Allegorical Interpretation of the Names in Genesis 5 Posted by DrHeiser | Jul 7, 2012 | Genesis, NakedBible | I’ve had several readers over the past several months ask me to comment on a post authored by Chuck Missler entitled, “Meanings of the Names in Genesis 5.” The essay puts forth the idea that the list of names in Genesis 5, stretching from Adam to Noah, can be read as though the writer intended the string of names to describe the gospel story: Hebrew English Adam Man Seth Appointed Enosh Mortal Kenan Sorrow Mahalalel The Blessed God Jared Shall come down Enoch Teaching Methuselah His death shall bring Lamech The despairing Noah Rest, or comfort To be direct, this conclusion doesn’t follow from the data. That is, it’s a non sequitur. The reason is that both the approach and the data are problematic.1 The goal of using this analysis as some sort of proof for a “cosmic code” is also untenable.2 I’ll briefly explain why as we progress, limiting myself to the problems that are best translatable to this environment and audience (that is, there are more problems that require reading Hebrew and being able to show Hebrew, the latter of which I still can’t do in the blog — I can’t even get the transliteration to show correctly, and so the “single-quote” mark used for Hebrew aleph gets turned around – sorry for that, but nothing I try works). The Methodological Problem Missler writes in his beginning: Since the ten Hebrew names are proper names, they are not translated but only transliterated to approximate the way they were pronounced. The meaning of proper names can be a difficult pursuit since direct translations are not readily available. Many study aids, such as conventional lexicons, can prove superficial when dealing with proper names. Even a conventional Hebrew lexicon can prove disappointing. A study of the original roots, however, can yield some fascinating insights. The flaw here is a failure to honor the writer’s context and intent. If it is true that the names in this genealogy are proper names, then THAT is how the writer wanted them understood. As we have seen with our discussions of ‘adam, a writer can do things (like add the definite article) when he wanted readers to discern that the term wasn’t a proper name, or let the reader think about more than one option by making the term ambiguous. Conversely, when a proper name was the intent, one would remove the definite article to telegraph that meaning was intended. Missler’s take suggests the writer wanted to hide information (encrypt this “code”). Why the NT writers couldn’t figure this code out and then use it as a proof for the messianic nature of Jesus isn’t explained by Missler. A critic could read him as saying he’d figured out something in the text that Paul (or Jesus) couldn’t, since they never bring it up — which is (I hope) something Missler wouldn’t want to say, as that would amount to a claim of new inspiration. But that’s a problem for all this “code” thinking. Further, that a “root” might mean something is itself problematic. Many words share common consonants (the “root” or base), but that doesn’t mean all the words that share those consonants have a shared, basic meaning. This thinking is known by scholars and those engaged in serious exegesis as the root fallacy. It isn’t hard to show that it’s a bogus approach to understanding words. For example, suppose I try this in English. Do the following words, all of which share common consonants, really all have some meaning that unites them? BuiLT BeLT BoLT BLoT Seriously? Not only is this approach fallacious, but (I hope) it serves to make the point that words only have meaning IN CONTEXT. That is, although you can have three or four words that share a root, they actually don’t “mean” anything (much less share a common meaning) until they are put into a clause or sentence by a writer — a placement that gives the words a grammatical and literary context (when that sentence is considered in light of surrounding sentences, paragraphs, etc.). Words by themselves mean nothing, and so roots of words by themselves mean nothing. And in our case, a writer chose to create a genealogy (there’s the genre / literary context), and so he chose proper names (that’s what goes into a genealogy) and so we can be sure that the writer meant these names to be understood as, well, names. But Mike (you might object) what about the divine author? He might have meant more! Sure, and if he did, he would have told Paul or some other NT writer under inspiration, so they could have revealed the encrypted prophecy. Do we