The Book of Genesis forms the bedrock of the Hebrew Bible, chronicling a perspective on the origins of the world, humanity, and the Israelite nation. Yet even these canonical stories have undergone reinterpretation over centuries of exegesis and creative re-readings. Among the most illuminating examples are the ancient Aramaic translations known as Targums. These expanded renderings of the Torah in the everyday vernacular aimed to make the scriptures more accessible. But they also subtly recast Genesis through evolved theological lenses.
Three distinct families of Targum provide vital insight into the shifting reception of the Genesis narratives across centuries: Onkelos, Neofiti, and Pseudo-Jonathan. Targum Onkelos represents an early complete rabbinic Targum of the Torah, solidifying interpretations that had arisen orally over the previous centuries. The fragmentary but crucial Targum Neofiti offers a window into likewise early Palestinian interpretative traditions dating back to the first centuries CE. Many details from Targum Pseudo-Jonathan come from later periods, containing traditions likely ranging from the early Common Era through the medieval period, despite its ostensible authorship. Together they demonstrate the remarkable generative power of the Genesis text, as subtle interpretative twists reflect emerging Jewish theological perspectives as well as ongoing dialogue with surrounding cultures and traditions.
These Targums reveal the vitality of Genesis read as scripture. While working and even wrestling with traditions represented by the Masoretic text, the Targumists felt compelled to expand upon cryptic episodes, explain perplexing details, and extract relevance for their own readers. At times they normalized bewildering passages, perhaps domesticating primordial chaos monsters like Leviathan to lessen mythic overtones. In other cases, they amplified notions of divine justice, revelation, and covenantal fulfillment through the Israelite nation. While cognizant of the language of the preceding text traditions, these Aramaic renditions added color and contour to sparse dialogue, explored metaphorical meanings, and connected events to larger theological frameworks.
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was without shape and empty, and darkness was over the surface of the watery deep, but the Spirit of God was hovering11 over the surface of the water. God said, “Let there be light.” And there was light! (Genesis 1:1-3)
From the beginning with wisdom the Memra of the Lord created and perfected the heavens and the earth. And the earth was waste and unformed, desolate of man and beast, empty of plant cultivation and of trees, and darkness was spread over the face of the abyss; and a spirit of mercy from before the Lord was blowing over the surface of the waters. And the Memra of the Lord said: “Let there be light” and there was light according to the decree of his Memra. (Targum Neofiti, Genesis 1:1-3)1
The opening verses of Genesis offer a spare, elemental account of God's creation of the heavens, earth, and light. The Targum Neofiti enriches this ancient song of creation with subtle yet profound embellishments. Most salient is the clarification that while God created the cosmos, it was specifically through the "Memra" or "Word" of God. As Martin McNamara has detailed, this concept of personified divine Wisdom had roots in earlier biblical texts like Proverbs. But Neofiti's use of Memra also profoundly prefigures the Gospel of John’s portrayal of Christ as the incarnate Word.
Neofiti also expands on the Genesis account more concretely. Where the Masoretic text tersely states "the earth was without shape and empty," Neofiti specifies further conditions: “the earth was waste and unformed, desolate of man and beast, empty of plant cultivation and trees.” Similarly, Neofiti adds “a spirit of mercy” to the breath of God hovering over primordial waters. These amplifications color in descriptive details, perhaps to make the spare creation story more vivid and meaningful.
Most importantly, by attributing the actualization of creation to an intermediary “Memra” or divine “Word,” Neofiti connects the cosmic origin stories to a concept of God’s creative power already percolating in Jewish thought, and likely connected to the later Christian conceptualization of the “Logos”. As Martin McNamara describes in this context, early interpreters like Jerome recognized how the opening of Genesis was similarly relevant for Christian theology.2 Thus through subtle exegetical shifts, Neofiti may bridge Genesis to both ongoing Jewish theological development and emerging Christian readings. The Targum shows how reinterpretation can illuminate interconnected strands of meaning both within and between faith traditions.
God said, “Let the water swarm with swarms of living creatures and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky.” God created the great sea creatures ... (Genesis 1:20-21)
And the Memra of the Lord said: “Let the waters swarm forth a swarm of living creatures, and birds that fly above the earth, across the air of the firmament of the heavens.” And the Lord created the two great monsters ... (Targum Neofiti, Genesis 1:20-21)3
The Genesis account of creation matter-of-factly states that God created great sea creatures on the fifth day. This sparse verse echoes earlier Canaanite myths involving menacing primordial sea monsters like Leviathan and Rahab, embodying the chaotic aquatic forces opposing God’s ordering of the cosmos. Targum Neofiti subtly enriches this description by specifically referencing “two great monsters” created by God amid the teeming swarms of the fifth day.
