Phonological Patterns in the Hebrew Bible: A Century of Studies in Sound

Introduction

Language lends itself to sound patterns. While words communicate visually, they also communicate aurally through sounds created in the mind or by the spoken word. The Hebrew Bible was no exception to this, and its authors employed sound as a means of communication. However, discerning uses of sound in the Hebrew Bible depends upon the pronunciation of the Hebrew language. The pointed text of the Hebrew Bible, the version of the Tiberian Masoretes from roughly the tenth century ce, may offer a dependable form of the language from which to reconstruct proper pronunciation. However, Coetzee (1999: 6-7) remarks,

The Masoretes lived five hundred to a thousand years later than the Bible’s authors, and there is no way in which their pronunciation could have been the same as that of the original authors of the text. It is also true that the Bible was written over a long period of time (approximately one thousand years) which implies that the Hebrew language would also have changed during the extended period during which the Bible was written. Despite this fact, the Masoretes pointed the text uniformly, disregarding the different stages in the development of the Hebrew language and the different dialects of Hebrew represented in the Hebrew Bible.

According to Coetzee, the MT’s uniformity and its distance from the original Hebrew text renders it inadequate for those aiming to pronounce the language. Rendsburg voices a more common position: ‘The exact pronunciation of the vowels of ancient Hebrew cannot be recovered’ (1997: 76). There is general agreement that we can retrieve the pronunciation of consonants, but the exact sounds of vowels, less so.

Despondent remarks like Coetzee’s (see also Devens 1992) and the general dubiety towards vowels have not, however, hampered the study of Hebrew sound. Bar-Efrat (1989) also notes the inaccessibility of biblical Hebrew phonemes and the disparity of vocalization traditions. Thus he focuses on repetition of sounds, whether in consonants, vowels, or combinations of the two, which provide ‘objective features which can be discerned even if the exact pronunciation of the sounds is not known’ (1989: 201). He notes that repeated consonants provide particularly firm ground for pronunciation, but nevertheless proceeds with a study of sound patterns based on consonants and vowels of the MT. This problem of recovering the pronunciation of Hebrew, particularly in view of various vocalization traditions, recurs throughout the history of studies of sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible. While this article will not cover research on the general phonology of biblical Hebrew (see Blau 2010; Bodine 1992), the discussion will note the assumptions and conclusions from scholars of sound patterns regarding the issue of pronunciation.

Following Bar-Efrat (1989), it is the repetition of sounds or, in other words, phonological patterns that undergird the studies surveyed in this article. Each study incorporates or is founded upon some system, regularity or detectable device within the pronounced Hebrew text. Such discussions of sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible appear in overviews of Hebrew narrative or poetry, biblical dictionaries and encyclopedias, systematic studies devoted to sound patterns, and investigations of sound within particular biblical texts. As these four categories define the field, they also reveal both common and unique questions regarding sound patterns. Biblical commentaries often attend to Hebrew sound techniques (e.g., Waltke 2004: 41-42; Torrey 1928: 193-98). However, the usually brief and unsystematic approach of commentators towards sound, as well as the unmanageable amount of literature they would then contribute to a bibliographic article like this, prevents me from including their work here.

In an attempt to account for the scope of research, the following discussion will attend to the landmark studies and turning points, underscoring the questions, debates and developments from 1865 to the present. This history might be captured synchronically by focusing on different approaches to sound patterns since the nineteenth century: for example, definitions of terms, methods of identifying and evaluating sound patterns, and studies of particular patterns in the Hebrew Bible. But a diachronic approach accentuates the development or, just as interesting, the lack of development in these areas. A synchronic approach is not entirely forfeited, though, as certain decades will swell with a common approach. Three key figures require their own section and leave the remaining material for summary by time periods and concentrations.

Casanowicz (1894)

Casanowicz’s dissertation (1894) represents one of the first studies devoted to sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible. His work stood apart in its comprehensive scope, systematic approach and comparative perspective. Before then, studies published in German and Latin, as well as commentaries, mentioned sound patterns or featured a particular technique. For example Ley (1865) lists examples of alliteration in Hebrew poetry, and his subsequent work (1866) broaches issues that will form the nucleus of later debate: sound’s function, its relation to concepts and influence on grammatical form, and its cause (coincidence versus authorial intent). But unlike Ley, Casanowicz claims to present all cases of what he calls ‘paronomasia’ within the Hebrew Bible, numbering over 500.

By ‘paronomasia’, Casanowicz (1894) means ‘the proximity of two words varying only slightly in form, and having a different meaning’ (p. 2), or ‘the union of similarity of sound with dissimilarity of sense’ (p. 26). While derived from Greek terminology, ‘paronomasia’ seems to function for Casanowicz as an overarching term for many sorts of sound patterns. With a Greek starting point, he then surveys sound techniques in German, English and Semitic literatures, and further discusses the different types of paronomasia: alliteration, rhyme and assonance, later adding epanastrophe, wordplay and proper names.

Instances of actual paronomasia in the Hebrew Bible are ordered by the Hebrew alphabet. He lists the textual reference or references along with the pointed Hebrew script and a corresponding number. These numbers are then classified into four groups: first, ‘with regard to the part of speech of the combined words’ (p. 84), that is, either noun and noun, noun and verb, or verb with verb; second, with respect to the relation of thought between the involved parts, either synonymous, antithetic or proverbial expressions; third, with respect to the mutual position of the parts, that is, some are distributed throughout the parallel portions of the sentence; fourth, plays upon words, as either plays upon common nouns, proper names or explanations of proper names. Some passages overlap with multiple categories, but of the 502 numbered occurrences, the four categories respectively include 353, 244, 40 and 211 verses.

