Rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible: A Survey of Past Scholarship

Introduction

In the history of critical scholarship on the Hebrew Bible, the word rûaḥ (plural: rûḥôt) has not usually been a difficult term to define, yet it has repeatedly proven to be a contentious one to translate. Most frequently rûaḥ is rendered into English as ‘wind’, ‘breath’, ‘spirit’, or ‘Spirit’. Less frequently it can appear as ‘self’. With respect to its theological implications, rarely has a single term had either so much potential, according to some interpreters, or alternatively, according to others, so little. In this article, I review a history of scholarship on the term rûaḥ as it appears in the Hebrew Bible.

I have organized the article into sections such that current issues in the field rather than particular figures might be emphasized: These sections are (1) a survey of diachronic approaches to mapping the meaning of rûaḥ; (2) attempts to track two modes of rûaḥ; (3) distinctions between the meanings of rûaḥ and nepeš; (4) the functions of rûaḥ in designating ecstatic experience; and (5) the role of rûaḥ-language in describing notions of human subjectivity and moral agency. The article concludes with suggestions for further study.

Diachronic Approaches to Mapping the Meaning of rûaḥ

Most commentators agree that rûaḥ refers most frequently to air in motion. Its form may be that of a verbal noun, meaning ‘blowing’ or ‘breathing’. This sense extends also to a meaning of ‘spirit’, usually that of either God or a creature, and less frequently in the sense of a disembodied being. For full etymological discussions, see the relevant entries in Tengström and Fabry (2004) and Koehler, Baumgartner, and Stamm (1996) as well as the recent overview in Atwood (2023: 2-11). This much is relatively well established. Where the issue becomes murkier, however, is in articulating the relationships between these meanings and then deciding how best to render the term in modern languages, which lack the wide semantic range of rûaḥ.

Early attempts to understand the term rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible were largely diachronic in approach. Scholars at the beginning of the twentieth century, for example, tended to focus on cataloging which meaning applied to rûaḥ in which texts and when (e.g., Briggs 1900; Schoemaker 1904; Burton 1918: 53-62). These decisions were usually based on the perceived provenance of a given text and what the commentator believed to be the conceptual preferences or limitations of the ancient authors at that time and place. Thus, these catalogers did not always agree with one another when their respective reconstructions of history differed. For example, in Gen. 6.3, ‘My rûaḥ shall not abide in mortals forever’, Briggs preferred ‘my spirit’ since he attributed the text to J, a biblical author that Briggs believed to be operating with a notion of God’s spirit (Briggs 1900: 137). But Schoemaker rendered it ‘my breath’, believing the text to be a postexilic addition to Genesis, the period when the conception of rûaḥ as breath supposedly first appeared definitively (Schoemaker 1904: 24). Many of these arguments were at risk of becoming cyclical, especially when two or more biblical texts of uncertain provenance were used to date one another.

As might be surmised from the preceding example, throughout the twentieth-century, scholars put a significant emphasis on determining which of three meanings—wind, breath, or spirit—was oldest (see, e.g., recurring discussions of the meaning of rûaḥ ʾĕlōhîm in Gen. 1.2 [e.g., Orlinsky 1957; Steck 1981: 256; DeRoche 1988; cf. Gafney 2021: 1-2]). A key method in this task was comparison with ancient Near Eastern conceptions of winds and spirits (e.g., Volz 1910; Hehn 1925; Cazelles 1982; Gunneweg 1975; see the overview in Tengström and Fabry 2004: 368-72). For some commentators, identifying an origin allowed for postulating a kind of ideological or theological progression in the literature, often one that got closer and closer over time to New Testament/early Christian notions of the Holy Spirit, as, for example, in works by Imschoot and Lys (Imschoot 1965: 172-88; cf. 1934, 1935, 1938, 1939; Lys 1962; Wood 1976; cf. Johnston 1966; Dreytza 1992). In the first book-length study of the ‘rûaḥ of God’ to appear in English, Neve focused only on those appearances of the word where he believed it was best translated as ‘spirit’ (1972: 3). He argued that while the idea of God’s spirit was always associated with power, the perceived locus of this power changed over the span of biblical literature, moving from a focus on God’s spirit in nature (e.g., Exod. 15.8; 2 Sam. 22.16), to prophetic agents (e.g., 1 Kgs 18.12; 22.10; Hos. 9.7), to life itself (e.g., Gen. 1.2; Isa. 40.13; Ps. 33.6; Job 26.13).

