Creación  de  un  menú  de  ayuda

coherent unit. Thus, chapter 2 presupposes the introduction of Nebuchadnezzar, Daniel, and his friends as found in chapter 1.

Similarly, the golden image of chapter 3, erected in honor of the king, is related to the statue of chapter 2 in which the head of gold represents the king. The events of Belshazzar’s last night recorded in chapter 5 presuppose the story of Nebuchadnezzar in chapter 4, and the reign of Darius in chapter 6 takes for granted the fall of Babylon narrated in the previous chapter.

The court narratives introduce not only the figure of Daniel and his friends but also several of the major characters mentioned in the rest of the book. In a sense then, the stories set the scene and prepare the reader for the visions. The visions on the other hand presuppose the seer, the historical and geographical setting and important aspects of the message of the previous narratives. The kings Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Darius the Mede, and Cyrus occur in both halves. Indeed, while the stories describe Daniel’s career as extending over the period from the reign of Nebuchadnezzar to Cyrus (1:21; 6:28), it is not an historical narrative but rather a vision (chaps. 10–12) that is given in the time of Cyrus.

2. Common Themes. Several themes are common to both halves of the book. Passivism is enjoined upon God’s people throughout the book. Again, God is depicted as the supreme Ruler over against earthly rulers whose kingship is derived.

Human history, which the inspired prophet can reveal beforehand, is described as an outworking of divine providence.

Already in chapters 4 and 5 kings experience supernatural manifestations—one a dream, the other a mysterious handwriting—both of which are followed by interpretations.

Similarly, dreams are succeeded by detailed interpretations in chapters 2, 7, and 8. As pride precedes the fall in chapters 4 and

5, so the arrogance of the last enemy of God in chapters 7–8 and 10–12 leads to his judgment and destruction. Both chapters 4 and 5 record fulfillments of the predictions made by Daniel to his royal contemporaries. These in turn inspire confidence in the future fulfillment of the dreams and interpretations outlined in the visions.

3. Chronological Links. Chronological links also run across both halves of the book. Thus, the narratives span the period of Babylon and Medo-Persia (chaps. 1–6). Similarly, the visions, instead of continuing the chronological sequence from Medo-Persia onward, return instead to Babylon and repeat the pattern (chaps. 2, 7–12). Also significant for the pattern of chronology is the four-empire scheme—explicit in chapters 2 and 7 and implicit in chapters 8–12. This scheme details the reign of four consecutive world powers beginning with Babylon. It is evident, therefore, that the stories and visions are both woven together by the chronology of Daniel’s career and follow the same progress of history in parallel sequence.

4. Daniel 7 Interlocks the Book. Chapter 7 occupies a crucial and central place within the whole book. It interlocks the two blocks of material. It is grouped with the historical stories by language and symmetry and with the visions of chapters 8–12 by chronological sequence and content. We have already noted that chapters 2–7 are written in Aramaic (we will discuss later the symmetrical arrangement which unites these chapters). We have also seen that chapter 7 repeats the cycle of dates recorded in chapters 1–6 and mentioned that its literary form and content is most closely related to the visions of chapters 8–12.

Linguistic and thematic links between chapters 2, 7, and 8–12 further tend to indicate the cohesion of the two halves of the book. Words like “strong,” “iron,” “break,” and “fourth kingdom” (2:40; 7:7, 23) link chapters 2 and 7. On the other hand, locutions like “the four winds of heaven” (7:2; 8:8; 11:4),

“book(s)” of judgment (7:10; 12:1), and the unique expression

“people of the saints” (7:27; 8:24) bind together the last five chapters.

5. Unique Stylistic Features. Peculiar stylistic features reappear throughout the book. There is a certain penchant for lists of words. Various classes of wise men (2:2, 10, 27; 4:7; 5:7, 11); lists of royal officers (3:2, 3; 6:7) and instruments in Nebuchadnezzar’s orchestra (3:5, 7, 10, 15) are consistently repeated. The characteristic phrase “peoples, nations, … languages” bridges chapters 3–7 (3:4, 29; 4:1; 5:19; 6:25; 7:14).