Casanowicz also broaches questions that will recur throughout studies on sound patterns. First, he mentions the function of sound patterns: ‘its primary object and immediate effect is simply to attract the ear’ (p. 4). Second, he questions the intention of the author: ‘the similarity of sound must be manifestly designed by the author, not the result of an unavoidable coincidence’ (p. 26). Third, he proposes how interpreters might detect deliberate use of sound: ‘regular combinations, rare words, proper names, accumulation, in syntactically coordinated sets rather than in subordinated, if they add to solemnity/impressiveness’ (pp. 27-28). Casanowicz’s definitions and his selection of examples mark the starting point for most of the studies in sound during the next century and more. His three questions resemble some of Ley’s (1866) brief concerns: the function of sound, authorial intent, and detection of deliberate patterns. These form a constellation of issues that will continue to provoke discussion. Only recently have his definitions been questioned (Kabergs and Ausloos 2012), at a landmark I will return to later.

Early Soundings (1900–1960)

The span of decades from 1900 to 1960 is marked by relatively few studies in Hebrew Bible sound patterns. Prior to 1900, Schmalzl (1897) lists 14 examples of rhyme in Ezekiel that occur at the beginning, middle or ends of words. Broadly defined as sound similarities, they form chiastic and other patterns between lines but also bond strophes. Burney (1908) briefly identifies rhyme in Song of Songs, presenting a few examples and claiming that the instances with -im endings are too numerous to quote. Outside of Song of Songs, he declares only two other deliberate rhymes (Judg. 16.24; Lam. 1.21). Song of Songs will attract later scholars, and the total occurrences of rhyme in the Hebrew Bible are shown to extend well beyond the two instances noted by Burney.

Reckendorf’s (1909) Über Paronomasie in den Semitischen Sprachen is not based on sound patterns but rather a definition of paronomasia based on syntactical relationships between cognate words with similar or related meanings. Words in paronomistic connection can then share sound, but phonic affinity is neither a necessary nor sufficient condition for paronomasia. Reckendorf organizes his study based on grammatical identity and relationship. So chapters include paronomasia in nouns, verbs and pronouns; nominal and verbal sentences; attributive, accusative and genitive relationships; and so on. Reckendorf does account for sound, but unsystematically, as it appears throughout his examples of Arabic, Syriac, Aramaic, Hebrew and Assyrian.

In 1926, Böhl (1953) lectured on proper names in Genesis, those of Volksetymologie and Wortspeile. Some of these instances incorporate sound, such as the etymological background of ‘Babel’. Otherwise, Böhl draws on the meaning of terms, their explanatory value, allusive function, and ambiguity. Boström (1928) finds paronomasia in Hebrew proverbial literature, a device, along with catch-words, that aids memorization and relates with meaning to stimulate thought. He mainly treats groups of chapters from Proverbs, starting with Proverbs 25–27, but also presents examples from Ecclesiastes, Job, Ahiqar and Ben Sira. Although Boström at times accounts for vowels, consonants receive most attention. In depth and scope, his Paronomasi i den Äldre Hebraiska Maschalliteraturen stands as the most detailed study of Hebrew sound patterns up to his time. Boström’s thorough handling of Proverbs garners a number of followers who comment or further concentrate on the collections of sayings within the book of Proverbs (Schmidt 1936: 46-47, 58-60; Hermisson 1968: 171-83; Perry 1987; Krispenz 1989). These studies incorporate ‘paronomasia’ but capitalize just as much on catch-word links between the proverbs that do not necessarily share sound.

Gábor (1929) argues that alliteration represents not only an ornamental feature of poetry but contributes to the rhythm of Hebrew verse. His Der Hebräische Urrhythmus contains examples of alliteration from the pointed text often as word pairs, what he terms hebräischen alliterierenden Redewendungen (Hebraic alliterative idioms). He also includes many alternative consonantal patterns, but such sounds for Gábor contribute to his larger thesis: they provide a key to the language’s rhythm. Rankin (1930) challenges Gábor’s placement of the accents in pre-Massoretic Hebrew and redirects the argument by relating alliteration more to poetic thought. The sound technique serves rhetorical ends—to taunt, threaten, invoke, encourage—and as a vehicle ‘of profound contrasts in the realm of thought’ (p. 290). In short, Rankin wants to retain alliteration but finds it unfit for establishing rhythm. Most of these initial studies from the first half of the twentieth century offer a merely mild to quite rich compendium of biblical texts that employ sound patterns. The role of such occurrences and an elaboration on their classification remain unmentioned or in the background.

Later, Saydon (1955) considers assonance as a means of expressing emphasis. He selects only word pairs in the Hebrew Bible, whether identical words, identical roots or different roots with similar meanings. While he provides well over 80 examples, most significantly, he raises the questions of intent and function: ‘it is erroneous to consider all assonant phrases as emphatic expressions… How are we to distinguish between emphatic and merely aesthetic assonance? No hard and fast rule can be laid down’ (pp. 303-304). Albeit couched in the context of aesthetics and emphasis, Saydon betrays the fundamental questions of authorial intent and the function of sound patterns, questions that demand methodology and soon receive attention.

Critique, Redefinitions and Function (1967–1972)

Over the course of five years, five studies of sound appeared in three languages. Payne (1967) thoroughly critiques a few pages of Torrey’s Isaiah commentary (1928), where Torrey noted sound patterns in Second Isaiah, particularly those terms that, according to him, sound alike or repeat in the same context but differ in meaning (what are often called homonyms, or what he terms, ‘puns’). With little generosity, Payne challenges Torrey’s work, particularly the argument that Isaiah’s use of sound contributes to unity of authorship. Torrey focused more on patterns of sense rather than sound, so the entirety of his and Payne’s work will not be considered here. However, Payne does offer a critique relevant for studies that focus on sound patterns. He challenges Torrey by offering different assessments of seven points (pp. 214-16): (1) Text: examples of sound patterns may stem from the MT, but others are based on emendation or a dubious context. (2) Position: some patterns occur in close proximity, such as adjacent verses, while others span chapters. (3) Form: words are sometimes identical, sometimes vary slightly, and sometimes show little similarity. Such variations may ‘modify considerably the stylistic effect on a reader’ (p. 215). (4) Context: some words are part of larger grammatical units (e.g., construct states). (5) Effect: interpreters may fail to attend to homonymy in speech versus writing. (6) Root: the type of homonymy varies considerably and it must be distinguished from polysemy. (7) Sense: shifts in meaning differ widely. While these points critique Torrey directly, they represent concerns relevant to the larger study of sound patterns.

