Hosea 11: Between Warmth and Wrath

The poem in Hosea 11 is resplendent with metaphorical terminology, continuing prior themes in the book, specifically God’s concern for his chosen nation-child, Israel, and Israel’s idolatrous and rebellious nature. While the framework of the parent-child relationship in Hosea 11 is evident in the text, signifying an intimate connection between God and Israel, the phraseology is bewildering, especially in the MT version, leaving the implications of this union rather ambiguous. The reader remains uncertain about how God raises the child, what the child’s role in the relationship is, and the extent to which the child has a voice and free will within the relationship, or is required to obey without compromise.

The poem begins with an allusion to Israel being called out of Egypt (Hos 11:1), pointing to the exodus narrative as the people’s early childhood and the beginning of their relationship with God. The stage of childhood is further contemplated through a depiction of God teaching the son-nation —now called EphraimFootnote ² —how to walk, taking them (now in the plural) in their arms, and pulling them with “cords of human kindness” (according to NRSVue; cf. MT בחבלי אדם, “with cords of a human”) and “bands of love” (vv. 3–4).Footnote ³

This positive reminiscence of Israel’s childhood continues with phrases that are not fully clear on their own. God describes himself as “lifting a yoke” (מרימי על) upon the children’s “cheeks” (לחיהם), and mentions an action in hiphil, אוכיל (אכל, “to eat”), directed toward the children (v. 4). Added to this lack of clarity is an ambiguity surrounding the children’s behavior, as the second verse of the poem already conveys their disappointing nature, indulging in apostasy and idolatry: “sacrificing to the Ba’als, and offering incense to idols” (11:2b),Footnote ⁴ implying that the children are neither supposed nor permitted to freely exercise religious belief and practice.

A possible consequence of the people’s disappointing behavior is stated in verse 5, in the vague declaration regarding the people’s international relationships: “They shall [MT: not] return to the land of Egypt, and Assyria shall be their king” (v. 5a). Does the first half of the sentence, with the negation in the Hebrew MT, mean that the people will not return to the land of Egypt, thus conveying a message of protection? Or, as conservatively read and translated, does the sentence, rather than indicating a negation, refer to the penal threat of returning to Egyptian subordination? The latter option adheres with other pronouncements of Hosea, conveying that “they shall return to Egypt” (8:13, 9:3, 6), and thus places Egypt in parallel to the king of Assyria to whom the people are to be subjected (11:5).Footnote ⁵ This reading follows the Greek “revocalization” of the MT negation לא by using the preposition לו, “to him,” which fits better with the message of the verse (αὐτῷ. κατῴκησεν [seperating “to him” from the following verb “dwelled. . . in Egypt”).Footnote ⁶ This indeed is the tone of the next verse, reporting that God’s sanctions are already in play, afflicting carnage in the people’s cities (v. 6). A justification for this is subsequent in the depiction of the people’s tendency to turn their back on God, “My people are bent on turning away from me” (v. 7a).Footnote ⁷

Yet, this dynamic is followed by a comforting development: God’s “heart recoils within” him, and his “compassion grows warm and tender” (v. 11:8b). The poem recounts God’s intimate struggle and deliberation as part of his contemplation of the appropriate reaction. Consequently, he declares that he will not yield to his anger and will not destroy Ephraim, recognizing that such an action would signify a mortal weakness. God chooses to forego destruction, acknowledging that he is a deity “and no mortal [MT: man, איש],” a “holy one” in their midst and “will not come in wrath (alternatively: in the city)” (ולא אבוא בעיר, v. 9).Footnote ⁸ The statement concerning God’s immortality also implies that he is not bound by human law, such as that found in Deut 21:18–21, which stipulates that a rebellious son should be brought to trial for death by his own parents. God does not adhere to this law; he chooses to forgive or to punish only temporarily (since nothing prohibits him from doing either), declaring that he will not annihilate Israel.Footnote ⁹

Following the divine compassion, one could imagine that God has pacified his anger. However, the final verses reveal that expectations of the people/children persist: they are still expected to return swiftly to God, like birds flying from Egypt and Assyria (v. 11),Footnote ¹⁰ trembling with fear (יחרדו, vv. 10, 11).

