An Introduction to Biblical Genealogies
Cross-posted from DesiringGod.org
Genealogies matter. The Biblical narrative is fundamentally a record of events—births, deaths, kings enthroned, kings deposed, covenants made, covenants broken, etc. The Bible’s genealogies are the backdrop against which these events unfold. As such, they are a fundamental part of the fabric of Scripture. They tell us when things happen and who is involved in them. And, by extension, they often give us clues as to why.
But before we dive into the (sometimes murky) details of the Bible’s genealogies, it will be helpful for us to consider them in broader redemptive terms.
Genealogies as the Fulfilment of Man’s Commission
At the outset of the Biblical story, God creates the heavens and the earth. They start out like a blank canvas, formless and empty (Gen. 1.1). Then, over the course of six days, God carries out three important types of activities: he adds form to what he has made (e.g., by the division of night and day); he names what he has formed; and, last of all, he fills what he has formed (e.g., the day with the sun, and the night with the moon and stars).
Afterwards, God commissions man to continue his activities. More specifically, God commands man to be fruitful and multiply and to fill and subdue the earth (Gen. 1.28).
The Bible’s genealogies are thus firmly anchored in the events of Genesis 1. They are a record of how and to what extent mankind lives out God’s great commission as he forms, names, and fills God’s creation.
In Genesis 4, Eve forms three children and assigns each of them a name.1 “I have formed a man”, Eve says after Cain’s birth, “with the help of the Lord”. (The verb ‘formed’—Hebrew qanah—is often translated as “acquired” in Genesis 4.1, but it can equally well mean “formed”; it is the same verb we find in Psalm 139.13 where David says to the Lord, “You have formed my inward parts and knitted me together in my mother’s womb”!)
Needless to say, Eve’s statement about the world’s first childbirth is significant. Like God, Eve adds form to what is formless, as her daughters have done ever since.
In the aftermath of Abel’s death, the lines of Cain and Seth begin to fill the earth. To some extent, the two lines unfold in parallel. For instance, both of them culminate in a threefold division—in Cain’s case with Jabal, Jubal, and Tubal-Cain, and in Seth’s with Shem, Ham, and Japheth. And, before that, each line reaches a mini-climax in the rise of a Lamech, who is a man of sevens. Cain’s Lamech is the seventh from Adam, heads up a family of seven (Lamech, his two wives, his three sons, and his daughter), and says his death will be repaid with a seventy-sevenfold vengeance (Gen. 4.24). Meanwhile, Seth’s Lamech lives for seven hundred and seventy seven years (Gen. 5.31), and his life looks on to Noah’s—the life of a man of eights who heads up a family of eight (I Pet. 3.20). Hence, while Cain’s line is terminated by the flood, Seth’s lives on to inhabit God’s new creation governed by God’s eightfold promise (to preserve ‘seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night’).
In the aftermath of the flood, the descendants of Shem, Ham, and Japheth begin to multiply and fill the earth (in response to a repeat of God’s command: Gen. 9.1), the result of which is Genesis 10’s ‘Table of Nations’ (so-called).2
Then, in Genesis 12, the Lord chooses out Abraham from the midst of the nations—or, more specifically, from the midst of the descendants of Shem.
The Lord does not, however, simply give Abraham the same command he gave to Adam and Noah. Instead, he gives Abraham a promise. “I will make you fruitful’, the Lord says, (Gen. 17.6), which he duly does. Consequently, as it unfolds, Abraham’s line echoes the genetic blueprint of Genesis 1–11.
Just as the lines of Cain and Seth emerge from a background of three streams and divide up into three streams, so too does the line of Abraham. Abraham is one of three sons, and his posterity divides up into the sons of Hagar, Sarah, and Keturah (Gen. 11.27–28).
Just as God fills the world of Genesis 1 with twelve created things,3 so Abraham’s line fills the earth with groups of twelve descendants. First of all Ishmael’s line yields twelve descendants (Gen. 25.12–16); then Esau’s line also opens out into a generation of twelve, or thirteen if we include Amalek (who is the product of Esau’s intermarriage with Seir’s line) (Gen. 36.11–14);4 and, finally, Jacob’s line comes into bloom in a generation of twelve, or thirteen if we count Joseph’s sons as tribes in their own right (Gen. 48.5).
And, just as the line of Noah culminates in a family tree of seventy-five individuals, so too does the line of Jacob (viz. Jacob, his four wives, and their seventy sons: Gen. 46.27, Exod. 1.5, Deut. 10.22).
