© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2010

DOI: 10.1163/156851710X513575

Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

brill.nl/dsd

Pesher: A Cognitive Model of the Genre

Robert Williamson, Jr.

Hendrix College

[e-mail]

Abstract
Earlier models of the genre of the pesharim have tended either to subsume pesher
into the genre of midrash, on the one hand, or to doubt its coherence as a genre
due to a perceived lack of common features shared among all the member texts,
on the other. Cognitive genre theory offers a way forward by challenging previ-
ous conceptions of the way genre categories are formed. Rather than fixed sets of
texts belonging equally to a genre, cognitive theory proposes that genres are radial
categories extending outward from a “prototypical” center toward a fuzzy bound-
ary, with texts participating in the genre to varying degrees. A cognitive model of
the pesher genre provides a flexible enough construction of the genre to account
for the variation among the constituent texts, yet still firmly distinguishes the
genre from other forms of Early Jewish literature through the concept of the ide-
alized cognitive model (ICM) of reality that animates the genre.

Keywords
Cognitive genre theory, genre, idealized cognitive models, ICM, pesher

Introduction

Defining the genre of pesher has proven to be a surprisingly difficult task,
especially considering that the body of pesher texts seems on first blush to
be such a clearly delimited set. At times, the genre has been broadly con-
strued to include parts of Matthew and Acts, while at other times it has
been reduced to a subtype of midrash or other Early Jewish modes of exe-
gesis. In my view, the difficulty in establishing pesher as a differentiated
and yet bounded genre lies in the fact that such attempts have typically
been made with outdated theories of genre. Recent developments in genre
theory, particularly cognitive approaches to genre, offer possibilities for

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

337

clarifying the unique aspects of the genre, defining its limits while allow-
ing us to account for variations among its constituent texts. In particular,
cognitive genre theory allows us to generate a radial category of genre
extending outward from an ideal, “prototypical” member of the genre
toward real texts with varying degrees of participation in the genre. At the
edges of the genre we find fuzzy boundaries where the resemblance of
particular texts to the prototypical members of the genre may be distant
enough that the texts’ participation in the genre may legitimately be dis-
puted. In what follows, I will offer a model of the genre of pesher based
on a cognitive theory of genre. I propose that such a model has benefits
for the study of pesher because it accounts for two aspects of the pesher
genre that have troubled earlier models: (1) its distinction from other
genres of Early Jewish biblical interpretation and (2) the variation among
the pesharim themselves, which is sometimes thought to threaten the
integrity of the genre.

1

Previous Models of the Pesher Genre

The establishment of pesher as a distinct literary genre has been compli-
cated by pesher’s apparent similarities with other genres of Early Jewish
literature.

2

In particular, the similarities with Jewish midrash have attracted

1

I am indebted to Carol Newsom, who introduced me to both Qumran stud-

ies and the intricacies of genre theory; her encouragement and keen eye for criti-
cal detail have been invaluable in this project. My understanding of genre theory
as it relates to biblical studies has benefited greatly from her work as presented in
Carol A. Newsom, “Spying Out the Land: A Report from Genology,” in Seeking
Out the Wisdom of the Ancients (ed. R. L. Troxel et al.; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisen-
brauns, 2005), 437–50. Insightful critiques by John J. Collins and an anony-
mous reviewer at Dead Sea Discoveries helped refine the argument. My gratitude
also to Brent A. Strawn and Nathan Hofer for reading and helpfully critiquing
earlier drafts of this paper.

2

The pesharim have been variously compared with the Targumim (William

H. Brownlee, “The Habakkuk Midrash and the Targum of Jonathan,” JSS 7
[1955]: 169–86; Naftali Wieder, “The Habakkuk Scroll and the Targum,” JJS 4
[1953]: 14–18; Geza Vermes, “Bible Interpretation at Qumran,” EI 20 [1989]:
194–91); the Demotic Chronicle (Chaim Rabin, “Notes on the Habakkuk Scroll
and the Zadokite Documents,” VT 5 [1955]: 148–62); and New Testament exe-
gesis (Krister Stendahl, The School of Matthew and its Use of the Old Testament

338

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

the attention of scholars, a number of whom proposed parallels between
pesher and midrash.

3

While most of these studies stopped short of

labeling pesher as a subgenre of midrash, the principle editor of Pesher
Habakkuk, William H. Brownlee, proposed exactly that, titling his 1979
commentary The Midrash Pesher of Habakkuk.

4

In an earlier work, Brown-

lee had argued for pesher as a subgenre of midrash, comparable to halakah
and haggadah:

The present author had previously pointed out the basic differences as
to literary form, approach, and interest between DSH [1QpHab] and
the other midrashim, but on the nature of the principles of exegesis
he preferred the term Midrash to that of Commentary. . . . Rather
than invent an entirely new genus called Pesher, a classification which
relates DSH to nothing previously known, it seems more logical to
the present writer to recognize a new species of Midrash, calling
DSH . . . an example of Midrash Pesher, a classification which is at
once related to the midrashim and at the same time distinguished
from the previously known classes thereof, Midrash Halakah and
Midrash Haggadah.

5

The identification of pesher as a subgenre of midrash has also been taken
up on somewhat different grounds by George Brooke, who prefers the
term “Qumran midrash” to Brownlee’s “midrash pesher.”

6

In fact, Brooke’s

[Lund: C. W. K. Gleerup, 1954]; E. Earle Ellis, Paul’s Use of the Old Testament
[London: Oliver & Boyd, 1957]).

3

See most notably Isaac Leo Seeligman, “Voraussetzungen der Midrasch-

exegese,” in Congress Volume, Copenhagen, 1953 (VTSup 1; Leiden: Brill, 1959),
150–81.

4

William H. Brownlee, The Midrash Pesher of Habakkuk (Atlanta: Scholars

Press, 1979).

5

William H. Brownlee, The Dead Sea Habakkuk Midrash (A mimeographed

paper issued by the author, Feb. 2, 1953), cited in idem, Midrash Pesher, 25
(italics original).

6

George J. Brooke, “Qumran Pesher: Towards the Redefinition of a Genre,”

RevQ 10/40 (1981): 483–503. Brooke seems to have subsequently rejected the
idea of “Qumran midrash,” recognizing that “[t]he use of the term midrash . . .
seems to be technical, not referring to a literary genre (as the later rabbinic
midrashim), but identifying a method of scriptural interpretation,” (“Florile-
gium,” EDSS 1:297–98 [298]).

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

339

analysis of the pesharim marked an important moment in the study of
the pesher genre. He argued that a lack of scholarly concision concerning
the generic characteristics of pesher had contributed to a rather “loose”
methodological comparison between the pesharim and other texts not
clearly related to the genre.

