Abstract
This study explicates the function of the Abraham narrative in its current position ahead of Jacob in Genesis by means of a comparison with the Period of the Three Kingdoms in ancient Korean history. After establishing the similarity between the two settings, I demonstrate how ancient Korean monarchic history sheds light on the specific function of the Abraham narrative in providing a narrative space in which Judeans found and expressed their new identity after the fall of northern Israel.
Keywords
The cultural heritage of Korea has much to offer to biblical historians. Similar to Israel, Korea purports to be a highly homogeneous ethnic group and yet includes politically divergent subgroups. The current political division between North and South Korea exhibits the complex intergroup dynamic when elements within an ethnic group are entangled with conflicting political interests. Admittedly, this is a modern phenomenon. But it is nonetheless symptomatic of what has been a constant in the long history of this small country whose critical geopolitical location at the bridge of several surrounding powerhouses (China, Russia, and Japan) has regularly invited political troubles. Incidentally, it strikingly resembles the situation of ancient Judah and Israel located in an equally strategic position between the empires of Egypt and Mesopotamia and later Greece and Rome. Korea’s lengthy monarchic history, with its rises and falls, coalitions and ruptures of many political entities has left us with elaborate stories and histories at each stage. These stories reflect residues of the ongoing political interests and struggles of the people of the time; thus, Korean history presents great examples of how the worlds of story reflect and interact with the world of reality. The Period of the Three Kingdoms and the ensuing eras of the unified monarchy in Korean history are particularly noteworthy. These periods demonstrate notable similarities with the monarchic era of Israel and Judah, particularly with regard to the transitional era when the political division between Israel and Judah dissolved, and Judah emerged and remained a singular political authority from the late 8th century until its fall in the early 6th century BCE. Of significance is the similar dynamic in Korean History in which rewriting ancestry served the needs of the newly established unified kingdom. Of course, a comparison of such culturally distinctive traditions entails a danger of generalization. Yet with due caution, it may offer new perspectives on the old, familiar phenomenon. In this study, I intend to demonstrate how ancient Korean monarchic history sheds light on the function of the Abraham story in providing a narrative space in which Judeans expressed their emerging identity after the fall of northern Israel and then continued to redefine it in the wake of their own exile.
1. Jacob and Abraham: Two Fathers of Israel
The Patriarchal history in Genesis presents two major figures, Abraham and Jacob, with Isaac functioning as a bridge figure between the two. 1 According to the present form of Genesis, Jacob is the eponymous ancestor of Israel who is not only the father of what later becomes the twelve tribes of Israel (Gen 29:31-30:24/35:22b-26) but also the one who later receives the name Israel (Gen 32:25-33/ 35:20). Put simply, Jacob’s ownership of the eponym of Israel is secured by a double knot both in the non-P and P contexts. At the same time, however, Jacob is only the third figure in Israel’s ancestry that is headed by Abraham. This makes Abraham’s position as a father figure in the Israelite ancestry superfluous, in a sense, to Jacob. Who is the father of Israel? Jacob is clearly the eponymous figure, so what role does Abraham then play in Israelite ancestry? It is not that biblical genealogy cannot afford multiple ancestors. In fact, few ancestral, or divine, stories present a single figure, and important figures are frequently found in the middle, not at the beginning, of their lineage. 2 Rather, the point is that the political implications of the superfluity of ancestral figures has been frequently neglected. A compound ancestry might have resulted from the merger of groups of independent origins with independent ties with their own ancestors. Genealogy functions as a scheme through which multiple ancestors are placed into order. If it works, as in the book of Genesis, the superfluous nature of a compound ancestry is resolved effectively. 3
Of particular import in this regard is the contrasting tradition–historical origins of the Abraham and Jacob traditions. 4 The Abraham narrative is fundamentally rooted in southern locales such as Hebron and Beersheba, 5 whereas the Jacob story is firmly rooted in northern locations such as Bethel, Shechem, and Penuel. 6 With a prominent connection between Abraham and David 7 and also between Jacob and Jeroboam ben Nebat, 8 the underlying North–South dynamic between the two figures cannot be neglected.
Furthermore, a careful analysis of the references to these figures in biblical literature indicates the original independence of the two traditions and the belatedness of the merger of the two figures. The fact that Jacob predominantly features as a single ancestral figure in early biblical literature suggests that Jacob was earlier considered the ancestor of Israel and the Jacob tradition alone functioned as a self-sufficient origin myth of the people of Israel. 9 Not incidentally, the establishment of the ancestral triad, Abraham-Isaac-Jacob, is also considered late. 10
The presentation of the twelve tribes of Israel of which Judah is one conflicts with the equally well-documented rivalry between Israel and Judah. 11 In the patriarchal scheme of the 12 tribes, Jacob is not only the father of Ephraim and Manasseh, the leading clans of the northern kingdom of Israel but also the father of the southern kingdom of Judah. However, throughout the Nevi’im, both former and latter, a sharp division between Judah and northern Israel is well attested in political and religious terms. Strictly speaking, the nomenclature assumed in the Nevi’im that assigns ‘Israel’ to the northern tribes while calling its southern counterpart Judah hardly makes sense within the 12-tribe system in which Israel and Judah belong to the different levels of categorization: the latter belongs to the former. Without Judah, Israel should not be considered complete. It would make more sense if the northern tribes were called otherwise, for example, Ephraim, and ‘Israel’ shared by both parties, but the evidence indicates otherwise. The impression is that compared with the later 12-tribe system, the relations between the northern and southern Israelite tribes were more complex. Is it possible that Judah was originally not part of the Israelite federation but only claimed its position in it later? 12
One may certainly discern Judah’s status in the Jacob and Joseph story as being ambivalent. That is, the narrative structure of the Jacob story foregrounds the exalted status of the Rachel tribes, Joseph and Benjamin, reflecting the political interests of the northern tribes, 13 whereas sporadic attempts to bolster Judah’s position are also conspicuous, though relegated to the background. 14 This ambiguous state of Judah reflects the two redactional stages that most scholars assume the present text had gone through, in which the original northern Jacob story has been updated and expanded in the South. 15 Still, within the scope of the Jacob and Joseph narrative, the alleged pro-Judean attempts at reconfiguration 16 are relatively minimal with the centrality of the figure Jacob remaining intact. That centrality is qualified, however, within the present form of the Patriarchal narrative in which Abraham takes a chief position ahead of Jacob. 17
The above discussion highlights the lateness of the current genealogical ordering of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and it begs the question of the intention behind this ordering. It is certain that the most significant change in the southern edition of the Patriarchal narrative, in addition to the sporadic pro-Judean redactions, is the insertion of the Abraham tradition in its current position. 18 Yet, biblical scholars have often overlooked the potential import of this particular reformulation. The reason appears to be clear. The reformulation was so successful that the readers, including biblical critics, have come to accept the reimagined past as the norm: the people of Israel are all descendants of Abraham. However, if the Abraham tradition was originally independent and only later incorporated into Israel’s ancestry, one must ask when, by whom, and why was Abraham made the father of all Israel. 19 Restructuring a nation’s origin in response to a changed political dynamic is a common phenomenon. No origin myth merely conveys or preserves the past exactly as it was. It rewrites the past to suit the present needs. In the following section, I will present one phase of Korean ancient history as a point of comparison to highlight the particular function projected onto the figure Abraham in this Israelite genealogical reshaping.
2. Dangun and the Multiple Kingdoms in Ancient Korea
2.1. The Myth of One Father
Koreans have long maintained a remarkably strong sense of ethnic homogeneity. Of course, the tragic rupture of North and South Korea after the Korean War has tested the assumption that this ethnic unity is sufficient to undergird a continuing desire for political unity. 20 Nevertheless, despite the political division, the people of the two Koreas still take it for granted that they are one people, at least ethnically. It is well known that ethnic studies have suggested that a sense of ethnic unity is socially constructed: 21 ‘Ethnicity is not a thing or a collective asset of a particular group; it is a social relation in which social actors perceive themselves and are perceived by others as being culturally distinct collectivities’. 22 According to Hutchinson and Smith, several key elements construct the sense of one people: (1) a common proper name, (2) a myth of common ancestry, (3) shared historical memories, (4) one or more elements of common culture, (5) a link with a homeland, and (6) a sense of solidarity. 23 Korean people share many of these key elements that bind them together and provide a sense of oneness. 24 Perhaps the most tangible among them include a common language, 25 a relatively segregated homeland in the Korean peninsula, and recent shared historical memories, particularly of collective strife with common enemies, such as Mongolia, China, and Japan. Yet, the sense of unity provided by these elements was not fully developed from the beginning. It is a product of a long social history, in which original diversity has been flattened out.
An important role in instilling the sense of unity among Koreans is played by a shared origin myth: the legend of Dangun (=Tangun, Tan’gun). 26 According to ancient legend, Dangun is the son of Hwanung, the son of the celestial deity Hwanin, who descended from heaven to the Korean peninsula, though the exact location of his descent remains a matter of dispute. The legend goes that the divine ruler was approached by a tigress and a she-bear who pleaded with him to turn them into humans. He put them to a test and ordered them to incarcerate themselves in a cave in which they were only allowed to consume garlic and wormwood. The tigress failed the test but the she-bear endured. The she-bear transformed into a woman after 21 days. Hwanung married her and the son born of this union was Dangun who later established the Kingdom of Chosŏn in 2333 BCE 27 at Pyongyang; 28 he allegedly ruled the kingdom for 1500 years before he finally turned into a mountain god at the age of 1908. 29
A mythical undertone is evident and most Koreans do not take this legend to be a historical fact, and historians continue to debate if the Kingdom of Chosŏn that Dangun allegedly founded can be considered to constitute Korea’s political origins. 30 Yet this story continues to play a pivotal role in maintaining a sense of unity among Koreans. The question is when did this figure begin serving this role in the collective mind of the Korean people. I often raise this question in my undergraduate classes; whenever I do so, I see many puzzled faces staring back at me. Apparently, they have rarely asked this question, not because. They took this myth to be a historical account but because the alleged claim of unity behind the myth has been taken for granted. Yet, it does not take long for my students to realize the point and acknowledge that the sense of unity, of whatever kind, could not have existed from the beginning of the social and political life of the early settlers who first migrated into the Korean peninsula. There must have been a point from which this story began to occupy people’s mind and function as a basis for unifying them. My students know this because at the heart of Korean ancient history lies the Period of the Three Kingdoms, in which multiple kingdoms ruled different parts of the Korean peninsula. Furthermore, they all know for a certainty that these kingdoms existed as independent political entities, with frequent military conflicts that are well documented, not only in textbooks but also in films and other popular media. Students gradually understand that the sense of one people, ‘the Han people’ as we call ourselves in Korea today, does not have as long a history or as tangible a basis as they have presumed. Scholars in fact still debate when the concept of one people originated in Korean history. It was not until the beginning of the united monarchy, which began in the 7th century CE, that the political union, which is a prerequisite for a sense of unity, arose in the Korean peninsula. To better understand the significance of this alleged unification, we need to briefly outline the history of the Period of the Three Kingdoms that preceded it. 31
2.2. The Period of the Three Kingdoms
Sometime in the first half of the first millennium, three kingdoms emerged and dominated the political affairs in the land of Korea: Koguryŏ, Paekche, and Silla. 32 Koguryŏ ruled the northern part of the peninsula and a significant part of Manchuria (northeast China and north of Korean peninsula). It was a strong kingdom that protected Korea’s northern border from the major powerhouses of China, Mongolia, and several nomadic clans, such as the Khitan. The other two kingdoms divided the southern part of the Peninsula, Paekche on the western and Silla on the eastern side. The territory of Paekche largely corresponds with the modern province of Jeolla-do and Silla with Kyonsang-do. 33
