I approach this week’s lesson with a sense of déjà vu. In June 1982, the world Sabbath School lesson curriculum meetings were held in Loma Linda, California. The outcome, as reported in Ministry magazine a year later, was the decision (based on the survey of more than two thousand members worldwide) to devise a plan to study every book in the Bible over an extended period. From the outset, it was planned that some lessons would be exegetical, others topical. Almost as an afterthought, it was announced that "there also will be room in the curriculum for the historical-narrative method of study."

A year and a half later, it was time to announce to members at large the imminent changes. In Adventist Review, December 13, 1984, Myron Widmer interviewed the Sabbath School Quarterly editor, Leo Van Dolson. Among other things, Van Dolson said "Our primary intention is to…enable people to get into real Bible study for themselves."

The very next quarter, January–March 1985, the new studies began with the Gospel of Mark, followed by 2 Timothy, and then the book of Genesis in the third quarter. The title was "Beginnings and Belongings," and if that looks familiar, it is because the current lessons are a reprint from 1985.

That summer, I was between full-time graduate study and full-time ministry in another state due to begin fall quarter. While my family and I waited, we continued to fellowship in the church we attended some twenty miles to the north. It was a satellite of a major congregation centered around a medical and academic institution in the Midwest. Led by one of the college religion teachers, the class was renowned for lively, in-depth discussion, as well as fellowship.

The study of Mark went well; 2 Timothy was more work; the study of Genesis was labored and tiring. Put simply, we were not equipped to exegete narrative material. For instance, the firstborn clearly held an important position in that culture, but so often the second born would oust the first. The story of Jacob and Esau (and not, note, Esau and Jacob) lay readily to hand. Furthermore, shocking events such as the incestuous relationship between Lot and his daughters passed without commentary—moral, social, or ethical.

But it was this week’s lesson that topped it all. Teacher and class alike were frustrated by the story of Judah and Tamar in chapter 38. It seemed only to interrupt the flow of the Joseph narrative, and at the same time serve no useful purpose. All that could be said in its favor was merely that it had happened. But since overall the book of Genesis is so selective in what it records, why could/should this not have been omitted?

Moreover our diffidence was echoed in the Bible Study Guide—or was that the source of it? The opening paragraph for Monday’s lesson on chapter 38 says, "For some reason the story of Genesis 38 interrupts the Joseph story. Perhaps, if nothing else, the Lord wanted to contrast the immorality of Joseph’s betrayer, Judah, with the moral character of the betrayed, Joseph." Perhaps not.

The turning point for me came a short while later. It suddenly dawned on me that nowhere in the book of Genesis does the author moralize. Nothing corresponds to the thrice stated observation in the book of Judges: "In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes" (17:6; 18:1, in part; 21:25, the last verse of the book). Nothing indicated what was acceptable, what was unacceptable. And to top it off, Tamar is proclaimed the more righteous one.

So here we are at the same point twenty-one years later, with no guidance beyond the original Study Guide. So let me offer some insights from my own studies. First, outside the book of Ruth, this is the only account of levirate marriage (levir is Latin for "brother-in-law"), and it serves to indicate problems such a marriage entailed. Judah, who himself took a Canaanite wife, does the same for the firstborn son, Er. However, he dies without offspring. Judah then directs the next son, Onan, to fulfill his responsibility, but he finds a way to have the pleasure without the responsibility. Death again ensues.

The third son of Judah, Shelah, is too young, so Tamar is put on hold until he grows up. The chapter devolves around the failure of both the father and the son to "grow up." Although the narrator informs us that it was God who was displeased with the first two sons, Judah treats Tamar as a femme fatale, both literally and figuratively. In the meantime, Tamar is robbed of any social standing, since she is on hold—for a long time (literally, "the days were many"). If you are not familiar with the story, now would be a good time to review it.

Second, two quite different terms are used to describe Tamar. The first is in verse 15, where Judah, who has relatively recently lost his wife, comes across Tamar in the way, assumes she is a (common) prostitute, and cannot resist his instinctual urges. The price of the sex is the promise of "a kid from the flock," and the pledge is his signet and cord, and his staff. As Robert Alter remarks, this is the equivalent of his major credit cards.

When Judah sends the promised animal via his friend, the Adullamite, the latter is unsuccessful in delivery, even after enquiring (from the men of the place, presumably as the ones most likely to know) where the (cult) prostitute might be found. The use of this second term changes the perceived role of Tamar considerably. However, it is not to last. When the pregnancy becomes known, the report is that Tamar has played the whore, and Judah is swift to order her death, unwittingly highlighting his irresponsibility throughout. As she is led away, Tamar produces the pledge and Judah is caught red handed, and presumably red faced.

In chapter 37, the brothers requested Jacob to identify the garment over which they had splashed the blood of the animal, and he did so. Tamar makes exactly the same request of Judah using the same language as the sons, though the New Revised Standard Version translation is markedly different. Judah the deceiver has now become the deceived, and by one from his own household whom he has egregiously wronged. No wonder he proclaimed her more righteous. And then the chapter ends with the birth of twins, and in characteristic Genesis fashion, the firstborn is trumped by the second by a hand’s length.

All of this could perhaps still be dismissed except for two major factors. First, Perez was the progenitor of David; and second, Tamar is the first of five women listed in Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus. For some, the progenitors of Jesus are much too human, hence the desire for an immaculate conception.

One nagging question remains: in the intervening twenty-one years could no one be found to prepare a fresh study of the book of Genesis for the new millennium?

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