7

He attributed the imprecision of previous

definitions of the pesher genre to the failure of scholars to account for the
roles of both form and content in the formation of a genre. Brooke argued
that genre involves the interaction of primary factors and secondary fac-
tors, where primary factors are those “descriptive of and determinative of
the end product of an author,” and secondary factors those “categorizing
the method used in attaining that product.”

8

In an important step for-

ward for pesher studies, Brooke did not attempt to identify a single, defin-
ing characteristic of the pesher genre (form, content, authorship, etc.).
Instead, he sought to characterize the interaction among primary and
secondary factors that constitute the genre, concluding that the primary
factor of the pesher genre is the structural combination of quotation-
interpretation, in which a prophetic biblical quotation is given an identi-
fication and interpretation relevant to the context of the interpreter or
interpretive community.

9

Brooke then went on to identify a number of

secondary factors through which the authors of the pesharim related the
interpretation to the quotation, particularly taking note of “midrashic
techniques” employed in the interpretation.

10

Brooke’s analysis continues to provide the basis for most current dis-

cussions of the genre of pesher. The difficulty with his approach, however,
has been precisely that his identification of quotation-interpretation as the
primary factor of the genre, with a set of methodologically “midrashic”
secondary factors playing a supporting role, has tended to propagate the

7

Brooke, “Qumran Pesher,” 483. In particular, Brooke notes the application

of the term “pesher” to Acts 13:33–37 (Dale Goldsmith, “Acts 13:33–37: A
Pesher on 2 Samuel 7,” JBL 87 [1968]: 321–24) and to certain fulfillment quota-
tions in the Gospels of Matthew and John (David M. Hay, “Interpretation, His-
tory of: NT Interpretation of the OT,” IDBSup, 443–46).

8

Brooke, “Qumran Pesher,” 493. Brooke relies for his literary theory on

René Wellek and Austin Warren, Theory of Literature (3d ed.; Harvest Book 75;
New York: Harcourt Brace, 1956).

9

Brooke, “Qumran Pesher,” 497–501.

10

Brooke, “Qumran Pesher,” 494–96.

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R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

confounding of the genres of pesher and midrash. In fact, Brooke makes
this connection explicitly, concluding his article by arguing that

[P]esher as commonly understood is no more than a sub-genre, and
it may well be preferable to drop the word and all its associated com-
plications that are too often forgotten, and to talk rather of Qumran
midrashim which contain “fulfillment interpretation of prophecy”
whilst insisting upon their connection with the midrashic traditions
of dream interpretation.

11

On Brooke’s interpretation, then, pesher loses its distinctiveness as a genre
and, based on the quotation-interpretation structure and the use of
midrashic exegetical techniques, becomes subsumed within the genre of
midrash as the subgenre Brooke calls “Qumran midrash.”

Subsequent to Brooke, many scholars have begun to move away from

the categorization of pesher as a subgenre of midrash, instead arguing for
pesher as a distinct literary genre in its own right. For instance, Timothy
H. Lim, in his study of the pesharim, concludes that “[p]esher is best seen
as a distinct genre of exegesis” that falls “on the exegetical continuum that
begins within the scriptural tradition itself . . . and continues to the rab-
binic midrashim and beyond.”

12

Lim argues that while “pesher reflects a

common exegetical approach to the text: the consecutive citation of verses
from a section of biblical passages is interspersed with comments,” it is
the content of the pesher that distinguishes it from other genres of biblical
exegesis.

13

Specifically, Lim points to pesher’s “emphasis on the prophetic

literature (including the Psalms), its eschatological orientation, its con-
temporizing tendencies and the special role that it confers upon a contin-
uous revelation and the Teacher of Righteousness.”

14

While Lim rightly rejects the reduction of pesher to a subgenre of

midrash, he nonetheless remains somewhat circumspect about whether
pesher properly stands alone as a genre in its own right. He twice com-
ments that “pesher as a genre of scriptural interpretation is a scholarly
construct,” having no grounding in the texts themselves.

15

Lim’s assessment

11

Brooke, “Qumran Pesher,” 503.

12

Timothy H. Lim, Pesharim (CQS 3; London: Sheffield, 2002), 56.

13

Lim, Pesharim, 52.

14

Lim, Pesharim, 52.

15

Lim, Pesharim, 53; cf.: “The genre of sectarian exegesis known as ‘the pesher’

is a typological construct of Qumran scholarship,” ibid., 40.

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

341

of the genre as a scholarly construct having no actual existence at the level
of textual production and interpretation within the Qumran community
itself seems to rely on two major premises. First, he argues that there is
“no ancient list of the 15 [continuous pesharim] as a collection of ‘pesha-
rim.’ In fact, the term pesher never occurs in titular form in a continuous
pesher.”

16

Here Lim seems to assume that genres exist only to the extent

that they are explicitly recognized as such by the original authors and
readers, a point that I will dispute below. Second, Lim argues that the
genre of pesher is a scholarly construct because the common features
shared by all of the continuous pesharim are not as numerous or substan-
tial as some scholars would like us to believe. After suggesting that the
genre is “a typological construct of Qumran scholarship,” Lim goes on to
note that the common features shared among the continuous pesharim
“are not as numerous as is often implied in books, articles, and surveys.”

17

Lim goes on to note that

All the continuous pesharim share only the following: (1) the contin-
uous quotation of sections, large or small, of a biblical text; (2) the
use of the technical term “pesher” in the introductory formula of the
interpretation; and (3) the identification of a figure in the biblical text
with another, apparently contemporary one. The eschatological orien-
tation is probably also prevalent, although not all of the pesharim
have preserved evidence of it.

18

The suggestion seems to be that the number of features shared by the con-
tinuous pesharim are too few to constitute a genre. In Lim’s view, it would
seem that pesher, while distinct from midrash, does not stand alone as a
distinct genre except in the scholarly imagination.

Cognitive Genre Theory

In my view, the valuable contributions of these previous models of the
pesher genre are limited by the deployment of an outmoded theory of
genre understood as a classification of texts based on a series of character-
istics deemed both necessary and sufficient to produce a coherent category.

16

Lim, Pesharim, 53.

17

Lim, Pesharim, 40.

18

Lim, Pesharim, 40.

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R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

In recent years, genre theorists have increasingly recognized the inade-
quacy of such approaches to genre, since in practice “necessary and suffi-
cient” characteristics are difficult to identify. As genre theorist Alastair
Fowler argues:

The expectation of “necessary elements” or defining characteristics is
almost universal among critics writing about genre. . . . It is an expec-
tation without any sufficient basis. A very few necessary elements exist
(all propemptika refer to departure; all comedies have characters), but
not nearly enough to supply a theory of genre. No formal genres
could usefully be distinguished in such a way; not even comedy and
tragedy. . . . Necessary elements are sparse.

