The Wine That Betrays: Syntactic Chiasm and Moral Irony in Habakkuk 2:5

וְאַף֙ כִּֽי־הַיַּ֣יִן בֹּוגֵ֔ד גֶּ֥בֶר יָהִ֖יר וְלֹ֣א יִנְוֶ֑ה אֲשֶׁר֩ הִרְחִ֨יב כִּשְׁאֹ֜ול נַפְשֹׁ֗ו וְה֤וּא כַמָּ֨וֶת֙ וְלֹ֣א יִשְׂבָּ֔ע וַיֶּאֱסֹ֤ף אֵלָיו֙ כָּל־הַגֹּויִ֔ם וַיִּקְבֹּ֥ץ אֵלָ֖יו כָּל־הָעַמִּֽים׃

In the prophetic book of Habakkuk, we find a vision that pierces through time—a condemnation not only of Judah’s enemies but of all who exalt themselves against divine justice. In Habakkuk 2:5, the prophet turns his gaze toward the arrogant oppressor, whose excess and pride are likened to wine that betrays, death that never fills, and Sheol that is never satisfied.

We will explore one non-obvious grammatical phenomenon embedded in this verse: the syntactic chiasm—a rhetorical inversion that binds together seemingly disparate elements (wine, Sheol, death, nations) into a unified structure of moral irony.

This is not just poetic ornamentation—it is a linguistic embodiment of hubris and judgment.

Wine That Betrays: The Opening Clause and Its Twist

Let’s isolate the opening phrase:

> וְאַף כִּי־הַיַּיִן בֹּוגֵד / גֶּבֶר יָהִיר וְלֹא יִנְוֶה

This clause begins with an unexpected juxtaposition:
– הַיַּיִן בֹּוגֵד – the wine betrays
– גֶּבֶר יָהִיר – a proud man
– וְלֹא יִנְוֶה – and he does not dwell

At first glance, the syntax seems disjointed. Is it the wine that betrays? Or is it the man? This ambiguity is intentional. The sentence sets up a moral confusion: the oppressor, like wine, promises joy but delivers betrayal.

Let’s examine the form יִנְוֶה more closely.

יִנְוֶה – A Rare Verb Form and Its Theological Echo

The verb יִנְוֶה appears only once in the Hebrew Bible. It derives from the root נוה, associated with dwelling or resting in peace.

Its placement at the end of this line creates a kind of existential denial: the proud man cannot find rest. He is always grasping, always moving, always expanding his reach—and yet never settling.

It is not merely a moral statement. It is a grammatical portrait of instability.

כִּשְׁאֹול נַפְשֹׁו – The Soul Like Sheol

Now consider the next line:

> אֲשֶׁר הִרְחִיב כִּשְׁאֹול נַפְשֹׁו

Here lies a striking metaphor: the oppressor’s soul is compared to Sheol—the realm of the dead, insatiable and ever-hungry. But note the word order: כִּשְׁאֹול נַפְשֹׁו (like Sheol his soul)—not the expected נַפְשֹׁו כִּשְׁאֹול.

This inversion creates a chiastic parallelism between the earlier mention of wine and betrayal and the later reference to death and gathering. We’ll return to this structure shortly.

כַמָּוֶת וְלֹא יִשְׂבָּע – Death That Never Fills

Next, the text intensifies its imagery:

> וְה֤וּא כַמָּ֨וֶת֙ וְלֹ֣א יִשְׂבָּ֔ע

This line mirrors the previous one in both structure and meaning. Just as Sheol is never full, so too is the oppressor never satisfied. The use of כַמָּוֶת (like death) continues the motif of insatiable hunger for power.

And again, the syntax reinforces the theme: the oppressor is not merely like death—he becomes death itself.

וַיֶּאֱסֹף אֵלָיו כָּל־הַגֹּויִם – Gathering Nations to Ruin

Finally, the climax:

> וַיֶּאֱסֹף אֵלָיו כָּל־הַגֹּויִם / וַיִּקְבֹּץ אֵלָיו כָּל־הָעַמִּים

This final pair of verbs—וַיֶּאֱסֹף and וַיִּקְבֹּץ—are near synonyms: to gather, to collect. Their repetition is not redundant—it is intensifying. The oppressor gathers all peoples to himself, much like Sheol gathers the dead.

Yet here lies the irony: the one who seeks to conquer and consume ends up consumed by judgment.

Syntactic Chiasm: Binding Betrayal, Hunger, and Judgment

Let’s now lay out the entire verse as a chiasm, highlighting how its grammar reflects its theology:

This chiasm builds a rhetorical spiral: the oppressor rises in arrogance, expands his soul, consumes nations—but in the end, he is revealed to be no different than wine that betrays, death that never fills, and Sheol that never rests.

The structure itself mocks the illusion of control. What seems to rise is actually falling. What seems to gather is actually being judged.

Final Reflection: The Grammar of Collapse

In Habakkuk 2:5, language does not merely describe injustice—it embodies it. Through a carefully constructed syntactic chiasm, the prophet maps the rise and fall of the arrogant, binding together wine, soul, death, and nations into a single arc of divine irony.

This is not just Biblical Hebrew grammar.
This is the poetry of downfall.
This is the syntax of justice—that begins with betrayal and ends with gathering… into judgment.