really want to think God saved that for Chuck Missler? This is what I mean about how these codes can really get you into theological trouble. Now, I don’t think for a minute Chuck Missler wants to go there, but that’s the logic chain, and it’s easy to follow. And just why would God want a prophecy encrypted anyway, when so many other prophecies are fairly transparent — including prophecies about a messiah? For those interested in words and how they work, including the root fallacy and other fun fallacies, I recommend the following books: Biblical Words and Their Meaning, by Moises Silva Exegetical Fallacies, by D. A. Carson Linguistics & Biblical Interpretation, by Peter Cotterell The Etymological / Philological Problems Now for the specifics.3 Let’s take the names one by one. Adam Missler writes: “The first name, Adam, comes from adomah, and means “man.” As the first man, that seems straightforward enough.” Well, it actually isn’t, as Naked Bible readers know by now. First, the name “Adam” does not “come from” the word ‘adamah (Missler misspells it as adomah, with an “o” vowel, or his source did). The word ‘adamah means “ground” or “land.” Adam” as a proper name comes from ‘adam, which, as we have seen in earlier posts, can mean “human, humanity, man” or the proper name, “Adam.”4 Seth Missler says that Seth’s name means “appointed.” This is a possibility, though Hebrew and Semitics scholars disagree. Wenham’s comment is representative: Though Eves explanation of Seths name suggests it is derived from the verb shiyt/siyt (to place, put) there may be no etymological connection, simply paronomasia.5 If Seth does derive from this Hebrew verb, since the term refers to an object (a person) it would actually be better translated “substitute,” not “appointed” as Missler suggests. Enosh Missler writes: “Seth’s son was called Enosh, which means “mortal,” “frail,” or “miserable.” It is from the root anash: to be incurable; used of a wound, grief, woe, sickness, or wickedness. (It was in the days of Enosh that men began to defile the name of the Living God). The statement is odd. There is no Scripture citation that in the days of Enosh people began defiling God’s name. I’m guessing that he means Gen 4:26, which most Bibles have as: “At that time people began to call upon the name of the Lord” (ESV). Missler thinks that a mistranslation, but it isn’t. The difference between that translation and having the verse say that “people began to defile the name of the Lord” is due to the first of two verbs in a sequence being a Hebrew homonym. Like English, Hebrew has distinct words that are spelled exactly the same way but are divergent in meaning (e.g., “lead” [the verb] and “lead” [the metal] — and think of how that also muddies the “root” idea discussed above). To illustrate: Since Hebrew moves from right to left, one cannot cheat and translate the two as “began to defile.” Not only is “defile” the (potential) first word, but the second one “to call” is quite clear (and has the infinitival lamed prefix). And so, you either go with “began to call” or “defiled to call.” I think the first option makes better sense (the latter really makes no sense at all). But all that is actually beside the point. Does ‘enosh mean “mortal, frail, miserable”? The word ‘enoshmeans “man” or “human.” This is clear from its scriptural use, where it is commonly occurs in poetic parallelism with ‘adam. A meaning of “mortal” can work here, so I don’t have a problem with that. But the idea that ‘enosh “comes from” a root that means “mortal, frail, miserable” is not correct. That idea comes from a different word, ‘enush. Transferring meaning from one to the other is to commit the root fallacy. Kenan Missler writes: Enosh’s son was named Kenan, from which can mean “sorrow,” dirge,” or “elegy.” (The precise denotation is somewhat elusive; some study aids unfortunately presume an Aramaic root synonymous with “Cainan.”) Balaam, looking down from the heights of Moab, employed a pun upon the name of the Kenites when he prophesied their destruction. This is another odd description. First, Aramaic has little to do with seeing this name as “Cainan.” The fact is that this name is spelled qynn, the first three consonants of which are identical to qyn (“Cain”). The Septuagint transliterated the name as “Cainan.” The only difference in the consonants (Hebrew originally had no vowels) is the final “n”. Scholars disagree on its role in the name. Some take it as a diminutive (in which case it would be an appendage that means “little,” and so “little Cain” would be the meaning).