19

According to Fowler, since no work fits every characteristic of a given
genre, there is no possibility of producing a list of necessary and sufficient
characteristics that can clearly demarcate meaningful generic bounds.
Fowler has famously commented that whereas many literary theorists
have treated genres like pigeonholes to be filled in with adequate descrip-
tion and theory, “in reality, genre is much less of a pigeonhole than a
pigeon.”

20

Rather than a static series of rigidly defined categories into

which particular literary works may be fit, genre is something of a moving
target, with fuzzy boundaries and varying degrees of membership.

21

Despite what many of us may assume, genres do not generally cohere
around a large set of necessary features shared among all of its exemplars.
Thus, when Lim warns that the common features of the pesharim are not
as numerous as many scholars assume, he may prove a point slightly
different from the one he intends. If, as Fowler argues, no genre could be
usefully defined this way, then it is not pesher that is more complex than
scholars have assumed, but rather genre itself.

In order to account for the lack of “necessary and sufficient” criteria to

define genre membership, Fowler and others have proposed a “family
resemblance” approach to genre. While my own approach to the genre of

19

Alastair Fowler, Kinds of Literature: An Introduction to the Theory of Genres

and Modes (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1982), 39.

20

Fowler, Kinds of Literature, 36.

21

Fowler argues that, “Every literary work changes the genres it relates to. This

is true not only of radical innovations and productions of literary genius. The
most imitative work, even as it kowtows slavishly to generic conventions, never-
theless affects them, if only minutely or indirectly,” (Kinds of Literature, 23).

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

343

pesher attempts to move somewhat beyond family resemblance theory in
favor of cognitive approaches, considering the work of family resemblance
theorists will help to clarify some salient concerns my model attempts to
address. Family resemblance theory has its roots in the philosophical work
of Ludwig Wittgenstein, who also observed that categories often lack clear
criteria for membership. The classic example is his observation about the
relationship of the things we call “games,” such as

. . . board games, ball games, Olympic games, and so on. What is com-
mon to them all? . . . If you look at them you will not see something
that is common to all, but similarities, relationships, and a whole
series of them at that. . . . We see a complicated network of similarities
overlapping and crisscrossing: sometimes overall similarities, some-
times similarities of detail.—And I shall say: ‘games’ form a family.

22

Applying Wittgenstein’s observations about the role of family resemblance
in categorization to genre, Fowler proposes that texts constitute genres in
much the same way that Wittgenstein’s games form a family: through a
complex network of overlapping similarities rather than by a specific set
of identifiable features common to all exemplars.

23

According to this fam-

ily resemblance approach to genre, all members of a certain genre partici-
pate in a repertoire of both formal and substantive features from which
individual representatives may select. However, in distinction from the
classic categorization model of genre, it is possible (and even likely) that
no two members of a given genre will share all of the same features, or
even a clearly demarcated set deemed necessary and sufficient to define
the genre. Instead, the texts relate to one another much more fluidly, and
considerable variation of features can be tolerated without threatening the
integrity of the genre. Texts that participate more fully in the repertoire
may be considered to be more central members of the genre (part of the
“nuclear family,” so to speak), while those that participate only sparingly
in the repertoire can be considered more distantly related (a “second
cousin,” perhaps). Precisely how distantly an individual text may be
related to the generic repertoire before it is no longer considered a “mem-
ber” of the family is, to some extent, a matter of interpretation. No abso-
lute boundaries of which texts are “in” and “out” of the genre family can

22

Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (2d ed.; trans. G. E. M.

Anscombe; Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1958), 31–32.

23

Fowler, Kinds of Literature, 55–56.

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R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

be drawn, though those texts at the edge of the genre can be considered
less important than the central members for identifying the key features
of the repertoire that the genre family holds in common.

While the “family resemblance” approach to categorization may at first

seem imprecise or even counterintuitive, developments in the cognitive
sciences have begun to demonstrate that in fact mental categories much
more closely resemble the “fuzzy sets” of Wittgensteinian family resem-
blance than the “pigeonholes” of the classic theory of categorization. The
seminal studies are those of cognitive psychologist Eleanor Rosch, who
demonstrated in a series of experiments that the mind categorizes infor-
mation in such a way that the resulting categories demonstrate “prototype
effects.”

24

That is, some members of a mental category are deemed better

examples of the category than others. For instance, in one set of experi-
ments robins were shown to be more representative of the category “bird”
than were chickens, penguins, or ostriches. Similarly, desk chairs were
shown to be better representatives of the category “chair” than were rock-
ing chairs, barber chairs, or beanbag chairs.

25

The identification of prototype effects in categorization is significant

because it shows that the classical theory of categorization is incorrect, or
at least inadequate, in describing the way the human mind organizes
information. If the classical theory were correct and complete, no mem-
ber of a category would be perceived as a “better” representative than any
other member, since all would share the same “necessary and sufficient”
properties and thereby belong equally to the category. The fact that such
is not the case indicates that cognitive categories tend to be radial sets,
centered upon certain members considered “more typical” and radiating
outward with diminishing degrees of membership toward a fuzzy bound-
ary at which membership in the category is debatable (while a desk chair

24

The foundational research is presented in Eleanor Rosch, “Cognitive

Representations of Semantic Categories,” Journal of Experimental Psychology: Gen-
eral 104 (1975): 192–233. For later developments in her thought, see Eleanor
Rosch and Barbara B. Lloyd, eds., Cognition and Categorization (Hillsdale, N. J.:
Lawrence Erlbaum, 1978). The most influential appropriation of her work into
linguistics and philosophy is that of George Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous
Things: What Categories Reveal About the Mind (Chicago: The University of
Chicago Press, 1987). Lakoff provides a useful summary of Rosch’s work as it
relates to his own theory of categorization in ibid., 39–55.

25

Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things, 41.

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

345

is indisputably a chair, a beanbag chair is less clearly so). As a result, a
cognitive approach to genre offers the possibility of grounding family
resemblance theory firmly in the processes of the mind rather than leav-
ing them in the realm of things “seemingly similar.”

While Rosch’s work demonstrates the reality of prototype effects and

thus calls into question the traditional understanding of categorization, it
does not itself offer an alternative theory of categorization. This latter task
has been taken up by cognitive linguist George Lakoff, among others.

26

Lakoff proposes that prototype effects result from the fact that human
cognition is ordered by means of presupposed, culturally-conditioned
mental frameworks, which he terms “idealized cognitive models (ICMs).”