Other studies on the mid-twentieth century employed thematic approaches to studying rûaḥ but still depended on diachronic schemas when it came to tracing that theme’s meaning in the Hebrew Bible. Exhausted by the endless search for origins in Hebrew Bible studies more generally, Snaith sought what was ‘distinctive’ about rûaḥ in ancient Israel with respect to other ancient cultures, settling on the notion that rûaḥ referred to power and inspiration that originates with God (Snaith 1964: 159). Hildebrandt (1995) organized his discussion by various theological functions of the spirit of God (e.g., ‘the Spirit of God in creation’ and ‘the Spirit and God’s people’). Other works incorporating thematic foci included eschatological and messianic aspects of rûaḥ (e.g., Koch 1991), the meaning of the word through a particular period (e.g., Schüngel-Straumann 1992), or the use of rûaḥ in a particular corpus (e.g., Robson 2006; Ma 2009; Block 2014; Han 2015). MacDonald (2013) suggested that the ‘spirit of the Lord’ became an increasingly prominent theological framework for understanding the presence and absence of God in the Persian period. Feldmeier and Spieckermann likewise argued that the ‘Old Testament discovered the theological potential of the Spirit late’ after the monarchy and central cult were gone (2015: 215-25, 225).

The most recent work that employed a diachronic approach to studying rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible was Blischke (2019; for a review in English, see Berge, 2020). As a work rooted in Continental redaction-critical models and biblical theology (cf. esp. Kratz 2005; Feldmeier and Spieckermann 2015), Blischke’s book was textually oriented and highly detailed. With a specific focus on the phrase ‘rûaḥ of God/the Lord’, Blischke’s most complete discussions were on the former and latter prophets (especially the books of Samuel, Isaiah, and Ezekiel), though she included shorter studies on Chronicles/Ezra-Nehemiah, select minor prophets, and select Qumran literature. Unlike many previous diachronically oriented works, Blischke was most interested in the relative dating of these texts to one another and posited many places within passages where multiple levels of textual development may have occurred.

According to Blischke, the earliest conception of the rûaḥ of God/the Lord appeared in Saul’s kingship narratives (1 Sam. 8-11) where it functioned primarily as a charismatic marker of kingship. From this starting point, she identified many evolutions in the meaning of the phrase. Within the Samuel narratives, for instance, later editors signaled David’s superiority to Saul by the fact that the spirit of the Lord abided with him permanently and confirmed his authority as king, rather than just intervening momentarily for acts of power (e.g., 1 Sam. 16.13; Blischke 2019: 20). Blischke argued that similar shifts could be traced in the latter prophets. For example, Blischke contended that over the course of the growth of the book of Isaiah, God’s spirit became not merely a gift for wise earthly rulers but a hallmark for future saviors (e.g., Isa. 11.2, 4; 42.1; 61.1; Blischke 2019: 295). The book of Ezekiel showed dependence on other biblical conceptions of the rûaḥ of God/the Lord (e.g., possession and trance, Ezek. 11.5; cf. Judg. 14.6; 1 Sam. 10; Blischke 2019: 224), but it also showed significant growth. Of particular interest to Blischke were the three texts that concern the new spirit and the heart of flesh (Ezek. 11.19-20; 18.31-32; 36.26-28), in which the prophet developed the idea that the spirit comes not from outside but is fostered within, determining an individual’s particular relationship to God (Blischke 2019: 294). As the most recent and comprehensive investigation of the diachronic development of the term, further studies on rûaḥ should treat Blischke’s monograph as an essential reference point.

