Reading The Slave without first reading the bible still makes for a good book, yet reading it after or concurrently with the bible creates an experience. The reader, who might have agreed stoically with Jacob’s thoughts, or cried at his path, can see the importance of the story if he has read the bible as well. The similarities go much deeper than the obvious congruent paths of biblical Jacob and slave Jacob. Even the philosophy of the book, the underlying texts and problems fit in perfectly with the message of the bible. This means that if one enjoys the philosophy of The Slave, they will probably commiserate with the meaning in the bible. (Old Testament)
Thus, The Slave has two purposes: firstly, it serves to illustrate the people of the bible, or those that follow the bible. It fills in lacuna not in the traditional sense, but because “everything remained the same: the ancient love, the ancient grief” (p 279), the trials and tribulations of Jacob’s biblical ancestors can be translated through generations to reach Jacob himself, with no significant change in human experience. This idea relates in a big way to Frye’s concept (and many others) of the type and antitype. This is not in the traditional Christian sense of the word. Instead, the idea of type and antitype represents the bible setting the stage for countless Israel people to carry out the message of the bible, not in an endless stream of boring repetition, but rather fulfilling their ancestor’s words.
Indeed, Jacob sins as his forefathers did, and puts words to the otherwise silent lips of his namesake, “He did not feel so much contrition as annoyance that he had been placed in a situation which made his sin possible” (p 79).
The second beautiful bit Singer infused in his writing—or was perhaps the purpose of his writing—was to somehow make the bible’s philosophies more accessible. Mentioned above, The Slave parallels the bible on both a shallow and a deep level, and does it while remaining a damn good read. The negative connotation many non-bible-reader place on the bible allows them to ignore the beauty of it, never picking it up, or only picking it up to scoff at its outdated ideals. Yet, as I have learned this past semester, the bible as a whole is anything but outdated, or primitive.
Frye writes of anamnesis, of remembering what we have forgotten, and metanoia, or repentance, an enlarged outlook on the dimensions of human life. In the bible, these serve as ways to understand apocalypse, and how to live unveiled, whether in this life or at the end, with fire and brimstone. In The Slave, these very same ideas are conveyed through Jacob, who again and again alludes to the unknown ways of god, and the vain ways of men. “Infinite worlds, angels, seraphim, mansions and sacred chariots surrounded man, but he did not see them because he was small and sinful and immersed in the vanities of the body” (p 61).
Jacob understands hebel, he understands god’s magnificent power, he understands men will always be trying to deny, abuse and take advantage of that power. He understands, as is accepted in the Judeo/Christian tradition, outlined by Frye, that salvation in this world cannot come through humanity alone, but must be accompanied by a god. “The record of human cruelty and folly is too hideous for anything but the sense of a corrupted will to come near to a diagnosis….Man has to fight his way out of history and not simply awaken from it” (Frye, p. 133).
Jacob assents.
“But now that Jacob observed this rabble he understood that some forms of corruption can only be cleansed by fire.” (p 57)
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