27

According to Lakoff ’s theory, the prototype effects observed by Rosch
result from instances in which reality deviates from the idealized cognitive
model being used by an individual to interpret and organize a particular
set of information. For instance, in a cultural context in which a person
carries an idealized cognitive model of a bird as a small, winged creature
that flies and sings, a robin or sparrow will seem like a (proto)typical bird.
A penguin, which neither flies nor sings, will appear as a less typical mem-
ber of the bird category. If a person were to have been raised in Antarc-
tica, however, we might imagine that her idealized cognitive model of a
bird would much more closely resemble a penguin, and a sparrow might
seem a strange creature indeed!

Heuristically, idealized cognitive models may be thought of as mental

templates or frameworks that develop based on a person’s experience and
knowledge of the world as well as enculturation into a particular society’s
worldview.

28

The mind uses these models to organize information, to help

make sense of events as they occur, and to anticipate future events that are
likely to follow. Genre theorist Daniel Chandler suggests thinking of these
mental schemas as

26

Most notably Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things.

27

Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things, 1–154. See especially the con-

clusions to his theoretical framework, 153–54.

28

Daniel Chandler, “Schema Theory and the Interpretation of Television Pro-

grammes,” (Aberystwyth: The Media and Communications Studies Site, Univer-
sity of Wales, 1997). Online: http://www.aber.ac.uk/media/Modules/TF33120/
schematv.html.

346

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

a kind of framework with “slots” for “variables,” some of them filled-in
and others empty. The slots are either filled in already with compul-
sory values (e.g. that a dog is an animal) or “default values” (e.g. that
a dog has four legs) or are empty (optional variables) until ‘instanti-
ated’ with values from the current situation (e.g. that the dog’s colour
is black).

29

This schema approach to idealized cognitive models explains, for instance,
how the mind is able to recognize that a three-legged, toothless, albino
tiger still belongs to the category “tiger,” despite the fact that it does not
display many of the features one would normally consider constitutive of
the animal “tiger.”

30

Provided that the thing to be categorized presents the

compulsory features of the category, the mental framework is able to tol-
erate variation in the default and optional features. An individual display-
ing more of the default features (a four-legged, orange-striped tiger with
sharp teeth) will be considered a “better” representative of the category
than the individual displaying fewer defaults (the toothless, albino tiger),
but both will nonetheless be recognized as belonging to the category.

In genre theory, cognitive models likewise account for how particular

texts may vary from certain generic conventions and nonetheless be rec-
ognized as participating in the genre. Because categories themselves are
fluid and allow for variation within certain structures, so genres can also
be understood as fluidly structured entities. As genre theorist Michael
Sinding argues, “We can better explain genres not by denying their fluid-
ity or their structures, but by showing how they reflect the fluidly struc-
tured character of categories.”

31

Along these lines, Sinding has proposed a

model for describing genres in terms of cognitive categories, which I will
follow in developing a cognitive model of the genre of pesher.

32

29

Chandler, “Schema Theory”; italics original.

30

Michael Sinding, “After Definitions: Genre, Categories, and Cognitive Science,”

Genre 35 (2002): 181–220 (196).

31

Sinding, “After Definitions,” 184 (italics original).

32

Sinding, “After Definitions.” In formulating his conception of genre, Sind-

ing builds on the work of A. Rosmarin, The Power of Genre (Minneapolis: Uni-
versity of Minnesota Press, 1985) and Daniel Chandler, “An Introduction to
Genre Theory” (Aberystwyth: The Media and Communications Studies Site,
University of Wales). Online: http://www.aber.ac.uk/media/Documents/intgenre/
intgenre.html.

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

347

Pesher: A Cognitive Model of the Genre

The first step in generating a cognitive model of the pesher genre is to
identify the texts that are generally recognized as belonging to the genre.
While such an approach may at first appear to be circular (defining the
genre based on texts preselected as defining the genre), it is in fact in
keeping with the principles of a prototype theory of classification. While
we cannot define the limits of the genre based on those texts commonly
agreed to belong to the genre, we can begin to locate its center by means
of these texts, which are recognized as forming something of a coherent
category. In the case of pesher, we can reasonably begin with the fifteen
continuous pesharim generally recognized as belonging to the genre.

33

I

will return to consider the status of disputed texts, such as the thematic
pesharim, below.

Beginning with this set of fifteen texts, the next step in producing a

model of the genre is to identify the compulsory, default, and optional
elements constituting the schema of the genre, as described by Chandler,
above. While this may seem like little more than a nuanced version of
the classic theory of categorization, the distinction between the cognitive
approach and the classical identification of “necessary and sufficient fea-
tures” should be recalled.

34

The cognitive approach allows us to distinguish

between a few, very general compulsory features (all tigers are animals) and
a more detailed set of default features (the typical tiger has four legs, teeth,
and stripes) and optional features (this particular tiger is six feet long).
Rather than identifying which features are necessary and sufficient to clas-
sify a text as “in” or “out” of the genre, we instead attempt to identify the
variables that make a text “more central” or “more peripheral” exemplars
of the genre. The cognitive approach allows for a higher degree of varia-
tion among texts without threatening the integrity of the genre.

To construct a cognitive model of the pesher genre, then, we can begin

by identifying the compulsory, default, and optional elements of the
genre. The compulsory elements of the genre—those without which a text’s
membership in the genre might be called into question—can reasonably
be identified as those elements that occur in all fifteen of the continuous
pesharim as Lim has identified: (1) the continuous quotation of sections,

33

These fifteen pesharim are: 1QpHab, 4QpHos

a–b

, 4QpIsa

a–e

, 1QpMic, 4QpNah,

1QpPs, 4QpPs

a–b

, 1QpZeph, 4QpZeph.

34

See the contribution of Benjamin G. Wright to this issue.

348

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

large or small, of a biblical text; (2) the use of the technical term רשׁפ in
the introductory formula of the interpretation; and (3) the identification
of a figure in the biblical text with another, apparently contemporary
one.

35

The first of these should be further refined to specify that the quo-

tations are from prophetic texts.

36

In addition to these compulsory elements, we can identify a number of

default elements that belong to the idealized model of the genre but which
particular texts within the genre may or may not display. A provisional
list of the default elements may be derived from Horgan’s classic analysis
of the pesharim.

37

In terms of formal features, we note that by default

the pesharim: (1) comment on one particular biblical text;

38

(2) proceed

through the biblical text verse by verse;

39

(3) cite scriptural lemma gener-

ally consisting of one-half to two verses;

40

(4) cite scriptural lemma with-

out introductory formulae;

41

and (5) comment on the text in a highly

35

Lim, Pesharim, 40. It should be noted that while all of the pesharim do

include the technical term רשפ when introducing the interpretation of the
lemma, there are two pesharim (4QpIsa

a

and 4QpIsa

b

) that employ it inconsis-

tently (the formula is lacking in 4QpIsa

a

8–10, 7, 9, 10, 12; 4QpIsa

b

ii 6–7, 10).