This will happen as God will roar like a lion (v. 10), and as a result, he will “return them to their homes” (v. 11), fulfilling their intimate connection.Footnote ¹¹ This complex tone continues in a twelfth verse (11:12) that appears in most English translations [MT: Hos 12:1]. The verse reports that God is disappointed with Ephraim and the house of Israel, as they have betrayed him, and only Judah has remained faithful. The content of the LXX version of this verse, however, reflects a different message: that both Ephraim and Judah have disappointed God with falsehood (ψεύδει) and ungodliness/disrespect (ἀσεβείαις), yet God knows them now and they shall be called God’s holy people.Footnote ¹²

The narrator presents a god of a somewhat inconsistent and paradoxical nature. Although occasionally compassionate, he is easily riled, led by radical decisions such as sending the people into subjugation under foreign authorities. This dialectical depiction raises questions regarding the portrayal of this deity as a parent: what parental characteristics are ascribed to his divine roles? What kind of relationship does he establish with his offspring? And what are the consequences regarding the children’s fate? A comparison with sonship and parental imagery in ancient Near Eastern mythology and political policies may shed light on the complex character of the deity reflected in the theology of Hosea 11.

Divine Birth as Chosenness in the ANE

The concept of a god as a father is not exclusive to the Hebrew Bible. Discoveries from the ancient Levant and neighboring cultures indicate that parental imagery played a significant role in establishing the status of kings and rulers. In ancient Egyptian traditions, divine names were used to signify the divine origin of succeeding rulers, thereby validating their reign.Footnote ¹³ The most explicit claims of divine origin date from the New Kingdom period,Footnote ¹⁴ during which this conviction was transmitted through narratives detailing the circumstances of divine derivation, either as generated or adopted by a deity. One well-known example is the account of Queen Hatshepsut, who was portrayed as the biological offspring of Amun. The story of her mother being impregnated by Amun served to validate Hatshepsut’s reign, especially given the unconventional nature of her position as a female monarch who co-reigned with the designated heir, Thutmose III, rather than following the typical lineage.Footnote ¹⁵ Amenhotep III, belonging to the same dynasty, was also believed to be a divine product of Amun from birth, a belief reinforced by the performance of the ka rituals at the celebration of the Feast of Opet.Footnote ¹⁶ These narratives provided explanations for the kings’ elevated positions, reinforcing their uniqueness.Footnote ¹⁷

Scholars are divided on whether these kings were considered divine themselves, namely whether they were believed to embody full divine nature.Footnote ¹⁸ For instance, in the case of king Akhenaten, who claimed true divinity, he possibly identified himself with the god Aten.Footnote ¹⁹ Other scholars contend that the prevailing belief was not that the living king possessed divine nature or was a god incarnate on earth. Instead, they suggest that the common perception was that the king held a divine office temporarily, serving as a figurative and transient embodiment of eternity.Footnote ²⁰ However, as Collins and Collins maintain, it is notable that the pharaohs’ claims to divine status were taken seriously: “the pharaoh was claimed to be divine from birth, even if this was proclaimed retroactively when he came to the throne.. . . The language of sonship does have mythical overtones, and clearly claims for the king a status greater than human.”Footnote ²¹ The affirmation that the king is the son of god ensured he was not regarded as an ordinary mortal. This special kinship with the divine specifically secured him a destiny after death. In turn, this affirmed the image of the kings as mediators between the earthly and the divine spheres, or possibly as actual manifestations of the gods on earth.