Next, Judah becomes the heir of God’s promise, which is ultimately taken forward by David. Once again, the blueprint of Genesis is evident.
The genealogical path from Adam down to Abraham consists of three distinct stages: first it descends a single genealogical line, then it splits up into three streams, and finally it opens out into a pool of nineteen potential inheritors of Abraham’s promise (ultimately to be taken forward by Isaac) (I Chr. 1.1–34). In much the same way, the genealogical path from Judah to David descends a single genealogical line (to Hezron), then splits up into three streams (Caleb’s, Ram’s, and Jerahmeel’s), and finally opens out into a pool of nineteen potential inheritors of David’s promise (ultimately to be taken forward by Solomon) (I Chr. 2.1–3.8). The Chronicler even counts David’s sons for us in order to make sure we haven’t missed the point (I Chr. 3.1–8).
These patterns are not coincidental. They reveal the link between God’s workmanship and man’s generations/genealogies. History unfolds in line with God’s pattern and purposes. And, in the Bible’s genealogies, we see precisely how it unfolds, ultimately to find its fulness in the person of Christ—the one whose death and resurrection gave birth to a new creation, who breathed life into a generation of twelve apostles (or thirteen if we count Paul), and who continues to give life to Abraham’s seed today as the Church bears fruit and multiplies.
Genealogies as the Fabric of Biblical History
But the Bible’s genealogies aren’t merely intended to paint a big picture of the progression of God’s purposes; they’re also rich with detail. They enable us to connect particular events in Biblical history and to read them in light of one another. By way of illustration, consider a couple of the more unsavoury ways in which family lines have been perpetuated in Biblical history, viz. the stories of Genesis 19 and 38.
In the aforementioned chapters of Biblical history, an uncannily similar sequence of events unfolds: a resident of Canaan departs from his brother(s) in order to sojourn elsewhere (in Judah’s case in Chezib, and in Lot’s Sodom); soon afterwards the man’s two sons die, which leaves his family line in jeopardy; the man’s daughter(-in-law) conceals her identity in order to sleep with her father(-in-law); and the family line thus survives.
These are not isolated events in Scripture. Later in the Biblical narrative, when Ruth approaches Boaz at the dead of night, it seems as if we’re about to see a repeat of Judah’s and Lot’s transgressions. A resident of Canaan has departed from his brothers in order to sojourn elsewhere (specifically, Elimelech has left Bethlehem for Moab); his two sons have died and left his family line in jeopardy; and his daughter-in-law has now concealed her identify, apparently in order to take matters into her own hands.
Happily, however, the behaviour of Boaz and Ruth confounds our expectations. When Boaz sees Ruth, he does not seek sexual gratification; rather, he wants to know who Ruth is. In response, Ruth discloses her identity. And soon afterwards Boaz takes Ruth as his wife in the full knowledge of what it will entail and thus continues Elimelech’s line.
Given the above considerations, Boaz and Ruth’s genealogies/backgrounds are noteworthy. Boaz is a descendant of Perez (Ruth 4.18–22) and by that token is a descendant of Judah and Tamar. Meanwhile, Ruth is a Moabite and by that token is a descendant of Lot and his daughter (Gen. 19.37). These details are significant. Boaz and Ruth aren’t isolated actors on the stage of the Biblical narrative. They’re people with a rich and tangled past. And their actions redeem that past and weave it into God’s good purposes (viz. the Messianic line).
A similar notion underlies the story of Esther. When we first meet Mordecai in the book of Esther, we are provided with his genealogy. Mordecai is “the son of Jair, son of Shimei, son of Kish, a Benjaminite” (Est. 2.5). At least two of these names should be familiar to us. In I Samuel 9, we’re introduced to a Benjaminite named Kish, who turns out to be the father of the infamous Saul (I Sam. 9.1 cp. I Chr. 8.29–33), and a little later we encounter a Benjaminite named Shimei, who turns out to be one of Saul’s descendants (II Sam. 16.5). Apparently, then, the Biblical author wants us to associate Mordecai and Esther with the house of Saul. (The names Kish and Shimei may have been common Benjaminite names, passed down from father to son and borne by many members of the tribe of Benjamin.5) If so, it is a significant detail, since Esther and Mordecai’s enemy, Haman, is a descendant of Saul’s old enemy, Agag the Amalekite—the man whom Saul failed to make an end of.