Nonetheless, the contexts suggest that even those interpretations lacking the
technical term are to be understood as “pesher” interpretations in the sense of the
“unraveling of a mystery,” as I will discuss further below. Ultimately, the inclu-
sion of the technical term רשפ is probably better understood as a “default” fea-
ture, while it is the “pesher” relationship between the quotation and interpretation
that is compulsory. This point will be clarified in what follows.

36

Possible exceptions are 4QpPs

a,b

, though the Qumran sectarians seem to

have viewed the Psalms as prophetic texts in their own right, referring to them as
having been written by David “through prophecy given to him by the Most
High” (ןוילעה ינפלמ ול ןתנ רשא האובנב) (11QPs

a

27:11).

37

Maurya P. Horgan, Pesharim: Qumran Interpretations of Biblical Books

(CBQMS; Washington, D.C.: Catholic Biblical Association of America, 1979),
especially 229–59, “The Literary Genre.”

38

4QpIsa

c

seems to cite from Jeremiah and Zechariah and alludes to passages

from Hosea and Zechariah.

39

The clear exception is 4QpIsa

c

, which appears to skip several verses inten-

tionally. See Horgan, Pesharim, 95 for a discussion. A second possible exception
is 4QpHos, but the text is difficult to reconstruct.

40

Though citations range from one-fourth verse to five verses.

41

The pesharim rarely use an introductory formula in relation to an initial

citation (as opposed to a re-citation). As Horgan notes, the only clear variations

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

349

formalized manner with the interpretation introduced by a formula con-
taining the word רשׁפ, generally either רבדה רשׁפ (“the interpretation of
the matter”) or more simply ורשׁפ (“its interpretation”).

42

In addition to these formal considerations, Horgan notes a number of

literary devices and techniques commonly used to generate the pesher inter-
pretation, which may also be considered default elements of the genre. She
identifies six such devices: (1) using synonyms for words in the lemma;
(2) using the same roots as in the lemma, appearing in the same or differ-
ent grammatical forms; (3) playing on the words in the lemma; (4) chang-
ing the order of letters of words in the lemma; (5) using different textual
traditions; and (6) referring back to an earlier lemma or anticipating a fol-
lowing lemma.

43

The optional elements of the genre are those parts of the schema

that remain empty until instantiated by a particular text. This category
accounts for all of the idiosyncrasies of the individual documents and may
include any number of features, such as length, word choice, and so on.
One optional element shared by several of the pesharim is the re-citation
of a scriptural lemma after it has been previously introduced in the usual
manner. Such re-citations occur with some frequency and might reason-
ably be considered among the default elements of the genre, but I do not
consider them to have this status.

44

At this stage, we have a model of the genre that is a somewhat nuanced

version of the classic model of categorization according to features. The
cognitive modeling approach to genre, however, requires us to move
beyond such a list in order to consider the relationships among all of the

are 4QpIsa

c

and 4QpIsa

e

, both of which show numerous other variations from

the default conventions. See Horgan, Pesharim, 243 n. 53.

42

The variations on this introductory formula are detailed in Horgan, Pesha-

rim, 239–44. For interpretations not including the רשפ introductory formula see
n. 35 above.

43

Horgan, Pesharim, 245. The similarity of these devices to those used in

other literary genres, most notably midrash, has been the source of scholarly con-
troversy over the bounds of the genre pesher and its relationship to midrash, as I
will discuss below. For now, it is sufficient to recall that literary devices do not
signify genre in themselves, but only in their relation to the whole.

44

For a detailed analysis of recitation formulas in the pesharim see Moshe

Bernstein, “Introductory Formulas for Citation and Re-Citation of Biblical
Verses in the Qumran Pesharim,” DSD 1 (1994): 30–70.

350

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

various features. In fact, cognitive science has shown that this second step
is actually psychologically prior to the first, since the mind grasps parts-in-
relation before it comprehends the parts themselves. To rephrase this idea
in Lakoff ’s terminology, the mind perceives and processes information
not as lists of features but as Gestalt structures, in which the whole is more
basic than its parts:

Gestalts for general overall shapes (e.g., the shape of an elephant or a
giraffe or a rose) are relatively rich in structure. Still, they occur pre-
conceptually as gestalts, and although one can identify internal struc-
ture in them, the wholes seem to be psychologically more basic than
the parts. In short, the idea that all internal structure is of a building-
block sort, with primitives and principles of combination, does not
seem to work at the basic level of human experience.

45

That is, we do not first notice four legs, sharp teeth, orange and black
stripes, claws, and then perceive a tiger. Rather, we recognize a tiger and
then proceed to notice that it has legs, teeth, stripes, and claws. The indi-
vidual elements do not convey meaning in themselves but only as they relate
to the whole. We do not understand the whole as the sum of its parts, but
rather the parts as a function of the whole.

As a result, the presence of particular common elements in two texts

does not necessarily identify those texts as belonging to the same genre.
Generic convergence is indicated only when those particular elements
relate to one another in a manner consistent with the genre’s Gestalt struc-
ture. This becomes particularly important when trying to distinguish two
formally similar genres, such as pesher and midrash. For now, however,
the second step in developing a cognitive model of the pesher genre—
after having identified the compulsory, default, and optional features—is
to show how those elements relate to one another in a Gestalt structure,
“that sense of the whole by which we may understand all of the parts.”

46

For the basic relationship that unites the individual elements of pesher

into a Gestalt structure, we can return to Brooke’s identification of the
citation-interpretation relationship as a primary factor of pesher, though
it is perhaps necessary to clarify that this is not properly a feature of pesher
but rather a relationship-among-features.

47

In turn, this fundamental

45

Lakoff, Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things, 270.

46

Sinding, “After Definitions,” 196.

47

Brooke, “Qumran Pesher,” 497. Shani L. Berrin has made a similar case for

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

351

relationship includes a formalized connection between the identification
of the referents of the scriptural citation and the explanation of the scrip-
tural citation in terms of contemporary events. These basic relationships,
including the typical introductory formula associated with each relation-
ship, may be schematized as:

48

Scriptural Citation (no formula)
Interpretation (לע ורשפ / לע רבדה רשׁפ)
Identification of referent (no formula)
Explanation

(רשׁא)

This schema is clearly recognizable, for example, in 1QpHab 9:9–12:

Citation:

הב יבשׁוי לוכו הירק ץרא סמחו םדא ימדמ (Hab 2:8b)

Interpretation:

לע ורשׁפ

Identification: ןהוכה עשׁרה
Explanation: ויביוא דיב לא ונתנ ותצע ישׁנאו קדצה הרומ ןוועב רשׁא

It is notable that this fundamental relationship involves precisely the three
elements identified as “compulsory elements” above: citation, interpreta-
tion introduced by רשפ, and a contemporary historical referent. The other
elements of the genre identified as “default” or “optional” contribute in
various ways to this fundamental relationship, but they are not necessary
to it. This explains how it is possible for a pesher text to lack some of the
“default” features of the genre and yet remain recognizable as a pesher,
since only the compulsory features contribute to the fundamental Gestalt
structure.

