But isn't that one of the large points of the text - that humanity's flaws creates our own dystopia?
I'm not sure that the text as a whole has a point.
I mean, doesn't Job stand out so much because he is punished for being good rather than for his sins.
I think the God of the Book of Job (one of the few really excellent books of the Bible) is a malign monster.
you mention Abram being a con-man, but when he pulls the wife/=sister-in-a-box trick it doesn't do him any favours.
Sure it does. It gets him in good with the Pharaoh: "And he benefited Abram for her sake, and he had flocks and cattle and he donkeys and men servants and maid servants, and she donkeys and camels."
surely there has to be a spiritual message within the text otherwise why retain them over so many generations.
I don't think that the fact something has been transmitted over generations necessarily means that it has a spiritual message.
Why even create them in the first place (assuming one doesn't take them literally), when the "this is why we get to invade that land over there" message could have been so much more succinct.
Stories are a lot more interesting -- and likely to be transmitted and retained over generations -- than expository writing.
Is there no selective pressure on what sections of text get retained/maintained and what is allowed to change or be dropped?
What Judaism generally did, rather than drop or change sections (although it did that, too, early on), was to create a vast oral Torah of commentary on and modifications of the text. The Oral Law was considered just as important, and just as sacred, as the Written Law.
A nice way to make certain parts much more just and humane. ("You know how the Bible says 'an eye for an eye'? It really means 'DON'T take an eye for an eye.'") What's more, it meant that the meaning of the text constantly was open for debate.
Here's my favorite story (from the Talmud, of course) on that:
Achnai brought a new oven to the rabbinical court for them to decide if it was appropriate for Jewish use. With the exception of Rabbi Eliezer, every sage declared that the oven was un-kosher.
Rabbi Eliezer brought forward every imaginable argument to try and convince the other sages that the oven was kosher, but none of his colleagues was convinced.
Rabbi Eliezer was getting frustrated, and he shouted at them: "If Achnai's oven is in fact kosher, as I say it is, then let this carob tree prove it!" And the carob tree flew out of the ground and landed a hundred cubits away. Unimpressed, the other sages retorted: "No proof can be brought from a carob tree."
Again Rabbi Eliezer implored them: "If the oven is kosher, then let the stream of water prove it." And the stream of water flowed backwards. "No proof can be brought from a stream of water," the rabbis rejoined.
More frustrated than ever, Rabbi Eliezer cried out: "If the oven is kosher, as I say it is, let the walls of this house of study prove it!" And the walls began to fall inward.
But Rabbi Joshua rebuked the collapsing walls saying: "When scholars are engaged in a disagreement over a point of Jewish law, what right do you have to interfere?" And the walls did not fall in honor of Rabbi Joshua, nor did they resume their upright position in honor of Rabbi Eliezer.
Again Rabbi Eliezer said to the sages, "If the law agrees with me regarding the fact that Achnai's oven is kosher, then let it be proved by heaven." And a heavenly voice cried out: "Why do you rabbis argue with Eliezer? He's always right in his interpretation of the law!"
But Rabbi Joshua arose and exclaimed to the sky: "It is not in Heaven." (Deuteronomy 30:12.) "[In interpreting the law] One must follow the majority!" (Exodus 23:2.)
At that moment, the sages say, God laughed, saying "My children have defeated me! My children have overruled me!" |
