Introduction to the Poetic and Wisdom Literature

Poetry is pervasive throughout the OT, in spite of the fact there is no word in biblical Hebrew for “poem.” The medieval Jewish scholars responsible for the accentuation of the Hebrew text of the Bible used a distinct notation for Psalms, Job, and Proverbs (their order in the Hebrew Bible) that marked these books as “poetic.” However, as the chart below shows, Hebrew terms may refer to a particular kind of poem, and thus illustrate their wide diffusion. As this simple (and partial) list demonstrates, poetry is at home in every part of Israelite life.

Songs and prayers of praise and lament most naturally cluster in the book of Psalms, although they can be found elsewhere in the OT as well (e.g., 2 Samuel 22 [and Psalm 18]; 1 Chronicles 16; Habakkuk 3). There is considerable overlap here, with some of the “epic poetry” found in the Pentateuch (e.g., Genesis 49; Exodus 15; Deuteronomy 32; 33) and beyond (Judges 5). Wisdom and “song” often come together (e.g., Ps. 49:4), and the parallel structure of the Hebrew poetic line was a perfect vehicle for proverbial sayings (Proverbs 10–31). Likewise, the dialogues of the book of Job (Job 3–41) are formed entirely in poetry. The book of Lamentations contains a collection of qinah poems, whose acrostic structure also forges a connection to a “wisdom” form of composition (see further that book’s introduction). The term massa’ points to a connection with the Hebrew prophets, whose oracles were normally delivered in verse form. The greater part of Isaiah–Malachi is written in poetry: while definitions of a “prophet” may vary, the writing prophets at any rate may at least be said to be poets.

Hebrew “wisdom” is readily recognized but difficult to define. Some choose simply to define “wisdom” by the literature that best represents it, so that it becomes a list of books. Since wisdom concerns are scattered widely throughout the Bible, this approach is unhelpfully restrictive. Others choose to define “wisdom” as an outlook, almost a philosophy of life. But different “wisdom” writers have differing emphases, so this approach seems too fragmentary. Further, the wisdom writings are of varied character themselves: there is the instructional or proverbial wisdom of Proverbs (basic instructions in how to live), the contemplative wisdom of Job and Ecclesiastes (pondering the perplexing side of life), and the lyric wisdom of the Song of Solomon (a story celebrating one of God’s best gifts). What the books and outlooks have in common, however, is a keen interest in the way the world works, humanity’s place within it, and how all this operates under God’s creative, sovereign care. Biblical “wisdom,” then, might be defined as skill in the art of godly living, or more fully, that orientation which allows one to live in harmonious accord with God’s ordering of the world. And “Wisdom Literature” consists of those writings that reflect on or inform that orientation.

Unlike psalmody, wisdom does not have an exclusive relationship with poetry. There are wisdom strands throughout the OT. The “court” stories of Joseph, Esther, and Daniel, e.g., all might be said to be “embodied” wisdom. The special connection with the court of Solomon (see esp. 1 Kings 3:1–28; 4:29–34) is well known, and Solomon may be seen as the “patron” of wisdom in the OT (see Prov. 1:1; 10:1; 25:1; Song 1:1; and by implication Eccles. 1:1). Unlike Job and Proverbs, Ecclesiastes’ unique content is communicated in a distinctive style that often defies a simple prose/poetry categorization. By contrast, the lyrical lines of the Song of Solomon’s expressions of love are clearly poetic, but its content stands slightly apart from that typical of the “wisdom” books. Some psalms are devoted to “wisdom” themes (e.g., Psalms 37; 49; 73) and show how keeping the law in joyful response to God’s goodness (e.g., Psalms 1; 19; 119) is the epitome of wise living.

