One of the most conspicuous features of Daniel 3’s construction is its preoccupation with lists.
🔹 Personnel are listed (vv. 2, 3, 27), viz., ‘satraps, prefects, governors, counselors, treasurers, justices, magistrates’, and a catch-all category (‘every other ruler in the province’).
🔹 People-groups are listed (vv. 4, 7, 29), viz., ‘tribes, nations, and tongues’.
🔹 And musical instruments are listed (vv. 5, 7, 10, 15), viz., ‘animal horns, piped instruments, lyres, zithers, harps, tambours’, and another catch-all category (‘every other kind of musical instrument’).
Why so many lists? Why not just say ‘lots of people’ or ‘lots of instruments’ and be done with it?
Below are a few suggestions.
First, our text’s lists bring out the extravagance of Nebuchadnezzar’s ceremony.
Every aspect of Nebuchadnezzar’s ceremony is taken to an extreme.
Nebuchadnezzar doesn’t just want Babylon’s natives to be represented on the plain of Dura; he wants every tribe, tongue, and nation to be represented.
He doesn’t just want a few of his more important officials to attend his ceremony; he wants *everyone* present.
And he doesn’t just want a few choice musical instruments played; he wants (quite literally) the whole ensemble.
As such, our text’s lists reflect a king who has lost all sense of proportion and perspective.
Indeed, as the chapter goes on, Nebuchadnezzar’s behaviour becomes progressively more extreme.
Nebuchadnezzar doesn’t just want to *kill* his three insubordinate Hebrew servants (Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego); he wants to roast them alive in a furnace heated to seven times its normal temperature (v. 19).
And, soon afterwards, he completely reverses his decision, at which point he threatens to dismember anyone who speaks ill of the Hebrews’ God (v. 29), which is an improvement (in a sense), but hardly the hallmark of a man in control of his mind and emotions.
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Second, our text’s lists dictate the flow and tempo of our text, which serves to enhance its dramatic tension.
As readers, it doesn’t take us long to realise the potential danger posed by Nebuchadnezzar’s ceremony. But we don’t know whether Daniel and his friends (and/or other exiles) are present at the ceremony.
Questions therefore start to form in our minds.
Where is Daniel? How will Daniel respond to Nebuchadnezzar’s decree? And what will Nebuchadnezzar do in response?
Ch. 3’s lists make us wait for the answers and hence prolongs our suspense.
The narrative transitions into virtual slow motion as it builds to its epic climax in vv. 16–18, where the three Hebrews emphatically declare they will not (under any circumstances) worship Nebuchadnezzar’s god.
Note: Vv. 16–18 are not only pivotal in thematic terms; they are also pivotal in numeric/textual terms. The Aramaic text of Daniel 3 consists of 33 verses (in English versions, Dan. 3.1–4.3), of which vv. 16–18 constitute the middle three.
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Third, our text’s lists reflect the robotic subservience of Babylon’s officials.
As we work our way through our text’s many lists, we inevitably switch to auto-pilot. Our recital of the repeated lists becomes mechanical and mindless.
As such, our text’s lists bring out Nebuchadnezzar’s servants’ mindless subservience to his will and decree, against which backdrop the calm and collected individuality of the Hebrews shines out all the more brightly.
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Equally important to note is how the Hebrews’ actions disrupt our text’s regularity.
Nebuchadnezzar’s ceremony is intended to reflect (and enforce) the harmony and unity of his kingdom. Yet the Hebrews’ actions cause our text’s regularities to dissolve.
When the music plays and the Hebrews refuse to bow down (vv. 7–8), the normal seven-fold list comes up an item short. (The פסנתרין = ‘harps’ are absent.)
And, later, when Nebuchadnezzar has to summon his counsellors (הרברי מלכא), the usual list of seven VIPs (plus a catch-all category) collapses to only four (v. 27).
Hence, as the Hebrews spoil Nebuchadnezzar’s big moment, they also spoil the literary harmony of the text.