In his critique of ‘position’, Payne suggests criteria for authorial intent: ‘the greater the interval between the words, the greater the chance of the repetition being unconscious and unintentional. Where the pairs are either adjacent or in parallelism, the repetition is much more likely to have significance’ (1967: 214-15). Payne sees proximity as the barometer of authorial intention for sound patterns. This and the rest of his critiques should confront any who attempt to discern sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible, especially when he censures Torrey’s proposal as ‘a basis for seeing a double entendre in every word, a homonymy in every repetition’ (p. 208).

Holladay (1970) examines ‘word-play’ in 2 Sam. 1.18-27. With detailed attention to the text, he demonstrates that Hebrew sound furnishes a tool to reconstruct the biblical text and cohere its structure. He writes that the biblical author ‘unified the total poem by the remarkable series of interlocking wordplays, linking each verse to the next, and the whole with its parts’ (p. 188). In preparation for his exegetical study, Holladay offers guidelines for the analysis of sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible (pp. 157-60). He begins with definition: ‘word-play’ refers to ‘any likeness of sound between two words or phrases’, primarily in consonants and less often in vowel or consonant-vowel patterning. Pronunciation must be accounted for, and Masoretic vocalization may inadequately represent older texts like those from David’s time. Yet Holladay settles on Masoretic vocalization, ignoring only furtive patah and pausal forms, while writing segholates as monosyllables. Interpreters must keep in mind, he argues, that wordplays not readily recognizable to them may have been much more noticeable to the original hearers.

This prompts a spectrum of wordplay, from the most to least detectable (1970: 160): those by ‘deliberate, conscious intention of the poet’, those unconscious yet contributing to the poem’s structure, those unconscious that contribute to aesthetic satisfaction, not structure, and finally the ‘completely random and non-significant sound permutations, noticeable only to the over-zealous analyst’ (p. 160, italics original). The interpreter, Holladay claims, must attend to the first three types, despite their authorial consciousness. In addition to defining wordplay and accounting for vocalization and the spectrum of detectability, Holladay forwards two more guidelines. Sound patterns might clarify the structure of a poem with an already dependable text but offer limited help in establishing a corrupt text. Thus, such reconstructions must depend on all lexical, grammatical and poetic resources. These guidelines have not received their due attention in subsequent literature, and the need for such controls remains. In contrast to Payne’s (1967) negative posture, Holladay provides a more positive yet balanced approach to sound patterns.

A year later, Glück (1971) begins an article by noting the deficit of studies on ‘assonance’: ‘In Hebrew, the present writer is acquainted with no work that goes beyond reference to cases of assonance in the Bible’ (p. 70 n. 1). He more pointedly challenges the inadequacy of terminology and refurbishes a few definitions (pp. 70-72). Assonance refers to homophonous occurrences that emphasize patterns in meaning conveyed by the words in either vowels or consonants. In other words, it is external or internal rhyme but without a formal scheme and regardless of its location in the word or sentence. Consonance is a synonym of assonance but with more affinity to consonantal repetition. Dissonance refers to an assonantal sound pattern that reveals a contrast in the meaning of words, and alliteration repeats identical or cognate sounds at the beginning of words. Glück then notes a wider sense of rhyme: ‘identical or semi-identical sounds occurring internally or externally in syllables or words creating or contributing to the musical sensation which accompanies the meaning’ (p. 72). The less frequent ‘terminal rime’ occurs exclusively at the end of lines. On this foundation, Glück proceeds with examples primarily from Genesis, Isaiah and Proverbs. But his conclusions only glimpse the function of such sound patterns, mentioning that ‘Assonantal sounds are suggestive of ideas, images and emotions; the Biblical poet realised that the music of the rimes stimulated the listener to receive his message as beautiful and believable’ (p. 84). This suggests an aesthetic and even persuasive function of sound.

Hugger (1972) lists cases of alliteration in Psalms. He follows Casanowicz’s (1894) Lautgruppen—five groups of consonantal sounds—but then contributes his own system of classification (pp. 82-83). (1) Die einfache Alliteration (simple alliteration) is either (1.a) echte (genuine) alliteration—the words, cola, or parallel verses begin with the same consonant; (1.b) unechte (non-genuine) alliteration—the same as 1.a but based on different consonants of the same Lautgruppe; or (1.c) innere (inner) alliteration—similar sounding word-stems, which through prefixes are covered with adjoining tones in both or one word. Those in 1.c can be echte or unechte (e.g., verloren/verlassen). (2) Die erweitere Alliteration (extended alliteration) occurs when two or more similar consonants appear at the beginning of words in succession. This category can fall into groups 1.a, b or c. (3) Die vollendete Alliteration (complete/finished alliteration) happens when (3.a) the same word is repeated, (3.b) the same root is repeated, or (3.c) when consonants of the same Lautgruppe from different words and roots repeat themselves in the same sequence inside the words. Group 3.c includes metathesis and represents the genuine Wortspiele (wordplay). With quite an elaborate typology, Hugger then simply lists psalmic references for each group with a few added transliterations of the pertinent Hebrew words with little additional comment.

In a much less systematic method, Peeters (1971) explores the interpretation of wordplay in dialogue with philosophers of language. He presents a few examples, especially from Ezekiel and Isaiah, but more underscores the mystery and complexity of sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible and claims their significance lies less in form or definition and more in their employment or function. Such functions include simple mannerism, critiques of sentimentality or impersonal language, investigations of the self or world, or masking of a secret sense under an apparent sense. In each case wordplay is ‘une espèce de cristallisation’ (a kind of crystallization) that shows a fundamental attitude in view of the articulated language (p. 142).

Over the course of five years (1967–1972), the presence and definitions of sound patterns are contested, redefined, classified, set within methodological controls, and also left to the realm of mysterious complexity. Glück’s (1971) study will receive the most frequent reference in subsequent literature, cited nearly in tandem with Casanowicz (1894). The five studies above reveal the variety of language used for sound patterns: Torrey’s ‘puns’, Holladay’s and Peeters’s ‘word-play’, Glück’s ‘assonance’. While these do not necessarily contradict each other, they do suggest a lack of centralized vocabulary. Finally, Holladay and Hugger either demonstrate or mention the boon of sound for textual criticism, an approach later capitalized upon by others.