To this point, then, we can say that pesher is a Gestalt structure consist-

ing of a relationship among the compulsory elements such that: (1) the
scriptural citation of a prophetic text is linked to (2) a contemporary
referent by means of (3) a pesher interpretation (to which I will return,
below). The default and optional features support this basic Gestalt struc-
ture but are not fundamental to it. Such a model represents a significant
improvement over the classic model because it accounts for the variation

“lemma/pesher correspondence” as the primary basic element in the pesharim
(The Pesher Nahum Scroll from Qumran: An Exegetical Study of 4Q169 [STDJ 53;
Leiden: Brill, 2004], 18–19 and “Lemma/Pesher Correspondence in Pesher
Nahum,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls Fifty Years After Their Discovery [ed. L. H. Schiffman
and J. C. VanderKam; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 2000], 341–50).

48

Adapted from Brooke, “Qumran Pesher,” 497–501.

352

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

among features noted by Lim and shows how the compulsory features
constitute the genre only when they have a particular relationship to
one another.

Genre as a Means of Communication within an Idealized
Cognitive Model

There is one more advantage of the cognitive modeling approach yet to
be explored. So far I have considered genre primarily as a means of cate-
gorizing texts, which is indeed one quite useful way of approaching the
subject. As a result, however, the analysis has to this point remained at the
level of “a typological construct of Qumran scholarship,” as Lim has com-
mented about the genre of pesher in general.

49

This notion of genre as a

scholarly construct has been critiqued, however, by recent genre theorists
for its failure to account for the active role of genre in enabling commu-
nication, instead reducing genre to a static system of taxonomic classifica-
tion. As Fowler says, genre is “an instrument not of classification or
prescription, but of meaning.”

50

In fact, genre seems to have communicative function even in cases in

which genre classification itself remains tacit. Here we may call into ques-
tion Lim’s rejection of the genre of pesher as any more than a scholarly
construct based on the lack of any explicit lists of the pesharim within the
Qumran literature itself. For instance, one study of children ages two to
five concluded that children begin making genre distinctions among tele-
vision programs by the age of three, and by age five can distinguish major
television genres such as advertisements, cartoons, Sesame Street, news,
children’s shows, and shows for adults.

51

The study concludes that, “in the

49

Lim, Pesharim, 40.

50

Fowler, Kinds of Literature, 22.

51

Leona M. Jaglom and Howard Gardner, “Decoding the Worlds of Television,”

Studies in Visual Communication 7 (1981): 33–47 and ibid., “The Preschool Tele-
vision Viewer as Anthropologist,” in Viewing Children Through Television (ed.
H. Kelly and H. Gardner; New Directions for Child Development 13; San Fran-
cisco: Jossey-Bass, 1981), cited in Daniel Chandler, “An Introduction to Genre
Theory: Working Within Genres” (Aberystwyth: The Media and Communications
Studies Site, University of Wales, 1997). Online: http://www. aber.ac.uk/media/
Documents/intgenre/intgenre2.html.

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

353

first few years of attempting to sort out the confusing elements of the tele-
vision world, children are concentrating on making distinctions between
shows.”

52

This research gives empirical support to the idea that genre dis-

tinctions function in organizing and interpreting information even in
populations in which genre categories themselves may not be explicitly
recognized as such. It is therefore misleading to suggest that pesher did
not function as a genre at Qumran, despite the fact that the Qumran
community did not explicitly produce a list of particular texts belonging
to a category labeled “pesher.”

53

Genre theorists have approached the issue of the role of genre in estab-

lishing communication between author and audience in various ways.
Generally speaking, genres may be thought of as systems of expectations
through which an author is able to communicate with an intended audi-
ence.

54

Some scholars have thought about this system of expectations as

being generated through intertextual connections, so that the reader com-
prehends one text based on the experience of having read other texts.
John Fiske provides an example from film studies:

A representation of a car chase only makes sense in relation to all the
others we have seen—after all, we are unlikely to have experienced
one in reality, and if we did, we would, according to this model, make
sense of it by turning it into another text, which we would also under-
stand intertextually, in terms of what we have seen so often on our
screens. There is then a cultural knowledge of the concept “car chase”
that any one text is a prospectus for, and that is used by the viewer to
decode it, and by the producer to encode it.

55

While the theory of intertextual competency employed by Fisk is illumi-
nating, cognitive theory allows us to press somewhat further by clarifying
that the “system of expectations” mediating between author and audience
is in fact a shared idealized cognitive model that enables communication.
This ICM may indeed be established intertextually by reading other works
of the same genre or viewing similar types of films, but it might also have
its roots in common experiences or, in the broadest sense, in the shared
worldview of a particular cultural milieu. In this regard, genres embody

52

Jaglom and Gardner, “Decoding the Worlds of Television,” 42.

53

Lim, Pesharim, 53.

54

Chandler, “Introduction to Genre Theory.”

55

Cited in Chandler, “Introduction to Genre Theory.”

354

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

within themselves particular expectations about the nature of reality, “a
sense shared by performer and audience,”

56

a common backdrop against

which the meaning of the text can take shape. Pavel Medvedev expresses a
similar concept when he writes, “Every genre has its methods and means
of seeing and conceptualizing reality, which are accessible to it alone. . . .
The process of seeing and conceptualizing reality must not be severed
from the process of embodying it in the forms of a particular genre.”

57

In

Lakoff ’s terminology, we can understand this system of expectations
embodied in the genre as the idealized cognitive model (ICM) of the
author (or interpretive community), who has chosen this particular genre
as the category through which to express meaning.

If this is the case, then a further step in clarifying a cognitive model of

the pesher genre would be to examine the idealized cognitive model of
reality that is embedded in the genre’s Gestalt structure, if such a thing can
be identified. In this regard, it is significant for our understanding of
the pesharim that the citation-interpretation relationship that unites the
compulsory elements into a Gestalt structure is achieved by use of the root
רשׁפ, which provides a clue into the idealized cognitive model being
invoked by the author. The common English rendering of רשׁפ as “inter-
pretation” does not capture the full sense of the word, which has as its
root meaning, “to loosen.”