On one hand, this specification domesticates and normalizes the cryptic Genesis references to great sea creatures of mythic proportions. As Joseph Blenkinsopp details, later Jewish exegetical traditions would come to further defang these vestiges of cosmic struggle by depicting Leviathan as a food source for the righteous in the world to come.4 By openly recognizing the mythical sea creatures as part of God’s creation, Neofiti moves toward neutralizing their threatening undertones within the ordered cosmos.
However, Neofiti’s interpretive amplification also maintains the imagery of ominous primordial forces lurking in the background of creation. Identifying the enigmatic great sea creatures highlights that God’s ordering of the heavens and earth entailed an active triumph over a form of chaos. As Blenkinsopp describes, vague allusions to combative cosmic monsters persist in numerous Hebrew Bible texts, recalling a mythical combat with forces of disorder prior to creation. By transparently naming the legendary sea creatures, Neofiti acknowledges the lingering traces of this macrocosmic struggle behind Genesis 1 rather than fully suppressing their memory.
So, while starting to normalize these mythic beings within the created order, Neofiti’s echo also keeps their ominous symbolism alive. This negotiated treatment reveals the multivalence of the Targums, as they subtly reveal biblical ambiguities and multiple layers of possible meaning. The primordial sea creatures are allowed to remain part of the text’s imaginative landscape, their echoes neither fully silenced nor unambiguously incorporated.
After he became the father of Methuselah, Enoch walked with God for 300 years, and he had other sons and daughters. The entire lifetime of Enoch was 365 years. Enoch walked with God, and then he disappeared because God took him away. (Genesis 5:22-24)
And Enoch walked in the fear of the Lord, after he had begotten Methushelach, three hundred years, and begat sons and daughters. And all the days of Enoch were three hundred and sixty and five years. And Enoch walked in the fear of the Lord; and he was not; for the Lord took him and put him to death. (Targum Onkelos, Genesis 5:22-24)5
The Genesis account of Enoch's life and mysterious disappearance is sparse and cryptic, simply stating that "Enoch walked with God, and then he disappeared because God took him away." This pithy description became the focus of elaboration and reinterpretation in Second Temple literature seeking to illuminate Enoch's significance. As James C. VanderKam describes, the earliest extant example appears in the Book of the Watchers, situating Enoch as a primordial sage and visionary.6
Targum Onkelos provides a distinct understanding of this exegetical tradition, expanding the concise Genesis description to provide insight into Enoch's spiritual life and controversial end. Onkelos adds specificity by noting Enoch "walked in the fear of the Lord" for 300 years following Methuselah's birth, emphasizing his piety in terms familiar to later Jewish thought. But the most striking amplification is the blunt declaration that "the Lord took him and put him to death."
This departure from the usual treatment of the ambiguous Genesis account appears to respond to wider debates surrounding Enoch's fate. Various Enochic traditions emphasized his heavenly assumption and ongoing existence as an exalted angelic figure. But some early Christian interpreters like Tertullian rejected this, insisting God "translated" Enoch only through death. Onkelos forcefully endorses this latter view by explicitly saying God "put [Enoch] to death." This tradition counters any implications of deification or ongoing embodied life in heaven.
Onkelos' departure from the Genesis text shows how Targums often addressed specific doctrinal debates of their day even while translating ancient scriptures. Enoch's destiny had become contentious in Jewish and Christian thought. Asserting Enoch's death pushed back against emerging beliefs about bodily assumption and angelic transformation, which later mystical traditions fully developed. Thus, Onkelos grafted new meaning onto the spare biblical account to make an emphatic theological point through amplification. The Targum's elucidating expansions served both exegetical and polemical purposes, advocating particular interpretations against heterodox alternatives circulating at the time.
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days (and also after this) when the sons of God would sleep with the daughters of humankind, who gave birth to their children. They were the mighty heroes of old, the famous men. But the Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind had become great on the earth. Every inclination of the thoughts of their minds was only evil all the time. (Genesis 6:4-5)
Schamchazai and Uzziel, who fell from heaven, were on the earth in those days; and also, after the sons of the Great had gone in with the daughters of men, they bare to them: and these are they who are called men who are of the world, men of names. (Targum Pseudo-Jonathan Genesis 6:4)7
The notoriously confusing Genesis 6:4 reference to "Nephilim" born of mysterious unions between "sons of God" and "daughters of men" became a crucible for interpretive debate in ancient Judaism. This cryptic passage was deeply perplexing to early readers, sparking extensive speculation about its precise meaning. Targum Pseudo-Jonathan represents a seminal attempt to make sense of this enigmatic verse through creative interpretive translation.