Like the story of Ruth, then, the book of Esther doesn’t recount an isolated incident; it describes a resurgence of an age-old rivalry and, importantly, an opportunity for Esther and Mordecai to make amends for their ancestor’s failures. Indeed, viewed against that backdrop, some of the more unusual features of the book of Esther make good sense. Why does the book go to such lengths to tell us the Jews were allowed to plunder their enemies’ goods yet declined to do so (Est. 8.10–13, 9.10, 15, 16)? The answer is because what takes place is a reversal and rectification of Saul’s failures. Whereas Saul wasn’t permitted to plunder Agag’s goods and yet disobediently did so, thrice proclaiming his innocence (I Sam. 15.13, 15, 20), the Jews were allowed to plunder their enemies’ goods and yet thrice declined to do so (above). Significant for a similar reason is Esther’s attitude towards Mordecai. Why does Esther go to such lengths to have Mordecai exalted alongside her in Esther 8–9 (which seems to needlessly prolong the book’s conclusion)? As before, the answer is because what takes place is a reversal of Saul’s failures: whereas Saul sought to oust a man who’d been like a son to him (David), Esther sought to promote a man who’d been like a father to her (Mordecai). Hence, just as Boaz and Ruth put right what their ancestors got wrong, so Esther and Mordecai put right what their ancestor (Saul) got wrong. These mini-redemptions set the stage for a greater redemption to come—for a redeemer who will atone for what Israel and Adam got wrong (hence Matthew’s genealogy takes us from Jesus back to Abraham and Luke’s takes us from Jesus back to Adam).
Final Reflections
Of course, far more more needs to be said about the Bible’s genealogies and the role they play in the Biblical narrative, but the topics outlined above should give us a feel for some of the questions we might want to ask ourselves when confronted with a genealogy in the Biblical text. What is its shape and structure? What does that remind us of? Do we recognise its names and contents from elsewhere? And, if so, which Biblical events might that prompt us to read in light of one another?
Thus interrogated, genealogies can greatly further our comprehension of the Biblical text, as well as of our place and purpose within today’s generations.
That Eve named Cain and Abel isn’t explicitly stated, but she certainly named Seth (Gen. 4.25), and her statement about how she formed Cain plays on the sound of Cain’s name, which suggests she was the one who named him.
As Steve Jeffery has pointed out, Genesis 10 is not first and foremost a list of nations (put in tabular form), but a list of men’s descendants.
God fills his creation with six basic categories of things, which break down into twelve distinct sub-categories. The first category is vegetation (deshe), which consists of “plants” (‘esev) and “trees” (‘etz) (Gen. 1.11); the second is luminaries, which consist of “lights” (me’orot) and “stars” (kokhavim) (Gen. 1.16); the third and fourth are sea life and bird life, which consist of “sea-monsters” (tanninim), “other sea-life” (kol nefesh khayah), and “birds” (‘of) (Gen. 1.21); the fifth is animals, which consists of “beasts” (khayat ha-aretz), “livestock” (behemah), and “creepers” (remes) (1.24); and the sixth is mankind, which consists of “man” (zakhar) and “woman” (neqevah) (1.27). The diversity inherent in God’s creation thus multiplies as time goes on. On Day Three God fills the world with two types of created things, on Day Four likewise, on Day Five with three types of created things, and on Day Six with five types of created things.
Esau’s generation of twelve consists of the five sons of Eliphaz, the four of Reuel, and the three of Oholibamah (36.11–14). If we include Amalek (who was fathered through an Edomite concubine), it becomes a generation of thirteen.
The Benjaminites like to recycle names in their tribe, and many of their names are distinctive. For instance, “Gera” is a uniquely Benjaminite name, borne by Benjamin’s son (Gen. 46.21), two or three Benjaminites/clans (I Chr. 8.3–7), and perhaps also Ehud’s and/or Shimei’s father (Judg. 3.15, II Sam. 16.5). The same is true of the names “Kish” (borne by Saul’s father and, apparently, a Benjaminite clan: I Sam. 9.1, I Chr. 8.29) and “Ner” (borne by Saul’s uncle and one of his ancestors: I Sam. 14.51, I Chr. 8.33). And, although the name “Shimei” is attested in other tribes, it is most commonly borne by Benjaminites (see II Sam. 16.5, 21.21, I Kgs. 4.18, I Chr. 8.21).
What do you think of Nancy Dawson's book, James?