They are the fly in the ointment of Nebuchadnezzar’s ceremony. Compared to the rest of the ceremony’s attendees, they march to the beat of a different drum.
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Our text’s numerical qualities contribute to the drama as well.
In Scripture—as in the modern world—, ten is a nice round number.
Laban is said to have changed Jacob’s wages ‘ten times’ (Gen. 31.7). Job’s friends are said to have reproached him ‘ten times’ (Job 19.3). And Daniel and his friends are said to have been ‘ten times wiser’ than their rivals (1.20).
The text of ch. 3, however, is built around the number eleven, which is significant, since everything in the chapter is taken ‘one step too far’:
🔹 Our text consists of 33 (3 x 11) verses.
🔹 Nebuchadnezzar’s ‘image’ (צלמא) is referred to 11 times.
🔹 The material from which Nebuchadnezzar’s image is made (in order to symbolise Babylon’s greatness: 2.38–39) has a gematrial value of 11 (‘gold’ = דהב).
🔹 The verb ‘stand’ (קום) occurs 11 times.
🔹 The word ‘man’ (גברא) occurs 11 times.
🔹 The verb ‘worship’ (סגד) occurs 11 times.
🔹 And the word ‘king’ (מלכא) occurs 22 (2 x 11) times.
The recurrence of the number 11 in our text has other implications besides, since it reflects the way in which Nebuchadnezzar overreaches. Just as (in ch. 7) the beast’s 11th king arouses heaven’s attention and disapproval, so too does Nebuchadnezzar’s eleven-fold ceremony.
And, ironically, the deathblow is dealt to Nebuchadnezzar’s ceremony when he sees ‘one figure too many’ in the furnace.
‘I see four men unbound…in the midst of the fire’, Nebuchadnezzar says, ‘and the appearance of the fourth is like a son of the gods!’ (cp. Prov. 30.18: ‘Three is too wonderful for me; four I don’t understand!’).
Joseph is a well known type/picture of Christ, so it’s natural for us (as Christians) to want us to map his experiences directly onto Jesus’s, all of which is well and good…
…But we can learn a great deal from a contemplation of Joseph’s life in its original (OT) context. For a start, let’s have a think about Genesis’s general flow.
As the book unfolds, God chooses out a line of promise. One by one its offshoots are peeled away as the story zooms in God’s chosen people (Israel).
The text of Mark 2.26 has caused quite a few folk quite a few problems.
Jesus seems to have thought David took the showbread from the sanctuary when Abiathar was the high priest, but the text of Samuel suggests he did it on Abimelech’s watch.
What’s gone wrong here?
Well, first of all, we need to consider a couple of relevant historical questions.
Question #1: Did Abiathar ever hold the office of high priest?
Well, we’re told three main things about him in his prophecies’ first two verses:
🔹 he was a priest;
🔹 he lived in Anathoth; and
🔹 he was the son of a certain Hilkiah.
Below, we’ll consider these facts in a bit more detail.
Let’s start with Anathoth.
Anathoth wasn’t just any old city; it was a highly significant one.
It was allotted to the line of Aaron, i.e., the line of Israel’s high priest (Josh. 21.13ff.).
As a result, it was where Eli lived.
That’s why when Solomon deposed Abiathar the priest—who was the son of Ahimelech, the son of Ahitub, the son of Phinehas, the son of Eli (I Sam. 14.3, 22.9ff., 22.20, 23.6, 30.7)—, he sent him back to ‘his estate’ in Anathoth (I Kgs. 2.26–27).
Keen to tackle the big questions of the day, I wondered if some thoughts on the thorny matter of hedgehog words in Scripture might be in order (with thanks to the Christmas card below for inspiration).
Modern-day Arabic dialects have quite an array of words for the hedgehog,
…which of course designate the desert hedgehog rather than the spiky fellows we encounter in European woodlands (and sometimes, sadly, squashed on European roads).