neutral academic scrutiny. To sum up:
not only is there no literary evidence for the combination of J and E, as shown in the
382
previous chapters, but there is no theoretical basis on which to assume that, even without
literary evidence, such a combination may have occurred.

Conclusion

The combination of J and E into a document known as JE has been assumed,
unchallenged, and integrated into the mainstream of source-critical scholarship for over a
century. Though it is, in virtually every reconstruction, the first step in the creation of the
Pentateuch as we now have it, this supposed combination has been given the least
attention of any part of the classical theory. In the preceding chapters, I have attempted
to rectify this situation by investigating the evidence for the JE document exclusively and
comprehensively. I began by exploring the origins of the theory, in the course of which
we saw that the impetus for Wellhausens conclusion that J and E were combined into a
JE document was not inherent in the text itself, but rather in Wellhausens own difficulty
in separating J from E with any assurance. Wellhausens influence on subsequent source-
critical studies was such that even though he had never proven his JE theory textually, it
was nevertheless accepted virtually without reservation in all later works.
The result of this widespread acceptance was that scholars now had an
established basis on which to build further theories regarding the growth of the
Pentateuch. Thus Wellhausen and many others after him concluded that the author of D
based his work on the combined JE text. As I demonstrated in chapter 3, the literary
evidence clearly indicates that in fact D uses J and E - the latter far more than the former
Conclusion
384
in their separate, independent states, not any supposed combination of the two. The
undue and expansive influence of the classical assumption of the existence of JE is
readily apparent here in the fact that even earlier scholars who realized that D seemed to
favor E over J were unable to take the logical next step of recognizing that D must have
known J and E independently, and that therefore J and E were not combined when D
wrote.
I then turned to the question of the purported redactor, R
JE
the figure who must
have combined J and E, and them only, into a single text if ever such a text existed. In my
attempt to consider the evidence for the existence of such a figure (as opposed to a
redactor who combined all four of the pentateuchal sources into the single text we have
before us, the positive proof of whose existence is the Torah itself), I examined the many
passages that critics have ascribed to him. The result of this investigation was the
realization that not a single one of these passages must necessarily have come into
existence as a result of the combination of J and E alone. Most of them (though
considerably fewer than is usually claimed) are indeed redactional insertions appearing in
texts composed of J and E; I concluded that this proves neither the existence of R
JE
nor
the combination of J and E, as such redactional additions are just as easily attributed to a
single redactor of the entire Pentateuch.
The difficulty of ascribing any passages to R
JE
led directly to the pressing
problem of how one could, theoretically at least, identify the different Pentateuchal
redactors if there were more than one. I concluded that in order to argue for the existence
of separate redactors, one must be able to demonstrate that they are recognizable by their
method of redaction, whereas if only one redactional method is in evidence across all the
Conclusion
385
sources, then in the absence of any other literary evidence we must assume that there is
but one redactor working across all the sources. And this is precisely what we found. I
determined that throughout the Pentateuch there are really only three basic classes of
redactional work: setting blocks of text in sequence, or interweaving them when
necessary; making small changes to names of people and places in order to remove
contradictions of basic fact; and inserting a few words to more closely combine originally
independent narratives. When examples of these types of redactional methodology were
examined, it became clear that each is utilized equally over the entire Pentateuch,
regardless of which sources are being combined: the process of the redaction of J and E is
exactly the same as that of J and P, E and P, etc.
Finally, upon completing the in-depth textual analysis, the assumptions
underlying the idea of an early combination of J and E were examined. In many cases,
these assumptions were implicit in scholars theories of Pentateuchal growth. If, upon
reexamination, they now appear to be faulty or even inadmissible, then the theories built
on them (even implicitly) are therefore also unacceptable. As I argued, common
scholarly assumptions regarding the historical circumstances of the combination, the
availability of these written documents to the general Israelite public, and the canonicity
of the sources are largely without basis, and make the theory of a JE document
increasingly difficult to uphold.
We can now briefly turn to the implications of the preceding study. First, there
are a number of methodological points. The difficulty of separating J from E does not
mean that J and E were combined into an independent document, despite the many