Another subtle characteristic which recurs in chapters offering interpretations is the introduction or supplementation of details not explicitly mentioned in the dreams or visions (for example, 2:41–43 supplements 2:33; 4:33 adds a feature absent in the earlier dream; 7:21–22 enlarges the earlier vision with the introduction of the “saints”; and the interpretation of 8:19–25 supplements the vision of 8:3–14). Rowley draws attention to the fact that occasionally the symbolical and the real alternate in the book (such as in 4:14–17). Also certain “unevenness” and logic untroubled by occidental syllogism may be traced in several chapters of the book.⁵⁵

6. Literary Patterns. Some rarely recognized and hardly accidental structural features should be noted. In 1972 A.

Lenglet published a significant article on the literary structure of Daniel 2–7 in which he argued for a concentric symmetry of the Aramaic chapters.

Accordingly, chapters 2 and 7 fit like an envelope around chapters 3–6. Both chapters 2 and 7 record visions dealing with the history of empires and climax on one hand with a stone “cut from a mountain by no human hand” and on the other with an eternal kingship and dominion granted to a “man-like being”

and “the saints of the Most High” (2:34, 45; 7:13–14, 27). The next circle (chaps. 3 and 6) comprises two stories of deliverance,

namely, the salvation of Daniel’s friends from the fiery furnace and Daniel’s own rescue from the lion’s den. Within this circle again stand chapters 4 and 5 dealing with judgment on two Gentile kingdoms.

These same chapters may also be arranged in a literary form known as a chiasmus, a literary device that unifies a composition by arranging its corresponding parts in an inverted relationship to each other. See the following illustration:

A. Vision of world history (chap. 2)

B. Deliverance from the fiery furnace (chap. 3) C. Judgment upon a Gentile king (chap. 4) C′. Judgment on a Gentile king (chap. 5) B′. Deliverance from the lion’s den (chap. 6) A′. Vision of world history (chap. 7)

While it is impossible to demonstrate that this chiasm was deliberately drawn up, it hardly seems to be coincidental, particularly when one recognizes that similar structures occur in other chapters of this book.

Scholars who have dissected both the vision and the remainder of chapter 7 into several layers have missed the chiastic structures which hold this chapter together. Since we have discussed this feature in detail elsewhere, a summary of our analysis will suffice here. It is striking that—after a preliminary view of the earthly kingdoms (7:2b–3)—the vision flows in a sequence of units toward the climax. It then reverses the same thematic sequence as the following outline indicates:

A. First three beasts (vss. 4–6) B. Fourth beast (vs. 7)

C. Description of little horn including its loquacity (vs. 8) D. THE JUDGMENT (vss. 9–10 supplemented by the

second half in vss. 13–14)

C′. [Fate of] little horn and its loquacity (vs. 11a) B′. Fate of the fourth beast (vs. 11b)

A′. Fate of the first three beasts (vs. 12)

The chiastic structure of verses 4–14 with the judgment at its center first describes the measured rise of earthly powers before it traces their fate in exact inverse order in the second half of the chiasm. This structure clearly argues for a unity of the vision.

The fact that vss. 9–10 and 13–14 are in poetic meter in contrast with the surrounding prose already indicates that we have reached the vision’s apex.

In addition, there are three tableaux dealing with oppression, judgment, and kingship which are repeated throughout the chapter: oppression, judgment, and kingship; however, the colors and contours become more pronounced as the writer moves from one tableau to the next.

Several themes bind together these recurring structural patterns. One theme develops the vicissitudes of the oppressing force and the motif of kingship, while the other unfolds the importance of the judgment. On the one hand we see the deepening hues of the chief villain and his final doom; while on

the other hand kingship, which at first may have seemed afar off, becomes more and more of a reality.

