Ezra’s Social Drama: Identity Formation, Marriage and Social Conflict in Ezra 9 and 10 9781472550446, 9780567609120, 9780567601230

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LIBRARY OF HEBREW BIBLE/ OLD TESTAMENT STUDIES

579 Formerly Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series

Editors Claudia V. Camp, Texas Christian University Andrew Mein, Westcott House, Cambridge

Founding Editors David J. A. Clines, Philip R. Davies and David M. Gunn

Editorial Board Alan Cooper, John Goldingay, Robert P. Gordon, Norman K. Gottwald, James Harding, John Jarick, Carol Meyers, Patrick D. Miller, Francesca Stavrakopoulou, Daniel L. Smith-Christopher

ii

EZRA’S SOCIAL DRAMA

Identity Formation, Marriage and Social Conflict in Ezra 9 and 10

Donald P. Moffat

N E W YOR K • LON DON • N E W DE L H I • SY DN EY

Bloomsbury T&T Clark An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square London WC1B 3DP UK

175 Fifth Avenue New York NY 10010 USA

www.bloomsbury.com First published 2013 © Donald P. Moffat, 2013 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Donald P. Moffat has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury Academic or the author. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. eISBN: 978-0-567-60123-0 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress

Typeset by Forthcoming Publications Ltd (www.forthpub.com) Printed and bound in Great Britain

CONTENTS Acknowledgments Abbreviations

ix xi

INTRODUCTION: EZRA’S SOCIAL DRAMA

1

Chapter 1 SOCIAL SCIENCE, HISTORICITY AND IDENTITY 1. Social Sciences and Biblical Studies a. Applying Social Science b. Turner and Social Drama c. Social Drama: Phases, Root Paradigms, Ritual and Symbolism d. Social Drama and Biblical Studies e. Social Science Summary 2. Ezra–Nehemiah and Historical Reconstruction 3. Identity a. Identity Formation b. Identity Formation as Context 4. Summary

11 17 19 19 22 23 25 29

Chapter 2 YEHUD 1. Issues in Mapping Yehud 2. The Extent of Yehud 3. The Population of Yehud 4. Political Status 5. Summary

30 30 36 42 44 50

Chapter 3 FOUNDATIONS FOR READING EZRA 9 AND 10 1. Nehemiah 8 and Ezra 7–10 a. Nehemiah 8 Displaced b. The Original Position of Nehemiah 8 2. The Unity of Ezra 9 and 10

52 53 53 55 58

3 3 3 7

vi

Contents a.

The Original Debate About Unity (1) Two-Source Theories (2) One-Source Theory A (3) One-Source Theory B (4) Summary b. Recent Source-Critical Studies c. Summary Chapter 4 EZRA 9 AND 10 1. The Problem Identi¿ed (Ezra 9:1–5) a. The Report b. Leaders and Israel (1) The Leaders (2) Israel c. The Peoples of the Land(s) (1) The List (2) Identifying the Peoples of the Lands d. Marriage is the Problem (1) Marriage is Unfaithfulness (2) Separating Racial or Religious Motives? (3) Separation and Identity (4) Summary e. Ezra’s Reaction (1) Mourning (2) The Tremblers (3) Prayer at the Evening Sacri¿ce 2. Ezra’s Penitential Prayer (Ezra 9:6–15) a. Penitential Prayers b. Ezra’s Prayer c. Shame, History and Mercy (Ezra 9:6–9) (1) Deuteronomic Language (2) Mercy and the Remnant (3) The Stake and the Holy Place (4) Continuing Servitude (5) The Meaning of the Wall (6) Summary d. Guilt Before God (Ezra 9:10–15) (1) God’s Commands and Pollution (2) Contrasting Faithfulness and Failure (3) Summary

58 59 60 60 61 62 66 67 68 68 69 69 69 73 73 77 79 80 81 83 84 84 84 86 88 88 88 92 93 94 95 98 101 102 103 103 103 105 106

Contents 3. The People’s Response (Ezra 10:1–44) a. Loaded Words (1) A Community Leader Responds (2) Specialist Language: Marriage and Foreign Women (3) A Solution Proposed b. Community Action (1) Continued Mourning (2) The Assembly Called (3) The Assembly Gathered (4) Discussion About Timing (5) Opposition c. Dissolving the Mixed Marriages d. Summary e. Concluding the Issue (Ezra 10:18–44) (1) The List (2) The Guilt Offering (3) The Conclusion of the Affair 4. Summary Chapter 5 THE MIXED MARRIAGE SOCIAL DRAMA 1. Elements of a Social Drama 2. Mixed Marriage and Identity Formation 3. The Exodus as Root Paradigm a. The Exodus in Ezra b. The Exodus as Root Paradigm 4. Foreign Women as Symbol a. Symbol, Turner and Semiotics b. Connotations of Foreign Women c. Powerful Symbols d. Summary 5. The Mixed Marriage Narrative as Social Drama a. Breach b. Crisis c. Redressive Action d. Reintegration

1

vii 106 106 107 109 113 115 116 117 119 121 122 125 126 127 127 128 130 132 134 134 137 138 139 141 146 146 149 152 154 155 155 157 160 162

viii

Contents

Chapter 6 HISTORICAL TRACES 1. Indications of Historicity 2. Historical Traces a. The Exodus Paradigm in Post-Exilic Yehud b. Ezra the Catalyst c. Social Discourse and Foreign Women (1) Family (2) Cultic Concerns (3) Political (4) Local and Ideological Implications d. A Witch Hunt? e. Conformity to the Commission’s Demands f. Residual Effect 3. Summary

164 164 169 169 172 177 178 182 183 184 185 187 189 192

CONCLUSIONS

193

Bibliography Index of References Index of Authors

196 208 216

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This book is a revision of my doctoral thesis originally submitted to the University of Otago in 2010. Applying Victor Turner’s social drama model to Ezra 9 and 10 was intended to be a foundational element in my original research project, which was more focused on the priesthood of the second temple. However, as many others have discovered, the foundation turned out to be a major project in its own right and one equally as intriguing and rewarding. I am grateful to my research supervisors James Harding and Tim Meadowcroft who guided my work with keen insight. They are outstanding role models of the qualities of true scholarship. The staff at the University of Otago Central Library, particularly in Remote Services, and at the Kinder Library at St John’s College provided excellent support. During my study I was the recipient of two scholarships and express my thanks to the St John’s Trust and the University of Otago for that support. I am grateful to Claudia Camp and Andrew Mein for accepting my research for publication. Claudia Camp deserves thanks for working with me to reshape my thesis into its current form. She was encouraging from the beginning and has provided careful analysis and helpful suggestions along the way. My thanks also to Duncan Burns for his help in the production stages. I acknowledge with thanks the permission given by Jim Eisenbraun of Eisenbrauns publishers to modify and use the map that appears in Chapter 2. Many friends and family have contributed in myriad ways over the years to this project and I thank you all for your friendship and support. In particular I acknowledge the three women who are intimately tied to me, my mother Valma, my daughter Karena and my wife Bronwyn. All three model perseverance in the face of adversity and are inspirations to live with faith and grace. This work is dedicated to them.

x

ABBREVIATIONS AB ABD AJBA ANET ARA BA BARev BASOR BDB BEATAJ BHQ BHS Bib BSac BWANT BZAW CBQ CH COS CP CurBS DCH DJD DSS FAT GKC HALOT

Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Dictionary. Edited by D. N. Freedman. 6 vols. New York, 1992 Australian Journal of Biblical Archaeology Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Edited by J. B. Pritchard. 3d ed. Princeton, Conn., 1969 Annual Review of Anthropology Biblical Archaeologist Biblical Archaeological Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research F. Brown, S. Driver and C. Briggs. A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament. Oxford, 1906 Beitrage zur Erforschung des Alten Testaments und des antiken Judentums Biblica Hebraica Quinta Stuttgart, 2006 Biblica Hebraica Stuttgartensia. Stuttgart, 1969/77 Biblica Bibliotheca Sacra Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testaement Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Catholic Biblical Quarterly Code of Hammurabi The Context of Scripture. Edited by W. W. Hallo. 3 vols. Leiden, 1997–2002 Collected Papers of Charles Sanders Peirce. Edited by C. Hartstone, P. Weiss and A. W. Burks. 8 vols. Cambridge, Mass., 1931–58 Currents in Research: Biblical Studies The Dictionary of Classical Hebrew. Edited by D. J. A. Clines. Shef¿eld, 1993– Discoveries in the Judean Desert Dead Sea Scrolls Forschungen zum Alten Testament Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar. Edited by E. Kautzsch. Revised and translated by A. E. Cowley. Oxford, 1910 The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Edited by L. Koehler, W. Baumgartner, J. Stamm. Translated by M. E. J. Richardson. Leiden, 1994–2000

xii HALOT CD HSM HTR HUCA ICC IDB IEJ ISBE JAOS JB

JBL JEA JNES JPS

JSJ JSJSup JSOT JSOTSup JSS JTS KAT LCL LXX

MAL MT NASB

NCB NIBCOT NICOT NIDOTTE

NIV NRSV

OTL SBL SESB SWBA TAD

1

Abbreviations The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament CDROM Edition. Edited by L. Koehler, W. Baumgartner, and J. Stamm. Leiden, 1994–2001 Harvard Semitic Monographs Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual International Critical Commentary Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible. Edited by G. A. Buttrick. 4 vols. Nashville, Tenn, 1962 Israel Exploration Journal The International Standard Bible Encyclopaedia. Edited by G. W. Bromiley. 4 vols. Grand Rapids, Mich., 1979–88 Journal of the American Oriental Society Jerusalem Bible Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Egyptian Archaeology Journal of Near Eastern Studies Jewish Publication Society TANAKH Translation. Jewish Publication Society, 1985, 1999 Journal for the Study of Judaism Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Journal for the Study of the Old Testament: Supplement Series Journal of Semitic Studies Journal of Theological Studies Kommentar zum Alten Testamentum Loeb Classical Library Septuagint Middle Assyrian Laws Masoretic Text New American Standard Bible New Century Bible New International Biblical Commentary Old Testament New International Commentary on the Old Testament New International Dictionary of Old Testament Theology and Exegesis. Edited by W. A. VanGemeren. 5 vols. Grand Rapids, Mich., 1997 New International Version New Revised Standard Version Bible Old Testament Library Society of Biblical Literature Stuttgart Electronic Study Bible Version 2.0. Edited by C. Hardmeier, E. Taalstra and A. Groves. Stuttgart, 2006 The Social World of Biblical Antiquity Series Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt. 4 vols. Edited by B. Porten and A. Yardeni. Jerusalem, 1986–99

Abbreviations TDOT TLOT

TNIV

Transeu TWOT TynBul USQR VT VTSup WBC ZAW

1

xiii

Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament. Edited by G. J. Botterweck, H. Ringgren and J.-H. Fabry. Translated by T. J. Willis et al. 15 vols. Grand Rapids, Mich., 1977– Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament. Edited by E. Jeni and C. Westermann. Translated by M. E. Biddle. 3 vols. Peabody, Mass., 1997 Today’s New International Version Transeuphratène Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament. Edited by R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer and B. K. Waltke. 2 vols. Chicago, Ill., 1980 Tyndale Bulletin Union Seminary Quarterly Review Vetus Testamentum Supplements to Vetus Testamentum Word Biblical Commentary Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft

xiv

INTRODUCTION: EZRA’S SOCIAL DRAMA

The mixed marriage controversy in Ezra 9 and 10 is an intriguing and disconcerting narrative. It has been fertile ground for studies that use social science approaches in recent years.1 Nevertheless, I want to add to that trend on the understanding that each study contributes additional pieces to the largely incomplete puzzle that is Persian Yehud. My analytical tool is Social Drama, a model for analyzing social conÀict that was developed by the anthropologist Victor Turner. In applying it to 1. See J. L. Berquist, ed., Approaching Yehud: New Approaches to the Study of the Persian Period (Atlanta, Ga.: SBL, 2007); J. L. Berquist, “The Social Context of Postexilic Judaism,” in Passion, Vitality, and Foment: The Dynamics of Second Temple Judaism (ed. L. M. Luker; Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 2001), 20–54; O. Lipschits and M. Oeming, eds., Judah and Judeans in the Persian Period (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2006); S. M. Olyan, “Purity Ideology in Ezra–Nehemiah as a Tool to Reconstitute the Community,” JSJ 35 (2004): 1–16; P. F. Esler, “Ezra–Nehemiah as a Narrative of (Re-Invented) Israelite Identity,” BibInt (2003): 413–26; H. C. Washington, “Israel’s Holy Seed and the Foreign Women of Ezra–Nehemiah: A Kristevan Reading,” BibInt (2003): 427–37; P. R. Bedford, “Diaspora: Homeland Relations in Ezra–Nehemiah,” VT 52 (2002): 147–65; M. Douglas, “Responding to Ezra: The Priests and the Foreign Wives,” BibInt 10 (2002): 1–23; D. Janzen, Witch-Hunts, Purity and Social Boundaries (JSOTSup 350; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 2002); W. Horbury, “Extirpation and Excommunication,” in Jews and Christians in Contact and Controversy (ed. W. Horbury; London: T&T Clark, 1998), 43–66; S. E. Balentine, “The Politics of Religion in the Persian Period,” in After the Exile: Essays in Honour of Rex Mason (ed. J. Barton and D. J. Reimer; Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1996), 129–46; M. W. Hamilton, “Who Was a Jew? Jewish Ethnicity During the Achaemenid Period,” Restoration Quarterly 37 (1995): 102–17; T. C. Eskenazi and K. H. Richards, eds., Second Temple Studies. Vol. 2, Temple and Community in the Persian Period (JSOTSup 175; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1994); C. V. Camp, “What’s So Strange About the Strange Woman?,” in The Bible and the Politics of Exegesis: Essays in Honor of Norman K. Gottwald on His Sixty-Fifth Birthday (ed. D. Jobling, P. L. Day, and G. T Shepperd; Cleveland, Ohio: Pilgrim, 1991), 17–31; P. R. Davies, ed., Second Temple Studies. Vol. 1, Persian Period (JSOTSup 117; Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1991).

2

Ezra’s Social Drama

Ezra 9 and 10 I will highlight aspects of the story that have not been fully understood in the past and provide data that contributes to a historical understanding of Yehud in the Persian era. In particular, this study highlights the signi¿cance of ritual and symbol in the social process and identi¿es the importance of the Exodus traditions in the worldview that underlies the events. I conclude that the controversy has an ideological basis rooted in a community’s ideas about its identity.2 In doing so I argue for an alternative construction of the golah community and its processes from that presented in the past. This book is entitled Ezra’s Social Drama because the analysis indicates that Ezra is the primary architect of the crisis.3 He exacerbated existing issues, forced the crisis and dictated its solution. The mixed marriage controversy is Ezra’s social drama.

2. An ideological basis for the crisis is presumed by D. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues, and What the Text Said: Ezra 9–10 and Its Interpretation,” in Berquist, ed., Approaching Yehud, 67–69. A combined ideological and materialistic basis for the crisis is claimed by D. L. Smith-Christopher, “The Mixed Marriage Crisis in Ezra 9–10 and Nehemiah 13: A Study of the Sociology of the Post-Exilic Judaean Community,” in Eskenazi and Richards, eds., Second Temple Studies, vol. 2, 261–64; D. L. Smith, “The Politics of Ezra: Sociological Indicators of Postexilic Judean Society,” in Davies, ed., Second Temple Studies, vol. 1, 97. A political motivation is claimed by K. G. Hoglund, Achaemenid Imperial Administration in SyriaPalestine and the Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah (SBLDS 125; Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1992), 65–68. Examples that regard it to be based on economic issues are: H. C. Washington, “The Strange Woman of Proverbs 1–9 and Post-Exilic Judean Society,” in Eskenazi and Richards, eds., Second Temple Studies, vol. 2, 231–42; J. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah (OTL; London: SCM, 1988), 176–77. 3. The title has obvious af¿nities with J. Flanagan, David’s Social Drama: A Hologram of Israel’s Early Iron Age (Shef¿eld: Almond, 1988). While Flanagan’s work undoubtedly inÀuenced my thinking, the title of the present work is primarily driven by the methodology and Ezra’s centrality in the social process rather than a particular desire to mimic Flanagan’s work. Nevertheless, Flanagan sets an example I am happy to emulate. 1

Chapter 1

SOCIAL SCIENCE, HISTORICITY AND IDENTITY

This study of Ezra 9 and 10 has two aims. The ¿rst is to gain a clearer understanding of the narrative about the mixed marriages in these two chapters by examining the process that is reported and the conceptual framework that supported that process. The focus is on understanding what meaning those in Persian Yehud who recorded and read the narrative derived from it.1 The second aim is to recover any historical traces the narrative might hold that can contribute to a credible historical reconstruction of Persian Yehud. To achieve these aims I will draw on Victor Turner’s social drama model. In this chapter I will (1) address the use of social science methods, and Turner in particular, in biblical studies, (2) discuss Ezra 9 and 10 and historical reconstruction, and (3) pinpoint identity formation as a background to the mixed marriage controversy. 1. Social Sciences and Biblical Studies a. Applying Social Science Social scienti¿c methods have become increasingly common in studies of the Hebrew Bible and ancient Israel. The designation “social science” can be a broad reference to the study of humanity and human culture that includes anthropology, archaeology, economics, psychology, sociology and political science.2 While all these disciplines have had an inÀuence in recent interpretations of biblical material, social science in biblical 1. This is a necessary generalization in the sense that individuals and groups contemporary with the writer of Ezra–Nehemiah undoubtedly read the text differently. Differing contexts and agenda inevitably lead to differing readings even in the same environment. While acknowledging the variety of perspectives in any context, I make the generalization on the basis that all communication is based on a degree of shared understanding. 2. See C. E. Carter, “A Discipline in Transition: The Contributions of Social Science to the Study of the Hebrew Bible,” in Community, Identity, and Ideology: Social Science Approaches to the Hebrew Bible (ed. C. E. Carter and C. Meyers; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1996), 5.