The Egyptian concept of kings as sons of deities spans from the Old Kingdom to the period when Egypt was under Roman rule.Footnote ²² Already the ancient worship of Ra (Re)—one of the most important deities in Egyptian belief—included the tradition of regarding the Egyptian king as “the Son of Ra.”Footnote ²³ Evidence from the fourth dynasty, during the reign of Djedefre, illustrates that belief in the king’s human limitations coexisted with belief in his divine origin and nature.Footnote ²⁴ Von Lieven suggests that this tradition served as a strategy to legitimize impostors to the throne, as seen in the tales of the Papyrus Westcar.Footnote ²⁵ During the First Intermediate Period, the title “Son of Ra” was placed before the cartouche. This practice continued into the Middle Kingdom and became a permanent feature of the king’s birth name.Footnote ²⁶ The epithet indicated that upon coronation, the king had ascended to the divine realm as the son of the god.Footnote ²⁷ Nuzzolo surveys the kings of this era who secured dynastic legitimacy through continuity and connection with their proclaimed ancestors while each presenting themselves as the sole legitimate son of Ra, with whom they would be reunited in the afterlife.Footnote ²⁸

A quotation from the tomb of vizier Rekhmire, a high-ranking official of the eighteenth dynasty, helps to grasp the image and status of the divine king: “He is a god by whose dealing one lives, [he is] the father and mother [of all men], alone by himself, without an equal.”Footnote ²⁹ The king’s divine derivation granted him an authority and capability in which he could act as the people’s father and mother. The king’s primary function was to uphold “Ma’at”—the sublime cosmic order established at creation and before the emergence of humanity, comprising the virtues of truth, justice, harmony, order and morality.Footnote ³⁰ Ma’at was provided by the gods and destined to be preserved eternally, but the king was responsible to ensure that his people acted accordingly. This idea resonates with the biblical concept that the people of YHWH are obliged to uphold irrefutable divine laws, to be kept and practiced for generations.

The Assyrian ethos had a similar vision of a divine council, with Aššur as the main deity, ruling over gods and humanity.Footnote ³¹ According to the Assyrian belief, kings were appointed as Aššur’s vice-regents and ruled on his behalf, sometimes incorporating the god’s name into their own. Such was Aššurbanipal (trans. “Aššur is the creator of the heir”),Footnote ³² who acknowledges the goddess who bore him and the other goddess who formed him into creation, both justifying his kingship and successful reign.Footnote ³³ A narrative of Aššurbanipal also recounts his nurturing and breastfeeding in infancy by a goddess.Footnote ³⁴

The conviction regarding the nature of the Assyrian kings as divinely chosen (by a certain god or a divine council) was often accompanied by their practice of seeking divine guidance and advice, while acknowledging their mortality in their quest to secure earthly empowerment.Footnote ³⁵ An inscription of Tukulti-Ninurta I declares him as “chosen of Aššur, vice-regent of Aššur, attentive shepherd, favorite of the gods. . . whom they gave the four quarters [of the world] to administer, the attentive one, appointee of the gods.”Footnote ³⁶ This notion of divine birth justified the king’s elevated status in the eyes of the nation, ensuring that provision and security were granted to them by virtue of his divine status. This idea finds a parallel in the use of familial metaphors in the Hebrew Bible, where kings who honor God are praised, and the nation, considered God’s son, holds a heightened status.

Divine Birth or Adoption in the Hebrew Bible

Spieckermann identifies the Egyptian concept of a king generated by divine derivation in the biblical idea concerning the origin of king David and the house of David.Footnote ³⁷ The statement in Psalm 2, “You are my son; today I have begotten you” (v. 7), supposedly indicates the king’s birth by God. However, this reading should be reconsidered, as the statement regarding the anointed king does not declare an actual begetting. Rather, it depicts the moment of the monarch’s selection for kingship, using the word “today,”Footnote ³⁸ and not the moment of production per se.Footnote ³⁹ Similarly, God’s declaration regarding David in 2 Sam 7:14, “I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me,” does not attest to birth, but rather to God’s intention of choosing and adopting, thus granting David authority and ensuring a continuous dynasty (e.g., Ps 89:26–29; though cf. vv. 31–33).