scholars who have made this argument; it indicates only that the method of disentangling
Conclusion
386
the narrative sources was not finely enough developed by early scholars and that their
successors failed to improve upon it adequately. There are many fewer redactional
insertions than are usually claimed, and this is frequently the result of mistaken source-
critical analysis as well as the all too common scholarly reliance on the redactor as the at-
hand solution to any textual difficulties ones analysis may create. The presence of
redactional material in a J and E context does not necessarily indicate the existence of a
redactor who worked exclusively with J and E. This conclusion is drawn only when one
already believes that a JE document exists. Finally, the identification of more than one
redactor must be approached along the same lines as the identification of more than one
author. If we were unable to identify distinctions between the various Pentateuchal
authors, we would never think that there was more than one; similarly, if we cannot
distinguish between the various purported Pentateuchal redactors, we must assume that
there is only one.
The supposed JE document has long been seen as the basis on which the later
documents, D and P, were composed. In the case of D, the recognition that it was built
on the independent sources J and predominantly E allows us to see more clearly the
way that the authors of D used their sources and the changes they made to them. Further,
if we acknowledge that D used J and E independently, then D itself becomes a means of
better separating J and E in Exodus and Numbers.
When JE is removed as the basis of Ps work, a different set of results is achieved.
First, the lateness of P in regard to J and E is once again open for debate. The origin of
this view was derived from the subjective claim that the laws of P represented a decayed,
institutionalized form of the true Israelite religion. The priestly narratives were also
Conclusion
387
therefore thought to be late, and as such were seen as a response to the earlier non-
priestly narrative sources. Although the subjective reasoning regarding the nature of the
priestly law has, fortunately, been rejected over time, its corollary, that the priestly
narrative was based on JE, has survived. This has permitted scholarship to continue in
the belief that the P document is late: as long as P was thought to be based on JE, there
was a basis on which to judge at least their relative dating. If, however, as I have argued,
P was based neither on JE nor on J or E independently, there is one fewer argument for
the lateness of P. I have made no positive argument for P being early; but I have
removed one of the arguments for it being late. In addition, Ps independence from J and
E helps us to recognize and emphasize the role that the common Israelite traditions
played in the composition of the individual sources of the Pentateuch. If P cannot said to
be based on the written texts of J or E, then the similarities among P, J, and E are not
literary either, but are traditional. That is, the elements they hold in common are now
identifiable as part of the common stock of Israelite traditions, and, crucially, the
elements in which they differ can now be appreciated as the unique theological and
historiographical expressions of these traditions in the hands of the different schools
responsible for the sources.
On a larger scale, the recognition that neither D nor P was based on a JE
document has serious implications for the very basis of Wellhausens reconstruction of
the growth of the Pentateuch. The underlying assumption throughout his work, both on
the separation of the sources and on the development of Israelite religion, was that the
Pentateuchal texts revealed a process of evolutionary growth, starting from the earliest
and most naturalistic expression of Israelite religion in J, and deteriorating over time
Conclusion
388
until the spiritually devoid priestly material was written. Crucial to this evolutionary
process is the constant reformulating of earlier material by the most recent author. This
reworking is necessary for Wellhausen, for it signifies that each new source is
representative of its contemporary Israelite religious beliefs and practices (and, in turn,
that the earlier source represents a now obsolete set of beliefs and practices). If the later
authors did not rework the earlier material, then the authority of each is diminished, as
neither can then be said to necessarily represent the state of Israelite religion. But if it is
demonstrated, as I have attempted to do in the preceding chapters, that the first step of
this evolutionary process, the combination of J and E, never occurred, and if it can also
be shown that P was not reacting to a JE document, nor even to the sources in their
independent states, then an alternative to Wellhausens evolutionary reconstruction can
be suggested. It can be claimed that J and E and P are not representative of stages of a
unified Israelite religion, as such is almost certain never to have existed, but are rather
representative of particular segments of Israelite society, broadly understood as
monarchic, prophetic, and priestly. Inherent in this claim is the possibility that all three
segments of society, and along with them all three viewpoints and all three literary
manifestations, may have existed simultaneously.
1