Two Modes of rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible

Perhaps the most perennially significant question regarding rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible has concerned delineating two models for the term and mapping their boundaries with one another (see summaries in Wolff 1974: 32-39; Levison 2009: 8-13; Carlson 2022: 91-122). Two recent labels for these two modes are a ‘life-constitutive rûaḥ’ versus a ‘charismatic rûaḥ’ (Newsom 2021: 39-45) and an ‘abiding’ rûaḥ versus a ‘migrating’ rûaḥ (Carlson 2022). The first mode, whatever a scholar might call it, is usually described as life-giving or animating, and conceives of rûaḥ (sometimes nĕšāmāh) as the necessary force for life, which is given at birth and departs at death (e.g., Gen. 2.7; Isa. 42.5; Qoh. 11.5; Schellenberg 2011: 195-96; Feldmeier and Spieckermann 2015: 203-08; Noort 2016). This rûaḥ does not have a particular moral assignment and is possessed by all living creatures—not just human beings (e.g., Gen. 6.17; Ps. 104.29-30; but see a counter argument in Feldmeier and Spieckermann 2015: 206). The second mode, usually described by scholars as charismatic or empowering, is typically a temporary boost of capability or influence and is often associated with (military) leadership and ecstatic prophecy (e.g., Judg. 6.34; 13.25; 1 Sam. 10.10; 1 Chron. 24.20; and perhaps Hos. 9.7; Martin 2008; Feldmeier and Spieckermann 2015: 212-14; D. Johnson 2021).

As definitive as these two modes might appear in a basic description, further interrogation reveals greater complexity. First, one can find examples in the Hebrew Bible that seem to merge or ignore these distinctions. Many are just as open to being interpreted in one mode as they are in the other. For example, are Bezalel and the other artisans in the wilderness filled with a simple artistic temperament (mode 1), or are they possessed by a charismatic and creative spirit (mode 2) (e.g., Exod. 31.1-6; 36.1-2; 35.30-35; see discussion in Levison 2009: 58-64)? Another example is Ps. 51.12-14, which might describe a new animating rûaḥ that replaces the one with which the Psalmist was born. Alternatively, it could describe an empowering rûaḥ that equips the psalmist for righteous action. It might be both (see discussion in Klein 2009). Additionally, there are repeated references in the Hebrew Bible to a/the ‘rûaḥ of God’ and ‘rûaḥ of the Lord’ (e.g., Gen. 41.38; Num. 24.2; Judg. 3.10; 2 Sam. 23.2; 1 Kgs 22.24; Isa. 11.2). Are these merely allusions to some aspect of the deity (i.e., God’s ‘breath’), or might they be something more substantive, like distinct entities in a spirit-filled cosmos (see Reiling 1999; McCarter Jr. 1999; Dafni 2000; and Hamori 2010)? If the latter, might God’s rûaḥ be a recurring figure in an emerging meta-biblical narrative, perhaps functioning to articulate a theology of God’s presence and power (Schmid 1974; MacDonald 2013)? Such ambiguities suggest that the spirit phenomena of the Hebrew Bible may not be so easily sorted into one category or the other, even if certain trends can be identified in some texts.

Notably, Levison has rejected the notion of two separate modes for rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible (2009; cf. 2019. In late Second Temple Jewish texts, see 1997). With reference to creational texts that utilize ‘breath’ or ‘spirit’ (e.g., Gen. 2.7; Job 12.7-10; 27.2-5; 34.14-15; Ps. 104.29-30), Levison made the case that a spirit ‘that gives life’ was the most foundational pneumatological idea present in the Hebrew Bible and the default conception of Israelite literature (2009: 14-33). This spirit is of a dynamic character, however (2009: 6). Both Newsom (2021: 198n51) and I (Carlson 2022: 102-04) have critiqued Levison’s position as essentialist.