Given the preceding discussion, the social setting of wisdom writing would by definition be among those of the literate class, and this in turn suggests a setting within the social elite. It is no surprise, then, that wisdom literature finds a strong connection to the royal court, or that the hymnic poetry of the Psalms (associated with David, Jerusalem, and the temple) likewise has pronounced royal overtones. On the other hand, many of the proverbs do not require high-status origins; rather, they more naturally can be thought of as “folk wisdom,” which places their social milieu within the home or clan. It is helpful to distinguish here between wisdom writing, which requires scribal education, and wisdom more generally, which could be found at any level of society.

Poetic conventions and wisdom reflections were not unique to Israel in the ancient Near East. The discovery of the Ugaritic texts, found at modern Ras Shamra on the coast of Syria in 1929 and fully deciphered by the end of 1930, revealed a poetic literature dating to the second half of the second millennium b.c. whose diction shared much with the poetry of the Hebrew Bible. Their discovery stimulated renewed study of biblical Hebrew poetry. The literary remains of Israel’s neighbors have also provided striking parallels to the wisdom literature. Egyptian “instruction” literature evokes strong resonances with Proverbs, the best-known being that of The Instruction of Amenemope (c. 13th century b.c.), which has marked similarities to Proverbs 22:17–24:22. Cuneiform texts from Mesopotamia stretching back into the third millennium b.c. wrestle with the problem of the “righteous sufferer” in a manner comparable to the book of Job. There are also points of contact with Aramaic wisdom literature, and parallels may even be drawn with later Greek writings. Some students of the Scriptures are bothered by the parallels with extrabiblical literature. What sense does it make to speak in terms of “inspiration,” when much of Psalm 104, e.g., seems to be shared with Egyptian hymnody? Or when the struggles of Job are paralleled in part by Mesopotamian “righteous sufferer” stories? Here it must be remembered that inspiration is not simply a matter of forms, motifs, or structures, but of content that uses various existing forms in a way that accurately reveals the true and living God and his will for his people.

Two advantages in particular are gained by noting such extrabiblical parallels. (1) They demonstrate that the Bible’s inspired authors both inhabit and challenge their contemporary cultural milieu. The questions of ancient Israelites about life were not so very different from the questions of ancient Egyptians, or Sumerians, or Syrians. To that extent, these cross-connections illustrate the degree to which ancient Israel participated in the wider culture of the ancient Near East. Israel and Judah are sometimes portrayed as if they were a “backwater,” tucked away in a corner of their world, but such literary parallels show their high level of cultural integration. (2) On the other hand, the writers of biblical wisdom were no mere imitators, producing derivative echoes of their cosmopolitan neighbors. In terms of scope, originality, and profundity, the biblical writings remain unrivaled. Indeed, one of the small mysteries about them—Job, Psalms, and Proverbs in particular—is just why they are written on such a grand scale. In terms of range and depth of vision, they far transcend their nonbiblical parallels, their outlook reflecting the greatness of the God who informs and indeed shapes them. Awareness of the distinctive contours of biblical poetry and wisdom sharpens our understanding of the insights and concerns of Israel’s poets and sages.

Poetic and wisdom literature tends to resist a straightforward chronological setting. Rightly understanding the Bible’s histories and prophetic literature depends to an extent on taking their historical context into account; such is not normally the case for Israel’s hymns and wisdom. Evidence from the ancient Near East demonstrates that hymnic and wisdom writings are among the most ancient of literary deposits, and likewise some of the Bible’s poetic compositions may be among its oldest. But it is also clear that throughout the histories of Israel and Judah, Hebrew poets and sages were at work—from earliest days, on past the canonical compositions, up through the Hellenistic period in the post-canonical books of Sirach and Wisdom of Solomon and beyond. Their writings often defy a precise historical setting. To take one example at random, a saying like “Whoever plans to do evil will be called a schemer” (Prov. 24:8) requires no precise historical context, nor do we have the evidence to give it one. While particular poems and prayers (e.g., Psalm 137; see notes) may be tied to a given historical circumstance, such cases remain the exception.