Biblical Studies (1975–1983)

The remainder of the 1970s and the first years of the 1980s saw a shift from the study of the concepts and methods of sound patterns to their application for specific biblical passages. Gervitz (1975) identifies ‘geo-political pun’ within certain Genesis narratives. Such a pun is a ‘word-play’ that through ‘homonymy or pseudo-homonymy “establishes” or “creates,” as it were, (the significance of) a given geographical area or political relationship’ (p. 34). These derive from a general similarity in sound and disparity in meaning. Thus Gervitz uses terms like pun and wordplay interchangeably and with unspecific criteria. Yet he introduces a fresh trend. In Gen. 49.22, he claims, two terms in parallel evoke the geographical area known as ‘Shur’ mentioned much earlier in Genesis (16.7, 14). Through ‘geo-political word-play’, ‘Gen. 49:22 deliberately and explicitly alludes to this region, and that the poet, through his employment of the geo-political pun, intended thereby to associate Joseph [or his house] … with the region of the Negeb’ (p. 42). The distance between the earlier mention of shur in Genesis 16 and the supposed wordplay in Genesis 49 calls to mind the earlier warning of Payne (1967), who associated significance and authorial intent with the proximity of sound patterns: in short, the closer the better. Gervitz’s ‘word-play’ occurs over a span of 22 chapters.

Doron (1979) considers ‘paronomasia’ in ‘prophecies to the nations’, those prophecies directed to certain nations that are attached rather than integral to the prophetic book. He defines paronomasia broadly as similarity in sound, restricted to the same clause and usually with words different in meaning. Doron declares that both sense-based (e.g., etymology) and sound-based patterns occur in the prophecies with various purposes, then briefly comments on these. Halpern and Friedman (1980) identify ‘paronomastic techniques’ in the final form of Jonah. They operate on three levels: repeated words, ‘word-play’, and ambiguities in semantic meaning. By ‘word-play’, Halpern refers to similarities in consonants, what he also terms ‘consonantal play’. While the distance of play within Jonah’s literary context does not exceed Gervitz’s in Genesis, sound patterns do interact within single chapters of Jonah, and possibly the book as a whole. However, despite the difference in distance, intention remains, as the ‘paronomastic techniques’ within Jonah inform its structure, themes and theology.

Beitzel (1980) suggests that paronomasia occurs with the divine name in Exod. 3.14. Rather than an etymological explanation, the tetragrammaton and its relation to the Hebrew verb היה pose a case of ‘oral paronomasia’ which ‘depends upon the similarity of sounds to provide a meaning or to draw an image other than that expected in the context’ (p. 8). Adopting Glück’s (1971) terminology, Beitzel’s example in Exod. 3.14 features the function of sound: ‘paronomasia is characteristically utilized in the Old Testament to arouse curiosity or to heighten the effect of a particularly solemn or important pronouncement, in this way permanently and indelibly impressing the proclamation upon the memory of an audience’ (p. 6). Sound spurs interest, affects mood, and stamps the memory.

Westhuizen (1980) critiques Saydon (1955) for marking purely alliterative examples as assonance. Westhuizen defines assonance as shared vowels, in the same sequence, that occur juxtaposed. He considers 35 examples from a selection of psalms, narratives, wisdom and prophetic literatures. The lack of assonance in these ‘hymns’ suggests that the sound pattern was not yet fully developed at the time of the texts’ origins. These sounds expose a deviation from expected vocalization, the re-use of ‘stock assonantal phrases’ (e.g., Pss. 103.8; 145.8a), markers of poetic climax or crescendo (e.g., Judg. 5.26), and more emphatic than aesthetic function (pp. 98-100). Levenson (1982) finds a ‘play on roots’ in 1 Kgs 8.46-48, which contributes to the structure and theology of the passage, climaxing in v. 48. He also calls this ‘play’ a ‘pun’ and provides no definition for either. Christensen (1983) identifies ‘anticipatory paronomasia’ in Jon. 3.7-8 and Gen. 37.2. Jonah’s second level of meaning in 3.7-8 is picked up on later in the book, and the play on ראה in Gen. 37.2 appears later at 41.2. Christensen focuses on play in sense or meaning rather than sound but does observe aural patterns in Jonah (e.g., 3.1-10; 3.8, 10; 4.1-2).

Amidst the swirl of sound studies for particular biblical passages, Sasson (1976) contributes an entry to The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible entitled ‘Wordplay in the OT’. This joins Casanowicz (1894) and Glück (1971) as a regular reference in subsequent bibliographies. Sasson distinguishes between ‘visual wordplay’, such as gematria and acrostics, and ‘oral wordplay’. He claims to ‘adopt’ the oral techniques from Glück, but Sasson specifies and elaborates on the types of sound patterns, moving from Glück’s five or six types to eight. With a brief definition and Sasson’s terminology, these include equivocal (similarity of sound among varying words), metaphonic (changes of meaning dependent on vowel mutation), parasonancy (verbal/nominal roots which differ in one of three consonants; or consonants that occur in different order), farrago (often ungrammatical wording which gains meaning only because of context), assonance (words are strung together primarily for oral effect rather than for furthering meaning), onomatopoeia, antanaclasis (the same word repeated requires different renditions), extended wordplay (beyond the bounds of paragraphs or chapters), and leitmotif (p. 969). Sasson remarks that his typology does not exhaust the genus of paronomasia. He points to Casanowicz’s 502 examples, implying that sound in the Hebrew Bible still calls for further classification.

Watson (1984) and Manuals of Style

Watson’s Classical Hebrew Poetry (1984: 222-50) addresses the majority of issues that have arisen in sound pattern research so far. Starting with pronunciation, he claims that two things must be borne in mind:

Firstly, there is no such thing as the pronunciation of Hebrew… Hebrew developed and evolved, so that its pronunciation changed over the centuries… Secondly, in spite of a certain levelling effect brought about by the collection of Hebrew poetry into the canon, relics of these language variations remain. And, in the absence of other guides, the Masoretic vocalization is very reliable—any alterations must be vouched for (p. 222).