One possible allusion to divine birth may be attested in the LXX version of Ps 110:3, with ἐξεγέννησά σε, meaning “I have begotten you.” The Greek verb can be retroverted to Hebrew as the verb form in Ps 2:7, which shares the same consonants of the MT noun in Ps 110:3 ילדתיך (your youth), but differs in the vowels (cf. ). The MT version therefore avoids what reads better in the context of the verse, given the reference to the “womb” (רחם, γαστήρ), namely, the language of birth as preserved in the LXX: “From the womb, before the morning star, I brought you forth” (LXX 109:3; cf. MT Ps 110:3). Nonetheless, except for this occurrence, associations unifying David with divine birth are rather scarce.

Similarly elusive in the Hebrew Bible is the idea that God is the biological origin of the people of Israel. References that could be seen as alluding to God’s birthing capabilities are primarily located in Second and Third Isaiah (Isa 42:14, 45:10, 49:15, 66:7–12; cf. Num. 11:12), but they do not conclusively establish God as the nation’s actual generator. Scholars have indeed dedicated considerable attention to this possibility, suggesting a theological and political shift in the perception of the deity within the context of the Persian period and on the cusp of the return to Zion. As a result, the traditional depiction of the biblical male deity is thought to have incorporated feminine and maternal characteristics.Footnote ⁴⁰ Nevertheless, this proposition has also sparked passionate opposition,Footnote ⁴¹ including my own work, which raises doubts about the feasibility of scribes envisioning a deity with inherent feminine and maternal qualities.Footnote ⁴²

In the apparent absence of a birthing process, the act of taking Israel under God’s care assigns God a parental role through adoption. God’s adoption of Israel as a son elevates the significance of the nation, similar to that of a privileged king with divine origins. However, as with biological derivation, the adopted dependent, Israel, also has no say in the identity of the caregiver. In the case of Hosea 11, God’s unilateral act of calling Israel to be his son (v. 1) does not offer the latter a choice; Israel does not choose God as their father. The bond lacks mutual agreement or any conditions presented by the child to the parent.Footnote ⁴³

Yet, despite the ambiguity of Hosea 11, the prophecy considers the sonship status as a blessing for the child, marked by the bestowal of physical and emotional provisions. This is evident through the expressions of God’s love (vv. 1, 4), his steadfast commitment to Israel (v. 8), and his willingness to forgive and offer a second chance (v. 8), thus restraining his anger and refraining from harming the nation (v. 9). This conceptual framework helps decipher some of the more obscure language in the depiction of God’s approach to the son. One such peculiar expression is found in verse 4, which includes the terms “yoke,” “cheeks,” and “eat” in hiphil. These can be understood as indicating the benefits bestowed upon the nation due to their status as an adopted son. With the confirmation of their adoption, the nation, as God’s son, is entitled to an exclusive status, akin to the traditional perception of the Egyptian monarch, considered as the god’s offspring.

Nonetheless, in contrast to the Egyptian familial imagery, where the king is a singular, transient figure, the biblical portrayal presents the nation as a collective child with whom the deity maintains a close and continuous relationship. This imagery of preferential treatment for the group supports an ideology of entitlement, empowers the group’s identity, and enhances the connection between its members. Nevertheless, most biblical prophecies that employ this metaphor also emphasize that the familial relationship does not tolerate all forms of behavior by the offspring. Thus, their divinely chosen status as sons holds them accountable for their conduct and disobedience.

While the responsibility of an Egyptian divine son is to maintain cosmic order, the role of Israel as a divine son centers on upholding God’s order, primarily through reverential fear and obedience to him (e.g., Hos 11:7, 10; cf. v. 2). An Egyptian king performs his duty as part of his status and is not frequently criticized by his divine father. Whether he succeeds or not, he is promised reunion with the gods upon death. Israel, as a divine son, is treated differently. God may sever the connection whenever he deems it necessary (e.g., Hos 11:6), based on the son’s behavior and obedience (v. 5b). Consequently, the portrayal of Israel as a divine son appears to be more akin to that of an ancient Near Eastern vassal than to that of a divine Egyptian or Assyrian king.