Distinguishing rûaḥ and nepeš

Scholars have often studied rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible in conjunction with another term, nepeš, variously translated as ‘neck’ or ‘throat’, as well as ‘life force’, ‘soul’, or ‘self’ (e.g., A. Johnson 1964 [1949]; Scharbert 1966; Wolff 1973 [1974]; Schüle 2012, Newsom 2021: 40-43, Atwood 2023: 19-20, 238-39). Both rûaḥ and nepeš readily appear as having functions within and/or as being parts of the human body (e.g., rûaḥ: Deut. 2.30; Ps. 77.4; Ps. 143.4; Job 7.11; nepeš: Gen. 34.3; Deut. 6.5; Ps. 77.3). At the same time, they also seem capable of extrabodily and/or postmortem existence (e.g., rûaḥ: Judg. 15.19; 1 Sam. 30.12; Pss 31.6; 104.29-30; nepeš: Gen. 35.18; 1 Kgs 17.22; Song 5.6). Hence, interest in distinguishing the two terms has emerged primarily from two related scholarly inquiries: (1) an anthropological focus, which has sought to map how each term might have been conceived as a component of the body (see ‘Rûaḥ, Human Subjectivity, and Moral Agency’ below), and (2) a postmortem focus, which has sought to trace conceptions of existence after death in ancient Israel and early Judaism. A conventional articulation of the relationship between these two terms has been that rûaḥ and nepeš both indicate the vitality of life and may be interchangeable in some texts (e.g., Isa. 26.9; Job 12.10; see Lauha 1983; Tengström and Fabry 2004: 375-76).

While theological interests of the twentieth century and older often endeavored to articulate a cohesive system wherein all the biblical texts that included these terms could fit systematically, more recent scholarship has yielded intricate distinctions, sometimes articulating rûaḥ and nepeš as rival conceptions of the person in the Hebrew Bible. Schüle (2012), for example, suggested that rûaḥ-based models for personhood supplanted nepeš-based models specifically in the Persian period. He tied these shifting theological anthropologies to the particular ideologies concerning divine presence of the particular powers that held sway over Israel/Judah in these different periods. The older, nepeš-based models were similar to other models from the Levant and Mesopotamia, which envisioned the life force, nepeš, of a person as maintaining their bodily life and lingering for a while after death before fading to the realm of the dead. Specific holy places (e.g., the temples of Babylon or Jerusalem) carried cosmological significance as unions of mortal and divine worlds where a person’s nepeš was inevitably drawn. In contrast, Schüle argued, the rûaḥ-based models emerged out of Persian universalizing tendencies. All of creation was enriched by the creator God’s presence and thus any space had the potential to be holy (Schüle 2012: 488-93). According to Schüle, this theological innovation is reflected as much in the wilderness tabernacle traditions of the P source in the Pentateuch as it was in the shift to rûaḥ language to describe the person.

In contrast to Schüle, Steiner (2015), as part of his larger case arguing for notions of disembodied souls in the Hebrew Bible, suggested a complimentary model in which the rûaḥ was one of two parts of the nepeš (2015: 81-92). The first component, designated as nepeš habāśār (e.g., Lev 17.11), was a ‘bodily component located in the blood’ whereas the second, the rûaḥ ḥayyîm (e.g., Gen. 6.17), was a ‘spiritual component bestowed by God’ (Steiner 2015: 83). He suggested that the two pieces were physically attached and separated only at a set time after death (Steiner 2015: 87, 106-14).

Newsom presented a third option that the language of rûaḥ and nepeš reflect alternative cultural models for conceiving of human vitality and, in turn, of death (2021: 40-43). She rejected the notion that ancient Israelite literature reflects a singular ‘doctrine’ of anthropology wherein the different concepts and terms were systematically defined and coordinated. She observed that nepeš-texts tend to be associated with the human body, whether its vitality in life or its placement in the grave after death. At the same time, rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible is understood as having its origins with God. In the case of death, the human’s spirit returns to the divine. Crucially, for Newsom, both models could exist simultaneously in a single text or even in a single mind: ‘When the focus is on the body or the human experience more generally, the nepeš model comes to the fore. When the focus is on God’s role, the rûaḥ model comes to the fore’ (Newsom 2021: 42). Overall, Newsom has preferred anthropologically based language for understanding different modes of rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible (see ‘Rûaḥ, Human Subjectivity, and Moral Agency’ below) over the more overt theological language that has typified this scholarly discussion in the past. Newsom’s turn towards cultural models represents an important next step for studies on rûaḥ in biblical literature.

Ecstatic Experience and rûaḥ

In several texts in the Hebrew Bible, rûḥôt have prominent roles in peculiar prophetic or otherwise charismatic behavior (e.g., Num. 11.24-30; Judg. 6.34; 14.19; 1 Sam. 10.6, 10; 16.14, 23; 19.20; Ezek. 3.24-27; 8.3; Hos. 9.7). Several scholars have referred to one or more of these episodes variously as ecstasy, trance, or spirit possession (e.g., Carlson 2022; Newsom 2021: 39, 45; Blischke 2019: 289-90; Nihan 2006) while others have resisted these characterizations (e.g., Levison 2009; Adam 2009; cf. J.D. Parker 2021). The question of whether the term rûaḥ can designate such phenomena, and, in turn, how such experiences might be categorized, are recurring ones in biblical studies, as the discussion below demonstrates. Significant scholarly responses to this issue can be organized according to two trends, which began in an early period of biblical studies. The older contours of the debate are worth reviewing briefly before returning to current discussions.

A significant paradigm shift in the understanding of spirit experiences occurred in the late nineteenth century in Germany, which still has ramifications in the field today. Previously, German scholars writing about notions of spirit(s) in biblical literature had framed the conversation primarily within rationalist and Protestant systematic theological categories (see the discussion in Levison 2009: 3-13; cf. Klatt 1969: 17-36). This paradigm began to change, however, with Gunkel (1888; also available in English translation 1979). Among Gunkel’s most consequential arguments was his emphasis on the ‘influences’ or ‘effects’ (Wirkungen) of spirit experience (Gunkel 1979: 2). Gunkel’s work still reflected a Christian, anti-Jewish bias (e.g., 1979: 70-71), but no longer could commentators engage biblical spirit phenomena purely in the abstract. While taking Gunkel’s work into account, other scholars of the early twentieth century still rejected the idea that charismatic spirit practices were depicted in the Hebrew Bible, however, especially with reference to Israel’s prophets. Mowinckel, for example, argued for a fundamental distinction between what he characterized as ecstatic ‘nebhi’ism’ and the more rational/visionary prophetic practices of the literary prophets (Mowinckel 1934; contra Duhm 1892, 1922: 95-96; Hölscher 1914; Gunkel 1924).

These two ideological positions—that of either the presence or absence of ecstatic practice in ancient Israel and early Judaism—have been recurring arguments in the scholarship about rûaḥ throughout the twentieth and into the twenty-first century. Scholars arguing for the latter have seen the evidence for ecstasy in biblical literature as minimal, relegating those texts to the fringes of the biblical timeline, either as especially early or especially late or by attributing them to foreign influences in biblical tradition (e.g., Heschel 1962; S. B. Parker 1978; Petersen 1981, 1995; André 1982; but see counter arguments in Schmid 1974; and Kapelrud 1977). The most recent scholar to embody this position has been Levison who has argued that ‘there are but slivers of ecstasy, if any at all, embedded in Israel’s corporate memory’ (2009: 219, 2019; cf. Adam 2009).

Returning to current discussions, I (Carlson 2022) and others have argued in favor of the other position: that ecstatic spirit practices are indeed depicted in the Hebrew Bible and in more texts than have been previously acknowledged. Specifically, I argued that the operative definition of ecstasy has been too limited (Carlson 2022: 22-24). If one counts only those instances of apparent complete loss of self-control, then only a limited part of the spectrum of human spirit phenomena qualifies as spirit inspiration or possession. Such a criterion is simply too narrow when compared to ancient depictions of spirit ecstasy and to ethnographic work on contemporary cultures where spirit possession is practiced regularly (Carlson 2022: 72-73; cf. Nissinen 2017: 171-200; Grabbe 1995: 109-12; Michaelsen 1989: 33-37). Further, attending to rûaḥ language is a key criterion for identifying potential examples of spirit phenomena in the Hebrew Bible (Carlson 2018: 248-50).