58

The term רשׁפ in this latter sense occurs fre-

quently in the pesharim and throughout the Aramaic portions of Daniel,
often in conjunction with the Persian loanword זר, meaning “mystery.”
This has lead a number of scholars to propose that the pesharim stand in
the tradition of vision interpretation (or “dream interpretation”) repre-
sented especially by texts such as Daniel 2.

59

On this analogy, the pro-

phetic texts are understood to contain mysteries (ןיזר), which must be

56

Sinding, “After Definitions,” 196.

57

Pavel N. Medvedev, The Formal Method in Literary Scholarship: A Critical

Introduction to Sociological Poetics (trans. A. Wehrel; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1978), 133.

58

I. Rabinowitz prefers to translate the term as “presage” (“Pesher/Pittaron: Its

Biblical Meaning and Significance in the Qumran Literature,” RevQ 8 [1973]:
218–32). Horgan gives a thorough summary of the etymology and then con-
cludes that “interpretation” is the best translation, provided the English word is
understood in the correct sense (Pesharim, 231–37).

59

The connection was first proposed by Karl Elliger in his study of the Habak-

kuk Pesher (Studien Zum Habakuk-Kommentar [Tübingen: Mohr, 1953]) and

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

355

interpreted (רשׁפ) by an inspired interpreter in order to have its true
meaning revealed. Just as Daniel is able to interpret the mysteries of
Nebuchadnezzar’s vision through special revelation from God, so the
writers of the pesharim claim to interpret the mysteries of the prophetic
writings through similar special insight.

This understanding of the relationship between text and interpreter

finds further support in what the pesharim say about themselves, if we
can take Habakkuk Pesher as representative of the genre as a whole in this
regard:

At my station shall I stand, and I shall post myself at my fortification,
and I shall watch to see what he says to me and what [he answers
regar]ding my objection. And Yhwh did answer me, [and he said:
“Write the vision and make it pl]ain upon the tablets so that he can
run [who reads it”]. (Hab 2:1–2)

[Its interpretation . . .] . . . and God told Habakkuk to write down the
things that are going to come upon the last generation, but the fulfill-
ment of the period he did not make known to him. And when it
says, “so that he can run who reads it,” its interpretation concerns the
Righteous Teacher, to whom God made known all the mysteries of
the words of his servants the prophets. (1QpHab 7:1–5)

60

Several aspects of this text are worth noting. (1) The writer of the
Habakkuk Pesher views the biblical prophecies of Habakkuk as words
given by God to the prophet concerning events in the time of the
Qumran community.

61

(2) The words of the prophets contain “mysteries”

(יזר) which only God can “make known” (ועידוה) to an interpreter.

62

(3) There is one specially endowed interpreter, here identified as the

subsequently developed by numerous scholars. The history of scholarship is sum-
marized by Horgan (Pesharim, 252–59).

60

Maurya P. Horgan, “Habakkuk Pesher (1QpHab),” in Pesharim, Other

Commentaries, and Related Documents (ed. J. H. Charlesworth; PTSDSSP 6B;
Tübingen/Louisville: Mohr Siebeck/Westminster John Knox Press, 2002), 173.

61

In this regard, we might also consider 1QpHab 2:9–10, which Horgan

reconstructs as “his servants the prophets by [whose] hand God enumerated all
that is going to come upon his people and up[on] his congregation]” (Horgan,
Pesharim, 13).

62

It is not clear from the passage (“but the fulfillment of the period he did

not make known to him”) whether the true significance of the Habakkuk’s

356

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

Righteous Teacher, to whom God reveals “the mysteries of the words” of
the prophetic text.

63

These three observations, taken together with the connections between

רשׁפ and vision interpretation, enable us to reconstruct the idealized cog-
nitive model shaping the pesher genre; that is, the understanding of text
and world which unites the individual elements into a Gestalt structure
capable of conveying meaning. Horgan has already identified this Gestalt,
though she does not term it such, when she writes that

[T]he picture that emerges from the texts themselves is that the
pesher is an interpretation made known by God to a selected inter-
preter of a mystery revealed by God to the biblical prophet concern-
ing history.

64

It is only within this cognitive framework that the individual elements of
the pesharim unite as a Gestalt structure to convey meaning and thus form
a genre.

With this final observation about the cognitive structure of the pesha-

rim, it is possible to propose a cognitive model of the pesher genre: Pesher
is a genre of biblical interpretation in which the prophetic passages of the
Bible are viewed as mysteries of God (ןיזר) concerning history contempo-
rary to the author of the pesher; as such, the biblical text is understood to
be properly interpreted only by one specially endowed by God to unravel
(רשפ) its meaning. The interpretation, so understood, consists of a Gestalt
structure in which: (1) the scriptural citation is linked to (2) a contempo-
rary referent by means of (3) an interpretation understood as an “unravel-
ing” of “mysteries,” generally (though not always) introduced by the
technical term רשפ. This Gestalt structure may be supplemented by other
“default features,” both formal and exegetical as enumerated above, but
an individual text need not display them in order to participate in the
pesher genre. An individual text displaying more default features may be

prophecies were hidden from the prophet himself, or whether Habakkuk under-
stood their significance but not the time of the last generation.

63

The pesher seems to presume that its own interpretation preserves the

mysteries made known to the Righteous Teacher. It is not clear whether the text
purports to have been written by the Righteous Teacher himself, or whether God
is understood to reveal the mysteries of the texts to other interpreters following
in the line of the Righteous Teacher.

64

Horgan, Pesharim, 229.

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

357

considered a more central member of the genre, while a text evincing the
Gestalt structure with none of the default features would still be consid-
ered as a peripheral participant in the genre at the fuzzy boundaries of the
radial category.

The “Fuzzy Boundaries” of the Genre

Our cognitive model of the genre of pesher has produced a radial category
extending outward from a set of central texts that display not only the
Gestalt features of the genre but also many of its default features. Even
within this set of fifteen, we may witness some gradation of participation
in the genre, with texts evincing a high frequency of default features (such
as 1QpHab, for instance) residing close to the center of the genre while
those with fewer default features (4QpPs

b

, for example) further from

the center, yet still clearly recognizable within the genre. As we extend
beyond these fifteen core texts, however, we begin to encounter another
set of texts whose participation in the genre is disputable, most notably
the so-called “thematic pesharim” (11QMelch, 4QFlor, 4QCatena

a

, and

4QCatena

b

), “isolated pesharim” that occur in texts of a different literary

genre (e.g., CD 7:14–19, CD 9:5–13, and 1QS 8:13–15), and other
forms of Early Jewish interpretation such as “midrash,” which is some-
times thought to overlap over even encapsulate the pesher genre.