4

Ezra’s Social Drama

studies particularly refers to the application of anthropological and sociological theories and models.3 The focus in the present study is the application of a particular anthropological model, social drama, to the events related in Ezra 9 and 10. The issues in regard to applying social science methods in biblical studies have been well canvassed, and so I will only discuss the methodology brieÀy. Social scienti¿c method was introduced to biblical studies by William Robertson Smith who, in the 1880s, observed Arab customs and applied those observations in a comparative way in order to understand the Hebrew Bible.4 He was followed by other seminal ¿gures, including Max Weber (1864–1920),5 but the regular inÀuence of social science in biblical studies did not begin until the 1970s.6 The four decades since have seen enormous growth in the application of sociological method to all areas of biblical studies, not least the Hebrew Bible. So signi¿cant has that impact been that despite criticism of the method from some quarters,7 Robert Wilson could claim in 1984 that “[i]t is no 3. For example, P. F. Esler, Ancient Israel: The Old Testament in Its Social Context (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006); N. K. Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh: A Sociology of the Religion of Liberated Israel, 1250–1050 BCE (Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1999 [1979]); Carter and Meyers, eds., Community, Identity, and Ideology; D. L. Smith, The Religion of the Landless (Bloomington, Ind.: Meyer Stone, 1989); T. W. Overholt, Prophecy in Cross-Cultural Perspective (Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1986); R. R. Wilson, Prophecy and Society (Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press, 1980); M. Weber, Ancient Judaism (trans. H. H. Gerth; New York: The Free Press, 1952). 4. Smith gave the Burnett lectures in Aberdeen in 1888 and 1889; they were published in 1889. See W. Robertson Smith, Lectures on the Religion of the Semites: The Fundamental Institutions (2d ed.; New York: Meridian, 1956 [1889]). For an overview of social science application to the Hebrew Bible, see the historical survey in P. F. Esler and A. Hagedorn, “Social Scienti¿c Analysis of the Old Testament: A Brief History and Overview,” in Esler, ed., Ancient Israel, 15–32. Brief histories of social sciences in biblical studies are also offered by P. McNutt, Reconstructing the Society of Ancient Israel (ed. D. A. Knight; Library of Ancient Israel; London: SPCK, 1999), 16–23; Carter, “A Discipline in Transition,” 3–36; and Flanagan, David’s Social Drama, 53–72. 5. Weber, Ancient Judaism. 6. Leo G. Perdue, The Collapse of History (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1994), 69. 7. Many criticisms have been made about poor theoretical application. See, for example, N. P. Lemche, “On the Use of ‘System Theory,’ ‘Macro Theories,’ and ‘Evolutionistic Thinking’ in Modern Old Testament Research and Biblical Archaeology,” in Carter and Meyers, eds., Community, Identity, and Ideology, 273– 386; A. F. Rainey, Review of N. K. Gottwald, The Tribes of Yahweh, JAOS 107 (1987): 541–43. Some have offered a more sympathetic critique. See, for example, G. A. Herion, “The Impact of Modern Social Science Assumptions on the 1

1. Social Science, Historicity and Identity

5

longer possible to engage in theological reÀection without taking into account the role of the Old Testament’s social matrix.”8 What Wilson means by “social matrix” is both the social forces that shaped the Old Testament and those that inÀuence the contemporary interpreter. His comment might have been somewhat optimistic when he wrote it, but is entirely appropriate a decade into the twenty-¿rst century. Social science approaches to the Hebrew Bible have provided key insights and opened up new questions and avenues of enquiry. The intimate connections between society, language, culture and literature mean such approaches cannot be ignored in the search for understanding. As might be expected, social scienti¿c approaches to biblical studies have had their critics. Some criticism can simply be dismissed as intransigence, as Carter puts it, “a type of scholarly hubris or siege mentality [displayed] when new methodologies are introduced.”9 Yet any method has its weaknesses and criticism has also been levelled by those who are well informed about the methods and are advocates of social scienti¿c approaches. These are useful criticisms, which are aimed at avoiding mistakes and re¿ning method. The most common concern expressed about social scienti¿c approaches is the tendency to be reductionist. This criticism, which particularly relates to the use of comparative models, argues that such approaches over-simplify the interactions of a culture or society that are in fact highly complex. For example, Herion points to Wilson’s study of prophecy, which, in places, chooses the generalization of the model over a potentially more complex social reality.10 Evidence of prophets operating alone is rejected in favour of the model’s assumption that prophets always operate with a support group. This danger of reductionism is addressed by Gottwald, who has argued that complexity needs to be factored into the analysis by overlaying a series of social data grids.11 Reconstruction of Israelite History,” JSOT 34 (1986): 3–33; A. D. H. Mayes, “Idealism and Materialism in Weber and Gottwald,” in Carter and Meyers, eds., Community, Identity, and Ideology, 258–72. 8. R. R. Wilson, Sociological Approaches to the Old Testament (ed. G. M. Tucker; Guides to Biblical Scholarship; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984), 83. 9. C. E. Carter, “Opening Windows Onto Biblical Worlds: Applying the Social Sciences to Hebrew Scriptures,” in The Face of Old Testament Studies: A Survey of Contemporary Approaches (ed. W. D. Baker and B. T. Arnold; Grand Rapids: Baker, 1999), 448–49. 10. Herion, “The Impact of Modern Social Science,” 12–13. 11. N. K. Gottwald, “Method and Hypothesis in Reconstructing the Social History of Early Israel,” Eretz-Israel 24 (1993): 77–82. See also Carter, “A Discipline in Transition,” 27. 1

6

Ezra’s Social Drama

Gottwald labels these grids: physical, dealing with the natural environment and what was needed for a people to survive in the environment; cultural, including language, behaviour and symbols; social organizational/political, the structures that govern relationships within the society; religious, the beliefs and rituals of the society. Further, he argues that the various types of data, text, artefacts and information derived from social scienti¿c investigation should be aggregated using a “triangulation” to increase the probability of the accuracy of the conclusions. The present study will develop Gottwald’s four grids by identifying information relevant to the events presented in Ezra 9 and 10. The dangers of reductionism can also be combated by methodological rigour, part of which has to do with how a model is applied. To treat the model as a complete explanation of a cultural system is to misuse what is an “ideal type.” That is, an “ideal type” is an abstraction that is not necessarily true in any situation, but a guide to aid understanding. It is, as Esler argues, a heuristic tool that enables new questions to be asked of the data.12 He points to Charles Sanders Peirce’s concept of “abduction,” the idea of cycling back and forth between the data and the model, as the best methodology. Models presume a degree of commonality across people groups as a basis for analysis, but they are not intended to impose any regularity. Indeed one of the fundamental functions of a model is that it identi¿es differences as well as similarities between cultures. The differences between cultural data and a model frequently identify the places on which analytical attention needs to be focused.13 So long as the model is recognized as hypothetical, is used for analysis of data and not as a substitute for data, and is not treated as a complete explanation, it can be pro¿tably used.14 The complexity of any society needs to be kept continually in mind. Indeed, the response to most criticisms of social science approaches to biblical studies hinges on the same themes. What is most often contested is poor application of the method. Those who want to apply social science methods to the biblical text must ensure they have a clear understanding of the method and the conceptual framework out of which it arises. This includes ensuring the method is up to date and meets contemporary

12. P. F. Esler, “Social-Scienti¿c Models in Biblical Interpretation,” in Esler, ed., Ancient Israel, 3–4. 13. Herion, “The Impact of Modern Social Science,” 13. 14. Ibid., 7–8. Note Brett’s caution that heuristic models do not automatically guard against the dangers Herion identi¿es; see M. G. Brett, “Literacy and Domination: G. A. Herion’s Sociology of History Writing,” JSOT 37 (1987): 15–40. 1

1. Social Science, Historicity and Identity

7

disciplinary standards.15 This method must be applied with care so that it maintains its role as a heuristic tool distinct from the data. Finally, every effort needs to be made to factor in the complexity of social life. The great strength of social science approaches to biblical studies is that they help bridge the gap between the modern interpreter and the text. The ever-present problem is ignorance of the culture out of which the text emerges and the resultant danger of imposing erroneous assumptions upon it. As the quote from Robert Wilson above indicates, social science methods encourage the interpreter to be aware of his or her own presuppositions and worldview when approaching the text. Carter comments that the danger of imposing the contemporary scholar’s world on ancient Israel is what makes social science necessary rather than optional for biblical studies.16 Since interpreters always make social assumptions, it is essential that methods are employed that make those assumptions clear and help counter any negative effects of those assumptions. This is well illustrated in the study that follows, which shows that even some of the most well-informed scholars studying the Persian era have misunderstood aspects of the mixed marriage controversy through failure to appreciate the importance of cultural practices. As a result, their interpretation has been too heavily inÀuenced by their own contemporary assumptions. Carter contends that utilizing a wide range of ethnographic data, particularly from pre-industrial societies, along with a non-judgmental attitude toward societies different from the scholar’s own is the best response to cultural bias. Methodologically rigorous application of social science approaches to biblical texts is essential for accurate interpretation. b. Turner and Social Drama Victor Turner (1920–1983) was a British anthropologist and a contemporary of Mary Douglas, the work of whom is more widely known in biblical studies.17 Turner is a somewhat enigmatic ¿gure in anthropology;

15. J. Rogerson, “The Use of Sociology in Old Testament Studies,” in Congress Volume, Salamanca 1983 (ed. J. A. Emerton; VTSup 36; Leiden: Brill, 1985): 245– 56; Carter, “A Discipline in Transition,” 28. 16. Carter, “A Discipline in Transition,” 27. 17. M. Douglas, Purity and Danger (New York: Praeger, 1966). Douglas made several contributions to biblical studies including discussion about Ezra 9 and 10. See below. Turner’s original university studies, in English literature were interrupted by World War II. When he returned to study after the war he took up anthropology, graduating in 1949. He subsequently studied under Max Gluckman at Manchester University and did ¿eld work among the Ndembu people in Northern Rhodesia 1

8

Ezra’s Social Drama

his concepts, such as communitas and liminality, have proved inÀuential, while his diverse interests—he is described as a “tireless interdisciplinarian”—and his failure to articulate a “transparent theoretical model” have left a mixed legacy.18 During his ¿eld work Turner observed that social conÀict occurred frequently among the members of Ndembu communities. He noted that these conÀicts followed a similar pattern, which he began to use as a basis for analyzing them. He describes a fourphase process initiated by a breach, followed by mounting crisis, then the application of redress or reconciliation, which results in either reintegration or schism.19 The whole conÀict process he called “social drama.” He also noted the high frequency of ritual in the social process, which encouraged him to observe and develop theories about ritual behaviour and the function of symbolism. Turner’s original description of social drama and its phases is presented in his ¿rst book, Schism and Continuity in an African Society.20 The social theory that lies at the foundation of his thinking at this stage is a functionalist approach that originated with E. Durkheim and was championed by Turner’s teacher, Max Gluckman.21 However, Turner moved away from a functionalist conception of social organization, regarding it as too rigid, and developed his own concept of society that was heavily inÀuenced by A. Van Gennep’s analysis of rites-of-passage.22 Ironically, Turner’s own concept of social structure has been criticized for being too rigid.23 While Turner’s foundational social theory changed (now Zambia), graduating with his Ph.D. in 1955. He then taught at Manchester University before crossing the Atlantic to teach at Stanford and Cornell Universities. He took the post of Professor of Anthropology at the University of Chicago in 1968 and moved to the University of Virginia in 1977 where he taught until his death. 18. G. St. John, ed., Victor Turner and Contemporary Cultural Performance (New York: Berghahn, 2008), 2–3. Later St John states Turner “possessed an ambiguous status as a cultural theorist” (p. 11). 19. V. W. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors: Symbolic Action in Human Society (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1974), 78–79. 20. V. W. Turner, Schism and Continuity in an African Society: A Study of Ndembu Village Life (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1957). 21. Gluckman wrote the Foreword to Schism and Continuity. Mary Douglas’ work also owes much of its foundations to Durkheim. 22. A. Van Gennep, The Rites of Passage (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1965). While Turner developed Van Gennep’s ideas in his later works, the inÀuence started early, as can be seen by his description of the social drama as a “processual form”; see Turner, Schism and Continuity, 91. He later referred to Van Gennep as the “father of formal processual analysis.” 23. B. Morris, Anthropological Studies of Religion: An Introductory Text (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 258–63. Turner’s basic social 1

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with time, he continued to utilize social drama as a tool for analyzing social conÀict.24 There is no conÀict between his changed theoretical base and social drama as a model of social process. As one group of sociologists put it, “the social drama model—though structural-functionalist in orientation—does not preclude a Geertzian ‘thick description’ of cultural practice.”25 Clifford Geertz’s symbolic systems approach to culture is opposed to structural-functionalist assumptions in that it perceives social structure as dynamic rather than static.26 Turner’s social drama model is not bound to his initial social theory; it is rooted in his ¿eld work, the result of observation of the social process.27 It is the focus on the process in social conÀict that gives social drama its utility and makes it an effective model for analysis in a variety of situations. theory is dualistic. He argued that social life is made up of social structure and communitas. Social structure, for him, is a system of social relationships and statuses that is institutional, hierarchical and exploitative and which is stable and durable. Communitas he called “antistructural” because he saw it as founded in relationships between individuals and as egalitarian. Communitas is the feeling of fellowship created by shared experience such as an initiation rite. See V. W. Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Antistructure (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1969). Morris is correct in his criticism, in that Turner’s concept of social structure was that it was very stable and durable. However, his concept of society, a mix of social structure and communitas, is not rigid but processual. He expected social structures to change, however slowly and incrementally, because of the dialectic between those structures and communitas. 24. See, for example, his analysis of Miguel Hidalgo in Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 98–155. 25. M. Cohen, P. Dwyer, and L. Ginters, “Performing ‘Sorry Business’: Reconciliation and Redressive Action,” in St. John, ed., Victor Turner, 80. Clifford Geertz is another near-contemporary of Turner’s. He used a symbolic systems approach to anthropology which has a number of af¿nities with Turner’s methods, but which is opposed to structural-functionalist assumptions. Geertz presumes social structures are dynamic rather than rigid and continually adapting to circumstances. He used “thick description,” the layering of language, worldview, history, symbolism and other cultural factors in seeking to understand events in other cultures. His method is in many ways analogous to Gottwald’s triangulation. A classic example of Geertz’s “thick description” is his description and analysis of a Balinese cock¿ght. See C. Geertz, “Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cock¿ght,” in The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic, 1973), 412–53. 26. An example of Geertz’s challenge to static views of social structure is C. Geertz, “Ritual and Social Change: A Javanese Example,” in The Interpretation of Cultures (New York: Basic, 1973), 142–69. Geertz argues that when events cause signi¿cant disruptions to normal social processes the structure does not collapse but is adjusted for the new situation. 27. Turner ¿tted social drama into the social structure side of his dualistic system. See Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 45. 1

10

Ezra’s Social Drama

This utility of the social drama model is reÀected in its application to a range of ¿elds. Turner had a continuing interest in dramatic arts, and in the later stages of his career he cooperated with Richard Schechner in developing social drama in performance studies.28 Social drama has also been used in other disciplines, such as media studies and education.29 In most cases it is used without modi¿cation or signi¿cant adaptation. For example, McFarland’s application of social drama in his analysis of conÀict in American high school classrooms follows Turner’s articulation closely.30 While the social drama model is generally used unmodi¿ed, an important modi¿cation has been proposed by Cottle. He applied social drama to events played out in the contemporary media. Cottle adds a ¿fth phase to the model, ebbing/revivi¿cation, to take account of the “cultural residue” that results from a prolonged and de¿ning social drama.31 Turner stated that a social drama always changes the social situation; Cottle takes that one stage further, noting that the events can leave an abiding legacy as a historic reference point or political benchmark that is returned to from time to time. Cottle argues that this stage is necessitated by the “longer-term dynamics of exceptional media phenomena.”32 The mixed marriage controversy is not a modern mediatized event but it is recorded as a signi¿cant and de¿ning episode in the life of the golah community in Yehud. Further, that record perpetuates the legacy of those events to later generations. Accordingly, I will take note of the nature and extent of the reverberations of the mixed marriage controversy. The utility of social drama as an analytical tool has been well demonstrated by Turner himself, who not only used it for anthropological studies but also in historical analysis.33 One of the challenges for biblical scholars in adopting social science methods is that we do not have direct access to the subject people and culture. It is helpful therefore to have 28. R. Schechner, Between Theatre and Anthropology (Philadelphia, Pa.: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1985). 29. See, for example, R. Bishop, “If You Build It, We Won’t Leave: Turner’s Social Drama in Newspaper Coverage of Stadium Construction Controversies,” Journalism Studies 2 (2001): 373–92; D. A. McFarland, “Resistance as Social Drama: A Study of Change Orientated Encounters,” American Journal of Sociology 109 (2004): 1249–318; S. Cottle, “Social Drama in a Mediatized World: The Racist Murder of Stephen Lawrence,” in St John, ed., Victor Turner, 109–24. 30. McFarland, “Resistance as Social Drama.” 31. Cottle, “Social Drama in a Mediatized World,” 120. 32. Ibid., 109. 33. See the studies of Thomas Becket and Miguel Hidalgo in Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 60–97 and 98–155. 1