In general, growing numbers of recent scholars have affirmed the presence of at least some spirit-inspired ecstasy in the Hebrew Bible and its prophetic literature, without naming it as a requirement for the prophetic phenomenon (e.g., Wilson 1980: 33-42; Blenkinsopp 1995: 135; Grabbe 1995: 108-12, 2000: 16-18, 2010; cf. Fenton 2001). As Grabbe surmised, ‘It would be wrong to ascribe all prophetic oracles to ecstatic experiences; equally, we have no right to deny such experiences categorically to Israelite prophets’ (Grabbe 1995: 111). An influential voice has been that of Nissinen, who identified several examples of ecstatic prophetic behavior in the Hebrew Bible, some with and without rûaḥ-language (e.g., Num. 11.24-30; 2 Kgs 5.26; Isa. 6; 1 Kgs 22.19-23; Ezek. 3.12-15; 37.1-14) (2017: 171-200; cf. 2010). Further, he suggested that later in the Second Temple period, as prophecy came increasingly to be identified with the cultivation and interpretation of scripture, spirit and possession language was incorporated more widely (e.g., Sir. 39.1-6; Philo Spec. 1.65).

Rûaḥ, Human Subjectivity, and Moral Agency

A significant body of scholarship has stepped away from studying rûaḥ primarily as it relates to metaphysical entities (e.g., ‘deity’, ‘demon’, and ‘angel’) and toward studying it within the context of the human body alongside words like lēbāb (‘heart’), kilyāh (‘kidneys’), and nepeš (‘neck’ or ‘life-force’). An important goal has been identifying how rûaḥ functioned in biblical literature to elaborate ancient conceptions of subjectivity, including understandings of human agency and notions of the moral self. Atwood provides a helpful recent summary of this scholarship (2023: 18-21). In his own research, he used cognitive linguistics to survey the anthropological use of rûaḥ in Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Job specifically, summarizing key concepts associated with the term (e.g., ‘life’, ‘wisdom’, and ‘volition’), as well as some of its frequent figurative schemas (e.g., the length of one’s rûaḥ related to one’s patience and the shattering of one’s rûaḥ related to internal harm) (2023: 230-35). Outside of the Hebrew Bible, Brand discusses rûaḥ within the context of notions of sin in Second Temple literature, especially in the so-called Treatise of the Two Spirits portion of the Community Rule (2013: 257-74; see also Sekki 1989; Wright 2015). Other important works are surveyed below.

A. Johnson’s (1964 [1949]) work represented an early effort to demonstrate how, in the Hebrew Bible, humanity was conceived as a psychosomatic whole. Moreover, individual parts of that whole could serve as synecdoche for the totality. A. Johnson argued that the use of rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible, together with nepeš, were key proofs of this thesis, particularly in the ways these terms were used to describe life and death (A. Johnson 1964: 32-37).

Some of the most expansive studies on anthropology in the Hebrew Bible were written in German. Wolff (1973; English translation 1974) set out to examine ‘how in the Old Testament [the human being] is initiated into knowledge of [them]self’ (1974: ix). He identified rûaḥ as one of four key human body-part words, which, when attended to, would reveal anthropological assumptions in the Hebrew Bible. In his study of rûaḥ, Wolff found it significant that in addition to referring to ‘wind’, ‘breath’, and ‘spirit’, the word appeared also in expressions of human feelings (e.g., Gen. 26.35; 1 Kgs 10.5; Prov. 14.29) and will (e.g., Num. 14.24; Ezra 1.5; Ps. 32.2b). Additionally, it could be used to express ideas of vitality and power that went beyond mere breath (e.g., Gen. 41.38; Judg. 3.10; Ps. 33.6). He also noted that in the Hebrew Bible, rûaḥ more often referred to God than to creation, and thus, following Lys, Wolff concluded that it should be deemed a ‘theo-anthropological term’ (Wolff 1974: 32; cf. Lys 1962: 336). Though influential, Wolff’s anthropology was criticized by some as being overly reductive (e.g., Wagner 2009). In his study, Wolff had foregrounded the significance of four terms in particular: lēbāb, nepeš, bāśār (‘flesh’), and rûaḥ but understated the importance of other body-part words like yād (‘hand’), ʿayin (‘eye’), and regel (‘foot’), even though they occurred more frequently. His was thus a ‘theological’ anthropology of the Hebrew Bible, which did not consider material culture, ethnological insights, or social history (Schmitt 2010).