While Watson affirms the dynamic past of biblical Hebrew pronunciation, he nonetheless vouches for the MT as a reliable source for sound studies. He proceeds by defining his terms: assonance (repeated vowels), alliteration (repeated consonants), and rhyme, simply, ‘when the two words sound the same’ (p. 229). He expands on assonance: ‘It occurs when there is a series of words containing a distinctive vowel-sound or certain vowel-sounds in a specific sequence’ (p. 223), and also includes ‘near alliteration’, where similar-sounding rather than the same consonants recur. Yet Watson admits a level of imprecision when talking about vowel and consonantal patterns. Because ‘the borderline between vowels and consonants is not irrevocably defined’ (p. 223), overlap occurs. He also grants rhyme a bit of leeway. For ‘the sound-identity can be of varying degrees, from almost perfect to merely approximate’ (p. 229). Note that Watson’s terms receive firm definitions; it is their identity or occurrence in the text that accommodates flexibility. Thus he strikes a helpful balance between concept and application, as manifested in his examples from the Hebrew Bible. But Watson does not operate without controls. He claims that abnormal word order and rare or invented words betray more likely cases of deliberate sound patterns.

Watson briefly addresses function. He remarks, ‘The principal function of alliteration is cohesive in nature, binding together the components of line, strophe, stanza or poem’ (1984: 227). He adds the functions of mnemonic, vocative and enargaeic, the latter focusing the reader’s attention on physical detail (p. 228). Additionally, he defines and illustrates onomatopoeia and ‘wordplay’, which is based on lexical ambiguity and consists of homonymy and polysemy. ‘Paronomasia’, he writes, ‘lies somewhere in between. It simply means the deliberate choice of two (or more) different words which sound nearly alike’ (p. 242). Wordplay amuses and sustains interest, also assisting composition, authenticity, structure, conceptual relations, and memory (pp. 245-46). Watson, in 28 pages, covers the central questions and debates for sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible while also providing examples from the poetic corpus. He does not shy away from the MT and, more importantly, allows for a level of overlap and imprecision between different types of sound patterns.

Watson’s work also provides a helpful bibliography of sound studies for English and ancient Near Eastern languages. Watson represents a handful of scholars who, in books on Hebrew poetry or language, include sections or comments on sound patterns. At least three such works appeared in remaining years of the 1980s. Berlin (1985: 103-25), in The Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism, considers sound patterns that occur as pairs within parallel lines. She writes, ‘I define a sound pair as the repetition in parallel words or lines of the same or similar consonants in any order within close proximity’ (p. 104). Berlin’s observations are limited to consonants because of doubts among scholars about the original pronunciation of vowels and Hebrew’s consonantal essence, since ‘the meaning of the word is carried in its root’ (p. 104). Distinguishing sound pairs from lexical and semantic pairs, Berlin presents examples, dominated by the books of Isaiah, Genesis, Job and Psalms. She concludes from the abundance of cases that sound pairs are no coincidence and follows Casanowicz (1894) in aligning their significance with the unexpectedness produced in the tension of sound and sense. But her primary interest is in parallelism, and a sound pair, rather than binding two words, ‘enhances the perception of correspondence between the lines’ (Berlin 1985: 111). With plentiful examples, she makes a cogent case that sound reinforces the bond, ‘forging the union’ between parallel lines in Hebrew poetry (p. 111).

Alonso Schökel’s (1988: 20-33) A Manual of Hebrew Poetics includes a chapter entitled ‘Sounds’. Interpreters, he suggests, need to adapt to their object of study by listening to the Hebrew language. This involves, broadly, attending to repetitions in sound. Alonso Schökel disregards repetitions in morphemes governed by conjugation, gender or number as inevitable or simply a logical demand of the language. Instead, those sound patterns based on grammar that is not homogeneous constitute significant repetition. He defines some of the usual features with uncontroversial definitions—alliteration, assonance and rhyme—but others he defines in less concord with previous studies. ‘Dominant sound’ refers to ‘the reiteration of a sound in any position’ (p. 23). Plays on words ‘exploit the polivalence of meaning of one word, or the similarity of sound of various words’ (p. 29). Paronomasia occurs when ‘instead of a common noun, the word play concerns a proper name’ (p. 30). Alonso Schökel’s work suggests a lack of attention to sound among scholars of the Hebrew language and the Hebrew Bible, and his definitions perpetuate terminological discord.

Bar-Efrat (1989: 200-203) further accentuates this discord when he comments on sound as a ‘stylistic device’ in his Narrative Art in the Bible. According to him, for example, ‘paronomasia’ refers to ‘the repetition of words close but not identical in sound’ (p. 201). Bar-Efrat severely doubts that the Tiberian tradition replicates the sound of biblical Hebrew. However, repetition of consonants and vowels, despite exact pronunciation, furnishes a foundation for studying sound patterns. He writes of such repetitions: ‘These are objective features which can be discerned even if the exact pronunciation of the sounds is not known. The mere fact that a certain sound is repeated is sufficient’ (p. 201). But not all repetitions are created equal: ‘When the sound which is repeated is a consonant we are on particularly firm ground and can draw conclusions about the significance of the feature’ (p. 201). Bar-Efrat poses quite a positive approach to the MT, locating sonic stability in repetition, especially of consonants. As to the purpose of sound patterns, he claims that relations between sounds draw attention to or even create relations between meanings.

This handful of works on the art or poetics of biblical Hebrew returns to the conceptual side of research. That each of these volumes includes a section on sound patterns suggests that sound is fundamental to the Hebrew language, collaborating with techniques such as parallelism, imagery, hyperbole and allusion. Blanketed with disharmony in definitions, these scholars nonetheless establish their examples in consistency with their respective terminology and also suggest the interpretive significance of sound patterns. For Watson, Berlin, Alonso Schökel and Bar-Efrat, the inaccessibility of original pronunciation does not hamper studies in sound patterns.

McCreesh (1991)

Casanowicz (1894: 4-5, 11-12) noted the affinity of sound to proverbial literature but did not focus his study on Proverbs. Boström (1928) and Krispenz (1989) devote scrupulous attention to the book of Proverbs but only anticipate the work to come. Not ignorant of Casanowicz, Boström, Berlin or Alonso Schökel, McCreesh (1991) nevertheless declares a dearth of studies on sound patterns in Hebrew poetry and rectifies this by focusing on the sayings of Proverbs. He opens and closes with Toy’s (1970: viii) comment that ‘there are…occasional assonances or rhymes; but these are of irregular occurrence, and obviously do not belong to the essence of the form of the verse’. McCreesh overturns Toy’s claim and exposes the wealth of sound patterns in Proverbs 10–29. He only mentions the problem of pronunciation in a footnote, stating

The problem of the same consonant having variant non-alliterative pronunciations and the problem of the begadkephath letters in particular are ignored here. That introduces a margin of error which is accepted… It is simply presumed that, for instance, all sounds written b were close enough to alliterate (1991: 32 n. 1).

With regards to the intent of the biblical authors, he sees awareness as irrelevant. For conscious and unconscious sound patterns occur in the poetry of other languages, and the presence of patterns, not their deliberate production, is important. McCreesh offers his study as further evidence to disregard the level of consciousness or unconsciousness of the biblical authors.

Sound patterns in Proverbs aid or control interpretation. When sound does not determine an interpretation, it nonetheless ‘helps to indicate limits within which a legitimate answer should be sought and forestalls hasty corrections of the text which may well impair the poetic structure or meaning’ (McCreesh 1991: 88). For example, end-rhyme explains the odd grammar of Prov. 1.20 and 12.25 (pp. 40-41), and shared ‘phonic qualities’ offer an attractive alternative to emending Prov. 27.14 (pp. 43-45). Otherwise, sound patterns function to ‘please the ear, to attract attention, to make speech worth remembering, to indicate contrast or agreement, and the like’ (p. 155). McCreesh identifies consonance (repeated consonants), assonance (identical vowels) and alliteration (combinations of consonant-vowel sounds in the proverbs).

He, however, then departs from the common lingo and adds an arsenal of concepts. A ‘motif’ is ‘a recurrent combination of sounds’ (p. 28). A ‘series’ is a motif of only one element (consonant or vowel) or ‘class of elements’, such as sibilants (p. 29). A ‘sequence’ repeats a motif of two or more sounds without a change in order. This pattern increases or decreases in proximity, or forms a chiasm. ‘Linking patterns’ join the words of proverbs sequentially (p. 50). So one word links to a second with sound, and the second to a third by the same or a different sound. As ‘correlation’, those sounds significant for meaning echo throughout the verse ‘to subtly reinforce the sense’ (p. 64). Where correlation marks meaning, ‘tagging’ punctuates the syntactical units of a verse and so, rather than echoing key sounds, tagging represents the ‘progression of the thought itself’ (p. 75). It might also mark conciseness of expression (p. 89). McCreesh additionally identifies repetitions of words or roots and a few examples of homophones, homonyms and paronomasia. His fresh classification system organizes the chapters of his monograph. While McCreesh unlocks the sonic wealth of Proverbs, he may verge on the warning of Holladay (1970): finding ‘completely random non-significant sound permutations, noticeable only to the over-zealous analyst’ (p. 160). But despite cases where he might over-identify, McCreesh, in breadth, depth and conceptual framework, overshadows Casanowicz, Boström and all forerunners with his study of sound.

Sound and Significance (1992–2015)

From the 1990s to 2015 studies of sound in the Hebrew Bible appear primarily in journal articles or book chapters and focus on particular passages. We see less conceptual elaboration and more conceptual application to Hebrew texts. So in these years scholars explore the significance of sound, yet the doubts and questions of former studies continue to arise. There are over a dozen works worth mentioning, so I will briefly summarize each and conclude with a very important article from 2012.

Segert (1992) considers sound in Hebrew poetry, favouring ‘end-rhyme’—terms at the end of lines or cola with similar vowel or consonant-vowel endings. He labels this pattern with the Greek homoeoteleuton and identifies it in Gen. 4.23; Isa. 33.22; Judg. 16.23-24; Num. 21.28; Nehemiah 9; and in other languages, concluding with biblical acrostics (e.g., Prov. 31.10-31). Most significantly, Segert questions the proximity of homoeoteleuton: ‘It is not clear what should be considered the maximal distance between homoeoteleutons within which they will still function as acoustic poetic devices’ (1992: 176). Kalimi (1995) defines paronomasia as ‘a collocation of words which resemble one another in their roots or consonantal sounds, but differ in meaning’ (p. 27). According to him, the Chronicler alters certain parallels from Samuel and Kings for the sake of paronomasia. Sound patterns, he argues, provide a better explanation than textual corruption or emendation for certain cases in Chronicles. In addition to this, Kalimi looks at cases outside of Samuel and Kings, plus proper names (e.g., Solomon; Hezekiah).

Williamson (1995) builds on McCreesh (1991) for a study of Isaiah 24–27, employing sound patterns to aid textual criticism. He argues that sound explains cases of rare or ‘incorrect’ grammar and also coins new words. This fresh vocabulary, produced for the sake of sound patterns, is not obscure but rather obvious because of its familiar roots. Byargeon (1997), instead of devoting a study to sound patterns, briefly shows that sound contributes to the coherence of Proverbs 9. Two cases of ‘paronomasia’ link Prov. 9.4, 7, 16, incorporating a passage (9.7-12) often extricated from the chapter as a whole.

In 2000, Noegel edited Puns and Pundits: Word Play in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near Eastern Literature. While the volume spans many traditions (Egyptian, Mesopotamian, Ugaritic, Syriac, Rabbinics, Arabic and Medieval Hebrew), a six-chapter majority focuses on sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible: Daniel 1, Samuel, Genesis 28–32, Zechariah, the prophetic books, and ‘An Eclectic Collection’. These contributions feature two extremes. Arnold’s chapter (2000: 231-48) presents antanaclasis in Dan. 1.7-8 and its interpretive payoff for the whole of Daniel. Garsiel (2000: 181-204), though, notes little hermeneutical significance yet provides a compendium of devices from Samuel: midrashic name derivation, root patterns, root contrasts, similar sounding words, words with double or different meanings, and structural aspects such as janus parallelism. So on the one hand, we see attention to specific, even single, sound patterns and their interpretive significance; on the other hand, a largely descriptive approach contributes many varied examples but little on their interpretive value. The chapters in this volume reflect the scope of selection and method for studies of sound in the Hebrew Bible.

Marcus (2004) spots a form of ‘paronomasia’ in Zech. 14.5 known as ‘metaphony’—‘a play resulting from a different vocalization’ (p. 139; also Zech. 10.6; 11.17; 13.5). Three authentic textual witnesses offer alternative translations for the three verbs in Zech. 14.5: ‘flee’ (MT), ‘block up’ (Greek; JPS), and ‘block up’ for the first followed by double ‘flee’ (Eastern; Targum). Marcus asks, how do we account for the differences? Supplementing the lectio difficilior argument that favours the eastern reading, he claims the ‘play’ on sound and meaning further supports the eastern text as original and explains the development of the two other traditions, in which the paronomasia was overlooked or smoothed out.

Hurowitz (2004) hears onomatopoeia in Num. 21.4–9, where five ‘s’ consonants or sibilants mimic the hissing of the serpents. Corley (2007) claims that Watson’s (1984) observations on rhyme have not been widely appreciated. So Corley, proceeding with Watson’s rhetorical and structural functions, suggests the oral transmission of Proverbs 10–29 leaves little surprise that sound patterns assisted in memory. He presents cases of rhyme between first words of cola (‘head-rhyme’) as well as ‘second-word rhyme’ in the unpointed Hebrew text. While Hurowitz never explicitly defines rhyme, to Proverbs he adds other examples of sound’s rhetorical and structural functions in Hebrew poetry, especially Psalms, Job and Sirach.

Rendsburg (2008: 83-100) moves from Hebrew poetry to Hebrew narrative, but does not, like his predecessors, focus on sound patterns in proper names or geo-political terms. Alliteration litters the Exodus narrative, and with 21 examples, Rendsburg exposes a medley of sound patterns. They account for the selection of a rare word (e.g., Exod. 8.10), rare word forms (e.g., Exod. 9.3), and emendations (e.g., Exod. 11.1-2). Some occur in roots of nasals or liquids, assonance, less-than-perfect alliteration (e.g., mixed roots), and alliterative clusters (e.g., Exod. 32.12-17, 22-27), examples to which Rendsburg adds comments about sound’s influence for meaning. Amidst the medley appears a disproportionate number of instances where sound accounts for rare words or forms. Hays (2008) discerns ‘paronomasia’ in Isa. 19.4. He equates paronomasia with double entendre. The verb םבר, delivered orally, might at first sound like ‘dam up’, but then the hearer ‘wonders if he or she should perhaps have understood “hand over”’ (p. 616). Hays’s article represents a study in sound that depends not so much on sound patterns but on a simple case of double meaning produced by oral delivery (see also Goswell 2013).

Noegel, who edited the Puns and Pundits volume (2000) mentioned earlier, has since then produced a collection of work on sound patterns. His ‘Geminate Ballast and Clustering’ (2005) includes ‘geminates’—terms with two identical consonants—that occur in both lines of a poem, such as the פ and כ of Jon. 2.6 (p. 3). Such pairs constitute ‘balancing ballasts’ and suggest a deliberate technique, also explaining the selection of rare words. Noegel (2007) then discovers ‘wordplay’ in Qohelet, remarking that wordplay is not a favourable term, since Hebrew is based not on word but syllable, and the technique was quite serious. He identifies six types of play in Qohelet: alliteration, assonance, polysemy, antanaclasis, allusive punning and numerical punning. Noegel, like Casanowicz (1894) and many others, does not consider repeated roots or cognate accusatives as deliberate sound patterns. Qohelet reveals a rich use of sound, with a striking example in 10.5-11, where the repetition of three different Hebrew sibilant letters fills the passage with 22 ‘s’ sounds. Moreover, he states, ‘The pericope is a veritable tapestry of alliteration’ (p. 13), which strengthens its cohesiveness. Alliteration dominates the patterns of sound in Qohelet, and Noegel concludes that it functions especially for emphasis and contrast. But other cases of sound reveal ambiguity, significant for the text in that they reflect its portrayal of life’s ambiguity.

Noegel partners with Rendsburg (2009) in Solomon’s Vineyard. Their second chapter itemizes alliteration in Song of Songs based on unpointed text. Limited to alliteration—in this case not necessarily initial sound but ‘the collocation of the same or similar consonants in two or more words in close proximity to each other’ (p. 63)—the study omits sound patterns in personal names, ‘set phrases’ (e.g., Gen. 1.2), the same root in different forms, and cognate accusatives. According to Noegel and Rendsburg, ‘nearly every one of [Song of Songs’] passages shines with alliterative artistry’ (p. 106), and the abundance of occurrences, albeit boosted by such a broad definition of alliteration, is indeed impressive. These sound patterns explain rare words in the Song and enhance its oral presentation.

Sasson’s often cited article from The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible (1976) has been replaced in The New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible by De Regt (2009). De Regt also distinguishes between oral and visual wordplay, listing the many types of each. But he adds a more substantial definition of ‘wordplay’ itself: ‘Wordplay involves two (or more) words with different meanings, but almost coinciding in sound, that occur in the same context… Wordplay can also involve one and the same word used in the same context with different meanings’ (p. 898). Noegel (2013) and Rendsburg (2013) also recently appeared in the Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics. The entries of course include definitions of their respective concepts—alliteration (Rendsburg 2013: I.86-87) and paronomasia (Noegel 2013: III.24-29)—but more importantly indicate how these scholars evaluate the field. Rendsburg claims, ‘In Biblical Hebrew alliteration was used only occasionally, although one should note that the device was used more frequently than commonly recognized’ (p. 86). Noegel states, ‘All scholars agree that the pronounced repetition of the consonants of one word in another constitutes paronomasia’ (p. 25), and ‘Rhyme is rare in the Hebrew Bible’ (p. 27). While I cannot do so here, such comments deserve evaluation in light of the present compendium of research.

Noegel’s entry on ‘Paronomasia’ lists twelve types of the device (2013: III.25-27). Glück (1971) had five or six and Sasson (1976) had eight. Neogel not only adds four but reveals an alternative system for labelling sound patterns. This suggests an effort towards precision in the definition of sounds. Also worth mentioning is Reynolds’s article on ‘Proverbs and Proverbial Language: Biblical Period’ (2013: III.286-89). He claims ‘sound play’ is a frequent feature of Proverbs and ‘occurs in every conceivable form: alliteration, assonance, consonance, and rhyme’ (p. 287).

The effort to elaborate and even create typologies for concepts such as paronomasia and wordplay coheres with a recent landmark study in Hebrew Bible sound patterns. Kabergs and Ausloos (2012) challenge the scholarship on sound patterns on multiple accounts, primarily the definitions of paronomasia. According to Kabergs and Ausloos, Casanowicz’s (1894) ‘paronomasia’ incorporated wordplay, alliteration, assonance and rhyme. But where, for him, wordplay constituted a type of paronomasia, later scholars use wordplay as an umbrella term for all types of sound devices. Kabergs and Ausloos argue that paronomasia and wordplay should not be considered synonymous concepts, and offer a (re)definition of wordplay: ‘an ambiguous interaction between both sound and meaning in a specific literary context’ (p. 14). Key to their definition is the combination of sound and meaning; both must be present. This omits two types of sound patterns: first, identical or similar sound patterns without a distinction in meaning; second, combinations that play on different meanings without similarity in sounds.

Kabergs and Ausloos furthermore critique the distinction between sound-based and sense-based paronomasia. According to them, ‘all kinds of wordplay are intrinsically characterized by an interplay of both sound and meaning. Whereas some wordplay is characterized by polysemous puns, other word combinations rather highlight the identity or similarity in sound patterns’ (p. 13). Their article successfully throws reins on the definition of wordplay, offering needed guidance for the terminological confusion apparent in over a century of scholarship. Only time will tell how the work of Kabergs and Ausloos will influence the field. But so far, it shows a positive reception. Goswell (2013) finds ‘wordplay’ in the ‘midrashic name derivations’ present in Isaiah 7. Although he cites the seriousness of wordplay advocated by Kabergs and Ausloos (Goswell 2013: 99 n. 9), it is questionable how closely Goswell follows their critique of studies on proper names. Where Goswell discusses the ‘wordplay’ of royal names in Isaiah 7 and follows Garsiel (1991), Kabergs and Ausloos rebuff such approaches:

We believe that wordplay on proper nouns must not be treated differently from wordplay on common nouns, adjectives and verbs, as is often the case… However, in literature on wordplay on proper nouns, the criterion to classify such wordplay…is often the ‘explaining function’ this type of wordplay fulfills without paying attention to the way in which the interaction between sound and meaning is equally constitutive in wordplay on proper nouns (2012: 18-19).

In short, Kabergs and Ausloos claim that wordplay should be identified based on the interplay of sound and meaning, regardless of its grammatical status. Goswell does not seem to posit a simplistic ‘explanation function’ for the names in Isaiah, but links the names to other terms through more standard sound categories. For example, ‘Immanuel’ possibly associates with the root for ‘faith’ in Isa. 7.9b (Goswell 2013: 106). Likewise, at Isa. 7.11-12 the prophet may have chosen a rare word and form for the sake of sound and meaning (pp. 107-108). This suggests that Goswell follows the current approach established by Kabergs and Ausloos regarding wordplay.

Lear (2015) follows the core of Kabergs and Ausloos’s argument and claims that wordplay unlocks the interpretation of Mal. 2.11. This single occurrence contributes to the larger literary context (Mal. 2.10-16). With Goswell and Lear, even New Testament scholarship shows sensitivity towards the mutual ingredients of sound and meaning (e.g., Nease 2012; Wilson 2013; cf. Lee and Scott 2009). Otherwise, Kabergs (2014) briefly points out wordplay in Song 8.6a, and Ron (2014) revisits a famous sound pattern, the ‘wordplay’ between ‘naked’ and ‘cunning’ in Gen. 2.25 and 3.1. Most interesting about Ron’s article is his caution towards attributing anything other than aesthetic significance to the sound pattern. Against the many meanings or ‘lessons’ suggested by modern interpreters, he states that

None of these lessons are particularly profound, and it may well be that the primary motivation for using similar sounding words for both ‘naked’ and ‘cunning’ was to fashion an interesting and pleasant narrative, with the possibility of some additional message or lesson as a welcome side effect (pp. 4-5).

Conclusion

Over the course of a century, questions remain: what did the biblical authors intend to achieve with sound patterns, and how do these patterns function? Recent studies have gravitated towards the significance of sound, particularly as it relates to meaning and might contribute to the wider literary context. Still, an ebb and flow characterizes the century-plus of scholarship on sound patterns in the Hebrew Bible. Many works contribute concepts, frameworks, definitions and typologies to the phonic repertoire. Others employ such tools by identifying, organizing and explaining sounds in biblical texts. These two sides of scholarship have and will, I hope, maintain a mutually beneficial relationship. To facilitate this, it seems more work ought to be done with definitions, such as a uniform typology of sound patterns that provides a standardized compass for other studies. Additionally, methodological issues, especially with regard to detecting the deliberateness of sound devices, have not been adequately evaluated or explored. Except for Proverbs and Song of Songs, few books from the Hebrew Bible have been thoroughly examined for their sound patterns, and the increasing concentration on identifying sound in particular biblical passages suggests a fruitful direction for research. Only interaction with the text itself will unveil the function of sound patterns.

After over a century of studies, there seems to be no question that sound is significant for the Hebrew Bible. The question is, how is it significant? Attention to definitions, method, function and the text itself will hopefully foster another fruitful century of research in phonological patterns.