Where Genesis tersely refers to shadowy “sons of God,” Pseudo-Jonathan substitutes specific names – “Schamchazai and Uzziel who fell from heaven.” This elucidation links the passage explicitly to accounts of fallen angels known from the Book of Watchers and wider Enochic lore. However, Pseudo-Jonathan avoids the potentially controversial term “angels of God,” instead interpreting them as “sons of the Great,” perhaps to avoid anthropomorphic implications.8
Nevertheless, by directly naming the angels involved in these cryptic primordial unions, Pseudo-Jonathan situates Genesis 6:4 firmly within exegetical traditions linking it to angelic rebellion in 1 Enoch and similar narratives. The Targum’s interpolation makes the genetic connection explicit where Genesis leaves it unspoken. This reflects wider trends in Second Temple literature toward elucidating obscure biblical references through expansive mythological frameworks.
At the same time, Pseudo-Jonathan maintains its own degree of ambiguity around the exact nature of these acts and their consequences. The Nephilim are described merely as “men of renown,” avoiding elaboration on their origins while preserving their aura of mystery. This negotiated approach shows how Targums incorporated extra-biblical traditions while shielding against heterodox extremes. Pseudo-Jonathan draws on wider speculative exegesis to make Genesis comprehensible, but resists the full mythicization found in texts like 1 Enoch. In grappling with biblical gaps, the Targum models an approach balancing revelation and reticence.
Then God said to Abraham, “As for your wife, you must no longer call her Sarai; Sarah will be her name. I will bless her and will give you a son through her. I will bless her and she will become a mother of nations. Kings of countries will come from her!” Then Abraham bowed down with his face to the ground and laughed ... (Genesis 17:15-17)
And the Lord said to Abraham, The name of Sara your wife shall not be called Sara, for Sarah shall be her name: and I will bless her, and I will also give you a son from her; and I will bless her, and assemblies and kings which have dominion over peoples from her shall be. And Abraham fell upon his face and rejoiced ... (Targum Onkelos, Genesis 17:15-17)9
As a final example in this brief collection, the dramatic annunciation of Isaac's birth in Genesis 17 contains a puzzling detail - Abraham "bowed down with his face to the ground and laughed" upon hearing that Sarah would bear a son. For millennia, interpreters have debated the meaning of this reaction. As Yair Lorberbaum discusses, early exegetes often viewed it as an expression of joy and humble disbelief at God's promise. Others, however, saw it as indicating doubt or cynicism. Targum Onkelos offers its own interpretation that shapes subsequent understandings.10
Where Genesis is ambiguous, Onkelos straightforwardly states Abraham "fell upon his face and rejoiced" when told of Isaac's coming birth. This decisive interpretation endorses Abraham's laughter as indicating overwhelming happiness and gratitude rather than skepticism. As Lorberbaum describes, this reading is affirmed by ancient sources from Jubilees to the Septuagint, and later by authoritative commentators like Rashi and Nachmanides.
By removing any shadow of doubt or irony around Abraham's response, Onkelos gives the passage a more straightforwardly positive meaning. This serves both narrative and theological purposes. Narratively, it spares Abraham any hint of dubious ingratitude that might mar the covenantal moment. Theologically, it protects God's prescience and justice, as Abraham accepts the revelation with faith rather than questioning it.
More fundamentally, Lorberbaum argues, declaring Abraham's unambiguous joy affirms God's goodness while also highlighting Abraham's humility. In Rashi's view, Abraham laughs in wonder that God would "do such kindness" after already blessing him so abundantly. This emphasizes God's beneficence while also framing Abraham as modestly awestruck that he should receive such grace. The Targum thus enriches the spare biblical text to highlight key virtues at the heart of the Abrahamic covenant.
The Targums frequently filter Genesis through later theological lenses, connecting its patriarchal histories to issues of later concern. Onkelos tackles debates over Enoch’s fate to emphasize his mortality, while Pseudo-Jonathan avoids anthropomorphic divine language. Neofiti links Genesis to evolving ideas of God’s personified Wisdom and Word that would later influence traditions as diverse as kabbalah to Christianity respectively. The Targums likewise reveal the intertextual growth of scripture.
They also help to highlight the multiplicity that has always dwelled within scriptural interpretation, even of a foundational text like Genesis. Through their creative readings and retellings, they show how authoritative tradition can nurture rather than restrict these later treatments. For as much as the Targums made Genesis their own, they also contributed to its enduring relevance. The text's generative and receptive power persists, as new questions and perspectives continue to reveal unexpected meanings. As the ancient Targums show, Genesis remains alive through constant imaginative reinterpretation.
McNamara, Martin Targum Neofiti 1, Genesis (p. 52) Liturgical Press, 1992
Blenkinsopp, Joseph Creation, Un-creation, Re-creation: A Discursive Commentary on Genesis 1-11 (p. 38) T&T Clark, 2011
VanderKam, James C. From Revelation to Canon: Studies in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Judaism (p. 307) Brill, 2002
Reid, Philip Mark A Preliminary Investigation into the Samaritan Pentateuch as an Intralingual Translation (pp. 90-01) University of the Free State South Africa, 2021
Lorberbaum, Yair Yitshak and God’s Separation Anxiety (pp. 105-142) Journal of Jewish Thought & Philosophy, No., 2013