In an expansive volume, Janowski sought to extend Wolff’s pioneering work while avoiding these pitfalls (Janowski 2019: 19-39). He situated anthropology in the Hebrew Bible using three considerations: (1) how material living conditions are represented symbolically; (2) the literary context of the Hebrew Bible; and (3) certain anthropological constants of humanity. The result was a study organized not by theological terms but by human anatomy, culture, and constructed experience. Janowski thus discussed rûaḥ as a component of constructions of depression in the Hebrew Bible (e.g., 1 Sam. 16.14-23; Janowski 2019: 172-74) and in describing the end of life (e.g., Ps. 104.29; Qoh. 12.7; cf. Gen. 2.7; Janowski 2019: 76-78).

Janowski’s work is representative of how recent research has been less likely to overdetermine the meaning of rûaḥ as a consistent and overarching theological emphasis in the Hebrew Bible. Of special note is Lilly’s comparison of the functions of winds and spirits in ancient Near Eastern medical texts with the use of rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible (2016, 2018, 2021; cf. Scurlock 2006). Lilly demonstrated how rûaḥ-language in the books of Job and Ezekiel reflects an awareness of ancient Near Eastern conceptions of wind-caused illnesses, emotional and physical conditions believed to be determined by meteorological factors.

Newsom has been one of the most influential scholars working on notions of the self in the Hebrew Bible and early Jewish literature. While she has frequently discussed notions of spirit and the self in her work, her most recent monograph (2021) is especially pertinent (cf. 2004, 2012, 2017, 2020). In this work, Newsom engaged the topic of rûaḥ from the perspective of the underlying cultural models that give it meaning in biblical discourse (cf. Holland and Quinn 1987). Similar to the two models I discussed above, Newsom identified two basic modes for conceiving of spirits in the Hebrew Bible: (1) a life-constitutive rûaḥ and (2) a charismatic rûaḥ. Building upon her predecessors, however, Newsom emphasized these ideas less as rival theological convictions and more as unstated and at times contradictory cognitive anthropological models providing language and meaning for human experience. Thus, for example, a ‘breathwind-in-container’ model may be operative for texts reflecting the first mode above, while a powerful ‘wind-against-object’ model often fits well for the second (Newsom 2021: 45). These cognitive models are not just idiomatic or figurative, they also contribute to the ways in which intricate aspects of human subjectivity, including moral agency and volition, are conceived (e.g., Ezek. 36.26-27; cf. 11.19-20, 18.31; see Newsom 2021: 78-79). In Newsom’s articulation, the ‘breathwind-in-container’ model may work best when God is seen as acting powerfully from within someone, thus compromising the individual’s independent agency (Newsom 2021: 45). In contrast, the ‘wind-against-object’ model fits better for instances when someone is divinely empowered to do something extraordinary that they nonetheless have chosen for themselves (e.g., charismatic empowerment of Israel’s judges, Newsom 2021: 43).

Consensuses and Directions for Future Study

There is room for further research in all five of the current issues that I have surveyed. One possible direction concerns the growing interest in biblical studies in how notions of selfhood, subjectivity, and personal agency are constructed in the literature. Newsom (2021) has already made significant contributions in this regard and should be treated as a new reference point. Future scholarly work on subjectivity in biblical literature might assess additional literature for comparison, either from other cultures of the ancient Mediterranean or from non-Western traditions further afield chronologically or geographically. Scholars studying political subjectivity, post-colonialism, and trauma might investigate how rûaḥ texts contribute to these particular discourses in biblical literature. Additional engagement with critical theory is another direction in which studies of rûaḥ in the Hebrew Bible might advance. In particular, there is need for a large-scale study on how rûḥôt functioned within constructions of gender in this literature. Finally, as mainstream biblical scholarship continues to expand its preferred methodologies beyond those cultivated primarily by eighteenth- and nineteenth-century European Protestantism, additional studies on spirit language and practices in the Hebrew Bible are needed by scholars from (or with an orientation toward) cultures from the Global South.

Abbreviations