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examples from anthropologists which rely solely on historical resources rather than on observation of the subject people. Turner provides two valuable studies in this regard. In one study, he focuses on the role of symbols in social processes in his analysis of Miguel Hidalgo and his leadership of the initial revolt that began the long process toward Mexican independence from Spain.34 Turner also discusses the role of root paradigms in social conÀict in his study of Thomas Becket’s struggle with King Henry II.35 Turner is not a naive historian; he demonstrates a clear awareness of the necessity for critical analysis of his sources.36 Turner’s application of social drama for historical analysis demonstrates its usefulness to this mode of enquiry. A good social science model is rooted in the observation of speci¿c actions of individuals and groups and careful interpretation of what those actions mean, while being, at the same time, general enough to account for variations. Social drama is rooted in the observation of speci¿c events in Ndembu society and interpretation of the meaning of those events, but generalized to four phases that follow a logical Àow.37 Furthermore, the emphasis on understanding the underlying cultural inÀuences, root metaphors, symbols, and ritual in the social drama process is signi¿cant in its portability across cultures. That emphasis helps ensure the analysis is shaped to the subject culture and the model does not obscure culturally distinctive elements. Turner’s development of this model of a social process out of speci¿c situations and his utilization of it in historical analysis of particular persons in speci¿c circumstances shows that it is formulated in a way that does not bury the individual in the general. c. Social Drama: Phases, Root Paradigms, Ritual and Symbolism The phases in a social drama are sequential in terms of Àow from initiation of conÀict to resolution, but the actual process may cycle between some phases, and some actions may, as the mixed marriage controversy 34. Ibid., 98–155. 35. Ibid., 60–97. 36. In addition, Ackerman notes that Turner showed skill as an interpreter of religious literature, although she adds the caveat that he shows the tendency to overlook some distinctive features of individual texts. In particular, she notes that Turner’s claim that the rites-of-passage pattern was ubiquitous within religious narratives fails to note that only male biographers of European Middle Age saints include liminal imagery in their accounts. See S. Ackerman, When Heroes Love: The Ambiguity of Eros in the Stories of Gilgamesh and David (New York: Columbia University Press, 2005), 96. 37. Turner, Schism and Continuity, 95–203, 267–87. 1

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will show, incorporate aspects of more than one phase. The ¿rst phase is breach, which refers to the “[b]reach of regular, norm-governed social relations [that] occur between persons or groups within the same system of social relations.”38 The breach act is a symbolic act of dissidence. That is, the breach is an act that calls for confrontation or encounter. Turner distinguished a breach from a crime, although he says the breach may resemble a crime. He says a breach has an altruistic element, in that the one who transgresses the social norms regards him or herself as acting on behalf of other parties, while the criminal act is egotistical, a self-centred act. When the breach becomes a public issue and creates social rupture the mounting crisis phase is initiated. Turner notes that, unless the breach can be sealed off quickly within a limited area of social interaction, there is a tendency for the breach to widen and extend until it becomes coextensive with some dominant cleavage in the widest set of relevant social relations to which the conÀicting or antagonistic parties belong.39

As the title suggests, mounting crisis is the period when tensions rise and, as a result, both the previously hidden factional currents within the community and the foundational social structures that the society rests on are exposed. The crisis phase also places the social cleavage squarely in public view and “dares the representatives of public order to grapple with it.”40 When those “representatives of public order” initiate the redressive mechanisms of the culture, they set in motion the third phase, redressive action. These redressive mechanisms, whether “formal or informal, institutional or ad hoc, are swiftly brought into operation by leading or structurally representative members of the disturbed social system.”41 Escalation can occur at this stage as well as at the crisis stage, in that the parties can seek progressively higher courts in which to address the problem. Thus a breach and crisis at a local village level could escalate until it was addressed by the highest state judicial body. Whatever the redressive action, it needs to be perceived by all parties as adequate to deal with the issue. If this is not the case or if the redress fails for any reason, then the matter will regress to the crisis phase. If alternative redress cannot be arranged, then the outcome could be violent confrontation, or if the community is small and weak relative to the central

1

38. 39. 40. 41.

Ibid., 38. Ibid. Ibid., 39. Ibid.

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authority, then “endemic, pervasive, smoldering factionalism” between the parties will persist.42 The redressive action can bring one of two outcomes: it can lead to social recognition of irreparable schism or it can lead to resolution and reintegration of the conÀicted parties. In the case of the Ndembu, schism often meant one faction left the village. This is distinct from the failed redress because the parties accepted that reconciliation was not possible at that stage and acted to prevent continued tensions by a mechanism of separation.43 The alternative, reintegration, represents the restoration of a level of peace, but the new social order is different from that prior to the social drama. A social drama leads to adjustments in the nature and intensity of relationships and alliances. Reintegration does not signal a return to the status of the past: social dramas always bring change. According to Cottle, a ¿fth phase can result from high-pro¿le mediafocused cases. He labels this ¿fth phase ebbing/reviving because the events leave a residual memory which ebbs and is revived periodically in the public consciousness. The mixed marriage controversy, while it was not a modern media-driven event, shows some traces of residual memory. There are three additional features worthy of note in Turner’s discussion and analysis of social dramas. These cultural features are: root paradigms, ritual, and symbolism. By root paradigms Turner is referring to the foundational presuppositions upon which the society operates. He notes these are deeply held but “clothed in allusiveness, implicitness and metaphor.”44 He argues that root paradigms “reach down to the irreducible life stances of individuals, passing beneath conscious prehension to a ¿duciary hold on what they sense to be axiomatic values, matters literally of life and death.”45 At the time of crisis it is these root paradigms that the social group draws on in order to face the issues and enact redress. Turner was struck by the frequency of symbolic action or ritual within Ndembu life, and it became a signi¿cant aspect of his research. He de¿nes ritual as, “prescribed formal behaviour for occasions not given over to technological routine, having reference to beliefs in mystical 42. Ibid., 41. 43. Turner explains that in the event of a schism in a Ndembu village, after a period of years of separation frequently one of the villages formed from the schism would sponsor a major ritual and speci¿cally invite members of the other village. This would instigate reconciliation at a different level of political integration. Ibid. 44. Ibid., 64. 45. Ibid. 1

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beings or powers.”46 Turner relates how he, like most anthropologists of his era, was prejudiced against ritual.47 Yet he discovered that there were aspects of Ndembu culture that could not be fully understood without it. Important activities like hunting and aspects of social organization became comprehensible when rituals and their symbols were understood.48 Further, Turner noted the power ritual has to inÀuence people, so that, “[p]eople are induced to do what they must do.”49 Understanding the importance and power of ritual that Turner identi¿ed is also required in studying ancient Israel. While biblical and historical scholarship has utilized the insights of social science in regard to ritual, there are still lessons to be learned, particularly, as later discussion will show, about the power of ritual to inÀuence peoples’ attitudes and actions. The third cultural feature of social dramas to be noted is the role of symbolism. Symbols, Turner says, consist of a thing, that is, an object, event, person, relationship, activity, place or period of time, which is “regarded by general consent as naturally typifying or representing or recalling something by possession of analogous qualities or by association in fact or thought.”50 While he recognized a range of cultural symbols, Turner focused on the role of symbols within ritual where he referred to a symbol as the smallest unit of a ritual.51 Symbols draw together a range of concepts and encapsulate them in a single multivocal reference.52 The multivocal nature of symbols is revealed in three characteristics: condensation, the symbol combines many things and actions; uni¿cation of disparate signi¿cata, symbols bracket diverse phenomena 46. V. W. Turner, The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1967), 19. 47. Turner, The Ritual Process, 7. 48. Ibid., 7–9. 49. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 56. 50. Turner, Forest of Symbols, 19. The list of types of symbols is drawn from V. W. Turner, “Forms of Symbolic Action: Introduction,” in Forms of Symbolic Action (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1971), 8. 51. Turner, Forest of Symbols, 19. 52. Turner distinguishes between multivocal and multivalent; he says multivocal refers to meaning while multivalent refers to motivation. He makes the distinction because of differences he perceives between human and animal ritualization. Human rituals are multivocal (susceptible to multiple meanings), whereas animal rituals can be multivalent (the result of multiple motives). He notes J. Huxley’s use of “bivalent” and “trivalent” with reference to ritual motivation in animals in Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, Series B. Biological Sciences 251 (1966): 247–526. See Turner, “Introduction,” 8–9. 1

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together; polarization of meaning, the meanings associated with symbols cluster around two poles. Those poles are: an ideological pole, around which cluster components of the moral and social order; and a sensory, or orectic, pole, around which cluster natural and physiological phenomena.53 The multivocal nature of symbols makes them powerful modes of communication because they condense and carry a range of notions which different individuals and groups within a community relate to and derive meaning from. Turner notes that when discussing symbols with individuals, each person understood the symbol differently, yet each derived meaning and signi¿cance from it. When put in meaningful relationship with other symbols in a ritual, symbols effect change. The signi¿cance of symbols lies in their ability to carry a number of notions and their power to produce effects. Turner’s ideas about symbols are based in his ¿eld work and he does not interact with other theorists in any depth.54 While he does interact brieÀy with Claude Levi-Strauss on symbols, this is only to say that Levi-Strauss is right about the cognitive elements but has neglected the emotional impact of symbols.55 This silence makes assessing his concepts about symbolism in the light of wider theory about symbols somewhat dif¿cult.56 He is more interested in the relationship of symbols with human psychology and links with animal ritual.57 His discussion of symbols does not address symbols in literature. When Turner utilizes notions of symbolism outside of a ritual context he draws on the concepts he identi¿ed in ritual symbolism, but without articulating his theoretical basis for the broader application. 53. Turner uses a number of different terms for the second pole: he calls it the “orectic” or “physiological” in Turner, “Introduction,” 9; he uses the term “orectic,” that is, pertaining to appetites, in Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 55; he refers to it as “the sensory pole” in Turner, Forest of Symbols, 28; he also calls “the ideological pole” “the normative pole” in Turner, “Introduction,” 9. 54. Turner does discuss the process an anthropologist needs to go through to interpret a symbol within a culture; see Turner, Forest of Symbols, 19–47. 55. Turner, The Ritual Process, 38–39. 56. The only person he cites in reference to symbolism is E. Sapir, “Symbols,” Encyclopaedia of Social Sciences 14:492–93. Edward Sapir was a specialist in American languages. Turner cites the four attributes Sapir identi¿es in ritual symbols: condensation of meanings in a single form, economy of reference, predominance of emotional quality, and associational linkages with regions of the unconscious. He then states that Sapir has underestimated the ideological pole of symbols. 57. For comment on the psychological aspect of symbol see Turner, Forest of Symbols, 26, 33–38. For the interest in animal ritual see Turner, “Introduction,” 3–25. 1

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Turner’s views on the derivation and meaning of symbols are restricted by his focus on symbols within ritual, and a wider perspective is required when dealing with a text. In this regard I will draw on a semiotic approach represented by Umberto Eco.58 Eco’s concept is built on Charles Sanders Peirce’s notion of the interpretant, that is, the idea or ideas in the observer’s mind that interpret the symbol. Peirce identi¿ed three aspects of a sign: the symbol (signi¿er), which he labelled the representamen; the thing to which the symbol refers, which he called the object; and the associated meanings, which he called the interpretant. Eco has slightly different terms for this triadic view of signs, he speaks of the symbol which denotes an object and connotes various senses.59 Thus the word “foreign” is a symbol that denotes a person who originates outside the community. That word can also connote various ideas about foreignness—either positive ideas like “exotic” and “exciting,” or negative ideas like “dangerous” and “uncivilized.” Eco points out that one connotation from a symbol gives rise to other connotations which in turn give rise to still further connotations.60 This continuous generation of connotations he refers to as “unlimited semiosis.” The way Turner describes symbols as “clusters of abstract meanings,” including contradictory meanings, has some similarities with Eco’s unlimited semiosis.61 However, Turner did not regard the multivocality of symbols as deriving from senses of the interpretant generating yet more connotations. He says there are two reasons for the multivocality of symbols. First, he notes that because a few symbols have to represent the whole culture, symbols must carry a number of concepts. Second, he observes that over time key symbols come to “absorb into their meaningcontent most of the major aspects of human social life.”62 These two reasons for the multivocality of symbols clearly reÀect Turner’s narrow context of an anthropologist seeking to interpret a culture’s ritual symbolism. Despite the differences between Turner and a semiotic approach like Eco’s, both offer some guidance in approaching the symbols in Ezra 9 and 10. From Turner’s side, his observations about the multivocal nature 58. U. Eco, A Theory of Semiotics (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1976). 59. Ibid., 54–57. Peirce himself published very little but many of his writings are published in a series, Collected Papers of Charles Sanders Peirce in 8 volumes. He explained his triadic view of signs a number of times, see for example CP 5:283. 60. U. Eco, The Role of the Reader (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1979), 175–99. 61. Turner, Forest of Symbols, 43. 62. Ibid., 43–44. 1

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of symbols with their highly condensed meanings attune the reader to look for multiple, even contradictory, meanings in symbols. The mixed marriage narrative furnishes in the foreign women a symbol that is multivocal and has connotations that are apparently contradictory. The other strength of Turner’s approach is his insistence that symbols, like ritual, have emotional power and can prompt action. The weakness of Turner’s approach is that it does not adequately support analysis of a text or contexts outside ritual. He uses it in his historical examples but does not support his interpretations with a theoretical basis. This is where semiotics can aid the interpretation process. The Peircean triadic approach to signs alerts the reader to the difference between the object of the symbol and its connotations. In addition, Eco’s unlimited semiosis offers insight into the development of the multivocal nature of symbols. The analysis in Chapter 5 will show that the multiple connotations of the foreign women label are related concepts that give rise to each other. The analytical value of the social drama model lies in the combination of the phases of the drama with the signi¿cance of root paradigms, ritual behaviour and symbols that are employed. The later three culturally shaped factors locate the drama in its particular social context. They also provide a perspective from which to view and understand features that are not evident to the contemporary observer. For example, I will note how a failure to appreciate the power of ritual has led to some scholars misunderstanding Ezra’s role in the mixed marriage controversy. In addition, understanding these culturally encoded characteristics in the social drama can provide a window into the beliefs, attitudes and social conditions of the writer and, I will argue, the participants. A key root paradigm behind the mixed marriage controversy provides signi¿cant context and the symbolism involved suggests multiple levels of debate within the community. The social drama model offers a way into the mixed marriage controversy in Ezra 9 and 10 that opens windows of new perspective on the narrative. d. Social Drama and Biblical Studies Turner’s social drama model has been little utilized by biblical scholarship to date. This is somewhat surprising when James Flanagan, an early user of social science methods for analyzing the Hebrew Bible, employed it in the late 1980s.63 Flanagan’s primary focus is on describing

63. Flanagan, David’s Social Drama. One recent study that has used Turner exclusively in a biblical context is Ackerman, When Heroes Love. Ackerman focuses

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the social setting presumed by stories about David in Iron Age Israel. He draws on several anthropologists but particularly focuses on Rappaport’s concepts of ritual and Turner’s social drama. Flanagan divides his material into two broad domains: actions and notions.64 “Actions” covers a similar area to Gottwald’s physical and social organization/politics grids; “notions” covers a similar area to Gottwald’s culture and religion grids. Under these domains Flanagan draws on geographical, archaeological, social science and textual information to build a picture of Iron Age Israel. He describes the David story as “myth-history.” His intention is not to describe a history of David as an individual but to identify the social situation out of which the David stories emerged.65 Flanagan’s methods have two implications for this present study. First, while Flanagan recognizes that the biblical text is not designed to present history in the same way professional historians of today do, he acknowledges that the text carries various forms of historical information. That information is apparent when the data is analyzed through social science lenses. His analysis indicates that the David stories arose out of a social setting congruent with Israel’s Iron Age tribal situation. Second, Flanagan utilizes Turner’s social drama model as one of his analytical tools, and while he augments it with other approaches, he does not modify it in order to analyze his data. Interestingly, he notes that the dramas are recalled in stories that become models for subsequent actions. This is reminiscent of Cottle’s ebbing/reviving phase that recognizes the residual effects of a social drama that continue to inÀuence the social on limiality as a way of exploring the relationships between David and Jonathan and Gilgamesh and Enkidu. 64. For Flanagan’s understanding of these domains, see Flanagan, David’s Social Drama, 96–103. Essentially, he places physical and material information in the domain of actions and literary information in the domain of notions. He acknowledges the two categories have some overlap. Artefacts, for example, can reveal information about symbolism and notions. See also McNutt, Reconstructing, 28. 65. Flanagan, David’s Social Drama, 34. A recent book that follows Flanagan’s eclectic approach, utilizing Turner along with other theorists, is D. S. Earl, Reading Joshua as Christian Scripture (Journal of Theological Interpretation Supplement 2; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2010). Earl’s aim is to provide a basis for a Christian reading of Joshua and pairs Turner with Paul Ricoeur to discuss existential and symbolic approaches to myth. In his appropriation of myth as a category for approaching the text Earl is also on similar ground to Flanagan. It is interesting that Earl has a similar criticism of Turner’s idea of myth that I have about his discussion on symbolism. Earl says Turner’s notion of myth is rather narrow (p. 36). My dif¿culty with Turner’s approach to symbolism is that it is bound up with its role in ritual. 1

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context.66 Overall, Flanagan’s conclusions about Israelite society and David’s mediatorial role in the transition from tribal leadership to centralized monarchy support and complement other studies of the period.67 Flanagan’s use of social science to identify a historical context and his use of social drama in analysis of narrative events show that the methodology adopted here can be fruitfully applied to biblical texts. This project, in contrast to Flanagan’s eclectic approach, focuses on one social science model. It will draw more deeply on Turner’s social drama model and supporting concepts of root paradigms, ritual and symbolism to analyze a speci¿c narrative rather than survey a breadth of narratives reÀecting a transition in social structure, as Flanagan does. This plays to the demonstrated strengths of the model as reÀected in Turner’s own application, which focuses on speci¿c events. e. Social Science Summary Social science approaches to biblical studies are now an important part of the scholarly tool chest. Notably, they give insight into aspects of culture and worldview that enhance understanding of the text and the social context out of which it comes. Social science methods have their pitfalls, however, and need to be applied with care and a conscious focus on minimizing the dangers of misreading the data. Turner’s social drama model is a robust analytical tool that has been used effectively in a range of disciplines. It focuses on a simple process but draws on the complex relationships of the culture’s worldview in order to develop a coherent picture of speci¿c social conÀicts and the concepts underlying them. Flanagan’s utilization of social drama in biblical studies shows that the model is an effective heuristic tool that offers new insights into the data. 2. Ezra–Nehemiah and Historical Reconstruction This social science approach raises some issues about the relation of the text to historical events since it is seeking to understand the context in which the text was produced. The text is a source of information about historical events, but knowledge of historical circumstances also inÀuences how the text is read. For that reason, Chapters 2, 3 and 5 of the present study will attempt to reconstruct something of the historical circumstances that existed in Persian Yehud. When the text is being read in the light of historical circumstances and is also being read for information about the historical situation there is a danger of circular reasoning.

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66. Flanagan, David’s Social Drama, 317–18. 67. McNutt, Reconstructing, 128–37.

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This returns us to the need for methodological rigour, Gottwald’s four grids and the process of triangulation. Historical reconstruction relies on the careful weighing and cross-referencing of the various data in order to develop a plausible and accurate picture. There are, broadly speaking, two levels of historical data in biblical texts. The ¿rst level is the largely unintentional and unconscious data that reÀects the historical context in which it was composed. These data are present whether the text is intentionally relating historical information or simply narrating a story. Much of it is socio-cultural, reÀecting social structures, beliefs and practices. The critical application of social science methods is a major means of identifying socio-cultural data and its implications for understanding the historical context.68 It needs to be noted that this level of historical data has two possible sources. It may come from the writer of the text and reÀect the context in which it was composed. Alternatively, the information may derive from sources on which the writer draws. In the case of Ezra–Nehemiah, the chronological gap between the context depicted, any source documents and the writer is relatively short in socio-cultural terms.69 Social structures, beliefs and practices tend to be relatively stable. The chronological distance between the events depicted and the composition of Ezra– Nehemiah is dif¿cult to determine with accuracy. It seems likely that the ¿nal form of the text did not eventuate until the Hellenistic period.70 This would put some 150 years between the oldest sources, roughly contemporaneous with the events, and the composition of the book. Such a circumstance suggests that the social context of the writer was not dissimilar from that of the sources. In cases where comparison with other post-exilic texts can be made, the continuity of beliefs and practices can 68. Ibid., 3 and 7. Interestingly the social science application McNutt uses to justify this point is Turner’s social drama. Flanagan refers to this level of historical data as that relating to notions; see J. Flanagan, “Beyond Space–Time Semantics,” JSOT 39 (1987): 24. 69. For possible scenarios of the development of Ezra–Nehemiah, see L. L. Grabbe, Ezra–Nehemiah (London: Routledge, 1998), 93–122; H. G. M. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah (Waco, Tex.: Word, 1985), xxxiii–xxxv. 70. Grabbe argues that the Persian decrees show some post-Achaemenid Aramaic features, the nature of which point to editing in the Hellenistic period; see L. L. Grabbe, A History of the Jews and Judaism in the Second Temple Period, vol. 1 (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 77. Williamson’s reconstruction suggests Ezra–Nehemiah was composed in the early Hellenistic period; see Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xxxv–xxxiv. Those who prefer to link Ezra–Nehemiah with the Chronicler tend to date the composition to the late Persian era; see J. Myers, Ezra Nehemiah (New York: Doubleday, 1965), lxviii–lxx. 1

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be con¿rmed. Such is the case with the notions and practices surrounding penitential prayer. The second level of historical data in the text is intentional data; the information the writer wants readers to understand as “actual events that transpired.”71 This raises particular challenges when dealing with ancient texts since the writers did not use the same standards of historical reportage expected by modern historians. Every ancient text must be approached critically and any claims about historical events carefully assessed. This is where triangulation with other data, such as artefactual evidence or other texts, is required to evaluate potential historical traces. Where a text is the only witness to events, judgment about historical veracity often comes down to decisions about the plausibility of the writer and the report. For example, in discussing the extent of Yehud in the following chapter I will discuss the districts referred to in Neh 3. I judge, given the attendant information, that it is more likely that a writer would have named the actual districts of Yehud than he/she would have invented them in retelling the story of the reconstruction of the wall. Again, social science methods can help the judgment by indicating degrees of plausibility. However, the most that can be claimed is that the reported events have, in the light of the analysis, a reasonable probability of having happened in the manner described. As Paula McNutt puts it, “history is not so much what ‘really’ happened in the past as what historians can convince us ‘probably’ happened. But this ‘probably’ is always subject to revision.”72 Ezra–Nehemiah presents as a historiographical work, but scholars vary in their evaluation of the accuracy of its historical reportage.73 For example, Grabbe observes that there are three different Ezra’s presented in the work and not enough information to determine whether any of them resembles a historical Ezra.74 The analysis that follows suggests that social science models can provide additional data that support attempts at historical reconstruction. Recognition of the signi¿cance of ritual indicates that there is a more consistent portrait of Ezra in the text than Grabbe has observed. Further, the social drama model points to 71. The phrase is taken from a list of de¿nitions of history offered by Diana Edelman in her “Doing History in Biblical Studies,” in Israel’s Past in Present Research (ed. V. Philips Long; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1999), 292. 72. McNutt, Reconstructing, 7. 73. Note the different assumptions of Grabbe and Sacchi, for example; see Grabbe, A History, 1:351–60; P. Sacchi, The History of the Second Temple Period (Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 2000), 15. 74. Grabbe, A History, 1:331. 1

22

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areas where Ezra’s role appears to be diminished by the text. Putting these data together enables me to make some suggestions about the historical Ezra behind the narrative. Social science analysis and historical enquiry are closely related. It is possible to use sociological analysis at a literary level without historical enquiry.75 However, recognizing social complexity and seeking interpretive accuracy require that historical factors are taken into account. This study will use historical data to set the context for reading the text. It will also draw the data about the mixed marriage controversy together and point to some historical traces that contribute to a historical reconstruction of post-exilic Yehud. Like all such work, these are impressionistic and provisional explanations of the circumstances to which the mixed marriage narrative refers. The analysis supports the general plausibility of the events, but also identi¿es places where the narrative shapes the perception of events by highlighting or downplaying particular aspects. 3. Identity Social identity has in recent years become an issue of increasing interest to biblical scholars, and particularly those engaged in study of the Persian era.76 Two complementary strands are evident in this research 75. An example of a study that applies social science observations to explicate the text without discussing historical data is Ken Stone, Sex, Honor and Power in the Deuteronomistic History (JSOTSup 234; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1996). While Stone has done excellent work, the danger is a level of abstraction that has dif¿culty with social complexity and lacks some of the checks against interpretive accuracy Gottwald argues for. Flanagan, David’s Social Drama, also uses social science solely to explicate the text and does not use it to draw historical inferences. However, he does draw on a variety of geographical and historical data to set the context for reading the David narrative. 76. See, for example, such recent publications as G. N. Knoppers and K. A. Ristau, eds., Community Identity in Judean Historiography: Biblical and Comparative Perspectives (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2009); J. L. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity in Postcolonial Yehud,” in Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period (ed. O. Lipschits and M. Oeming; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2006), 53–66; A. Hagedorn, “Nahum—Ethnicity and Stereotypes: Anthropological Insights into Nahum’s Literary History,” in Esler, ed., Ancient Israel, 223–39; J. Jokiranta, “Qumran—The Prototypical Teacher in the Qumran Pesharim: A Social-Identity Approach,” in Esler, ed., Ancient Israel, 254–63; Esler, “Ezra–Nehemiah as a Narrative of (Re-Invented) Israelite Identity.” This growth in interest in identity in recent years is mirrored in other ¿elds. See A. De Fina, D. Schiffrin, and M. Bamberg, “Introduction,” in Discourse and Identity (ed. A. De Fina, D. Schiffrin, and M. Bamberg; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 1. 1

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focus.77 The ¿rst strand involves exploring the text for explicit and implicit data about the self-identity of Jewish society and its subcommunities. That is, it seeks to understand perceptions of Jewish selfidentity from the text. The second strand asks questions about the role that the text had in shaping or reshaping notions of collective identity. This second strand arises out of recognition that the process of identity formation is highly discursive and that the text will have been a participant in that discourse. The text is then both witness to conceptions of social self-identity and a discourse partner in the formation of group identity. The nature of the mixed marriage controversy and the historical circumstances in Persian Yehud indicate that identity-formation issues are central to the narrative. a. Identity Formation All people carry a collection of concepts, often unconsciously and imperfectly integrated, that make up their individual identity and that of the various social bodies to which they regard themselves to belong.78 Social or community identity is constructed by each community, which develops a set of parameters that it regards as identity markers.79 These markers usually consist of both internal characteristics and external boundary markers that set the group apart from others.80 This means that identity is forged by a mix of internal factors, such as shared history, language and religion, and external forces, such as power relationships,

77. G. N. Knoppers and K. A. Ristau, “Introduction,” in Knoppers and Ristau, eds., Community Identity, 3. 78. J. Z. Smith points out that identifying ourselves and others seems to be fundamental to our social and cultural awareness. He claims the distinction between “us” and “them” is present in the earliest written records (Sumerian) and that it is ubiquitous in kinship institutions like endogamy and exogamy. Further, he argues that a theory of the other is another way of phrasing a theory of self. See J. Z. Smith, “What a Difference a Difference Makes,” in To See Ourselves as Others See Us: Christians, Jews, Others in Late Antiquity (ed. J. Neusner and E. S. Frerichs; Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1985), 15–16, 47. 79. De Fina, Schrif¿n and Bamberg identify four factors in a social constructionist view of identity formation: (1) it takes place in concrete interactional situations; (2) it yields constellations of identities rather than monolithic constructs; (3) it does not emanate from the individual but from a process of negotiation and entextualization; (4) it entails discursive work, that is, it involves debate within the community using a variety of modes of communication; spoken, written and symbolic. See De Fina, Schiffrin, and Bamberg, “Introduction,” 2. 80. See, for example, M. Douglas, Natural Symbols: Explorations in Cosmology (London: Routledge, 1996); Hamilton, “Who Was a Jew?,” 102–17. 1

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political circumstances and the stability or instability of outside groups.81 Social identity, then, is a complex concept that emerges from multiple interactions. As Berquist puts it, identity is “the pattern that multiple forces produce.”82 Jonker points out that social psychology studies nuance the internal aspects of identity formation in two important ways.83 First, that identity is imbedded in social practices, in which discourse plays a central role.84 Social discourse, that is, communication processes and strategies, are fundamental “in the creation, negotiation and establishment of identities.”85 Later discussion will show how multiple discourses within different interest groups in Yehud contributed to the notion of the “foreign women” as the epitome of the outsider in this controversy. Second, the crafting of identity is dependent on the available pool of textual resources within the culture. In this case, the Law of Moses, particularly Deuteronomy, contributed to the de¿nition of the outsider. Social discourse and imbedded textualized notions within a culture are crucial to the internal aspects of identity formation and signi¿cant in the controversy narrated in Ezra 9 and 10. Jonker rightly states that the “notion that emphasizes the close relationship between the social environment within which a group exists, the textual resources that are available in the given culture, and the role that renewed textual construction plays in the process of identity formation” provides a ¿rm basis for evaluating identity issues in our literary sources.86 A further key feature of identity is that it is dynamic, not static. The characteristics and markers that make up social identity are constantly undergoing adjustment in response to both internal and external factors.87 This makes identity a process rather than a state. However, most changes are incremental, meaning that personal and group identity is usually perceived as a steady state. Large changes usually create a crisis which, like a crisis in a social drama, makes the underlying assumptions visible. 81. Knoppers and Ristau, “Introduction,” 1–3; Hagedorn, “Nahum—Ethnicity and Stereotypes,” 230; Berquist, “Constructions of Identity in Postcolonial Yehud,” 53–66. 82. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity in Postcolonial Yehud,” 63. 83. L. Jonker, “Textual Identities in the Books of Chronicles: The Case of Jehoram’s History,” in Knoppers and Ristau, eds., Community Identity, 201–6. 84. See, for example, J. Shotter and K. J. Gergen, eds., Texts of Identity (London: Sage, 1989); De Fina, Schiffrin, and Bamberg, eds., Discourse and Identity. 85. De Fina, Schiffrin, and Bamberg, “Introduction,” 1. 86. Jonker, “Textual Identities in the Books of Chronicles,” 205. 87. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity,” 63. Note also Knoppers and Ristau, “Introduction,” 2. 1

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25

Identity is also circumstantial; the identity a group assumes is dependent on the situation in which it is asserted.88 A village community has one identity in relation to other villages within its region, but a wider identity as part of the region in relation to other regions and a still wider identity at the larger levels of organization, such as an empire in relation to other autonomous political entities. In this way, as Berquist points out, identity is analogous to role theory.89 Just as an individual’s roles are developed and individualized through a range of experiences, so community identity is formed from a number of factors and is only ever a part of the possible range of expressions of identity that can be claimed.90 A fundamental aspect of this dynamic complexity in identity formation is that it is relational. Identity is asserted in the face of interaction with others; it marks and defends boundaries while channelling and structuring interactions across those boundaries.91 The identity asserted depends on who the outsider is and which in-group is being represented. Identity formation is a dynamic process that results from multiple internal and external forces, while any identity expressed is dependent on the context. b. Identity Formation as Context Ezra 9 and 10 is imbedded in a story that is all about the re-establishment of a people in a land with key symbols of their identity, such as occupation of Jerusalem, a rebuilt temple and a lifestyle based on Mosaic Law. Tamara Eskenazi argues in her analysis of the structure of Ezra– Nehemiah that Ezra 7–10 is particularly focused on the formation of the community.92 Community identity is a major issue for Ezra–Nehemiah and particularly for that part of the narrative focused on Ezra. 88. Jonathan Smith comments that otherness, whether understood politically or linguistically, is situational. See Smith, “What a Difference a Difference Makes,” 46. 89. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity,” 63. 90. For a discussion of role theory and its application to biblical studies, see D. L. Petersen, The Roles of Israel’s Prophets (JSOTSup 17; Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1981). Jonker (“Textual Identities in the Books of Chronicles,” 205) reinforces this point about multiple identities from the perspective of social psychology in the form of anti-essentialism, that is, the concept that individuals and groups can assume voices associated with multiple identity categories simultaneously. See further De Fina, Schiffrin, and Bamberg, “Introduction,” 3. 91. A. Hagedorn, “Nahum—Ethnicity and Stereotypes,” 230. The recognition of this relational nature of identity goes back to F. Barth. See F. Barth, “Introduction,” in Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organisation of Cultural Difference (ed. F. Barth; London: Allen & Unwin, 1969), 9–38. 92. T. C. Eskenazi, In an Age of Prose: A Literary Approach to Ezra–Nehemiah (SBLMS 36; Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1988), 62–73. See also Eskenazi, “From 1

26

Ezra’s Social Drama

The language in Ezra 9 and 10 shows the signi¿cance of identity for the mixed marriage controversy.93 The community is variously known as: ĔĐČēċČ ĔĐėċĒċČ ēćğĠĐ Ĕęċ, “the people of Israel, the priests and the Levites” (9:1); ēćğĠĐĀēĒČ ĔĐČēċ ĔĐėċĒċ, “the priests, Levites and all Israel” (10:5); ĠĊĞċ ęğč, the “holy seed” (9:2); ċēČĉċ, “the golah” or “(returned) exiles” (9:4); ċēČĉċ ĐėĈ, “the children of the exile” (10:7, 16); ċďĐēě, “a remnant” (9:8, 14, 15); ēćğĠĐ, “Israel” (10:1, 2, 10); ċēČĉċ ēċĞ, “the assembly of the exiles” (10:8); ĖĕĐėĈČ ċĊČċĐĀĐĠėćĀēĒ, “all the men of Judah and Benjamin” (10:9); ĔęċĀēĒ, “all the people” (10:9); ēċĞċĀēĒ, “the whole assembly” (10:12). Those deemed outsiders are called: ġČĝğćċ Đĕę, “the peoples of the land(s)” (9:1, 2, 11; 10:2, 11); ĐĕęĈ ċēćċ ġČĈęġċ, “with the peoples who practice these abominations” (9:14); ġČĐğĒė ĔĐĠė, “foreign women” (10:2, 10, 11, 14, 17, 18, 44).94 This conÀict is centred on the issue of who belongs and who does not, and arises out of the claim that incorporating outsiders through marriage is detrimental to the community. Historical factors also indicate that identity formation was an issue for the community that produced the text. The conquest of Judah by the Neo-Babylonian Empire, which removed its independent statehood along with its royal family and leading citizens, initiated several identity challenges for the survivors and subsequent generations. Smith-Christopher has outlined the impact of the conquest and the response to that challenge for those who were taken into exile.95 Without their land, king or temple the exiles reorganized themselves into a new social body with a new mix of identity markers in similar ways to other relocated people groups. The Judean exilic community structure relied on older categories,

Exile and Restoration to Exile and Reconstruction” in Exile and Restoration Revisited (ed. G. N. Knoppers, L. L. Grabbe, and D. Fulton; London: T&T Clark International, 2009), 87–88. 93. Olyan, “Purity Ideology in Ezra–Nehemiah,” 1–2; G. N. Knoppers, “Ethnicity, Genealogy, Geography, and Change: The Judean Communities of Babylon Jerusalem in the Story of Ezra,” in Knoppers and Ristau, eds., Community Identity, 149. 94. Not included is the list of nations used to describe the “peoples of the lands” in Ezra 9:1. This is because this list does not identify the nations these women belonged to, but instead refers to the character of the peoples who are regarded as outsiders. See pp. 73–79. 95. Smith, The Religion of the Landless; D. L Smith-Christopher, “Reassessing the Historical and Sociological Impact of the Babylonian Exile (597/587–539 BCE),” in Exile: Old Testament, Jewish and Christian Conceptions (ed. J. M. Scott; Leiden: Brill, 1997), 23–25, 28–31. 1

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such as family groups, but reformulated them for the new circumstances. The primary organizational division was the “ancestral house” or “fathers’ house” (ġČĈć ġĐĈ). These are evident in Ezra–Nehemiah, but are referred to there simply as ġČĈć, “fathers.” There are two similar phrases: ġČĈćċĀĐĠćğ, “heads of the ancestral houses,” which occurs ten times (Ezra 1:5; 2:68; 3:12; 4:2, 3; 10:16; Neh 8:13; 12:12, 22 [without the article], 23); and ġČĈćċĀĐğĠ, “leaders of the ancestral houses,” which occurs three times (Ezra 8:29; Neh 7:70, 71). These were genealogically based groups larger than the pre-exilic “father’s house” (Ĉć ġĐĈ) but smaller than clans.96 Group identity markers included rituals, like the purity laws, and folklore.97 With the initial invasion the population that remained in Judah had lost their king and many leading citizens, but subsequently they lost the temple and then all royal leadership. This left them with their land, restricted worship, and kinship upon which to rebuild a new understanding of who they were. Studies in imperialism suggest that the NeoBabylonian and Persian Empires would have been inÀuential in shaping the identity of those who remained in Judah, but what adjustments they made are more dif¿cult to identify.98 Archaeological assessment indicates that the region was devastated by the Neo-Babylonians. Much of the infrastructure collapsed and the population was signi¿cantly reduced.99 The presumption that the peasant population was little affected and simply continued on with life cannot be maintained. Rather, a much reduced population with a “subsistence-level economy remained, probably overseen by a Neo-Babylonian appointee.”100 It is usually presumed that some form of worship continued in Jerusalem but in what way is

96. Smith, The Religion of the Landless, 115. See also J. Weinberg, “The Bêt Ɩbôt in the Sixth to Fourth Centuries BCE,” in his The Citizen–Temple Community (trans. D. L. Smith-Christopher; JSOTSup 151; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1992), 49–61; Blenkinsopp, “Temple and Society in Achaemenid Judah,” in Davies, ed., Second Temple Studies, 1:47–48; J. J. Collins, “Marriage, Divorce, and Family in Second Temple Judaism,” in Families in Ancient Israel (ed. Leo G. Perdue et al.; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 105. 97. Smith, The Religion of the Landless, 69–84, 139–73. 98. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity,” 61–62. 99. O. Lipschits, “Demographic Changes in Judah Between the Seventh and Fifth Centuries B.C.E.,” in Judah and Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period (ed. O. Lipschits and J. Blenkinsopp; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2003), 323–76. 100. C. E. Carter, “Opening Windows Onto Biblical Worlds in the NeoBabylonian Period: Excavating Text and Tell,” in Lipschits and Blenkinsopp, eds., Judah and Judeans in the Neo-Babylonian Period, 311. 1

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unclear. Drawing sharp distinctions between resident people groups does not seem to have been a priority for the Judeans since those resident in Samaria considered themselves fellow worshippers of Yahweh (Ezra 4:2). In short, life changed for the remaining inhabitants of Judah, though little detail is known. For both exiles and Judean inhabitants, kinship and traditions of the past, along with imperialism and resistance to imperializing forces, inÀuenced the new identities they forged.101 When Cyrus claimed the Neo-Babylonian Empire for the Persians and emigration from Babylon to Yehud began, yet another dimension was added to the task of identity formation as repatriates and those who had remained in the land re-engaged. They were jointly faced with the task of forging a distinctive identity that took account of their shared heritage but divergent experiences while living under the restrictions of the Persian Empire.102 Further, the re-established temple and cult were necessarily modi¿ed from a royal cult to reÀect the reality of being a kingless colony. Ezra–Nehemiah indicates that the reencounter of exiles and residents had challenges. Balentine illustrates the challenge well when he draws an analogy with the trials faced by people who survive severe illness but need to forge a new life with restricted and impaired ability.103 The people of Persian Yehud, both returned exile and resident, were connected to the past and longed for the freedoms of independence, yet their new reality was life in a different world with limited freedom, few resources and a number of external pressures. Those external pressures included the imperializing forces of the Persian Empire, political pressures, encroaching settlement by neighbouring peoples, and the instability caused by Egypt’s rebellion against the Empire (486 B.C.E.). Economically, the people of Yehud faced the external pressures of Persian taxation (Neh 9:37) and internal pressures such as the relationship of Sabbath-keeping and commerce (Neh 13:15). Inevitably, the variable weather conditions that affect agrarian economies had an impact (Hag 1:10–11). The people of Yehud faced the internal identity challenges of reconciling their different experiences of conquest, the need to establish a viable cult in new circumstances, and retaining their 101. Smith, The Religion of the Landless; Berquist, “Constructions of Identity,” 59–62. 102. Knoppers argues that Israelite identity in Ezra is in fact wider than Yehud and is framed to take account of Israel as a transtemporal and international people. He claims that identifying the returned exiles as Israel privileges the Diaspora and de¿nes those in the land, not according to land or eponymous ancestor, but by their ancestral links to the Diaspora. See Knoppers, “Ethnicity, Genealogy, Geography, and Change,” 147–71. 103. Balentine, “The Politics of Religion in the Persian Period,” 129–46.

1

1. Social Science, Historicity and Identity

29

traditions, while existing as a Persian province. They also faced the challenges of identifying their distinctiveness from other peoples living in the region. The community that debated the issue of mixed marriages is the golah community—that is, a group that is primarily de¿ned by the exile. The following chapter will discuss the population of Yehud in more detail, but it is worth noting at this stage that this is an issue for a sub-community in Yehud—a community whose links to Babylon and the experience of deportation are an important part of its identity. The analysis of the mixed marriage controversy that follows is based on the view that it depicts a community that was struggling with identityformation issues. This is not only evident in the framing and content of the story, but also in the wider Ezra–Nehemiah narrative and particularly in the emphasis on the community in Ezra 7–10. Given the historical context in which the narrative was produced, identity issues such as those produced by marriage are likely to have been highly pertinent to the community. 4. Summary The analysis that follows will draw on Turner’s social drama model as a heuristic tool to examine the mixed marriage controversy in Ezra 9 and 10. The model will be used as Turner articulated it, with the addition that I will look for any residual effects of the controversy that Cottle’s extra ebbing/revivi¿cation stage identi¿es. The aim of the analysis is twofold: to identify information that furthers understanding of the narrative, and to recover traces that will aid in historical reconstruction of the events in Yehud. The mixed marriage controversy is understood to be a manifestation of a wider process of community identity formation. Given the historical context of Persian Yehud, the narrative both reÀects community concerns and speaks to those concerns. In order to develop the kind of picture of the social situation in Yehud that will allow some analysis of the mixed marriage controversy, the grids described by Gottwald need to be developed. The next chapter will discuss geography, population size, and the political situation in Yehud, these being issues that cover areas of the physical and social organizational/political grids that Gottwald describes. Chapters 3 and 4 will deal with the literary issues of Ezra 9 and 10, and in the process develop aspects of the cultural and religious grids. The picture presented by this aggregated information will provide the context in which the mixed marriage controversy will be examined through the lens of the social drama model in Chapter 5. 1

Chapter 2

YEHUD

Some understanding of the population and social organizational/political structures of Yehud in the mid-¿fth century will illuminate social processes at work in the mixed marriage controversy. There are a number of issues that need to be addressed, some of which are complex. This chapter will describe the territory of Yehud, estimate its population size, evaluate the level of post-conquest destruction, describe Yehud’s political status, and discuss its social structure. These issues will be surveyed and summarized, with detailed discussion as appropriate. 1. Issues in Mapping Yehud An important foundation for scholarly discussion about the social makeup of Yehud has been to establish the geographical extent of Yehud and the size of its population. While providing some important information this approach is limited, in that it does not cover all potential members of the golah community. Traditionally, the lists in Ezra–Nehemiah (Ezra 2:1–67; Neh 3:1–32; 7:4–69; 11:25–36; 12:1–26) have formed the basis for identifying the spread of occupation and the size of the population. However, the individual lists differ signi¿cantly and are of limited value in the exercise.1 First, there are signi¿cant questions about the nature and historical accuracy of the lists, particularly Neh 11, which looks 1. The basic problem, that none of the lists claims to identify the places occupied by Jews in Yehud, is clearly and brieÀy summarized by Grabbe, A History, 1:137. The various issues are discussed in more detail by D. V. Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple: Persian Imperial Policy and the Rebuilding of Jerusalem (London: Equinox, 2005), 209–33. The lists identify where Jews lived both inside and outside of Yehud. The scholar who notably does use the these lists as evidence of the extent of Yehud is J. Weinberg, “Demographic Notes on the History of the Postexilic Community in Judah,” in his The Citizen–Temple Community, 43–47. Weinberg’s uncritical use of the lists for this purpose undermines his analysis. See C. E. Carter, The Emergence of Yehud in the Persian Period (JSOTSup 294; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1999), 297–99.

2. Yehud

31

contrived and does not coincide with other indications of the geographical extent of the province of Yehud. Places like Beer-sheba in the south and Lod and Ono in the northwest, for example, were most likely beyond the frontiers of the province.2 Second, Ezra 2 and Neh 7 are composite lists that record an unknown period of migration and do not identify the population at any particular point in time. What is more, they claim to name only returned exiles, not residents who remained in the land. Third, the list in Neh 3 does not give ¿gures at all but identi¿es those who took responsibility for the construction of various sections of the wall around Jerusalem. It provides some indications of the geographical limits of Yehud but is not adequate to clarify them on its own. Finally, the list in Neh 12 focuses on priests and Levites, not the wider population. These lists are not designed to identify the boundaries of Yehud or number its population at a particular time; rather they claim to record the cumulative total of particular groups who returned or identify sites in which exiles settled or to which they purportedly had ancestral ties.3 In a recent article Wright has put the discussion about the geographical extent of Yehud on another footing.4 While other scholars have noted the tensions between modern concepts of state borders and the lists in Ezra–Nehemiah that are more focused on where people resided, Wright has argued that modern presuppositions have impeded our understanding of these texts.5 He states that the scholarly assumption behind efforts 2. Lod and Ono are included within Yehud by some scholars. See, for example, E. Stern, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible. Vol. 2, The Assyrian, Babylonian, and Persian Periods (732–332 B.C.E.) (New York: Doubleday, 2001), 431. Stern includes the cities in Yehud because of seal impressions found at Gezer which he judges to be in the region of Lod. However, there are two reasons to exclude them. First, the invitation from Sanballat and Geshem to Nehemiah to meet on the plain of Ono (Neh 6:2) implies that this region was outside Nehemiah’s jurisdiction. Second, the funerary inscription of the Sidonian king Eshmun!ezer II claims he received the region from his Persian overlords (ANET, 662). Nehemiah 11 is described by a number of scholars as an idealized portrait of Yehud that reÀects the pre-exilic kingdom of Judah. See Carter, The Emergence of Yehud, 80–81; Blenkinsopp, “Temple and Society in Achaemenid Judah,” 44; K. G. Hoglund, “The Material Culture of the Persian Period and the Sociology of the Second Temple,” in Second Temple Studies. Vol. 3, Studies in Politics, Class and Material Culture (ed. P. R. Davies and J. M. Halligan; London: Shef¿eld Academic, 2002), 16. 3. Carter, Emergence, 81, 97. 4. J. W. Wright, “Remapping Yehud: The Borders of Yehud and the Genealogies of Chronicles,” in Lipschits and Oeming, eds., Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, 67–89. 5. One scholar who notes the tension, and one critiqued by Wright, is O. Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 1

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to delineate the borders of Persian Yehud “anachronistically misconstrues the nature of this polity in terms of the modern nation-state.”6 He points out that precisely bounded territory over which a nation-state has sovereignty is a relatively recent concept that originated in Europe in the seventeenth century.7 On the other hand, states prior to this time, which Wright calls “traditional states,” were bounded by porous frontiers that constituted vague territorial limits.8 In addition, peripheral areas responded to a different mix of authorities from those at the centre of the territory. Traditional states did not have one single authority but “multiple powers that [made] various claims over particular bodies in different situations.”9 Yehud did not have a single authority over its territory to which all inhabitants owed allegiance, neither were there rigid boundaries; rather, the “familial/patronage system constructed overlapping, permeable jurisdictions within a geographically de¿ned area.”10 That is, the region had several inÀuential individuals and bodies who made claims over various groups in different situations. Further, there were gradations of inÀuence that were stronger in the centre and increasingly “diffuse and intermixed as one moves toward the periphery.”11 In contrast to modern nation states with a focus on sovereign territory, Wright argues the Achaemenid Empire followed the model of traditional states that focused on ruling peoples: “[t]he Great King was not a king 154. Lipschits comments that there is “a certain amount of confusion between the places where Judeans lived and the of¿cial limits of the province” in the biblical sources. Wright’s inclusion of Lipschits in his criticism is not entirely justi¿ed in that Lipschits does not claim that the borders are that precise. In fact, he argues that borders were only de¿ned when disputes arose (184). A looser understanding of governance that concentrates more on spheres of inÀuence than on geographical borders is also presented by J. W. Betlyon, “A People Transformed: Palestine in the Persian Period,” Near Eastern Archaeology 68 (2005): 4–58. See, particularly, pp. 9–11. 6. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 67. Wright names three scholars in particular whom he claims are guilty of this anachronistic imposition: Stern, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, vol. 2; Carter, The Emergence of Yehud; Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem. 7. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 71. He points to the Peace of Westphalia in 1648 as a widely agreed pivotal point in establishing this polity. 8. Wright appears to have adopted the term “traditional states” for those states prior to the seventeenth century from his theorists. It is used this way by A. Giddens, ed., The Nation State and Violence. Vol. 2, A Contemporary Critique of Historical Materialism (Cambridge: Polity, 1987). 9. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 72. 10. Ibid., 67. 11. Ibid., 72. 1

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over territories; he ruled over peoples.”12 Within Persia itself tribal ties validated by genealogies formed the basis of relationships and governance. The wider Empire was ruled through patronage allegiances; the satrapal system, for example, was primarily conceived in terms of the relationship between the king and his agents. As Briant points out, in the Behistun inscription when Darius names his satraps VivƗna in Arachosia (III:10) and DƗdarši in Bactria (III:3), he quali¿es them as bandaka, a Persian term that connotes their loyalty to the king.13 Briant goes on to say that satraps were ¿rst and foremost personal representatives of the king and their duty was not necessarily to a territory. The Persian Empire was structured in terms of people groups and governed through relationships and alliances: “[a] vast genealogical/kinship patronage structure supported Achaemenid hegemony over its vast territories.”14 The same structure of relationship and patronage functioned at provincial level. As I note below in discussing the political status of Yehud, satraps were obligated to run their administrations in a similar way to the king and it seems likely that provincial governors did the same.15 The focus on people groups does not mean that territory was unimportant in the Persian Empire. There was often a close relationship between a people group and a territory that meant that genealogies could intermingle family names and geographical locations. Briant points out that in Persia each tribe had its own territory and that some tribal names, such as Maraphii and Pasargade, were both ethnonyms and toponyms.16 In literary descriptions of the wider Empire, genealogical and geographical information is merged. Royal inscriptions, such as the Behistun inscription, depict a circular world with the Achaemenid power in the centre and the peoples arranged around it.17 The geographical location of a people group is conceived in terms of the people’s relationship with Achaemenid royalty. Wright argues that the genealogies in Chronicles display the same focus on relationships and on understanding the world through those relationships, as does the Persian literature. First Chronicles 2:3–4:23 and 8:1–40 display relationships that move from centre to periphery and 12. Ibid., 73. 13. P. Briant, From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire (trans. P. T. Daniels; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2002), 65. 14. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 74. 15. Briant, Cyrus to Alexander, 345–47. 16. Ibid., 18. 17. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 74. He quotes Briant, Cyrus to Alexander, 180. Earlier (pp. 172–75), Briant names examples of six such inscriptions and tabulates the regions they identify.

1

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Ezra’s Social Drama

the free merging of genealogy and geography. The genealogies of the tribe of Judah are focused around central families while displaying topographical allusions when mapping relationships with people groups beyond the tribal region. The central families are located in the region that is common to reconstructions of Yehud, “from just south and west of Jerusalem, reaching south to the Hebron Highlands.”18 Ties to families outside the region of Judah proper are made by adding geographical locations into the genealogical lists. These indicate connections with families to the north in Benjamin, north-east in Gilead, south in the Negev and Arabah and south and west in the southern Shephelah. One of those families, Kenaz (1 Chr 4:13–15; cf. 1 Chr 1:36, 52), shows ties to both Judah and Edom, illustrating the mixed alliances and situational identities of some families. Similarly, Benjamin genealogies show a concentration in its old tribal area, with key families resident in Jerusalem. It also has scattered elements, some in the Arad Valley and a diaspora living outside Yehud, particularly the northern Shephelah in the Lod-Ono Valley. This description of families centred in Judah but with relational links to neighbouring regions ¿ts well with the reconstructions of the population in Yehud based on archaeological information.19 When applied to Ezra–Nehemiah this perspective makes some aspects of the text more understandable. For example, Ezra’s commission, which gives jurisdiction to appoint judges among all people who worshipped Yahweh in the Beyond the River satrapy rather than just within Yehud (Ezra 7:25), is understandable in this light. The Persian administration thought in terms of people groups, and Ezra was sent to function among a people group resident in the satrapy, not just those in one province, the borders of which were not entirely clear. The depiction of the inÀuence of Tobiah, governor of Amon, on people resident in Jerusalem also illustrates this relational polity (Neh 6:17–19). He reportedly made life dif¿cult for Nehemiah through relational links with key people resident in Jerusalem. Wright also notes that this way of understanding Yehud helps explain the origins of the social system that developed in the Hellenistic and Roman eras.20 In this later period the Judeans had a territorial centre, expanding and contracting frontiers according to the military fortunes of the Hasmoneans and Herodians, and links to diaspora communities throughout the Mediterranean and Mesopotamian worlds.

1

18. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 82. 19. See pp. 36–41. 20. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 87–88.

2. Yehud

35

This has some important implications for the way the region of Yehud is understood and the social situation which the mixed marriage narrative assumes. Yehud was not a province with rigid borders and a population that all owed allegiance to its governor. It was a Persian province whose polity was held together by a kinship and patronage system. Yehud was run by key families whose inÀuence was stronger in the centre and dissipated towards the periphery of the province. Conversely, neighbouring leaders had webs of inÀuence that reached into Yehud. One implication of this relational polity is that social, religious and political spheres of inÀuence were probably not geographically co-extensive.21 While these three arenas of inÀuence were undoubtedly heavily interrelated and largely overlapped in Yehud, they were not equally inÀuential in the same geographical areas. InÀuence on the frontiers was undoubtedly patchy and some inÀuences extended beyond the frontiers of Yehud. Kin group leaders would have had some inÀuence over family matters, including inheritance and marriage, among diaspora members resident outside Yehud.22 The priesthood also would have had some inÀuence over the religious practices of Jews beyond the immediate geographical region of Yehud, as the Passover Papyrus suggests (TAD A4.1). These inÀuences outside the immediate environs of Yehud were variable and depended on the strength of family ties and the piety of families and individuals. Similarly, political inÀuence was dependent on relationships. The case of the group that approached Nehemiah and expressed the concerns that led to his appointment as governor depicts relationally based political inÀuence between Yehud and Babylon. Another implication is that membership of the golah community was probably conceived primarily on relational lines. Ezra 2, which lists families that returned from Babylonia, includes families resident in areas like Lod, Hadid and Ono (Ezra 2:33), towns likely outside the province of Yehud. This indicates that the author of Ezra–Nehemiah did not perceive the returned community as only that resident within Yehud, but as that tied by kinship and shared history living within easy communication of Jerusalem. This in turn has implications for how some aspects of the mixed marriage narrative are understood. For example, those who assembled in Jerusalem are said to have responded to a summons sent throughout Judah and Jerusalem (Ezra 10:7). The reference to Judah could refer to a 21. A cautionary point also raised in comments about the correlation of the community, region and political identity by Hoglund, “Material Culture,” 15. 22. The book of Tobit reÀects strong relational links among a geographically dispersed family. 1

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territory or a people group. It is used both ways in Ezra. When Ezra 1:2 describes Jerusalem as being in Judah it is clearly a geographical location. Judah is also used with reference to the tribe (Neh 11:4). Four times it is coupled with Benjamin (Ezra 1:5; 4:1; 10:9; Neh 11:4) as a reference to the people as a whole and is equivalent to “all Israel.”23 That combined term, “all the men of Judah and Benjamin,” is used to describe the respondents to the summons (10:9), which suggests a relational community not a resident community. It seems readers should understand the assembly as consisting of people who lived within communicable distance of the leadership in Jerusalem, not just those resident in Yehud. While this conclusion complicates calculations somewhat, the numbers outside of Yehud linked to the golah community do not appear to be large. Understanding the population in Yehud will necessitate drawing on studies that have assumed a situation in Yehud more like the nation state. While accepting Wright’s arguments about relational polity, which question rigid territorial boundaries, studies that identify regional borders are not invalidated by his conclusions. What Wright’s arguments do is make the precision and rigidity with which such studies want to draw the borders somewhat redundant. Nevertheless, as his analysis of the genealogies in Chronicles shows, the bulk of the people known as Judah and Benjamin lived within an identi¿able area. In order to estimate the population size, some decisions on the extent of the region will need to be made. That is the task of the next section. 2. The Extent of Yehud The geographical extent of the Persian province of Yehud is not easily delineated because the data are limited. One of the main means of de¿ning those borders has been though the lists in Ezra–Nehemiah, lists which, as I noted above, do not ¿t the role.24 The other major source of information for drawing such maps is archaeological data, but these data are also of limited value in determining provincial geography because they do not identify borders. 23. H. C. M. Vogt, Studie zur nachexilischen Gemeinde in Esra–Nehemia (Werl: Dietrich Coelde, 1966), 66–67. He claims the pairing of Judah and Benjamin appears on ¿ve occasions, though only four of the occurrences (Ezra 1:5; 4:1; 10:9; Neh 11:4) are used to designate the people as a group. The ¿fth occurrence he notes, Neh 11:36, does not tie the two tribes together in the same way. It states that some levitical families moved from Judah to Benjamin. 24. For comparison and analysis of the lists in relation to the geography of Yehud, see Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 154–74.

1

2. Yehud

37

Three sets of artifactual evidence have been utilized in an effort to identify the extent of Yehud: seal impressions, coins and fortresses. Yet such evidence is not always conclusive proof of occupation or of regional boundaries/frontiers. For example, a Yehud seal impression was discovered in a Persian-era fortress at Kadesh-Barnea.25 It is, however, improbable that political authority based in Jerusalem was suf¿ciently inÀuential that far south for it to be regarded as part of the province. Neither is the existence of fortresses necessarily an indication of a frontier. In his discussion of Yehud’s south central hill country, Hoglund has argued that many Persian-era fortresses were situated to protect imperial trade routes and communication lines rather than borders.26 Wright, quoting Giddens, supports the point by noting that such fortresses in traditional states may form the outer extent of a defence system, while not necessarily marking the presence of borders.27 Like the biblical lists, archaeological remains are pointers but not de¿nitive evidence of Yehud’s frontiers. A study by Carter uses a number of indicators, including observations about the governance of empires and the inÀuence of natural geographical divisions on political boundaries, to determine the geographical extent of Yehud. Natural topographical divisions, such as rivers and sudden changes in terrain, often form the basis for geopolitical entities.28 It takes considerable power for governments to overcome such natural geographical boundaries and the government in Yehud, with limited resources and autonomy, was unlikely to have been able to extend its inÀuence beyond those natural barriers.29 Grabbe notes that the boundaries of Yehud were largely stable from Nehemiah until the time of the Hasmoneans; this suggests that they were probably the same at the beginning of the Persian period.30 These factors indicate that natural 25. R. Cohen, “Solomon’s Negev Defence Line Contained Three Fewer Fortresses,” BARev 12 (1986): 45. There is also a possible Yehud seal impression found at Tel Michal, a site near the coast and therefore well outside any boundaries of Persian Yehud. The impression has not been published and is apparently dif¿cult to read. Carter (Emergence, 90) says it is “only possibly a yhd seal.” 26. Hoglund, Achaemenid Imperial Administration, 202–3. 27. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 72. Wright quotes A. Giddens, ed., The Nation State and Violence, 2:51. 28. Carter, Emergence. See also Giddens, ed., The Nation State and Violence, 2:50. 29. Carter, Emergence, 91. 30. L. L Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian (London: Routledge, 1992), 80. Similarly Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 148–49. Lipschits says the boundaries of Judah were identical in the Persian and Hellenistic periods. Expansion into areas west of the central hill country took place in the Hasmonean period. 1

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geographical divisions such as the Rift Valley in the east and the divide between the Shephelah and the central hill country in the west formed what Carter terms the boundaries of Yehud. He notes that the northern and southern boundaries are a little more dif¿cult to draw on this basis. However, the northern boundary was most probably the traditional tribal divide between Benjamin and the old northern kingdom of Israel. The boundary followed natural contours from just north of Jericho to Bethel and then on to Beit Ur et-Tahta. Carter proposes two options for the southern boundary related to his two divisions in the Persian era. In the Persian A period (538/9 to mid-¿fth century B.C.E.), he argues that the border extended from En-Gedi on the shores of the Dead Sea northwest toward Tekoa, then west to Beth-Zur and from there toward Keilah until it reached the Shephelah just east of Keilah. In the Persian B era (mid¿fth century to 332 B.C.E.), when Hebron was inhabited, he claims it was included in the province. This last claim about including Hebron within the southern border is contentious.31 Both Carter and Hoglund argue that it should be included, whereas Lipschits and Stern prefer to draw the boundary in the valley between Hebron and Beth-Zur for the whole of the Persian period. Wright, arguing on the basis of permeable frontiers, claims that Hebron was suf¿ciently within the inÀuence of Jerusalem to be considered part of the province.32 Hebron itself was unoccupied in the mid-¿fth century and therefore it need not be included in calculations of the population of Yehud.33 Despite the disagreement over the inclusion of Hebron within the borders, the size of the settled area calculated by Carter and Lipschits for this southern region of Yehud appears to be very similar.34 31. The conventional view is that Hebron was under Edomite control. Carter, however, disputes this. He notes that there is no textual or archaeological evidence to support Edomite control in the Persian era and that the idea of Edomite control of Hebron is based on 1 Macc 4–5, which places that control in the later Maccabean era. See Carter, Emergence, 98–99. Carter is followed by Hoglund, who claims the border was probably 12 km south of Hebron; see Hoglund, “Material Culture,” 18. A possible scenario for Edomite control of the area is presented by Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 140–46. Like Lipschits, Stern also favours Beth-Zur as the southern border of Yehud; see Stern, Archaeology of the Land of the Bible, 2:431. 32. Wright, “Remapping Yehud,” 82. 33. Carter, Emergence, 82 and 100. 34. Compare Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 250–58, and Carter, Emergence, 187, 325–49. It should be noted that Edelman has put a case for including Idumea within Yehud; see Edelman, The Origins of the “Second” Temple, 209–80. She argues that Idumea was set up as a sub-province of Yehud sometime between 450 and 400 B.C.E. This is after the period I am dealing with, although only just if Ezra is dated 1

2. Yehud

39

The most contentious issue with the borders is the western one, in particular whether part of the Shephelah should be included in Yehud. Nehemiah 3, which lists those who contributed to the building of the wall in Jerusalem, includes two half districts of Keilah (Neh 3:17–18) in the southern Shephelah. Carter argues that Neh 3 does not refer to administrative districts. He follows Demsky’s argument that đēě means “work duty” rather than “district” in this context.35 However, Lipschits, whose conclusions are similar to Carter’s, does include this triangle of the Shephelah within the province of Yehud.36 The inclusion or exclusion of a triangle of the Shephelah within Yehud pivots around the discussion about whether Neh 3 refers to administrative districts. The majority opinion has been that đēě is a loan word from the Assyrian pilku, which means “district.”37 While Demsky is probably correct that pilku can also mean “work duty,” there is good reason to continue to accept that “district” is the better translation of the Hebrew đēě in Neh 3.38 As Williamson points out, Neh 3 makes a distinction between the “ruler of the district of Mizpah” (3:15) and the “ruler of Mizpah” (3:19); city and district seem to have different leadership. If đēě means “work duty” or “assigned portion,” then these verses 458 B.C.E. Since Edelman’s argument does not impact on this discussion, her interpretation of events is not explored further here. According to her, the Beersheba Valley and the Negev were under Edomite control prior to a mid-¿fth-century reorganization of the region. 35. A. Demsky, “Pelekh in Nehemiah 3,” IEJ 33 (1983): 242–44. 36. There are a number of other differences between the two studies. Lipschits critiques Carter’s ecological niches and the distinction he tries to make between early and late Persian periods. Their internal divisions of the region are quite distinct and based on very different criteria. As a result, as Lipschits notes, it is impossible to offer precise comparisons between their conclusions. See Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 266. Despite this, the borders of Yehud drawn by Carter and Lipschits are similar, except for the Shephelah. Cf. Grabbe, A History, 1:200. 37. See L. Allen and T. Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (NIBC; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2003), 102–3; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 234–35; D. J. A. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther (London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, 1984), 153; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 206; F. C. Fensham, The Books of Ezra and Nehemiah (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), 175; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 120; W. Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia (Tübingen: Mohr, 1949), 114–19. So also HALOT CD. Both R. Hess, đēě, NIDOTTE 3:626–27, and đēě, DCH 6:696–97, are cautious and offer both possibilities. 38. Grabbe, Judaism from Cyrus to Hadrian, 80–81. Elsewhere, Grabbe comments that Demsky’s analysis calls for some caution in using Neh 3 to reconstruct the districts within Yehud and concludes later Avi-Yonah’s suggestion of the six districts is “not unreasonable but is far from proved” (A History, 1:139–40). 1

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would need to be emended to make sense.39 Since there is no evidence to support an emendation, “district” seems to be the best option in the context.40 In addition, even if Demsky’s argument is accepted, it does not alter the implication that Jerusalem had political power in the southern Shephelah. If Nehemiah was able to conscript labour from the Keilah region, then he must have had the political authority to do so. In relational/patronage terms the contributions from the Keilah district show strong relational links with Jerusalem and therefore effective control. Changing the meaning of đēě to “work duty” does not, in the end, eliminate the southern Shephelah from Jerusalem’s political control. Such administrative areas can be seen in the same way as the province, being centred in an area with strong control by key people in the main centre or centres, dissipating inÀuence toward the fringes and vague boundaries unless disputes or other circumstances called for clear lines of demarcation. Both Lipschits and Carter’s descriptions of the extent of Yehud make it somewhat smaller than the judgments of many before them.41 They are similar to, if slightly smaller than, the proposals made by Avi-Yonah and Grabbe.42 Their conclusions, however, need to be modi¿ed by Wright’s criticism that such discussions cannot presuppose a European nationstate model that is alien to the Persian Empire. Territorial boundaries are better regarded as vague and permeable frontiers rather than hard lines of demarcation. The more relational nature of governance utilised in the Persian Empire is evidenced in the text of Neh 3, which indicates a district structure that is not entirely congruent with Carter’s borders based on topographical boundaries. In this regard Lipschits’ proposal, which includes the Keilah district in the southern Shephelah within Yehud, has more weight.

39. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 206. Williamson argues that to understand

đēě as “assigned portion” the text would need to be analogous to that which

describes the half districts of Keilah and refer to “the foreman of half the assigned portion of Mizpah.” 40. The LXX also supports this reading, using mbof`ìols for đēě. 41. Carter, Emergence, 82–90. Carter presents maps of Yehud by Avi-Yonah, Stern, Rainey and Grabbe that all depict a larger area than his conclusions. These older maps tend to include the northern Shephelah, which is excluded by Carter and Lipschits. Lipschits’s conclusions indicate a Yehud smaller than these maps but slightly larger than Carter’s. See Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 183. 42. See the maps in Carter, Emergence, 84–87. Note that Grabbe’s more recent description is much closer to Carter’s; see Grabbe, A History, 1:xxi, 135–40. 1

2. Yehud

41

With this information in the background it is possible to describe the geographical area that can be called Yehud. This depiction of the Persianera province whose key people of inÀuence were based in Jerusalem and its immediate environs conforms to that described by Lipschits. The province of Yehud was centred on the traditional tribal areas of Benjamin and the Judean central hill country. It extended east from Jerusalem to the Rift Valley with the Jordan River and Dead Sea, reaching from Jericho to En-Gedi, the limits of its primary inÀuence. The northern frontier began north of Jericho, travelled west to Bethel then veered slightly to the south passing Beth-Horon. The frontier then continued southwest into the Shephelah, running north of Beth-Shemesh and reaching as far as west Azekah. The southern frontier began at En-Gedi by the Dead Sea, ran northwest to Hebron, continued northwest to just west of Keilah and ran in a more northerly direction until it reached Azekah. This is the province of Yehud in geographical terms, but it is not a complete indication of political control. Various relationships meant that lines of authority extended beyond this geographic description. Figure 1. Persian Yehud

Reprinted with modi¿cation from Oded Lipschits, The Fall and Rise of Jerusalem: Judah under Babylonian Rule, map 6 (p. 183), Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 2005; © copyright Eisenbrauns, 2005. Reprinted by permission of the publisher.

1

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3. The Population of Yehud It was necessary to establish the frontiers of the province in order to estimate the population of Yehud because the most effective method relies on identifying the number and size of settled areas within Yehud as a basis for population calculations. As I have noted, the alternative method utilizing the numbers in the lists in Ezra–Nehemiah is too problematic to be any indication of the likely population of Yehud. Yet even with the data from archaeological excavations and surveys, any population ¿gures derived are an estimate, an educated guess, rather than a statistically accurate calculation. Population can be estimated using a variety of methods, including analysis of food remains, available water supply, and land carrying capacity.43 Such methods require detailed data not available for Persianera Yehud; therefore, Carter states, the best method of estimating population in this case is using areal analysis.44 Areal analysis involves establishing the total area that was settled in the period, determining the likely density of the population in that settled area, and then multiplying the two ¿gures to reach a total population (i.e. total settled area × population density = total population). Such a description is deceptively straightforward and hides a number of complexities. Population density can only be estimated and averaged since individual niches vary widely in settled density.45 The accepted ¿gure for this process is 250 persons per hectare or 25 per dunam. This ¿gure has been established through ethnoarchaeological studies and analysis of the statistics of the rural Arab villages in Palestine during the British Mandate.46 While this ¿gure 43. Carter, Emergence, 195. An example of estimates of population size done by applying a density ratio to dwelling space in Tel en-Nasbeh (Mizpah) then crosschecked against water supply and land carry capacity is provided by J. R. Zorn, “Estimating the Population Size of Ancient Settlements: Methods, Problems, Solutions, and a Case Study,” BASOR 295 (1994): 31–48. 44. Carter, Emergence, 195–99. 45. Carter’s research into population densities in Palestine during the British mandate found ratios ranging from 6.9 to 22.9 people per dunam in one district and 6.6 to 36.5 in another. Ibid., 197–98. The assumption that variations in population density between towns and cities evens out over a large sample is unproven but the method is regarded as valid at the macro level, that is, comparisons across regions. See Zorn, “Estimating the Population Size of Ancient Settlements,” 32. 46. Carter, Emergence, 195–99; Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 258–71. The ¿gure has been established by a number of studies. For the ethnographic issues, see C. Kramer, Ethnoarchaeology: Implications of Ethnography to Archaeology (New York: Columbia University Press, 1979). For population studies of ancient Israel, see Y. Shiloh, “The Population of Iron Age Palestine in the Light of a Sample Analysis 1

2. Yehud

43

of 25 per dunam is widely utilized, comparisons with Arab villages during the British Mandate indicate it is on the high side and therefore must be regarded as the maximum possible density.47 Establishing the second part of the equation, the settled area within Yehud, relies on information as to the size of sites that have been excavated and estimates of the number and size of settled sites based on archaeological surveys. However, surveys are very much overviews and it is unlikely that all possible occupied sites have been identi¿ed, particularly as the population was largely rural and small family settlements can easily be missed. An adjustment coef¿cient, a percentage of the total settled area, is usually added to calculations to take account of unknown settlements. The size of that additional percentage is dependent on the evaluations of the individual scholar and typically range between 10 percent and 30 percent, with 20 percent common. This is not an exact science. Estimates are very much that—estimates not hard ¿gures. The evaluation of the geographical extent of Yehud above concluded that Lipschits was correct to include a section of the Shephelah within Yehud. He estimates the total settled area of Yehud at 1,205 dunams.48 When multiplied by the 25 persons per dunam average density ¿gure a total population of 30,125 results. Taking the cautions about the maximal nature of the 25 persons per dunam ratio into account, this ¿gure is at the high end of the scale. The maximum probable population of Persian Yehud was between 25,000 and 30,000.49 These population numbers provide some context in which to set the mixed marriage narrative. of Urban Plans, Areas, and Population Density,” BASOR 238 (1980): 25–35; M. Broshi and I. Finkelstein, “The Population of Palestine in Iron Age II,” BASOR 287 (1992): 47–60; I. Finkelstein, The Archaeology of the Israelite Settlement (Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1988); M. Broshi, “Methodology of Population Estimates: The Roman-Byzantine Period as a Case Study,” in Biblical Archaeology Today 1990: Proceedings of the Second International Congress on Biblical Archaeology (ed. A. Biran and J. Aviram; Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1993), 420–25. 47. Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 261; Carter, Emergence, 198. The ¿gure has been challenged by G. A. London, “Tells: City Center or Home?,” Eretz-Israel 23 (1992): 71–79. She argues that using an averaged population density ¿gure is too inaccurate to be helpful. 48. Lipschits, Fall and Rise, 269. Lipschits’s table puts the settled dunams of the Persian period within regional boundaries equivalent to Iron Age Judah at 1,345. The ¿gure of 1,205 dunams given above subtracts the settled areas of the southern Judean Hills and the Beersheba and Arad Valleys from the total as these were not within the frontiers of Yehud. 49. It is quite possible this estimate is still too high. Faust points out that both Carter’s and Lipschits’s methods tend to maximize the calculations. See A. Faust, 1

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4. Political Status There are two alternatives as to how the people of Yehud were governed by the Persians. Albrecht Alt argued that Yehud was a sub-region under the jurisdiction of Samaria until Nehemiah was made governor, a view more recently championed by Sean McEvenue.50 The alternative is that Yehud was a province in its own right with its own governor. Alt’s argument is that after Gedaliah’s assassination the Babylonians did not appoint a new governor in Judah but annexed it to Samaria, and that this situation continued into the Persian era. He claimed that Nehemiah’s wall building re-established Jerusalem as a garrison city capable of being a provincial capital. The reason the surrounding regional leaders opposed Nehemiah was because he was doing something new that challenged both the power balance in the region and Persian dominion. Further, Alt argued that previous leaders in Jerusalem did not succeed in establishing the city as a provincial capital and that the biblical text provides no evidence that men like Sheshbazzar and Zerubbabel had the authority of a governor. Neither is there evidence of a succession of governors over Yehud prior to Nehemiah. McEvenue adds that Kurt Galling’s interpretation of Tattenai’s encounter with Zerubbabel in Ezra 5 reinforces Alt’s argument.51 Galling argued that Tattenai would have been fully informed about Zerubbabel’s return to Jerusalem and therefore the Persian of¿cial’s surprise at the rebuilding of the temple indicates Zerubbabel was not charged as governor of Yehud but had an ad hoc authority to oversee a migration and resettlement of Judeans. He also claimed, on the presumption that the Chronicler was the writer of Ezra–Nehemiah, that Zerubbabel’s appointment as governor would have been trumpeted as a Davidic triumph had it been his role (cf. Hag 2:23; Zech 4).

“Settlement Dynamics and Demographic Fluctuations in Judah and the Late Iron Age to the Hellenistic Period and the Archaeology of Persian-Period Yehud,” in A Time of Change: Judah and Its Neighbours in the Persian and Early Hellenistic Periods (ed. Y. Levin; London: T&T Clark International, 2007), 23–51. 50. A. Alt, “Der Rolle Samarias bei der Entstehung des Judentums,” in Kleine Schriften zur Geschichte des Volks Israel II (Munich: Beck, 1953), 316–37; S. E. McEvenue, “The Political Structure in Judah from Cyrus to Nehemiah,” CBQ 43 (1981): 353–64. 51. K. Galling, Studien zur Geschichte Israels im persischen Zeitalter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1964), 61–108; McEvenue, “Political Structure,” 355. 1

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Additionally, McEvenue adds his own responses to Morton Smith’s and G. Widengren’s rejections of Alt’s position.52 Smith argued that ċĎě must be understood to mean “governor”; therefore, the reference to Zerubbabel as ċĎě (Ezra 6:7), along with Nehemiah’s reference to previous governors (Neh 5:15), suggests that Zerubbabel was governor of Judah. Widengren claimed that the application of both ċĎě and ğġ›ćġ to Sheshbazzar, Zerubbabel and Nehemiah indicates they were governors of the province. Widengren further argued that ċėĐĊĕ refers to a territory of jurisdiction, not extended family as claimed by Alt. Therefore, when Yehud is referred to as a ċėĐĊĕ, it indicates a Persian province. McEvenue rejects both Smith’s and Widengren’s philological arguments, claiming that none of these words is used in a technical sense in Ezra–Nehemiah, that ċĎě and ğġ›ćġ are general terms used for a range of authority roles and that ċėĐĊĕ needs to be understood in its pre-exilic sense as an administrative district.53 He concludes by saying that “the form of political authority in Judah from 597 to 445 B.C. remains obscure,” but that Alt’s proposition remains the “only proposal supported by probable arguments.”54 Despite McEvenue’s arguments, the majority of scholars regard it as more likely that Yehud was a separate administrative province with its own governors rather than a sub-district of Samaria. There are several reasons for this. First, Smith’s argument that Neh 5:15 refers to governors prior to Nehemiah is not invalidated by arguments that ċĎě has a broad range of meaning. The force of the comparison is in Nehemiah’s actions in contrast to others in Yehud, not the practices of other regional governors like Sanballat. This point undermines Alt’s arguments and McEvenue does not effectively refute it. Second, McEvenue’s argument that the term ċĎě is not used in a technical sense in Ezra–Nehemiah but is based on an older Hebrew usage that is more generalized seems to be special pleading. He admits that the Persian usage is reÀected in Esther and it seems unreasonable to demand that there is no such Persian

52. M. Smith, Palestinian Parties and Politics that Shaped the Old Testament (2d ed.; London: SCM, 1987), 147–53; G. Widengren, “The Persian Period,” in Israelite and Judean History (ed. J. H. Hayes and J. M. Miller; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977), 510. 53. The only use of ċėĐĊĕ in a pre-exilic context is in 1 Kgs 20:14, 15, 17, 19, where it refers to Solomonic administrative districts. It is used in post-exilic contexts to refer to a province or satrapy. See, e.g., Lam 1:1; Esth 1:1, 16; Dan 3:2. Cf. HALOT CD. 54. McEvenue, “Political Structure,” 364. 1

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inÀuence in Ezra–Nehemiah.55 Third, McEvenue’s treatment of the enquiry by Tattenai requires that Zerubbabel made a special agreement with Darius about which Darius failed to inform his of¿cials. This is hardly the most likely explanation for these events. As Grabbe notes, Darius probably succeeded to the throne after Zerubbabel arrived in Yehud and Tattenai’s investigation is not surprising given the events around Darius’ accession.56 Darius came to the throne through assassinating Bardiya, Cambyses’ brother, or a man claiming to be Bardiya, who had rebelled against Cambyses in 522 B.C.E. Cambyses died before subduing the rebellion. Darius killed Bardiya and then had to subdue various revolts that broke out to secure his usurpation of the throne.57 These events would have made Tattenai cautious about events that suggested revolt. A fourth decisive point it that there is now considerable material evidence from seals, seal impressions, coins and one textual reference that Yehud had a succession of governors.58 A number of seal impressions on either bullae or jar handles with a personal name, the word “governor” (ćČĎě), and sometimes the word “Yehud” (ĊČċĐ) in Aramaic have been found in various locations. These allow us to name at least three governors. These are: Elnathan, known from a bulla published by Avigad;59 Yeho’ezer, known from jar handles from Ramat Rahel; and Ahaziya, known from jar handles from Ramat Rahel and Tell en-Nasbeh 55. Grabbe (History, 1:141) refers to McEvenue’s arguments about the meaning of both ċĎě and ċėĐĊĕ as “hair-splitting that ignores the broader philological usage.” ċĎě is a loan-word from Akkadian (bƝl pƗhƗti) meaning “governor,” but is used to refer to different types of of¿cials in different contexts. See HALOT CD. 56. Ibid. 57. The of¿cial version of the events, which paints Bardiya (Greek Smerdis) as an impostor who falsely claimed to be Cambyses’ brother, is presented in the Behistun inscription. The inscription states that Bardiya was already dead, secretly murdered by Cambyses. Herodotus (Hist. 61–87) records a similar train of events. Modern historians treat the story with some scepticism and suspect that the rebellion was led by the real Bardiya. The of¿cial story was presumably concocted by Darius to justify his usurpation. See Briant, Cyrus to Alexander, 97–106; Grabbe, A History, 1:268–69. 58. N. Avigad, Bullae and Seals from a Post-Exilic Judean Archive (Jerusalem: Hebrew University Press, 1976); Carter, Emergence, 279–83; E. Stern, The Material Culture of the Land of the Bible in the Persian Period 538–332 B.C. (Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1982), 203–28. 59. Avigad, Bullae and Seals, 5–7. The bulla is from an unprovenanced collection of 65 bullae and two seals obtained by Avigad. They appear to be from an of¿cial archive and include a seal inscribed with “belonging to Shelomith maidservant of Elnathan governor.” 1

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(Mizpah).60 In addition, both Avigad and Stern identify stamps that read “Yehud” plus a personal name. If these stamps also name governors, then Uriah and Hananiah can be added to the list. Some silver coins, one from Beth-Zur and two from Tell Jemmah, have the legend “Yehezekiah the governor” in paleo-Hebrew.61 This adds a further governor to the list. There is debate over the date of the coins, but they are usually ascribed to the late Persian period based on spelling, inscriptional content and comparisons with other better-dated coins.62 The textual evidence is the well-known reference to “Bagohi, governor of Judah” (TAD A4.7) in the letter addressed to him as governor from the Elephantine community leaders. Bagohi (ĐċČĉĈ) was governor in the late ¿fth century, possibly succeeding Nehemiah. The material evidence witnesses to a number of governors in Yehud which challenges Alt’s theory that Yehud was a sub-province of Samaria. Additionally, there is no material evidence that Samaria had control over Yehud.63 While arguments from silence always need to be used with caution, the lack of evidence is noticeable when there is a considerable amount pointing to local leadership. Carter concludes that the evidence for multiple governors in Yehud “would seem to deal a ¿nal death blow to Alt’s theory of Yehudian subjection to the province of Samaria.”64 With reference to the economic situation in particular, he continues: the archaeological record indicates a “substantial level of autonomy in carrying out internal provincial affairs.”65 The evidence all points to Yehud being a separate province within the Persian satrapal system with its own governor for the entire period of Persian control. These are the circumstances of the province in which the mixed marriage controversy is set. Carter’s emphasis on the internal autonomy of provinces is a point that needs to be noted. The Persian Empire had a de¿nite chain of command where provinces were ruled by governors appointed by the king and cities were ruled by Persian garrison commanders. There is no doubt that

60. Avigad, Bullae and Seals, 21–28; Stern, Material Culture, 202–14. 61. Stern, Material Culture, 225; Avigad, Bullae and Seals, 28–29. 62. L. Fried, The Priest and the Great King: Temple–Palace Relations in the Persian Empire (Winona Lake, Ind.: 2004), 184–87. See also Betlyon’s discussion on dating the various Yehud coins. He argues these particular coins are mid-fourth century, 358–346 B.C.E.; see J. W. Betlyon, “The Provincial Government of Persian Period Judea and the Yehud Coins,” JBL 105 (1986): 633–42. 63. Carter, Emergence, 279–80. 64. Ibid., 280. Similarly Avigad, Bullae and Seals, 34. 65. Carter, Emergence, 280 (emphasis original). 1

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Yehud was dominated by the Persian Empire and that the king maintained ¿rm control.66 A separate reporting system through the garrison commanders kept a double check on the satraps. As Ezra–Nehemiah illustrates, neighbouring regional leaders kept a close eye on each other and were quick to report questionable activity.67 It has generally been presumed that local councils were allowed to manage their internal affairs. Blenkinsopp is representative when he states, “[t]he Patriarchs or ‘heads of ancestral houses,’ no doubt identical with the elders (zeqƝnîm, Ezra 10:8, 14, 16) who were prominent in the diaspora and after the return, played an important part in the affairs of the province during the period in question.”68 The mention of 150 Jews and of¿cials at Nehemiah’s table (Neh 5:17) is generally understood as a reference to the body that governed Yehud’s internal affairs.69 In some descriptions the Persian governor is perceived to be focused on amassing tribute with little involvement in regional affairs, which were left as much as possible in the hands of the local administration.70 The degree of internal autonomy and the make-up of the body which governed Yehud are, however, questioned by Fried.71 She notes that the Persian system did not allow for peoples’ assemblies. She states unequivocally: “[p]ower was in the hands of the Persian rulers and the men they appointed. There was no vehicle for local control.”72 Drawing 66. Briant notes a number of checks designed to control satraps and the extent of their communications network. These included strapal inspections, separate control and reporting through garrison commanders, ef¿cient communications and control of movement on royal roads. See Briant, Cyrus to Alexander, 343–49, 357–87. See also Fried, Great King, 190; Betlyon, “A People Transformed,” 18; M. A. Dandamaev and V. G. Lukonin, The Culture and Social Institutions of Ancient Iran (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 111–12. 67. Berquist notes that this was an effective control mechanism that kept the Persian administration well informed; see J. L. Berquist, Judaism in Persia’s Shadow: A Social and Historical Approach (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 116. 68. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 67. Another example is R. Albertz, A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period. Vol. 2, From the Exile to the Maccabees (trans. J. Bowden; London: SCM, 1994), 443–50. 69. The situation described in Neh 5:17–18 reÀects the Persian model, where the food provided to the administrative leader was in effect payment to the of¿cials. It fed them and their families. See Briant, Cyrus to Alexander, 286–92, 345–47; Fried, Great King, 189. 70. So Widengren, “The Persian Period,” 522. 71. Fried, Great King, 188–93. She argues that the Persian Empire ¿ts Eisenstadt’s model of bureaucratic empires which are strong on central control and limit the authority of indigenous leaders. 72. Fried, Great King, 156. 1

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parallels with the satrapal staff in Egypt, Fried claims that the Persian authorities in Yehud were Persian or Babylonian with the occasional Babylonian Jew. The only locals were translators and scribes. She argues that Jews may therefore have been part of the governor’s staff, but they were there as Persian of¿cials, not as local representatives. The role of eldership groups in the system was to act as witnesses to formal proceedings; they did not have a voice in such events. While some scholars assume that the assemblies mentioned in Ezra–Nehemiah were formally constituted bodies, there is no clear evidence for this.73 Rather, these appear to be ad hoc gatherings, like the gathering around Ezra while he mourned (Ezra 10:1–6), or meetings called by an of¿cial to deal with a particular issue, such as the assembly to deal with the mixed marriages (Ezra 10:9–14). Fried builds a strong case that the circumstances portrayed in Ezra–Nehemiah reÀect a more rigid and controlling governance by the Persian Empire than has been previously presumed. The key decision-making people were Persian appointments; whether Jew or Persian, they were obligated to carry out imperial policy. The sentiment in Ezra’s penitential prayer, that the community were Persian slaves and only had occupation of the city and the temple by God’s grace through the sufferance of the Persian king (Ezra 9:9; Neh 9:36–37), makes sense in such a setting. Judah, like every other province of the Empire, was under ¿rm imperial control.74 The governor ruled the province and local representatives witnessed and implemented his requirements. Persian control was ¿rm but not total. Even in an authoritarian regime local leaders can have inÀuence through advisory roles and the support they bring to bear. As Carter notes, the ability to mint coins indicates some autonomy in local economic affairs.75 Wright’s arguments that traditional states had a number of authorities whose inÀuence varied across the population also warns us against viewing Persian authority in a totalitarian way. It is most likely, given patterns in traditional states, that the authorities focused on controlling the dominant families in the urban centres rather than attempting to control the wider population.76 73. Grabbe, A History, 1:151. 74. L. Fried, “The !am hƗƗre‰ in Ezra 4:4 and Persian Imperial Administration,” in Lipschits and Oeming, eds., Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, 21–54; Fried, Great King, 156–233. 75. Though, as Betlyon notes, even this reÀects Persian centralized control. Local centres could mint “small change” but high value coins of gold were only minted by the Persians; see Betlyon, “A People Transformed,” 47–50. 76. Giddens, ed., The Nation State and Violence, 2:57. Allied to this issue of control is the discussion about the role of the Persian administration in the shaping of the Torah and how much it might have created or shaped the identity of the 1

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Traditional state governance was too limited and patchy to inÀuence more than the elite families. Nevertheless, any local autonomy was much more limited than the free hand in local affairs depicted by scholars like Widengren.77 The picture is of a ¿rmly controlled province at the upper levels. Berquist’s description is apt: Yehud had partial autonomy, suf¿cient to allow a local elite to develop and maintain much of the control of the region on behalf of the Persian imperium.78 This has important implications for understanding the management of the process around the mixed marriages. I will argue later that notions of democratic discussion at the assembly are incompatible with this authority structure. 5. Summary The assumed context of the Ezra 9 and 10 narrative is a geographically and numerically small Yehud. It was substantially smaller than the old state of Judah with, at most, a population of 30,000 people, probably fewer. Politically it was a province within the satrapy of Beyond the River, with its own governor and administration. The Persian governor ran the affairs of the region along with the military. The Persian administration implemented its policies for the population through the local elite. The local population ran its affairs through a kinship-based leadership system, the ancestral houses, but this group had no formal powers to act on behalf of the province. The region did have a measure of independence in relation to social and economic issues but these remained under the supervision of the Persian administration. These conclusions have a number of implications for the social drama analysis that follows. First, it can be noted that the small population under economic pressure with an authoritarian governance structure con¿rms the scenario presented in the previous chapter of a community Yehudian community. The consensus in the re-evaluation of Frei’s thesis was that Persian authorization is not tenable, as is made clear in the critiques in J. W. Watts, ed., Persia and Torah: The Theory of Imperial Authorization of the Pentateuch (Atlanta: SBL, 2001). As Wright’s argument on the differences between ancient authority structures and modern nation states identi¿es, there is a Àaw in drawing too close an analogy between the Persian Empire and modern federal administrations. Eskenazi notes that identity-formation is a complex issue that cannot be narrowed to issues of Temple and Torah only; see T. Eskenazi, “The Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah,” in Lipschits and Oeming, eds., Judah and the Judeans in the Persian Period, 510–51. 77. Widengren, “The Persian Period,” 489–538. 78. Berquist, Persia’s Shadow, 234. 1

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under the kinds of stress that emphasize identity-formation issues. In relation to the narrative, Ezra enters the scene as a representative of an authoritarian regime and his actions need to be evaluated in that light. In addition, the way the assembly in Jerusalem functioned needs to be viewed in the light of the role of community leadership and authority structures in the province. Finally, a small population with close kinship ties experiencing pressure on group identity helps explain why this issue is depicted as being so vital for the society.

1

Chapter 3

FOUNDATIONS FOR READING EZRA 9 AND 10

This chapter addresses two preliminary issues before the text of Ezra 9 and 10 is examined. It is necessary to address these issues because they impact on how Ezra 9 and 10 is read. First, there is issue of the relationship of Neh 8 to Ezra 7–10 and second, the unity of Ezra 9 and 10. Ezra 9 and 10 comes within a complex document that de¿es easy description and classi¿cation. Ezra 7–10 is a clearly de¿ned subsection within the wider Ezra–Nehemiah corpus, probably composed from one or more source documents. This material may originate from an Ezra source (Ezra Memoir) and it seems likely that the writer of Ezra– Nehemiah considered it historical. Nevertheless, my initial focus is on understanding the narrative in its notional context, that is, the cultural worldview and ideas of the past it presumes. Historical implications are addressed in the ¿nal chapter. I will use the term “Ezra narrative” as a convenient term for Ezra 7–10 without any implicit claim that the text is an Ezra Memoir that originates from the hand of Ezra. Using the phrase “Ezra–Nehemiah” implies that the work is a uni¿ed narrative of which Ezra 7–10 is part. There are reasons for treating Ezra–Nehemiah as a unity. The manuscript evidence indicates that it is one work as do the Rabbinic and Patristic traditions.1 Further, as the discussion below will show, there are editorial and ideological consistencies that point to its unity. Yet there are also reasons to recognize some differences between Ezra and Nehemiah, which are obviously based on separate sources.2 Those sources and the way the writer of Ezra–Nehemiah has adjusted 1. Eskenazi, Prose, 11–14. See also Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xxi. 2. J. C. VanderKam, “Ezra–Nehemiah or Ezra and Nehemiah?,” in Priests, Prophets and Scribes (ed. E. Ulrich et al.; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 1992), 55–75; C. C. Torrey, Ezra Studies (New York: Ktav, 1970), 30–36. The two reasons for treating the books as separate are: a tendency for the Jewish literature to treat the two men and their activities separately (Sir 49:12b–13 and 2 Macc 1:18, 20–36, mention Nehemiah only and Ant. 11.120–58 reports Ezra’s death before mentioning Nehemiah in Ant. 11.159–83) and the clearly different sources upon which the narratives about Ezra and Nehemiah are based.

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them also needs to be noted. I will argue below that Ezra 9 and 10 must be understood with reference to Neh 8. Both the edited unity and the sources behind the current unity need to be recognized adequately to prepare the ground for application of the social drama model. It should be noted that I am working on the presumption that the author of Ezra– Nehemiah is not the Chronicler.3 While the common authorship is still defended, I ¿nd the arguments of Sara Japhet and Hugh Williamson for separate authorship convincing.4 1. Nehemiah 8 and Ezra 7–10 a. Nehemiah 8 Displaced One of the most enduring aspects of C. C. Torrey’s legacy in the study of Ezra–Nehemiah is the widespread agreement that Neh 8, or more speci¿cally Neh 7:72b–8:18, has been displaced from its original setting.5 He argued that the material originally belonged within Ezra 7–10. His argument has been followed by a number of scholars.6 Nevertheless, there are exceptions. Such commentators as van Wijk-Bos and Fensham reject Torrey’s proposition.7 Fensham rejects the idea on the grounds that it 3. A survey of commentaries written since 1980 shows continued support for the Chronicler as the author of Ezra–Nehemiah; see Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 2–4; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 9–10; A. H. J. Gunneweg, Esra (KAT; Stuttgart: Gerd Mohn, 1985), 21–28; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 47–54. 4. S. Japhet, “The Supposed Common Authorship of Chronicles and Ezra– Nehemiah Investigated Anew,” VT 18 (1968): 330–71; H. G. M. Williamson, Israel and the Books of Chronicles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977). The arguments of Japhet and Williamson are followed by M. A. Throntveit, Ezra– Nehemiah (Louisville, Ky.: John Knox, 1992), 8–10; Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 8–9; Eskenazi, Prose, 14–34. 5. Torrey, Ezra Studies, 252–84. 6. See, for example, K. Larson and K. Dahlen, Ezra, Nehemiah and Esther (Nashville, Tenn.: Holman, 2005), 104, 215–16; Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 71, 123; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 44–45; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 127, 282–86; Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 85. Kidner seems to be ambivalent about Neh 8. He presumes Ezra has taught the Law in his comments on Ezra 9:1–2 but indicates that Neh 8 ¿ts chronologically with Nehemiah’s mission. See D. Kidner, Ezra and Nehemiah (Leicester: IVP, 1979), 68, 104. Leavering notes the likely relocation of Neh 8, but does not indicate his own judgment on the issue; see M. Leavering, Ezra & Nehemiah (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2007), 173. 7. J. W. H. van Wijk-Bos, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1998), 40. Van Wijk-Bos simply notes that scholars suggest Neh 8 and 9 is a prelude to Ezra 9, then, without providing a reason, states the text does not need to be taken that way. See also Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 123–24. 1

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would make Ezra’s mourning “only a dramatic act, without any sincerity,” since putting Neh 8 before Ezra 9 implies Ezra was aware of the mixed marriage problem.8 However, Fensham’s comment shows a lack of appreciation of the cultural context and his judgment is based on questionable presuppositions about Ezra’s motivation. As the exegesis and examination of the cultural context will show, Ezra’s mourning is clearly aimed at inÀuencing the golah community. This does not necessarily mean his actions should be interpreted as insincere. Despite the reluctance of some scholars to accept Torrey’s proposition, the literary evidence he produced is strong. First, Neh 8–10 shows signs of being inserted into the Nehemiah narrative. The repetitive resumption in Neh 11:1 links back to the ¿nal verse of Neh 7 and indicates that Neh 11 continues the story started in Neh 7.9 While the issues around Neh 9–10 are more uncertain, the character of Neh 8 points to its intrusion into the current position. First, Neh 7 speaks in the ¿rst person whereas ch. 8 tells its story in the third person. Second, Ezra, who has not been mentioned in relation to Nehemiah to this point, is suddenly the central person in the narrative. Third, the style of dating in Neh 8 is the same as that used by Ezra (the months are numbered) and contrasts with the normal style in Nehemiah (the months are named). Fourth, the law is a central theme in the Ezra 7–10 narrative, as it is in Neh 8. Finally, Ezra’s method of operation, waiting for the people to take the initiative and making a measured response, in Neh 8 is consistent with Ezra 7–10. The literary evidence supports the notion that Neh 8 ¿ts with and originated from a document that included Ezra 7–10. The general consensus around Neh 8 being displaced from its original context has recently been challenged by Wright in his source-critical study of Ezra–Nehemiah.10 He argues that the material was in fact composed for its present position. Wright claims that Ezra–Nehemiah has developed from a brief report by Nehemiah into its current form through additions and amendments at the hands of a number of “active readers.” He rejects the idea of an editor compiling Ezra–Nehemiah from a range of sources.11

8. Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 124. 9. Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 181; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 186; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 344; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 41–47; Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 123, 145. 10. J. L. Wright, Rebuilding Identity: Nehemiah Memoir (BZAW 348; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 253. 11. Ibid., 329–30. 1

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Wright’s opposition to Neh 8’s relationship to Ezra 7–10 is based on several criteria. He argues that the stories in Neh 8 and Ezra 9–10 involve different actors and use different language. Further, the crowd reacts differently in each situation. He argues that it cannot be inferred from Ezra’s reading in Neh 8 that the law was taught. Finally, he states that moving Neh 8 from Ezra and then editing it into a third-person account is improbable.12 Wright’s arguments have several weaknesses. His ¿rst points are made redundant simply by noting the different narrative content. The absence, for example, of ĔĐğ‡ (“leaders”) from Neh 8 is simply a function of a different situation where they do not need to feature. Similarly his argument that the words used for the gatherings are different is undermined by the occurrence of ĚĘć (“to assemble”) in both Neh 8 and Ezra 9. His claim that ĚĘć is a late addition in Ezra 9 is dubious and too convenient. Content and emphasis easily account for these claimed differences. The differences in crowd reaction reÀect different social dynamics that Wright does not take into account with his literary focus. Wright is also inconsistent in rejecting an inference of teaching in Neh 8 but inferring that the crowd wept because they recognized their collective sin. Finally, while he argues that it is improbable that Neh 8 was both moved from Ezra to Nehemiah and transposed into a third-person account, Wright does not account for how the ¿gure of Ezra suddenly appears in the story about Nehemiah. In the ¿nal analysis Wright’s argument that Neh 8 developed from Ezra 3 is more tenuous than proposing that Neh 8 was originally part of Ezra 7–10. Torrey’s original literary arguments stand. Nehemiah 8 was in all probability originally part of the Ezra 7–10 narrative transposed to its present position by an editor. b. The Original Position of Nehemiah 8 Given that Neh 8 arguably ¿ts well with Ezra 7–10 the question about its position in relation to Ezra 7–10 arises. While the original position of Neh 8 is a secondary issue when it comes to ascertaining the message of the canonical text, it is signi¿cant in any reconstruction of the events around the mixed marriage controversy, which is my concern.13 Torrey

12. Ibid., 253, 315–39. 13. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 283. He observes that the original position of Neh 8 is a secondary issue in the interpretation of Nehemiah. Simply noting that it is an editorial addition (along with Neh 9–10) inserted between Neh 7 and 11 is suf¿cient for interpretation of the text in its present form. 1

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not only claimed that Neh 8 originally belonged with Ezra 7–10, but that it ¿tted between Ezra 8 and 9.14 He argued that Ezra’s primary mission was to read the law and that the events in Ezra 9 presuppose knowledge of the law and therefore must come after Neh 8. What added weight to Torrey’s arguments, in his own view, was his belief that the law Ezra taught was entirely new to the people. In addition, he noted that the style of dating is consistent with Ezra and the date ¿ts nicely with the other known dates for Ezra’s mission to form a credible sequence. That is, Ezra left the Ahava Canal in the ¿rst month (Ezra 8:31), arrived in Jerusalem in the ¿fth month (Ezra 7:9), read the law in the seventh month (Neh 7:72b), the mixed marriage controversy erupted in the ninth month (Ezra 10:9), the commission began deliberations in the tenth month and completed the task by the ¿rst month of the new year (Ezra 10:16). Most criticism of Torry’s argument has come from European scholars, who agree with the literary evidence that Neh 8 originated from the Ezra material, but they argue it was positioned after Ezra 10.15 The main basis for this argument is that 1 Esdras has Neh 8 after Ezra 7–10. However, this is only telling if it can be proved that 1 Esdras is the older document and therefore a stronger witness to the original chapter order. Williamson’s analysis indicates that 1 Esdras is a secondary composition and not the original ending of the Chronicler’s work as claimed by Mowinckel.16 In fact Williamson argues that 1 Esdras is dependent on the current canonical order and that 1 Esd 9:37, which refers to gathering to hear the law on the seventh month, is evidence that the compiler followed a Vorlage that had Neh 8 following Neh 7, not Ezra 10, which starts in the ninth month and concludes at the end of the year.17

14. Torrey, Ezra Studies, 252–84. 15. See, for example, W In der Smitten, Esra: Quellen, Überlieferung und Geschichte (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1973); S. Mowinckel, Studien zu dem Buche EsraNehemia III (Oslo: Universitetsforlichen, 1965); K. Pohlmann, Studien zum dritten Esra. Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach dem ursprünglichen Schluss des chronischen Geschichtswerks (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970). The issue is well summarized, along with a defence of Torrey, by Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 284– 86. 16. Williamson, Israel, 12–36; Mowinckel, Studien, 7–11. Williamson’s has three reasons for 1 Esdras being later than Ezra–Nehemiah. First, he argues that 1 Esd 9:37 shows the compiler followed a Vorlage in which Neh 8 followed Neh 7, not Ezra 10. Second, he rejects the idea that Josephus witnesses to a more original version of the Ezra–Nehemiah material. Third, he claims Esdras ȕ is independent of 1 Esdras. 17. Williamson, Israel, 32–35. 1

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Advocates of the post-Ezra 10 position for Neh 8 also argue that the note of joy on which Neh 8 ends is a more suitable ending than the separation of marriages in Ezra 10. Such an argument is subjective. Again, Williamson points out that the note of climax identi¿ed in Neh 8 is just as likely to be the work of an editorial hand as original to the composition.18 In addition, Ezra 10 ¿nishes with decisive obedience to the law, which, it could be argued, is as telling a climax as the note of joy in Neh 8. Finally, putting Neh 8 after Ezra 10 might make some literary sense, but it leaves some of the same chronological problems, such as why Ezra delayed teaching about the law so long, as its placement in the Nehemiah narrative. Torrey’s critics also point out that he was wrong to assume that Ezra preached a new law; therefore Neh 8 is not necessary before Ezra 9 and 10. While the critics are probably right that the law Ezra preached was not entirely new, the way he applied it to contemporary life and practice does nevertheless appear to be new.19 The leaders’ approach to Ezra in Ezra 9:1–2 is more explicable if it comes in response to hearing an interpretation of the law that applied the old bans on mixing with neighbouring peoples to the contemporary situation. Otherwise it is dif¿cult to see why the community leaders described the problem using anachronistic categories, like Perizzites and Jebusites.20 The logical reason the leaders used such categories is because they came from exposure to the Law of Moses which Ezra was sent to administer. This is reinforced by their reference to the problem as the mixing of “holy seed” with foreigners. This presupposes an application to the community of holiness categories usually associated with priests. That interpretation requires knowledge of Deuteronomy, Leviticus and Jeremiah, according to Milgrom.21 He argues that Ezra is the one who developed this interpretation, a point I will discuss in more detail later.22 Since the leaders’ report is based on interpretations of the Law of Moses that are novel, Torrey’s point stands. The mixed marriage controversy was a response to new interpretations of the Law that resonated with the existing community identity discourse and Neh 8 portrays the people gaining understanding of the Law through Ezra’s efforts. 18. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 285. 19. Ibid. 20. This remains the case even if the language is chosen for pejorative reasons. The community has to be aware of the context for the language to have any sting. 21. J. Milgrom, Cult and Conscience: The ASHAM and the Priestly Doctrine of Repentance (Leiden: Brill, 1976), 71–73. 22. See pp. 175–76.

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By delaying the story of Ezra reading the law until Neh 8 the editor of Ezra–Nehemiah brings the narrative to a climax.23 This makes important theological points, particularly about the centrality of the Torah in the life of the community that dominates this ¿nal section of the book, but in the process creates chronological problems. A thirteen-year delay in ful¿lling a key aspect of Artaxerxes’ commission does not seem reasonable. As Williamson argues, Ezra 7:14, 25–26 implies that the Law is likely to be prominent in the ensuing narrative of Ezra’s mission.24 Nehemiah 8 ¿ts that expectation and is therefore a better introduction to Ezra’s mission than conclusion. The theme of the law in Ezra 7–10, the new teaching implied in chs. 9 and 10 and the dating sequence all point to Neh 8 originally being placed between Ezra 8 and 9. An accurate understanding of the events in Ezra 9 and 10 is aided by recognizing Neh 8’s chronological location between Ezra 8 and 9. Placing Neh 8 chronologically prior to Ezra 7–10 does not require the reader to understand that it is the exact event that precipitated the mixed marriage controversy. What Neh 8 provides is evidence that Ezra exposed the community to the Law of Moses. The mixed marriage controversy erupted because the implications of the Law, with reference to marriage with non-community women, were seen in a new light. With the evidence from Neh 8 that Ezra did teach the law, and the hint in Ezra 10:3 that he had already addressed the topic of appropriate marriages, it is not unreasonable to infer a causal link between Ezra’s teaching and the controversy. 2. The Unity of Ezra 9 and 10 a. The Original Debate About Unity Ezra 9:1 to 10:44 is usually regarded as a uni¿ed text. The primary reason for objecting to the unity of the narrative is the change in perspective from ¿rst person in ch. 9 to third person in ch. 10. This change is mediated by Ezra’s prayer where he changes from ¿rst person singular to ¿rst person plural as he identi¿es with the community. To this change in person within the narrative, recent source-critical approaches have argued that there are a range of inconsistencies in terminology, style, mood and characters that call the unity of the two chapters into question.25 23. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xlviii–liii, 275–76, 286; Eskenazi, Prose, 95– 126; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 41–47; Grabbe, Ezra–Nehemiah, 94–102. 24. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 285. 25. Y. Dor, “The Composition of the Episode of the Foreign Women in Ezra IX– X,” VT 53 (2003): 26–47; J. Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe (BZAW 347; Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004); Wright, Rebuilding Identity.

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Figure 2. Reasons for Change of Person Two-Source Theories

Eissfeldt Fohrer Blenkinsopp

One-Source Theory A:

One-Source Theory B:

Author Responsible for the Change in Person

Editor Responsible for the Change in Person

Torrey Mowinckel

Williamson

(1) