. . . the life spans are exorbitant, from a
high 969 to a low of 777, with the 365 years of Enoch being an outlier—“God
took him” (Gen 5:24) rather than “he died.” One might guess that the text
presents these as the actual lifespans of the figures; but there is reason to
believe that some kind of symbolism is at work—even if we cannot be sure what
it is. (See below for a proposed symbolism in the lifespan of Lamech.) This
likely presence of symbolism (for all that no one knows for sure its details)
tells against every effort to construct a chronology from these genealogies.
Many think that the Sumerian King List is suitable background for this
genealogy and its companion in 11:10-26. Although there are limitations to such
comparisons, we can nevertheless find help in this one. For example, the King
List has kings before the great flood with absurdly inflated lengths for their
reigns of thousands of years. After the flood the numbers trend downward, much as
those in 11:10-26. We might suppose, then, that the author of Genesis is by
this means reinforcing to his audience that he is telling a tale that overlaps
with others that they have heard about the far-off times—again always with the
implication that Genesis is telling these tales the right way.
We should consider
what effect these numbers would have on an ancient audience. Quite apart from
whether there is some kind of symbolism and figure in these numbers, certainly
on their face they create a sense of distance between the characters and the audience—for
whom “three-score and ten” (Ps 90:10 AV) was a worthy achievement. Gordon
Wenham mentions some explanations that have been proffered, which he counts as
having some merit (and to be much better than the mathematical operations on
the numbers, which entail their own problems). For example:
Cassuto . . . sees in
the ages of the patriarchs, relatively low when contrasted with the enormous
reigns of Sumerian kings, another aspect of anti-Mesopotamian polemic. The
Hebrew writer was intent on scaling down the alleged ages of man’s earliest
forbears. Though they lived a long time, none reached a thousand years, which
in God’s sight is but an evening gone (cf. Ps 90;4). Gispen suggests that these
figures are designed to show that though the narrative is dealing with very
distant times, it is a sort of history, and that however long men lived, they
were mortal. (Gordon Wenham, Genesis 1-15, WBC [Dallas: Word, 1987],
134)
These are helpful. We
can take this with features of the text:
1. the overall trend
downward in total lifespan (which perhaps signals the decline from man’s
pristine condition);
2. the repetitive
refrain “and he died” for each figure (except Enoch);
3. the location in a
set of genealogies that lead eventually to Abram and therefore are in some
sense intended as historically referential.
Thus, in addition to
the literary function of speeding past numerous generations without much
comment, the form of the genealogy shapes the story for Israel by strengthening
the idea that the call of Abram is in the context of increasingly desperate
human need.
The Adam entry gets
more space than most of the other entries, probably since he is the headwaters
of this line of descent. The detail on Adam connects this genealogy with the
creation and fall stories of Genesis 1-4. Of the other figures in the
genealogy. Only Enoch and Lamech get anything further said about them than the
formula. Enoch is singled out for a commendable kind of piety: he “walked with
God” (5:22, 24, Heb. התהלך, hithallek). This piety anticipates the Pentateuch ideals: see
Noah in 6:9; Abram in 17:1; 24:40; 48:15; and the way that God will “walk”
among his people (Lev 26:12; Deut 23:14). This piety led to Enoch’s earthly
sojourn being cut short, “for God took him”; this would be odd if length of
earthly life were an absolute good. Apparently, then, there are higher values
and rewards than simply length of days, and the text assumes that there lies
something worthwhile beyond the grave for the faithful (see also Elijah’s end,
2 Kgs 2:9-12) without saying much about it here, leaving us to wonder about
those details and to draw inferences.
The details about
Lamech make narrative sense, as they introduce Noah, the main human character
of what follows. The hopeful note, however, stands in contrast to what happens:
Noah is to “bring us relief” (5:29). The name “Noah” (HEB. נוּחַ, noah) sounds
more like the word “to rest” (Heb. ינחמנו, yenahamenu), but even more, what kind
of rest or relief does he bring? As is turns out, the relief applies only to a
small number of humans—in other words, the “us” in Lamech’s speech appears
narrowed down in its reference. However, in the perspective of Genesis, this
narrowing yields hope for the ultimate end of the human family, which indicates
that most of Noah’s contemporaries are excluded from participating in that hope
(and the flood story will explain why). This notion finds support in the way
that the terms “painful toil” and “the ground that the LORD has cursed” (5:29)
pick up words form the divine sense in 3:16. Through Noah, as a fresh start on
humankind, relief will come.
The length of
Lamech’s life, 777 years, leads to a rhetorical conclusion . . . some finds a
link between the genealogy descended from Cain (Gen 4:17-22) and that from Seth
(5:6-32). Both lists end with a figure named Lamech (Heb. למך, lemek), and
the contrast between them is stark. The first Lamech had taken God’s assurance
of sevenfold vengeance on anyone who kills Cain (4:15) and multiplied it by
eleven for even a blow—that is, vengeance was no longer in God’s hands, and it
was fiercer (4:23-24). The Hebrew for “seventy-sevenfold” is שׁבעים ושׁבעח [shib’im
weshib’ah], “seventy and seven” (4:24). In 5:31 the second Lamech’s
lifespan in 111 times even years; in Hebrew, שׁבע שׁבעים שׁנה ושׁבע מאות שׁנה [sheba’ shib’im
shanah asheba’ me’ot shanah], “seven and seventy years and seven hundred
years.” The 77 part comes first, in opposite order to that of 4:24. The first
Lamech speaks bluster and threat; the second Lamech speaks hope and faith. The
first embraces humans’ descent into sin and departure from God; the second
bemoans it and looks for the gracious act of God. Rhetorically, the contrast enlists
the audience to approve of the second and to side with him so that they can be
loyal to God’s purpose through Noah—of whom Abram, and thus Israel, are the
proper heirs.
The passage ends with
the sons of Noah: Shem, Ham, Japhet. This is the only entry in the genealogy
that gives the names of anyone who is not in the direct line of descent that
leads to Israel, and the narrative logic is clear. All three of these men will
play a role with their father Noah in the next events—n the flood and its
aftermath and in re-populating the earth with the families of the earth. (C.
John Collins, Reading Genesis Well: Navigating History, Poetry, Science, and
Truth in Genesis 1-11 [Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2018], 182-85)