Vassalage in the ANE and the Chosen Son’s Predicament

Covenant-making in the ANE brought forth “fictive kinship” for securing agreements between equal or unequal powers.Footnote ⁴⁴ In cases of unequal partnership, this typically involved either the annexation of the weaker or permission for it to persist in a vassalic position—an arrangement that entailed both privileges and obligations stemming from loyalty to the stronger power.

Typically, a suzerain allowed his vassal to maintain power over his own people, yet he legally owned the vassal’s land and produce. Accordingly, the vassal was obliged to deliver periodic tributes to the suzerain. In this alliance, the suzerain was responsible for providing military assistance when the vassal’s territory was in danger. A vassal could not form a treaty with any other suzerain and was expected to remain loyal to only one. If he broke the treaty, the vassal was subject to harsh, and even fatal, consequences, including losing his land grant.Footnote ⁴⁵ For instance, in the treaty between Muršili and his vassal Duppi-Teshub, king of the land of Amurru, Duppi-Teshub refused to pay tribute, and angered Muršili. Consequently, Muršili commanded, “Do not turn your eyes to anyone else!” and vowed that the “gods of the oath” would destroy him along with everything he possessed, including his family and land.Footnote ⁴⁶

This political power dynamic between vassals and suzerains was frequently represented using the father-son metaphor. When King Ahaz of Judah perceived the imminent threat of an uprising, he turned to Tiglath Pileser, the Assyrian king, for refuge and protection. In doing so, he described his submission to Tiglath Pileser as that of his “servant and his son” (2 Kgs 16:7).Footnote ⁴⁷ Similarly, a fourteenth century treaty between Shattiwaza, the Hurrian king of Mitanni, and the Hittite king Suppiluliuma I, established a fatherly relationship, in which Shattiwaza became a vassal. The treaty states: “[The great king] grasped me with [his ha]nd … and said: when I will conquer the land of Mitanni. . . I shall make you my son, I will stand by (to help in war) and will make you sit on the throne of your father.”Footnote ⁴⁸ Likewise, the Hittite king, Ḫattušili I, formed a paternal connection with Labarna, declaring that young Labarna “shall sit on the throne [since] I, the king, called him my son.”Footnote ⁴⁹ As he was not Labarna’s biological father, this relationship was understood as a form of adoption. In the individual context, there is also the case of King Yarimlim of Alalaḫ, the son of Hammurabi, who was adopted by his brother Abba-El and given his name to legitimize Yarimlim’s kingship.Footnote ⁵⁰

The practice of adoption in the familial sphere is also evident in the Nuzi documents, which contain references to the expectations placed on the adopting father. Speiser, in his reexamination of the JEN 572 document, interprets phrases such as: “if PN [the adopted child] fails to show respect for PN2 [the adoptive father], then just as a man treats his son, so too shall PN2 treat PN,” suggesting that an adopted son bears both the responsibilities and privileges of a biological son. Speiser underlines that “the meaning … belongs to the general range of ‘to treat someone in a certain way.’ But it is a one-way street,”Footnote ⁵¹ signifying that the son cannot alter the terms and must accept the role of a son.

These examples testify to the prominent role of familial imagery in the political-diplomatic culture in the northern and eastern regions of the ANE. This is further supported by linguistic evidence, as diplomatic Sumerian and Akkadian accounts of the second millennium BCE incorporate familial concepts to describe political and international relationships. The Akkadian term abbūtu, meaning “fathership,” stands for suzerainty; mārūtu, denoting “sonship,” often conveyed the idea of vassalage; and aḫḫūtu, meaning “brotherhood,” implies an interstate relationship of parity, with mutual obligations.Footnote ⁵²

Unlike the Egyptian mythological conception of kingship, which casts the king as the literal child of a god, the use of familial imagery in the political-diplomatic culture of Mesopotamian contexts reflects far less engagement with the notion of divine power, and is primarily figurative. As Weinfeld has argued, familial terms function largely as a forensic metaphor—describing hierarchical relationships and obligations in the political sphere rather than conveying theological content.Footnote ⁵³ This metaphorical use aligns with a political system that encouraged multiple international alliances, with no exclusivity to a single vassal. Vassals were expected to demonstrate loyalty and uphold the diplomatic order in exchange for protection and military support. While a suzerain could maintain relationships with multiple vassals, each vassal was not permitted to pledge loyalty to more than one overlord.