The structures and thematic lines running through the chapter unite the materials in chapter 7. There is a delicately balanced plan and counterplay in the chapter which would only be disturbed by excisions. This then leads to the following outline of the whole chapter:

A. Prologue (vss. 1–2a) B. Vision (vss. 2b–14)

C. Seer’s reaction to the vision (vss. 15–16) D. Brief summary interpretation (vss. 17–18)

C′. Seer’s reaction to and elaboration of vision (vss.

19–22)

B′. Lengthy interpretation (vss. 23–27) A′. Epilogue (vs. 28)

W. H. Shea draws attention to another literary chiasm in the next chapter—8:9–12. In a discussion of horizontal and vertical dimensions of “apocalyptic” Shea notes a number of statements in chapter 8 concerning the activities of the little horn. Both the first and last activity describes the little horn on a horizontal plane (8:9b and 12c) while the other statements relate to the little horn’s vertical activity (vss. 10a–12b). Daniel 8:11 comprises the apex with a triad of statements about the “Prince of the host,” His tāmîḏ (“daily”) and the place of His sanctuary:

A. Horizontal (earthly) expansion of the little horn (vs. 9b) B. Vertical expansion (vss. 10–12b)

A′. Horizontal (earthly) expansion of the little horn (vs.

12c)

Other literary chiasms may be discerned in 9:24–27. In the introductory verse (vs. 24) the apex of the six bicola highlights the provision for sin:

A. “Finish the transgression, … put an end to sin,”

B. “Atone for iniquity, … bring in everlasting righteousness,”

C. “Seal both vision and prophet, … anoint a most holy place.”

Shea believes the Messiah is at the very center of 9:25–27 and suggests the following pattern:

A. Construction (vs. 25a) B. The Messiah (vs. 25b)

C. Construction (vs. 25c) D. The Messiah (vs. 26a) C′. Destruction (vs. 26b) B′. The Messiah (vs. 27a) A′. Destruction (vs. 27c)

While these literary patterns may not be the result of deliberate planning, they are nevertheless of significant interest in any discussion of the structure and unity of this book. The central elements in these structures draw attention to the theme of judgment, the conflict between the little horn and the “Prince of the host,” and the Messiah.

The book of Daniel also displays a discernable pattern in the language employed. Its change from Hebrew to Aramaic and back to Hebrew follows an A:B:A pattern which is also found in the book of Ezra. The literary device of enclosing a central section of a work with an envelop of a different style is also employed in the book of Job and the ancient Code of Hammurabi. Job begins with a prose prologue, continues with poetry and finishes with a prose epilogue. The seventeenth century B.C. laws of Hammurabi are composed in prose and enveloped by a semi-poetic introduction and conclusion.

Remarking on the books of Job and Daniel, C. H. Gordon

commented that “the possibility of an intentional ABA structure deserves earnest consideration and should deter us from hastily dissecting the text.”

No argument has so far been advanced which makes the original bilingual nature of the book of Daniel an impossibility.

Indeed, the chronological divisions of the book (chaps. 1–6 and 7–12), the separation into visions and historical narratives (chaps. 2, 7–12 and 1, 3–6), and sections in third- and first-person speech (broadly, chaps. 1–6, 7–12) interlock with the language changes in such a way as to defy any division.

Further, specific interrelationships within these strands may be observed in the fact that 7:1–2 and 10:1–2 begin the visions written as autobiographies with third-person reports. Thus they interlock biographical and autobiographical narratives. A similar interlocking is apparent in that the vision of chapter 2 is placed in the context of the historical narratives.

7. “Progressive Parallelism”. Most scholars recognize that the visions in the book parallel each other with later chapters progressively enlarging earlier chapters. Thus, chapter 2 is the least complex, while the visions in chapters 7, 8–9, 10–12 increase in complexity and detail. Though repeating the same general frame the revelation progresses within the series of visions. Baldwin describes this phenomenon as “progressive parallelism” and concludes that this is evidence “that the book must have been the work of one person, who planned the presentation of his theme with meticulous care.”

Conclusion

In sum, while the messages of the stories and visions are not identical, the relationship of the two sections of the book is more than merely one of literary combination or juxtaposition. There is an organic development in which the stories prepare for the

visions which makes it unlikely that the visions ever existed or were intended to exist without the historical sections. The narratives presuppose each other and the visions progressively parallel each other. Historical incidents are subtly selected and literary symmetry, chronological details, the two languages, and first- and third-person accounts integrate both halves.

Daniel 7, by virtue of its symmetry, language, chronological details, and contents links chapters 1–12. The linguistic, thematic, and unique stylistic features testify to a single mind and a Semitic mental habit undisturbed by modern western standards of logic and literature. We agree with Baldwin that

“the problem with composite authorship is that the book bears so little trace of the allegedly differing viewpoints. As a literary work, it manifests unity of purpose and design.”

As a symmetrical literary structure the book of Daniel consists of constituent parts, none of which are dispensable.

Earlier we noted the inadequacy of arguments against the unity of Daniel. This negative assessment appears to be justified by the structural links observable throughout the book. These point compellingly to single authorship for the book of Daniel.

It could be argued that an editor imposed this framework upon the book of Daniel as he assembled diverse materials into one volume. Though we cannot reject such a hypothesis out of hand, the peculiar and almost unconscious idiosyncrasies and stylistic features observed above tend to favor the notion that the book proceeded basically from one mind and pen.

Yet a word needs to be added. Even if multiple authorship is rejected, there are several features of the book that indicate it was not written at a single sitting. Except for chapters 10–12 each chapter in the book could stand by itself. Some chapters have their own introduction and conclusion (for example, 7:1, 28). While most chapters read like memoirs, chapter 4 is clearly a confession of Nebuchadnezzar written in the form of an open

letter which Daniel incorporated into his book. Most chapters are dated, enabling the reader to ascertain the year during which the events recorded occurred. Though 1:7 identifies Daniel with Belteshazzar, this is repeated in 2:26; 4:8–9, 19; 5:12, and 10:1.

Such a repetition of his identification may indicate originally independent accounts.

Daniel 1 begins with events dated to 605 B.C. but ends with a reference to Daniel’s ministry extending to the first year of Cyrus some 70 years later (vs. 21). This would indicate that chapter 1 might be a deliberate introduction written some time after the first year of Cyrus but before chapters 10–12. Daniel 10:1 places Daniel’s last vision into the third year of Cyrus—in the year 536/535 B.C. Though the dates given may not indicate the time when the individual chapters were reduced to writing, it is not impossible to speculate that they may have been recorded (at least in note form) shortly after the date given. Daniel may have kept these as a collection of memoirs.

The fact that Daniel uses Persian loanwords, particularly in the first half of the book, may further argue for the fact that the chapters were not written before (or at least were updated by) the time the Persian empire succeeded the Babylonian. At that period Daniel had resumed a high administrative post and was constantly in contact with his Persian colleagues. The dating of chapters 10–12 would place the last three chapters of the book some time after the first year of Cyrus, by which time chapters 1–9 may already have been collected.

In sum, if we assume that Daniel, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, compiled the book now known by his name toward the end of his life, by drawing together extracts from his memoirs and other selected materials, we can most easily explain a number of literary, linguistic, and chronological features noted above.

Our analysis of the structure of the book of Daniel has led us to conclude in favor of the book’s unity in which the constituent parts are all necessary to the structure as a whole. Given the argument for the unity of the book, we may further assume that this sixth century document presents a basically unified theology rather than a combination or juxtaposition of several contesting, if not contradictory, theologies. It is an examination of the theology of the book of Daniel to which we now turn.