In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

160 Exegetical Theology and Divine Suffering in Jewish Thought Michael Fishbane It is an honor to participate in this volume in celebration of Zev Garber. His lifework has been devoted to the phenomenon of Jewish suffering and its study, including the pedagogies of its cultural transmission . In this regard, he has also focused on the exegetical uses and transformations of this subject, for good and ill, in both the scholarly and the popular culture. For these reasons, I would like to contribute an essay that shall attempt to set forth some of the Jewish expressions of our subject—in a way that seeks to illuminate some of the inner structures and trajectories of divine suffering in Jewish sources, and the ways they conjoin with the topic of the sufferings of Israel. The topic of divine suffering has many striking resonances in the oldest rabbinic sources, some of which might even unsettle the unsuspecting student on account of their theological boldness and similarity to various non-Jewish images. Indeed, some of the material is replete with images that represent God’s body and feelings in highly concrete and dramatic terms. As a result, many readers have recoiled from these strong depictions. In fact, a host of medieval Karaite, Christian, and Islamic authors have repeatedly reviled such images —and even labeled some of them “blasphemies contra Deum.” There have also been rabbinic commentators on the Talmud and Midrash who have sought to defuse the charged current by contending that these various images of God are either figurative tropes or do not really mean what they say. Rabbeinu Hananel (990–1053), R. Yitzhak ben Yedaiah, and the Maharsha (1555–1631) are all cases in point. Dor dor ve-dorshav: each generation has its own exegetical presuppositions and proclivities. For my part, I shall attempt in what follows to take the manifest content of these sources seriously on their own terms—namely, as vibrant exegetical artifacts that formulate their content in and through the process of scriptural interpretation. I wish to call this phenomenon exegetical theology and deem it one of the most basic and constitutive structures of the Jewish religious imagination. What does exegetical theology entail, and how does it bear on our theme of divine suffering? As I shall understand it here, exegetical theology entails the notion that theological ideas in Jewish sources are variously generated or justified by exegetical acts related to the Hebrew Bible, in the first instance, and that this content is then studied and reinterpreted again and again, with ensuing variations and transformations, in all the subsequent stages of their reception. Accordingly, we cannot separate the theological content from its concrete modes of formulation and presentation—even if (or when) the received literary versions of the material are considerably more condensed or fragmentary than the teachings were at the time of their original production or articulation. This means that we Exegetical Theology and Divine Suffering in Jewish Thought 161 can only know this theology by engaging with the materials as they are now before us. And this brings me to a final introductory point, and that is that the teachings about divine suffering we shall now examine are not abstract theological dicta, but concrete and specific exegetical events. Accordingly, their interpretation and appreciation will require a thick description rooted in the inherent nature and complexities of these very exegetical acts and traditions. Only in this way may we hope to enter the circle of evidence and retrieve its meaning on its own terms. I see no other way. When it comes to exegetical theology, sometimes the smallest textual detail can make the biggest bang. A good case in point is the orthographic variant in Job 13:15, where Job says, hen yiqteleini lo/lo’ ‘ayahel. This can either mean “Though He [God] slay me, yet will I trust in Him” (if one reads the grapheme lo pronominally, as does the Massoretic qere), or “He may well slay me; I may have no hope” (if one reads lo’ as the negative particle lamed-‘alef, as does the Massoretic ketiv). The Mishnah (Sotah IV.5) preserves an exegetical homily by R. Yehoshua ben Hyrkanos that adopts the first option, and then proposes that Job served God “out of love.” The same orthographic variants also affect the meaning of Isa. 63:9. However, the issue now goes far beyond an individual theological attitude (like Job’s) and bears on bold theological predications about God himself—both his feelings and his behavior...

Share