Each of the books included in this overarching introduction has distinctive content. Still, in these poetic strands of the Bible, whether inclined toward wisdom or hymnody, there are a number of themes that surface repeatedly. Only a few of the most prominent are discussed here. (For more, see the Key Themes sections in the individual books.)

The fear of the Lord provides a pervasive orientation throughout the Psalms and Wisdom Books. The phrase, or one like it, appears about 60 times in these books, but its significance goes beyond its simple frequency. It also sets the framework in which wise living takes place. So in the book of Job it becomes the leading question of the outer frame of the book (Job 1:9). It nearly brackets the entire collection of the Psalms: the first injunction in the Psalms directs rulers to “serve the Lord with fear” (Ps. 2:11); while to fear the Lord gives one pleasure (Ps. 145:19). Proverbs is permeated with this outlook: not only is “the fear of the Lord . . . the beginning of knowledge” (Prov. 1:7), but so too it is “a fountain of life” (Prov. 14:27). Even the apparently skeptical Ecclesiastes joins in, since whatever else may happen, “God is the one you must fear” (Eccles. 5:7; cf. 8:12; 12:13).

The limits of human wisdom form the natural counterpart to the fear of God. To be sure, there is something about “wisdom” that implies a depth of understanding, in particular of how God has ordered the world and how to live in accord with that divine ordering. The characterization of Solomon’s wisdom as being that of a proto-natural scientist (1 Kings 4:33) points in this direction and sheds light on the nature lesson the Lord gave Job (esp. in Job 38–39). This already implies limits to human wisdom, however, and the two strands (fear of God; human limitations) come together powerfully in Job 28. Again this outlook also informs Ecclesiastes. The several “who knows?” texts point in this direction (e.g., Eccles. 3:21; 6:12), as does the reflection on oath taking (Eccles. 5:2). Contrary to modern secular humanist claims, this is no denigration of human dignity: it is rather to recognize the context in which human freedom is most fully realized (cf. Psalm 8; also Ps. 16:1–11; 108:1–6; etc.).

This literature reflects on the righteous and the wicked in relation to God. This is an ancient problem (cf. Gen. 18:23), and lies at the heart of the first psalm’s evocative portrait of the nature and prospects of the “righteous” contrasting with the fate of the “wicked” (Ps. 1:5–6), a contrast worked out in a sustained way in Psalms 37 and 73. The bulk of the dialogues of Job turn on rightly assessing Job’s character and how this places him in relationship to God. Many proverbs observe the behavior of the righteous and wicked, and the outcomes their actions bring; such reflections are especially dense in Proverbs 10–12, as the collection of axioms gets under way following the book’s extended introduction. As the psalmist of Psalm 73 and the “Preacher” (Qoheleth in Ecclesiastes) noted, the simple correlation of God’s rewarding the righteous and punishing the wicked does not always seem to hold (cf. Eccles. 7:15), and so a question of justice is raised, and with it the problem of evil—one of the deepest mysteries faced by people of faith.

This leads in turn to the way in which these books grapple with suffering. Naturally, interest here gravitates to the book of Job. Interpreters differ over just what solution the book offers (see the notes on Job for details), but there can be little doubt that a resolution is achieved in the presence of the Creator, the only place where the meaning of human suffering can be understood. But beyond this, many psalms voice a lament (“lament” providing the largest single category of psalm “type”) that gives voice to this crisis before God (e.g., Psalms 3; 4; 6; 10; 13). Even the only subliminally theological Song of Solomon expresses not only the delights of love satisfied but the agonies of love unfulfilled (e.g., Song 5:6–8; cf. 8:6–7).

Given that the thread of life before God is woven through each of these books, a further common theme is the nature of true piety. The interest of the book of Job in this question was already seen above: is it possible to worship God with integrity (cf. Satan’s question in Job 1:9)? One of the designs of the narrative is to answer this question in the affirmative. Again, virtually the whole of the Psalter quite naturally sings of worship with integrity (e.g., Psalms 25; 26; 31; 84).