Most of the argumentation in this study has been negative, an attempt to show that
J and E were not combined into a JE document. But in saying when J and E were not
combined, we are forced to address the question of when they were combined. I have
shown that D knew J and E as independent documents; I have also argued that P knew

1
We may also include D in this; cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy, 183: The possibility that P and D may have
existed as concurrent documents had for some reason never occurred to Wellhausen, and he thus sought
only for a chronological solution. Weinfeld does not seem to consider the possibility that J and E are also
the products of schools that had extended lifespans; see below.
Conclusion
389
neither J nor E. In short, there seems to be no literary evidence that any of the sources
existed in combination with any other before the creation of the canonical form of the
Pentateuch. The conclusions reached in chapter 6 support this idea. There it was argued
that the evidence points to a single redactor for the entire Pentateuch, whose methodology
is consistent over every book and all the sources. The logical conclusion from both the
authorial and redactional evidence is that all four sources, J, E, P, and D, were combined
at one time, by the one redactor whose methodology we have identified throughout the
Pentateuch. Although I can only provide a prcis here, it is worth taking the time to
explore this argument more fully.
The theory of Persian imperial authorization, increasingly accepted in much of
the scholarly community, provides a suitable background for the (single) compilation of
the Pentateuch. Our starting-point is the instructions of Artaxerxes to Ezra in Ez. 7:12ff.,
in which Ezra is commissioned to administer Judea and Jerusalem according to the law of
Israels God. Within the model of Persian imperial authorization, what this suggests is
that Ezra was instructed to provide the Persian royal court with some version of the local
laws of the Jewish people, such that the Persian authorities might retain their imperial
power and yet allow the Jews to live according to their own traditions. This law-book
would then be taken by Ezra back to Jerusalem, where he would be given the authority to
implement it. The question is, then, what this law-book comprised.
The individual sources of the Pentateuch, I have argued, were not each
representative of any normative Israelite religion, but were rather the expressions of
individual schools and segments within Israelite society. The time frame in which these
schools may have composed their individual documents is impossible to know; it is
Conclusion
390
reasonable to assume, however, that the schools themselves continued, in one form or
another, well beyond the completion of their literary works. This is, in fact, the best
explanation for the preservation of the individual documents: they were considered the
central literary expression of a particular group who preserved the document (and the
traditions contained therein) after it had been written. If the school that created one of the
documents simply ceased to exist after the composition was completed, there would be
no one with any particular attachment to those traditions or that literary composition. We
therefore must conclude that the schools behind the J, E, P, and D documents had
lifespans far beyond the theoretical date of the composition of these documents.
2

Though we may not be able to identify these schools or these authors specifically,
we can say without hesitation that in each and every case, the school comprised a
segment of the intellectual elite of ancient Israel. This is true not only because the
documents are commonly associated with the monarchic, prophetic, and priestly classes,
but because of the simple fact that they were written, literary documents at all. Literacy
in the ancient world was restricted to a very limited elite mostly those in the very
classes assumed responsible for the Pentateuchal documents. And this recognition
provides a link between the authors of the Pentateuchal sources and the exilic
community. The Babylonian exile is commonly understood to have affected primarily,
though not exclusively, the elite of Judah the members of the royal court and the priests
in particular. It must be imagined that these groups took their cherished literary creations
with them into exile. Further, we should probably imagine that it was in the exile that the
documents began to acquire something resembling canonical or sacred status not for the

