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In the conclusion, the author reiterates the insidious influence of rape myths within ancient and contemporary culture. These myths only serve to ensure that rape survivors are consistently denied access to a means by which to make their voices heard. Within the text and interpretive traditions of Genesis 34, many of these same myths are given voice, ensuring that, as a literary rape survivor, Dinah too has been and continues to be silenced. Moreover, the failure of biblical interpreters to challenge these harmful misperceptions about sexual violence expressed within the biblical traditions may only serve to validate and perpetuate such misperceptions within the communities in which these texts are subsequently read. The author therefore calls biblical scholars to an increased awareness of their ethical responsibility to lift up their voices in protest against those rape myths which ensure that the voices of rape survivors remain unheard or ignored.

The following two texts consist essentially of genealogies – the shrunken genealogy of Jacob (Genesis 35:21–29) and the expansive genealogy of his old nemesis, Esau (36:1–37:1). The brevity of Jacob's genealogy seems to be explained by its opening: the incest of Jacob's eldest son, Reuben, with Jacob's concubine, Bilhah – an event which would have undermined the father. Jacob hears, but does nothing and says nothing. (He acts on it when he is dying, 49:3–4). For the moment, he is diminished, and his genealogy reflects it. (In better circumstances, his genealogy is longer, 46:8–27).

The midrashic engagement with the biblical past, as it is represented in biblical words, is substantial and detailed. This chapter explains some major types and their literary formats, using a chapter from Genesis Rabbah as illustration. Particular attention is given to the question of endings, both in stories and in history, as perceived by the rabbis. For the rabbis, their own past and present held little historical interest. This results from the fact that the midrashic practice intensifies the meaning of biblical events, reducing later events to the status of mere repetitions of biblical paradigms. This is seen as an expression of exile, that is, a state of waiting for redemption.

This chapter surveys the reasons that evangelicals give for their Christian Zionism. Most prominently, they cite God’s promise in Genesis 12:3 that he will bless those who bless the Jews and curse those who curse them. They note as well that, in the Bible, God’s covenant is with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the ancestors of the Jews, not with Ishmael, the progenitor of the Arabs. They say that Israel is God’s prophetic clock: the Jews’ return to the Holy Land is the sure sign that God’s promises and prophecies are true and are coming to pass in our lifetime. Several evangelical leaders also observe that God will judge the nations at the end of time on the basis of how they treated the Jews. A number of Christian Zionists add that God mysteriously implanted in them a love for Israel and the Jewish people. Many evangelicals express gratitude to the Jews for giving them the basis of Christianity, and also remorse at the Church’s history of anti-Semitism. They join these motives to secular ones, including reliance on Israel as the frontline ally against Islamist terrorism.

This chapter explores the distinctive way American advocates of slavery read the story of Noah and his sons (Gen. 9:20––27) and applied it to the defense of racial slavery. Their departure from the history of interpretation by failing to sexualize the story while reading it as a tale of violated honor confirms the centrality of honor in the biblical imagination of Southern whites. The concept of slavery as “social death” (the ultimate dishonor) is used to elucidate the connections between slavery, honor, and honor‐bound readings of this popular proslavery biblical passage.

This chapter continues an exploration of the distinctive ways in which Genesis 9:20–27 was read by American proslavery apologists with emphasis on the themes of order and disorder. It is argued that the way these themes animate proslavery commentary on the story of Noah and his sons reflects the popular belief that the “Negro” (Hamitic) character was exemplified in a penchant for disorder – including a desire for amalgamation.

In Genesis 14, Abram engages in a war involving many nations, and with the help of a covenant‐based alliance of brothers, he brings back his captured nephew and his possessions. In Genesis 15, God becomes a shield to Abram and makes a covenant, which involves bringing back Abram's enslaved people and their possessions, a covenant with implications for many nations. The two chapters have several points of complementarity, and together they portray a major transition in Abram. In Genesis 14, Abram is supremely courageous and unselfish, but in Genesis 15 he is afraid of the future, and he needs divine help to come outside of himself and believe.

Rebekah's betrothal (Genesis 24) is the centerpiece of Genesis. It is the longest chapter, containing the longest speech (24:34–49). Rebekah plays a double role. She is a beautiful woman who brings marriage love to Isaac, and as Abraham's servant sees her, she is the manifestation of God's love for Abraham. This double role is linked to the presence of two wells in the betrothal scene. Isaac is betrothed, but so is Abraham in another sense. The complementary text (25:1–18) recounts the surprising proliferation of Abraham's children and the surprising breadth of the associated land.

This chapter examines Genesis 1:1-2:4a, known as the Priestly account of creation. This “report” describes creation as a divinely guided process that begins with benign chaos and concludes with a fully differentiated cosmos. God enlists the elements of creation (water and earth) to bring forth a life-sustaining order. The structure of the Priestly account renders a picture of sacred space that mirrors the architecture of the temple. Connections are explored between the Genesis narrative and the modern cosmological perspective, which posits a “Big Bang” and accounts for the evolution of cosmic structure. The “image of God” language in Genesis, moreover, finds resonance with the unique neurological and cultural facilities of Homo sapiens. Disparities between the scientific account and the seven-day account of creation underscore the theological significance of Sabbath. In light of these findings, the problematic language of “dominion” in Genesis is understood in new ways.