During the Period of the Three Kingdoms, each kingdom enjoyed political independence and separate group identities. Each kingdom occupied their own lands and different names, cultures and dialects, and origin myths pertaining to the birth of their eponymous ancestors. One must not downplay the effect of their political independence in favor of the alleged ethnic, cultural, and linguistic affinities. The idea of mutual affinities is mostly late and imposed upon the early period when they were yet to develop a sense of one people. I am not denying that these peoples, living in a relatively isolated environment within the peninsula, had more in common with each other than with outsiders such as China and Japan. However, their relative commonality and distinctness from outsiders should not obscure the sense of independence and political rivalry among them on a smaller scale. Group identity is a social function that is relative and situational. No identity is fixed. During the Period of the Three Kingdoms, each kingdom posed a serious threat to the other such that their distinctiveness militated against whatever commonality they may have shared unless the three kingdoms were forced into a situation in which they had to fight against a common enemy. During the entire Period of the Three Kingdoms, however, one rarely finds an occasion in which the three Korean kingdoms allied together against an external threat, as the Israelite tribes occasionally did before the rise of the monarchy. The way in which the three kingdoms united is instructive in this regard. As will be observed below, Silla united the three kingdoms. Yet Silla’s unification, and the destruction of the other two countries, was made possible only through the alliance with and military aid from the Tang Empire of China (618-907 CE), an outsider. 34 The fact that Silla was willing to make an alliance with the others to conquer Paekche and Koguryŏ may indicate that the people of Silla had not yet developed the sense of unity with Paekche and Koguryŏ, or at least not to the degree that would halt their political ambitions.
Against this backdrop, the fact that each kingdom maintained elaborate stories of the mysterious birth of their founders must be given serious consideration. I shall not go into details about each of the origin legends, which will unnecessarily complicate our discussion. It is sufficient to note that each kingdom maintained their own origin myths that apparently functioned as a basis for maintaining their individual group identity. Given the assertion of ethnic studies that a sense of ethnic unity is not factual but a social construct, the implications of their separate origin stories should not be overlooked. Apparently, these stories are used within their group reinforcing their common identity.
By accepting and identifying with these stories, each kingdom drew a line between them and us and expressed its independent identity as a separate people. Identification with a story constitutes an important aspect of forming a group identity. By accepting a story as one’s own, one identifies with the collective experience depicted in it and accepts values expressed in it. Identification with a story of a historical incident, even one from a distant past to which participants have no physical connections, provides one a sense of solidarity. Identifying with a story of a common ancestor provides one with a sense of a fictive kinship. This is one of the ways an ancient kingdom is built or maintained. The rise of a common identity as one people of Korea arrived late on the scene, not as an inherent and natural trait, but out of the necessity of an altered political setting and a new era of unity.
2.3. Unification and the Myth of Dangun
After centuries of political confrontation and coexistence, 35 a new era of unity emerged. Silla eventually overcame the others and united the three kingdoms in the latter half of the 7th century CE, inaugurating the new era of the united monarchy in the Korean peninsula: the United Silla (= late Silla). The United Silla prospered for a while but soon exhausted its life and succumbed to another, the kingdom of Koryŏ, a dynasty founded by the purported remnants of the old Koguryŏ (in 918 CE). 36 The Koryŏ dynasty lasted for about 500 years, 37 enduring a tumultuous era of frequent invasions, most notably from the great Empire of Mongolia that swept the entire continent of Asia.
It was in this time of unity when the myth of Dangun appeared in the ancient historiography of Korea. The legend is first featured in one of the founding historical works of Koryŏ, Samguk yusa (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), written at the end of the 13th century CE by a Buddhist monk Ilyŏn. 38 The myth appears to be a part of the resources that the author gathered, because the source material, though not extant today, is cited in a distinct manner. Regardless of its origin, however, what we do know is that it is by Koryŏ’s time that the myth of Dangun began to occupy a space in the collective minds of the people of Korea. Even though it was known during an earlier time, the myth was not foregrounded as the basis for their group identity. What prompted this myth to be elevated to the central position in the collective memory of the past? 39
When separate groups are forced to merge into a single group, factions among constituent elements of its population pose a constant threat to the unity and coexistence within the new order. Efforts to offset factions and unify popularity bases emerge as crucial tasks of domestic politics. 40 To that end, the past provides an ideal space. 41 The past is not a fixed space. In response to the changed political landscape, the past is reimagined, rewritten, and refocused to serve the interests of a political reality. My purpose is to demonstrate the type of space Dangun creates for the era of the united monarchy. One can speculate that such efforts began with the United Silla, but no written historiography from that period has been preserved. Fortunately, two major historical works from Koryŏ are available, which provide a direct witness to how ancestral myth played a role in Koryŏ’s historiography in reorienting the past. 42
One of the unique features of Samguk yusa is the manner in which this history begins. Samguk yusa, despite its title (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), does not begin its history with the three kingdoms. It begins with an account of Dangun, tracing the history of Korea back to the prehistorical era. 43 This story functions as a preface to the history of the three kingdoms that follow. This mythical preface, no matter what the original intent of the author was, has left a lasting mark on the collective mind of the Korean people as a locus for their common origin. Two points require our attention.
First, Dangun becomes the father of all three kingdoms. The functional value of the Dangun myth lies in its claim on the foundational, prehistorical era. The Period of the Three Kingdoms belongs to the historical era that is well-populated occupied by notable figures and historical events in people’s mind. Combining the history of the three kingdoms into one may have been an effective means to bolster Koryŏ’s status as the heir of all three kingdoms, 44 thus nurturing a sense of unity. Still, little could be done in terms of the actual contents of history, which is fraught with conflicting relations among the three kingdoms. In comparison with this, the realm of prehistory has distinct advantages. Its space is less densely populated by memories. It is more malleable to a historian’s shaping. For example, legendary, if not fictive, characters, events, or relations can be more easily established in that space. Furthermore, anteriority often correlates with significance in history. Being early, not to mention being the first, bestows rights and authority. By promoting a mythic figure like Dangun, the historian creates a space of primordial unity at the beginning of history. The seed of unity is planted, ahead of any historical era, and by doing so, any political division afterward is preempted by the initial unity.
Second, another feature of Samguk yusa’s use of Dangun is that he is depicted as the father of Jumong, the founder of the kingdom of Koguryŏ, one of the Three Kingdoms. This information appears in a separate section of the royal chronicles. The narrative account of Jumong also features a comment of a similar nature regarding his potential kinship tie with Dangun through his maternal line. 45 The origin and significance of these notes are debated, but at least one could posit that there has been an effort to connect Jumong’s lineage with Dangun one way or the other. In another tradition, Jumong’s father is cited as Hemosu who is, like Dangun, depicted as a heavenly figure. These then may well be variant traditions that attempt to stress Jumong’s heavenly origin. Such attempts to establish a fictive kinship between Jumong and Dangun have serious implications for Koryŏ, which purports to inherit the legacy of the old, mighty kingdom of Koguryŏ in the Period of the Three Kingdoms. The name ‘Koryŏ’ in fact was nothing but the alternative name used together with Koguryŏ, already attested by the 5th century CE. 46 That is, the founders of this new dynasty named their country after the old kingdom of Koguryŏ/Koryŏ. For the kingdom of Koryŏ, which needed to overcome the legacy of the incumbent Silla, then, Dangun also legitimates their supremacy by means of his underlying connection with the founder of Koguryŏ (Jumong), whose legacy Koryŏ claims to inherit.
When such a story is received by people, its reception shapes people’s perspective. It becomes part of a collective memory that affects the sense of identity. 47 What I am pointing out is an apparent dynamic in which the rewritten past serves the political needs of a later time and eventually crystallizes a people’s identity.
3. The Function of Abraham in Israel’s Ancestry
I admit that the analogy between ancient Korea and Israel may not be entirely perfect. Despite differences in detail, however, there is some common ground between Koryŏ and Judah in the aftermath of the fall of Samaria in 722 BCE. On one hand, Koryŏ and Judah each needed a basis to unite heterogeneous elements within the kingdom. 48 At the same time, they required a basis that would distinguish them from the incumbent hegemony (i.e. Silla for Koryŏ and northern Israel for Judah) and underscore their unique and superior identities. These needs constitute the two ends of the spectrum between which the basic structure of their origin myths is constructed. In Korea, Dangun plays a major role in meeting these twofold needs for Koryŏ. In Israel, it is Abraham who accomplishes this dual role for Judah. 49 Just as Dangun implants a memory of unity in the period preceding the era of division, Abraham, placed ahead of Jacob, does the same in the Israelite genealogy. Furthermore, just as Koryŏ underscores their supremacy by genealogically linking their father Jumong (the founder of Koguryŏ that Koryŏ claims to inherit) with Dangun, Judah does so by putting Abraham, whose inherent tie with the southern clans is no secret, ahead of Jacob.
The functional import of the present position of Abraham ahead of Jacob cannot be overemphasized. 50 The patrimonial era of Jacob is already populated with stories of Jacob and his household. Within this era, Judah might claim the right to belong to Jacob’s household or membership with the early tribal league, but they could never escape the shade of Jacob, a popular northern figure, with whom they had a less innate tie, if at all, than the northern tribes. Judah did strive to attain that position, which is reflected in the Judean redactional layers of the Jacob narrative. 51 Apparently, however, this state of being was not fully satisfactory for Judeans, or at least for some. Thus, over time, a different way of seeing their past emerged, a way that was more proactive and radical than a mere reworking of their tradition. 52 Rather than continue to work around the densely populated space occupied by the story of Jacob, Judeans began to explore a space prior to Jacob’s by planting and cultivating stories of their own. Abraham, our father, is claimed as the founding figure of Israelite ancestry.
The story of Abraham, when compared with that of Jacob, may not be as captivating as a folktale. Even though Abraham’s inability to sire an heir functions as the driving force of its plot line, it hardly matches the dynamic of the fraternal conflict between Jacob and Esau, which is intertwined with Jacob’s equally intriguing confrontation with Laban. Yet the Abrahamic tradition has one clear advantage over the Jacob story in that it is constructed around a critical identity marker. Abraham is depicted as the possessor of a divine promise and repeatedly asserted as the recipient of YHWH’s covenant. Thus, it functions as an important counternarrative to Israel’s identity discourse, redefining Israel around new identity markers, that is, not only in genealogical but also in covenantal terms. Now placed in front of Jacob in Israel’s genealogy, Abraham is in a position to own the promise and covenant of YHWH, which is, then, transmitted to Jacob through Isaac. Jacob, whatever he achieves in his eventful life, will remain and be remembered as the offspring of Abraham and the beneficiary of the Abrahamic promise. The ancestral history of Israel is radically reframed around Abraham. Israel is redefined and Jacob’s role is qualified. With the exalted state of Abraham, a southern father, Judah now has a space to claim their supremacy over the northern tribes.
The effect of this reorientation has been tremendous. Abraham, who was virtually non-existent as a father figure in early biblical literature, 53 emerges as the central figure in post-Hebrew Bible literature, including the Christian Testament. In due time, the Abrahamic circumcision grows into the foundational identity marker of Jewishness, and the significance given to this rite as an identity marker has everything to do with its embryonic position (Gen 17). 54
Our discussion has important implications for the dating of the Abrahamic tradition. While most critics today stress the exilic background of the Abraham narrative, the polemical nature inherent in the choice and placement of Abraham does not suggest an exilic dating. It has been argued that the inclusive spirit of the Persian era might offer a better context out of which Abraham emerged as the ‘ecumenical’ ancestral figure. 55 It is undoubtedly true that by then the Judeans had long been struggling with their identity and I believe Abraham became a major vehicle through whom the progress of that struggle was expressed. 56 The more inclusive and lenient constraints of the Abrahamic covenant and the generic quality of his faith or covenantal commitment would emerge as a fitting alternative in the exilic setting. Abraham would eventually grow into a great tree under whose shade all those who claim to share his faith would nest. He became the father not only of Israel and Judah but of all who came to live in the land of Canaan.
While, I agree that the current Abraham narrative in its literary form may date to the exilic and post-exilic period, it is still necessary to point out that this exilic dating would lead to misunderstanding if it were taken to mean that Abraham’s ‘ecumenical’ character was the reason that Abraham was initially brought into Israel’s ancestral narrative. The inclusive post-exilic spirit might well account for the ecumenical character of the narrative in its present form, but it falls short of doing justice to the Abrahamic expansion of the Patriarchal narrative and its underlying polemic against the Jacob tradition. The point I am trying to make is that before Abraham became the name through which the exilic Judean identity expansion took place, there must have been a prior moment in which the once independent Abraham tradition was combined with the Jacob tradition, even though this initial stage may not be traceable at the literary-critical level.
4. Conclusion
The superfluity of patriarchal figures in Israel’s ancestry holds the key to a major development that took place in the Patriarchal narrative. The Jacob story, once standing alone as the founding myth of the tribes of Israel, came to be framed within Abraham’s lineage, promise, and covenant. A comparison with ancient Korean history highlights the crucial role bestowed upon Abraham in his present position in Israel’s ancestral history. The memory of the common founder Dangun planted in the prehistorical realm, prior to the historical era of the Period of the Three Kingdoms, provides a space used frequently by later groups in search of a basis for unity. Likewise, Abraham provides an analogous space for Judeans who strive to overcome their inferiority vis-a-vis their northern counterpart. Particularly stressed are the political implications of the current genealogical order in which Abraham precedes Jacob. The origin story of the once rival nation, northern Israel, is now subordinated to Abraham’s lineage, which provides a basis for the Judean claim for supremacy. Although this particular Abrahamic circle expands in the exile as Judeans face different threats to their identity, its seed was planted long ago when a small group of Judeans came up with the bold idea of YHWH’s selection of Jerusalem, a simple but revolutionary idea that fundamentally reshaped their identity.
Footnotes
1.
The nature and origin of the Isaac tradition, and its function within Israelite genealogy, remains a problem that has not been fully solved. Yet, its role as a bridge between the Abraham and Jacob traditions has been noted often. See, e.g. Rolf Rendtorff, The Problem of the Process of Transmission in the Pentateuch (trans. J. J. “Scullion; JSOTSup 89,” 1990), pp. 78-79; Konrad Schmid, Genesis and the Moses Story: Israel’s Dual Origins in the Hebrew Bible (trans. James also, Nogalski; Siphrut 3), pp. 268 n. 621; Thomas Römer, ‘Abraham Traditions in the Hebrew Bible Outside the Book of Genesis’, in Craig A. Evans, Joel N. Lohr, and David L. Petersen (eds.), The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation (VTSup 152, 2012), p. 178. Cf. Erhard Blum, ‘The Jacob Tradition’, in The Book of Genesis: Composition, Reception, and Interpretation, p. 209.
2.
A fitting example is Marduk in the Mesopotamian epic, who is not depicted as the first deity who existed from the primordial past though he is entrusted with the position of the creator of this present world order for his victory over chaotic forces.
3.
For the sociological function of genealogy, see Robert R. Wilson, Genealogy and History in the Biblical World (Yale Near Eastern Researches 7, 1977).
4.
See Israel Finkelstein and Thomas Römer, ‘Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis’, ZAW, 126 (2014), pp. 319-21.
5.
Admittedly, Abraham’s initial migration includes major northern cities such as Shechem and Bethel (Gen 12:6-8). For the literary-critical implications on these verses, see Koog P. Hong, ‘The Deceptive Pen of Scribes: Judean Reworking of the Bethel Tradition as a Program for Assuming Israelite Identity’, Biblica, 92 (2011), p. 439. See also Finkelstein and Römer, ‘Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis’, p. 333. For a different perspective on the geopolitical implications on these northern sites, see Nadav Na’aman, ‘The Jacob Story and the Formation of Biblical Israel’, Tel Aviv, 41 (2014), pp. 99, 101, 104, 118.
6.
See, e.g. Erhard Blum, Die Komposition der Vätergeschichte, (WMANT 57, 1984), pp. 171-75; idem, ‘The Jacob Tradition’, pp. 207-10; Albert de Pury, ‘Le cycle de Jacob comme légende autonome des origins d’Israël’, in J. A. Emerton (ed.), Congress Volume: Leuven 1989 (VTSup 43, 1991), pp. 78-96; idem, ‘Situer le cycle de Jacob. Quelques réflexions, vingt-cinq ans plus tard’, in Studies in the Book of Genesis: Literature, Redaction and History (ed. André Wénin, BETL 155, pp. 213-41); idem, ‘The Jacob Story and the Beginning of the Formation of the Pentateuch’, in Thomas B. Dozeman and Konrad Schmid (eds.), A Farewell to the Yahwist? The Composition of the Pentateuch in Recent European Interpretation (2006), p. 56; David M. Carr, Reading the Fractures of Genesis: Historical and Literary Approaches (1996), pp. 204-15, 256-71, 298-300; idem, The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction (2011), pp. 473-75; Finkelstein and Römer, ‘Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis’, pp. 321-30; Sweeney, ‘The Jacob Narratives: An Ephraimitic Text?’, Catholic Biblical Quarterly, 78 (2016), pp. 236-55. Cf. Na’aman’s recent argument that the pre-P Jacob story was written in mid-6th century Judah as a part of the larger Patriarchal narrative. Na’aman argues that only the Bethel episode belongs to the genuine northern tradition. Na’aman, ‘The Jacob Story and the Formation of Biblical Israel’, esp. 112.
7.
See R. E. Clements, Abraham and David: Genesis XV and Its Meaning for Israelite Tradition (SBT 2/5, 1967); Bernard Gosse, ‘Abraham and David’, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 34 (2009), pp. 25-31.
8.
Note that Jeroboam ben Nebat is the one who fulfills Jacob’s vow (Gen 28:22) to build the ‘house’ at Bethel. Jacob did revisit Bethel in his return from Aram where he has another divine encounter. Yet he does not fulfill his initial vow to turn the pillar into a house but builds an altar (35:7). He later raises another pillar (35:14), which, again, may be seen as not a belated not fulfillment of his vow but a commemoration of the latest theophany (35:9-12).
9.
See Koog P. Hong, ‘Abraham, Genesis 20-22, and the Northern Elohist’, Biblica, 94 (2013), p. 337; Finkelstein and Römer, ‘Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis’, p. 322. Cf. Römer, ‘Abraham Traditions in the Hebrew Bible Outside the Book of Genesis’.
10.
E.g. Matthias Köckert, Vätergott und Väterverheissungen: Eine Auseinandersetzung mit Albrecht Alt und seinen Erben (FRLANT 142, 1988); Raymond J. Tournay, ‘Genèse de la triade «Abraham-Isaac-Jacob»’, Revue Biblique, 103 (1996), pp. 321-36; Römer, ‘Abraham Traditions in the Hebrew Bible Outside the Book of Genesis’, pp. 177-78; Finkelstein and Römer, ‘Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis’, p. 333.
11.
While earlier scholars tended to perceive them as sister nations, largely following a traditional reading of the biblical perspective, a growing number of scholars see them as independent political entities. See, e.g. Israel Finkelstein and Neil Asher Silberman, The Bible Unearthed: Archaeology’s New Vision of Ancient Israel and the Origin of Its Sacred Texts (2001), pp. 149-68; Marvin A. Sweeney, King Josiah of Judah: The Lost Messiah of Israel (2001), pp. 271-77; idem, I & II Kings: A Commentary (OTL, 2007), p. 263.
12.
In fact, biblical scholars have long questioned Judah’s membership in the early Israelite federation. See, e.g. Theodore H. Robinson, ‘The Origin of the Tribe of Judah’, in Herbert George Wood (ed.), Amicitiæ Corolla: A Volume of Essays Presented to James Rendel Harris, D. LITT., on the Occasion of His Eightieth Birthday (1933), pp. 265-73; Siegfied Herrmann, ‘Autonome Entwicklungen in den Koenigreichen Israel und Juda’ (VTSup 17, 1969), pp. 139-58; Roland de Vaux, ‘The Settlement of the Israelites in Southern Palestine and the Origins of the Tribe of Judah’, in Harry Thomas Frank and William LaForest Reed (eds.), Translating & Understanding the Old Testament; Essays in Honor of Herbert Gordon May (1970), pp. 131-34; James W. Flanagan, ‘Judah in All Israel’, in James W. Flanagan and Anita Weisbrod Robinson (eds.) No Famine in the Land: Studies in Honor of John L. McKenzie (1975), pp. 101-16.
13.
The Jacob narrative as literature is a crafted story that highlights the births of the sons of Rachel, the beloved wife of Jacob, whose wish for another son tragically cost her life. Not incidentally, both Joseph and Benjamin play prominent roles in the remaining storylines of Genesis. From this, it is difficult not to admit that its narrative structure was shaped to address northern Israelite interests to bolster the legitimacy of the important tribes in the central highland. For the importance of these tribes, see Martin Noth, The History of Israel, 2nd ed. (1960), pp. 59-62. The ancestral hegemony of Israel had already been formed around the figure of Jacob, in comparison to which Judah was a minor figure at best.
14.
Judah may not be the favored son of Jacob (see, e.g. Wilson, Genealogy and History, p. 185), but, as scholars have often noted, he is put into a position to claim the rank as the first-born son (when other candidates lose their position in due course). See, e.g. Carr, Reading the Fractures, p. 251; Timothy D. Finlay, The Birth Report Genre in the Hebrew Bible (FAT 2/12, 2005), p. 131; Sweeney, ‘The Jacob Narratives: An Ephraimitic Text?’, p. 253. Judah also plays a pivotal role in saving Joseph and eventually reuniting and saving the family. On his deathbed, his father secures Judah a prominent, if not the supreme, position among the brothers (Gen 49:8-12).
15.
See, e.g. Blum, Die Komposition der Vätergeschichte, pp. 289-97; Carr, Reading the Fractures, pp. 203-15.
16.
E.g. Gen 28:13-15.
17.
See Hong, ‘The Deceptive Pen of Scribes’, pp. 437-40.
18.
This indeed implies that Abraham was not part of the northern Israelite ancestry with which the tribes in the north identified themselves. See Hong, ‘Abraham, Genesis 20-22, and the Northern Elohist’.
19.
See now Finkelstein and Römer, ‘Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative in Genesis’.
20.
In South Korea, there has been a sustained yearning for reunification in the post–Korean War era, though it appears to gradually diminish as the war generation is replaced by a new generation that has no firsthand experience of war and no physical tie with the people and the land of North Korea. See Jiyoon Kim et al., South Korean Attitudes toward North Korea and Reunification (Asan Report, 2015), accessed June 12, 2017, 
.
21.
For foundational work on this subject relating to biblical history, see Fredrik Barth, ed., Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Culture Difference (1969). For a helpful summary and discussion of ethnic studies from the perspective of the Hebrew Bible, see James C. Miller, ‘Ethnicity and the Hebrew Bible: Problems and Prospects’, Currents in Biblical Research, 6 (2008), pp. 170-213.
22.
Siniša Malešević, The Sociology of Ethnicity (2004), p. 4.
23.
John Hutchinson and Anthony D. Smith, eds., Ethnicity (Oxford Readers, 1996), pp. 6-7. The list is a summary prepared by Hutchinson and Smith citing the thesis of R. A. Schermerhorn, Comparative Ethnic Relations: A Framework for Theory and Research (1978), p. 12.
24.
Unlike Israel, religion has not been the most constant basis of Koreans’ sense of homogeneity. Traditionally, the major religions in Korea have been Buddhism and Confucianism, and Christianity has emerged only recently. While all of these religions came from outside and Buddhism did play a role in unifying the people in antiquity, it cannot be taken as an integral part of Korean ethnic solidarity.
25.
Today, Koreans speak a language that is distinguished from the languages of neighboring countries and one cannot deny that the unique language contributes to the nurturing and reinforcing of a sense of unity. However, precisely when Koreans came to use their own, distinctive, and standardized language is a matter of dispute. While historical linguistics indicates its unique and isolated nature (see Michael J. Seth, A Concise History of Korea: From Antiquity to the Present, 2nd ed. (2016), pp. 9-10), the dialect differences which exist among the provinces, at times preclude mutual communication (e.g. between Jeju island and the main land Korea). This may indicate that the homogeneous and isolated nature of the Korean language is primarily the result of centuries of standardization following the political unification.
26.
The myth of Dangun is introduced in Samguk yusa. Seth, A Concise History of Korea, p. 128. For an English translation, see Iryŏn, Samguk Yusa: Legends and History of the Three Kingdoms of Ancient Korea (trans. Tae Hung Ha and Grafton K. Mintz; 1972), pp. 32-33. For a brief introduction, see James Huntley Grayson, Myths and Legends from Korea: An Annotated Compendium of Ancient and Modern Materials (2001), pp. 30-62.
27.
Calculating from this date, Koreans customarily speak of and take pride in the long history (5000 years) of their country.
28.
Indeed, the capital city of North Korea. While this city may be widely known due to global news coverage in recent times, not many know that Pyongyang was the center of the Great Revival in 1907 and was often called Korea’s new Jerusalem, before the center of Korean Christianity migrated into Seoul after the Korean War. See Robert E. Buswell Jr and Timothy S. Lee, Christianity in Korea (2006), pp. 316-17.
29.
Iryŏn, Samguk Yusa, p. 33.
30.
See Hyung Il Pai, Constructing ‘Korean’ origins: A Critical Review of Archaeology, Historiography, and Racial Myth in Korean State-Formation Theories (Harvard East Asian Monographs 187, 2000).
31.
To trace the history of a foreign country is a difficult task. I have no intention to bombard the reader with details in this discussion. Rather, my presentation will be necessarily brief, selective, and sketchy. For more details, one may want to consult other resources. Several versions of Korean history are now available in English. Seth, A Concise History of Korea; Jinwung Kim, A History of Korea: From ‘Land of the Morning Calm’ to States in Conflict (2012); Keith L. Pratt, Everlasting Flower: A History of Korea (2006); Kyung Moon Hwang, A History of Korea: An Episodic Narrative (Palgrave Essential Histories, 2010).
32.
According to Samguk Sagi, the three kingdoms had their origins in the 1st century BCE, but this early date may be debatable and is irrelevant for our discussion. For more details, Seth, A Concise History of Korea, pp. 29-50.
33.
Even within modern South Korea, residues of the division persists between the two southern provinces, Jeolla-do and Kyongsang-do, which inherited the territories of the ancient kingdoms of Paekche and Silla, respectively. Although their relations have been further marred by more recent political incidents, the fundamental division between the two regions has a much longer history.
34.
Seth, A Concise History of Korea, p. 47.
35.
There were frequent shifts in their political rivalry, which is also inherently related to the external power dynamics in larger East Asia, in which the Chinese and middle Asians, such as Mongolians, were major participants. Japan later looms large in East Asia but at this point was largely isolated, though frequent exchanges are documented with southern kingdoms in the Korean peninsula.
36.
The name ‘Korea’, or ‘Corea’, derives from this period.
37.
When Koryŏ finally fell, it was replaced by another dynasty, Chosŏn that lasted until the dawn of the modern era, which began with the tragedy of Japanese colonial infiltration. See Seth, A Concise History of Korea, pp. 241-78.
38.
Seth, A Concise History of Korea, p. 128.
39.
I am not arguing that this process of legitimation began immediately with the establishment of the kingdom. In fact, Samguk yusa appeared much later and many consider it to be part of collective efforts against the Mongolian invasion in the 13th century CE. For the invasion of the Mongol Empire, see Seth, A Concise History of Korea, pp. 118-21.
40.
For an analogous situation in biblical history, see Finkelstein and Silberman, The Bible Unearthed, pp. 243-45; idem, ‘Temple and Dynasty: Hezekiah, the Remaking of Judah and the Rise of the Pan-Israelite Ideology’, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 30 (2006), pp. 259-85. For the critique, see Nadav Naʼaman, ‘When and How Did Jerusalem Become a Great City? The Rise of Jerusalem as Judah’s Premier City in the Eighth-Seventh Centuries B.C.E.’, Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research, 347 (2007), pp. 21-56. Their debate continued mainly in the pages of Revue biblique in the following years. See also Philippe Guillaume, ‘Jerusalem 720-705 BCE: No Flood of Israelite Refugees’, Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament, 22 (2008), pp. 195-211.
41.
See Bruce Lincoln, Discourse and the Construction of Society: Comparative Studies of Myth, Ritual, and Classification (1989), pp. 27-29.
42.
There are two major works of history published on Koryŏ. The other major historical work along with Samguk yusa is Samguk sagi (History of the Three Kingdoms). See Seth, A Concise History of Korea, pp. 15-16, 100-102. Completed in 1145 CE, Samguk sagi is the more official version of Koryŏ’s history composed by Kim Bushik, a major official in the Koryŏ dynasty. Unlike Samguk yusa, which begins its historical presentation with the Dangun era, Samguk sagi begins with the period of the Three Kingdoms and includes a detailed history of each of the three kingdoms that predated Koryŏ and the United Silla. The structure in itself may indicate the historian’s interest to unite disparate peoples into one by demonstrating that Koryŏ is an heir to all three kingdoms. It is an effective means to rally support from the three kingdoms. One may in this connection about the combination of the chronicles of Judah and Israel in the Deuteronomistic History. I will have to save that question for a separate investigation.
43.
In fact, human habitation in the Korean peninsula predates the period of Dangun. Evidence from the Paleolithic period has been found in North East Korea and has been dated to 400,000 years. See Seth, A Concise History of Korea, p. 10.
44.
See Note 42.
45.
Iryŏn, Samguk Yusa, p. 45.
46.
The distinction between the old Koguryŏ and the late Koryŏ is an artificial one introduced by historians to avoid confusion.
47.
To be sure, people do not buy into every story. People resist strange, unfamiliar stories. Nevertheless, certain circumstances function as a catalyst for willing participation. A common external threat is among the most notable of such catalysts. It consolidates solidarity among disparate parties within a group. It is no accident that Samguk yusa was composed during the most serious national crisis of Koryŏ’s ascendancy: the Mongolian invasion. Seth, A Concise History of Korea, p. 122.
48.
Cf. Na’aman, ‘The Jacob Story and the Formation of Biblical Israel’, pp. 118-19. Here, I am not assuming a mass migration of the northern Israelite refugees in the aftermath of the fall of Samaria. See Note 40. Even if one posits no physical presence of a large group of Israelites, one still could see these Judeans’ need for reconciliation with a memory of the past that is filled with traces of a northern Israel which remained much more powerful throughout the monarchic era. See Finkelstein and Römer, ‘Comments on the Historical Background of the Jacob Narrative’, pp. 319-21.
49.
Some of these roles are also reflected well in David, and the function of Abraham in the ancestral history is matched by that of David in monarchic history. David constitutes a golden era during the beginning of Israel’s history. Abraham constitutes a space in Israel’s genealogy in which the father of the south functions as the progenitor of Israel and neighboring kingdoms. Planting the golden era of David in the beginning of the history and placing the blame for Israel’s tragic division on the shoulders of northern Israel, the Deuteronomistic History legitimizes Judah’s right to take over Israel’s legacy.
50.
For this, see Hong, ‘The Deceptive Pen of Scribes’, pp. 437-41. See also Na’aman’s discussion of the analogous case that happened between Assyria and Babylonia in Nadav Naʼaman, ‘The Israelite-Judahite Struggle for the Patrimony of Ancient Israel’, Biblica, 91 (2010), pp. 1-23.
51.
Indeed, the very fact that Judeans did not choose to forget so many northern traditions of Jacob, Moses, Hosea, and Elijah, evinces their willingness to participate in this old heritage and ultimately appropriate it as their own. I personally very much appreciate the triumph of this inclusive stance over against the exclusivist one that might have expunged much of the Israelite heritage. Cf. Harold Louis Ginsberg, The Israelian Heritage of Judaism (TSJTSA 24, 1982); Daniel Fleming, The Legacy of Israel in Judah’s Bible: History, Politics, and the Reinscribing of Tradition (2012).
52.
It is not implied here that this difference must have resulted from, or can be literary-critically traced back to, two different layers of redactions. Cf. Carr, Reading the Fractures, pp. 203-204.
53.
See, e.g. Römer, ‘Abraham Traditions in the Hebrew Bible Outside the Book of Genesis’, pp. 159-80; Hong, ‘Abraham, Genesis 20-22, and the Northern Elohist’, pp. 336-37.
54.
See Matthew Thiessen, Contesting Conversion: Genealogy, Circumcision, and Identity in Ancient Judaism and Christianity (2011).
55.
See, e.g. Albert de Pury, ‘Abraham: The Priestly Writer’s “Ecumenical” Ancestor’, in Steven L. McKenzie and Thomas Römer (eds) Rethinking the Foundations: Historiography in the Ancient World and in the Bible: Essays in Honour of John Van Seters (BZAW 294, 2000), pp. 163-81. Reprinted in Jean-Daniel Macchi, Thomas Römer, and Konrad Schmid (eds.), Die Patriarchen und die Priesterschrift: gesammelte Studien zu seinem 70. Geburtstag (AThANT 99, 2010), pp. 73-89.
56.
The broadened boundary of the Abrahamic oikumene, which now includes Egypt and Arabia, fits well into the diaspora identity of the exilic Judean community. Yet, this hardly implies that such a boundary expansion could not have been achieved by Jacob. Note Jacob’s exile to Mesopotamia and return to the land. He also has an Egyptian connection established through Joseph. Had northern Israel survived instead of Judah, hypothetical as it may be, the post-exilic version of Israel’s ancestry might not have needed Abraham at all. Jacob would have been a perfect archetype for the exile and return to the land.