2
Haran argues the schools that produced J and E extending far into the monarchichal period, and claims
that their documents similarly extend deep into the former prophets (H""spp"
h
, 188).
Conclusion
391
entire exilic community, but for the individual groups that brought the documents with
them. This process of canonization of the individual documents can be compared to the
exilic emphasis on some of the religious practices that marked the Israelites as separate
from their Babylonian hosts. Just as the Israelite exiles looked to separate themselves
through a more strict adherence to their older religious practices, so did the elite segments
of the exilic community begin to identify themselves more strongly by their unique
traditions, embodied in the texts that their schools had produced and which they
preserved.
Thus it can be imagined that by the time of Ezra, these documents had essentially
become canonical, separately, within the various segments of Israelite society; and not
only within random segments, but within the most elite, the former members of the royal
court and the priests. It was in the crucible of the exile, and not before, that there was a
real historical impetus for the canonization of the individual documents. And they were
canonized not by virtue of their combination, and not necessarily in open contradiction to
each other, but within the societal groups that had originally produced them.
This brings us to the time of the Persian imperial authorization. Suddenly, and for
the first time in Israelite history, there was a need for one single law that would be the
law of the entire returning exilic population. Before this, there was no reason that the
priestly law and the Covenant Code could not coexist; the groups to which those
documents belonged would have had virtually no contact, and there was certainly no
occasion for the two law codes to come into conflict, as neither was publicly accepted as
authoritative. But with the Persian demand for a law-book under which the returning
exiles might govern themselves, there was a need to produce, from the traditions of the
Conclusion
392
exilic community, one text that could serve this purpose. To choose the laws of P would
be to insult the adherents of the Deuteronomic school, and vice versa; to choose one
document over another may have caused significant conflict, perhaps such that the law
would not have been accepted by a major, culturally important part of the future Judean
society. It was necessary to create a legitimate and legitimating document which would
represent the entire people, such that none of the dominant social groups of the exile
would be left out of the newly constituted society in Israel (and, we may theorize, so that
the population which had remained in Judah during the exile would be excluded). In
short, the externally imposed demand for the text of Israelite law presents us with the first
and only historical circumstance in which the various Pentateuchal documents needed to
be combined.
We also understand better in this light the nature of this combination. The
compilation of the Pentateuch was not a theological statement, nor was it meant to be
taken as such. It was achieved, according to this understanding, for the sole purpose of
preserving the individual documents, precious to important segments of Israelite society,
such that together they made up a single Israelite law code. In this connection it should
be remembered, of course, that the narratives that surround the laws in each book, though
probably originally written only to provide the framework on the basis of which the laws
were to be given historical and religious authority, would have also been granted
canonicity over time. And just as the individual law codes required that historical
framing to give them authority and meaning, so presumably did the Pentateuch as a
whole. This does not, however, detract from the fundamental purpose of the Pentateuch,
which was legal, not narrative or theological.
Conclusion
393
The textual evidence of Ezra-Nehemiah supports this theory. Neh. 8 recounts the
public reading of the Torah, and states that the laws needed explaining (8:8), that they
caused weeping (8:9); that they discovered laws in the Torah that they clearly had not
previously known (8:14-15). None of these are understandable unless the text read by
Ezra was new to the people. For most of the population, of course, any text would have
been new, as they were largely illiterate. But even for the elite it was new (8:14-15).
This was because no one had ever read the compiled Pentateuch before this time.
Ezra-Nehemiah is the only biblical text that contains anything remotely
resembling an explanation of the origin of the compiled Torah. Ezra 7 provides the
reason for the compilation, and Neh. 8 provides the public response to the compilation.
This biblical evidence should be granted more weight and more probability than
unproven (and unprovable) scholarly theories that lack any textual support.
This reconstruction, though presented only in brief, best fits the evidence of the
preceding chapters. It explains the fact that there is no literary evidence for a combined
JE document for such a document never existed. It explains why we find only one
redactional methodology across all four sources for they were combined at one time, by
one figure, and for one purpose. And it provides the most plausible historical setting for
all of this to have taken place.
The recognition that J and E were independent of one another, and were never
combined into a JE document, may therefore open to door to a new understanding of the
composition and compilation of the Pentateuch. This new understanding requires that we
separate the Documentary Hypothesis from the various theories and assumptions that
have accreted to it over the past century and a half. This study has reaffirmed the
Conclusion
394
traditional identification and separation of the Pentateuchal documents, and it is that
process which should be known by the name Documentary Hypothesis: the theory that
the Pentateuch is made up of four independent sources. What we have argued
strenuously against are the secondary uses of the Documentary Hypothesis, by
Wellhausen and others, and, in turn, the changes to the basic understanding of the sources
made on the basis of those secondary developments. Thus the evolutionary scheme that
Wellhausen created for the sources is rejected, and along with it the arguments regarding
the dating and redaction of the documents (and, in fact, some of the textual analysis
itself) that are dependent on that evolutionary framework.
What is most necessary in contemporary source-critical scholarship is a return to
the simplest possible explanations for the various problems presented by the canonical
text of the Pentateuch, based first and foremost on the literary evidence, before any
historical or theological conclusions regarding the sources or their combination can be
made. This entails carefully reexamining the very basic arguments and conclusions on
which source-critical scholarship has depended. The preceding study represents but an
initial step in this direction.

395

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