These characteristics of vassalage can be partially observed in the relationship between God as father and Israel as son. Hosea 11 illustrates that Israel’s primary obligation is to serve God alone, who, in turn, bestows benefits upon them. Israel is expected to adhere to God’s laws and commandments, while God retains the freedom to act as he wishes. This includes the imposition of severe penalties when the son misbehaves, and in extreme cases, the possibility of disowning him.

God and Israel’s Relationship—The Sonship-Vassal Hybrid

Israel’s self-perception as the son of a deity encompasses the notion of being divinely chosen as God’s favored representative, bearing responsibility to exclusively follow God’s commandments, without the possibility of retracting this commitment. This familial metaphor is employed to depict the complex nature of the relationship, elevating the nation as a divinely adopted child while emphasizing its obligation to uphold the laws of the father-ruler and pass them on, willingly or not. Failure to do so would lead to dire consequences.

This dialectic is evident in Hosea 11. Initially, the son is unaware of the parent’s role in providing for his needs: “but they did not know that I healed them” (v. 3b). Despite this ignorance, God displays sympathy toward the son. However, the text later portrays the parent’s intense anger toward the child. While verse 5 begins with an ambiguous statement regarding the son’s future interactions with Egypt and Assyria, the second part of the verse clarifies the reason behind this outcome—the son’s misbehavior in refusing to return to God (using the same root, שוב, to describe the consequence: לשוב ונאמ יכ. . . לא ישוב, v. 5; cf. Jer 3:19). This statement reveals that the protection granted to the nation-child is not permanent and can be revoked.Footnote ⁵⁴

The son fails to “return” to the father-God, violating his required obligations. As indicated in verse 2, to “return” means to cease worshiping or serving other gods and to resume exclusive allegiance to God as the sole suzerain. In the context of vassalage, there can be only one lord. Consequently, the son faces repercussions in the form of a diplomatic crisis (v. 5): he will be subjected to foreign mortal rulers and forfeit his land grant. This situation also involves the destruction of cities (v. 6). The threats of land loss and destruction emphasize the “land grant” theme. Yet compassion may still be granted (vv. 8–9), offering a chance to restore the relationship with the Lord (v. 10) and a regaining of the land grant (v. 11b).

The sonship status of Israel, as portrayed in Hosea, is not immune to violation and retaliation, aligning more with the nature of a suzerain-vassal relationship. Protection is contingent upon fulfilling obligations, and these obligations are often enforced through intimidation. Consequently, the parent-God employs a pedagogy of roaring and frightening to make the child compliant to the parent’s authority (v. 10). The accompanying promise, “I will not again (לא אשוב) destroy Ephraim” (v. 9), reveals that God is entirely capable of such devastation, as was demonstrated in the past. While God commits to refraining from destruction, the possibility of it remains a looming threat. This pedagogical approach is justified at the beginning of the speech by portraying the child-nation as indifferent to upholding its part in the covenant-treaty (v. 2). This is considered the default situation, prior to the application of threats and terror.

As in cases where children rebel against their human parents (Deut 21:18–21), failure to uphold obligations to the divine parent can lead to severe consequences, meted out through various forms of retaliation. However, in Hosea’s perspective, God recognizes the child’s immaturity and limited capacity to obey (Hos 11:1–4). In contrast to Hosea, the prophet Isaiah portrays God’s lament that he has “reared children and brought them up, but they have rebelled against me” (Isa 1:2). These children are characterized as “offspring who do evil, children who deal corruptly,” and they have become “utterly estranged” (v. 4).Footnote ⁵⁵ Isaiah’s reproach reflects an uncompromising attitude toward the children’s disobedience, justifying corporal punishment in response to their rebellious behavior as children: “Why do you seek further beatings? Why do you continue to rebel?” (v. 5a). Consequently, when no other responsible caregiver is present to protect the offspring, they are left wounded and bruised, with no treatment available to help them recover from the parent’s punishment: “The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the foot even to the head, there is no soundness in it, but bruises and sores and bleeding wounds; they have not been drained, or bound up, or softened with oil” (vv. 5b–6).

This key characteristic in the image of divine sonship differs from the nature of the ANE monarchs as sons of a god. While the idea of national privileges is prevalent in biblical literature across various genres and sources,Footnote ⁵⁶ the concept of chosenness is interwoven with the idea of risk imposed by the deity, akin to a suzerain treaty. Certain texts that convey this message through the use of the father-son metaphor portray Israel as a vulnerable child, constantly exposed to the risk of losing its privileges.

Conditional Divine Sonship in Hosea 11

Egyptian mythology makes it clear that the kings, whether derived from divine birth or formed as human shells of divine status, bore the responsibility of maintaining cosmic order and rejoining the divine realm in the afterlife. In contrast, the biblical ethos of chosenness presents a different nature of divine sonship, entailing an elevated status coupled with the duty to serve and uphold exclusive divine laws. The biblical deity retains the right to sever the metaphoric umbilical cord and abandon the son should he stray to serve other deities. This implication is reflected in the prophecy in Hosea 11, where Ephraim, despite being designated as God’s son, is not immune to destruction. The text conveys that violence against the son has already occurred (Hos 11:6), as in other cities (v. 8), underscoring the potential loss of the nation, namely, the poem’s addressees. Levenson asserts, “In each case, Israel can violate the covenant; [but] they cannot nullify it.”Footnote ⁵⁷ However, this assertion does not guarantee that the deity cannot nullify the connection or that his commitment to Israel is eternal.Footnote ⁵⁸ The conditions accompanying the son’s position equate Israel’s destiny with that of a Mesopotamian vassal whose protection, and hence his very existence, depends on his suzerain. Within this imbalanced dependency the inferior party has no other choice. Indeed, the inclusion of conditions in the covenant underlies nearly all biblical prophecies, according to which Israel is obliged to obey without the option to question or consider the expectations placed upon them, while facing grave, even devastating, consequences for their disobedience.

Brueggemann asserts that the intimate familial affiliations employed in Hosea—both the spousal relationship (2:2–23) and the father-son connection (11:1–9)—illustrate a relationship of unwavering commitment, in which the deity displays a “surprising and unsettled mix of indignation and pathos.”Footnote ⁵⁹ However, in contrast to Brueggemann’s view, I contend that the text in Hosea 11 portrays the inescapability of the bond as one-sided only. While the child cannot escape the authority of the parent, the deity retains the right to sever the connection. This is evident in God’s decision to withhold further destruction (Hos 11:8–9), which demonstrates that, from his end, the connection is indeed breakable.Footnote ⁶⁰ This interpretation is bolstered by the parallels to the ancient Near Eastern vassalage system and its resonance with the Deuteronomic covenant, characterized by its conditional and fragile nature.Footnote ⁶¹

The potential for destruction looms, and the question arises: can the divine son avoid this grim fate? The relationship is marked by a persistent threat of annihilation, and yet God maintains this connection, even in the face of personal pain and anguish. In contrast to a mortal suzerain who might swiftly punish a rebellious vassal, God, being “not a man,” responds differently (11:9).Footnote ⁶² Notably, apart from this vassal, who is compelled to serve God as a great and powerful master, God has no other under his rule. Paradoxically, he depends on this sole vassal to fulfill his role as the master.

Ultimately, it is the father-son connection that moves God to waive the penalties incurred due to the violation of the relationship’s prerequisites. God’s willingness to safeguard the people’s lives is kindled by his recollection of earlier times, when he taught his son to walk, provided care and healing, guided with “bands of love,” and offered sustenance. These memories resonate with any parent watching their child become a noncompliant teenager.Footnote ⁶³