Beginning in 1794, Bentley began to adopt the economic components of republicanism as well as the spiritual ones. In seeing merchants choose what he considered interest over commonwealth, Bentley for the first time was awakened to the economic side of republican ideology. Underscored by his unique embrace of Rousseau's theories of the state of nature and the origins of social inequality, Bentley's new republicanism was as much theological as it was social. In being willing to consider an allegorical reading of the Eden story from Genesis, Bentley could redefine original sin not as pride or envy but instead as self‐interest itself.

The Logos of John 1 is rooted in God's speech acts in Genesis 1. This creative Logos is best explicated by recourse to the remainder of the Gospel (the word Logos occurs a full forty times in John; the biblical resonance of the number is likely not an accident). Taking this approach, we learn that the handing over of the act of creation to the Messiah serves the deeper purpose of enacting and nurturing the Father's love for the Son. The logic of John 3: 35 is that the Father has given all things over to the Son because he loves him. It is in the very nature of the Father to share all things with the Son because of his love for him. The Messiah fully participates in the life and work of God, including the work of creation. Far from being a mere tool in creation, or even a kind of cosmic organizing principle, Christ as Logos is the fully personal executor of God's will. He is the one who brings to realization the desire ‘Let it be’.

This chapter introduces the reader to Dinah, a literary victim of sexual violence, whose story is told in the narrative of Genesis 34. The author raises the issue of Dinah's silence within this narrative and suggests the means by which a feminist interpretation of the text may allow the reader to break her literary silence and grant her a voice with which to tell her story. It is proposed that, by appealing to the cross‐cultural testimonies of contemporary rape survivors who bear witness to their own voicelessness, the reader can gain a new awareness of the complexity of Dinah's silence, understanding it as an intrinsic part of her experience of sexual violence.

This chapter focuses on the common cultural myth that rape is little more than an outplaying of normative sexuality, where the dominant male pursues and conquers the typically reluctant female. The author argues that rape is an act of sexualized aggression and therefore its harmful effects on the victim cannot be underestimated. Attention then turns to the subject of Dinah's rape, where the author offers a close reading of the Hebrew text of Genesis 34.2 in an attempt to refute the suggestion made by a number of biblical scholars, that the sexual encounter between Dinah and Shechem was one of seduction rather than violation. It is suggested that those scholars who cast doubt upon Dinah's status as rape victim may unwittingly be perpetuating the cultural normalization of sexual violence and the concomitant confusion between abusive and acceptable sexuality.

This chapter examines the cultural myth that rape victims are ‘damaged’ or ‘defiled’ by their assault. The author suggests that the origin of this myth lies in age‐old ideologies that regard women as men's ‘sexual property’, whose social ‘value’ is measured in terms of their chastity. These ideologies likewise grant an insidious rationale to the use of rape as a weapon of war. Turning to Genesis 34, the author considers the responses of Dinah's family to her violation and ‘defilement’ and suggests that both her father and brothers conceptualize the rape as an offence against their ‘property rights’ and an assault, not against Dinah, but against the political integrity of the entire family. Finally, the author appeals to the testimonies of contemporary rape survivors in order to contemplate how Dinah may have felt in the wake of her rape and, in particular, about her family's response to her ‘defilement’.

This chapter focuses on the myth of rape victim precipitation, which suggests that rape victims may be to blame for their own rape. After considering the ramifications of this myth for contemporary rape survivors, the author then discusses the interpretive traditions of Genesis 34, which hold Dinah accountable for her rape by virtue of the fact that she was assaulted after she ‘went out’ (Genesis 34.1). A close examination of the Hebrew verb ‘to go out’ suggests however that the myth of victim precipitation is not given voice within the biblical traditions. It is therefore proposed that the narrator of Genesis 34 did not intend the reader to hold Dinah accountable for her violation. Consideration is also given to the contemporary testimonies of rape survivors, and their voices are used to contemplate Dinah's possible response to those interpreters who are intent on blaming her for her assault.

This chapter considers the myths and misperceptions surrounding rapists, including the belief that ‘men just can't help themselves’ and the false stereotypical images of the ‘archetypal’ rapist. Turning to Genesis 34, the author then contemplates the rather contradictory depiction of Shechem, who, after raping Dinah, appears to fall in love with her. The question is raised: did the narrator thus seek to ‘rehabilitate’ Shechem following his initially negative portrayal as Dinah's rapist? Through a close analysis of the Hebrew terms used to depict Shechem within the Genesis 34 narrative, the author concludes that, contrary to the view of many biblical interpreters, the narrator was not seeking sympathy for this character, nor did he intend to redeem him. Using the testimonies of contemporary rape survivors, consideration is then given to the possible effects of Shechem's awakened affections upon his victim Dinah, including his proposal of rapist‐victim marriage.