“Thematic Pesharim.” The term “discontinuous” or “thematic pesha-

rim” (“pesher discontinu” or “pesher thématique” ) was coined by Jean Car-
mignac to describe what he understood to be a type of pesher in which
the selection of biblical passages was not a continuous progression through
one prophetic text but rather a diversity of thematically related texts cho-
sen by the author.

65

In the case of 11QMelch, the focus of his study, Car-

mignac argued that the author selected passages to support a central
theme, in this case the deliverance of the just from the reign of Belial.
Carmignac identified what he took to be similar thematic approaches to
pesher in 4QFlor, 4QCatena

a

, and 4QCatena

b

, thereby establishing what

he took to be a subgenre of midrash, which he termed “thematic pesha-
rim.” More recently, Timothy H. Lim has challenged the coherence of the
“thematic pesharim” as a subgenre, noting that while 11QMelch does

65

Jean Carmignac, “Le Document de Qumrân sur Melkisédek,” RevQ 7

(1969–71): 342–78.

358

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

indeed seem to have a coherent organizing theme, the same cannot be
said of 4QFlor or 4QCatena

a–b

.

66

Lim has put forth a counterproposal,

suggesting that texts like 4QCatena

a

are better understood as excerpta,

short collections and interpretations of biblical texts for personal use, gen-
erally lacking a coherent theme.

67

Lim thus rejects the sub-genre of the-

matic pesharim, concluding that “if the sub-genre of ‘thematic pesher’
describes any text at all, it would be 11QMelch, since there is a promi-
nent theme in the text. The other scrolls considered under this secondary
category do not exhibit the same thematic clarity and may have been
loose collections of biblical excerpts with short comments.”

68

In my estimation, Lim is correct to reject the “thematic pesharim” as a

coherent subgenre of pesher. This does not mean, however, that these texts
are necessarily to be excluded from the pesher genre altogether. Based on
our cognitive model of the pesher genre, we can clearly see how these
texts participate, to a greater or lesser degree, in the genre of pesher. In
particular, 11QMelch displays all of the compulsory and many of the
default features of pesher as we have defined it, notably lacking only the
default feature of a continuous, verse-by-verse treatment of the biblical
text. Thus, 11QMelch, while not being as central a participant in the
genre as many of the continuous pesharim, nonetheless seems clearly to
fall within the genre of pesher. The case for texts such as 4QCatena

a

is

somewhat less clear. If Lim is correct that 4QCatena

a

is a collection of

individual pesher interpretations rather than a coherent text in its own
regard, then it is questionable whether one can speak of it as belonging to
the genre of pesher rather than simply employing pesher as a mode of exe-
gesis within another distinct genre, such as a private collection of excerpta.
At most, we may suggest that these texts participate partially in multiple
genres, related distantly to the pesher genre, but taking shape within a dif-
ferent generic form.

“Isolated Pesharim within Other Genres.” The distinction between

pesher as genre and pesher as mode of interpretation may gain clarity within
a discussion of a second set of disputed texts, those identified by Devorah
Dimant as “isolated pesharim.” By this term, Dimant refers to the use of
the exegetical techniques familiar from the pesharim “within a work of

66

Lim, Pesharim, 46–47.

67

Timothy H. Lim, Holy Scripture in the Qumran Commentaries and Pauline

Letters (Oxford: Clarendon, 1997), 156–58.

68

Lim, Pesharim, 53.

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

359

nonpesher genre.”

69

She refers specifically to 1QS 8:13–16 as well as a

number of texts within the Damascus Document (3:20–44, 4:13–19,
6:3–11, 7:10–21, 8:8–15, and 19:7–13. While Dimant seems to recog-
nize that “isolated pesharim” do not properly constitute a genre but rather
a mode of interpretation “within a work of nonpesher genre,” the distinc-
tion may benefit from some clarification.

From time to time in the scholarly discourse, an uncritical insistence

on the static nature of genres and the uniqueness of particular generic
markers to specific genres has resulted in a confounding of genres. In the
current case, the identification of elements of the pesher genre (the cita-
tion of prophetic texts, the employment of the רשפ terminology, or con-
temporizing exegesis) may lead scholars to posit that the text necessarily
belongs to the genre of pesher. Genre theory suggests to us, however, that
genres do change, and that “the combination of repertoires is one of the
most obvious means of generic change.”

70

That is to say, elements of a

generic repertoire that develop within one genre may be taken up into
another genre and adapted to the ends of that genre. For current pur-
poses, we need not speculate as to the direction of influence—whether
the pesher mode of interpretation expanded into the pesher genre or vice
versa—but only to note that texts of diverse genres can deploy the pesher
mode of interpretation as part of their generic repertoires without them-
selves becoming generically pesharim.

71

Thus, we should not consider the

“isolated pesharim” to be a unique genre, but rather recognize that the
pesher mode of exegesis has influenced the generic repertoires of CD
and 1QS.

“Other Forms of Early Jewish Literature.” As noted earlier, the integ-

rity of pesher as a distinctive genre has at times been challenged because
of its similarity to other forms of Early Jewish literature, notably midrash.
While defining the genre of midrash is an exceedingly complicated dis-
cussion in its own regard, the cognitive analysis above allows us to make
at least two points of distinction between pesher and other forms of liter-
ature. First, pesher and midrash have tended to be confounded because
they share similar exegetical techniques. However, as I have argued, the
sharing of exegetical techniques between two texts or sets of texts does not

69

Devorah Dimant, “Pesharim, Qumran,” ABD 5:244–51 (quotation from 245).

70

Alastair Fowler, “Transformations of Genre,” in Modern Genre Theory (ed.

D. Duff; New York: Longman, 2000), 234.

71

See again the contribution of Benjamin G. Wright to this issue.

360

R. Williamson, Jr. / Dead Sea Discoveries 17 (2010) 336–360

in itself indicate that the texts belong to the same genre. Rather, generic
convergence is indicated only when those exegetical techniques are ani-
mated within compatible idealized cognitive models of reality. If it is true
that “every genre has its methods and means of seeing and conceptualiz-
ing reality,”

72

then texts that embody markedly different conceptualizations

of reality do not belong to the same genre, despite similarities at the level
of technique. This brings us to the second point, which is that the con-
ceptualization of reality embodied by the pesher genre understands the
biblical text to preserve concealed mysteries whose secrets are revealed by
God to a specially endowed interpreter within the community of inter-
pretation through a promise related to dream interpretation. Pesher ought
not be confounded with other forms of Early Jewish literature that do not
embody this same idealized cognitive model, no matter how similar their
exegetical techniques may appear.

72

Medvedev, The Formal Method, 133.

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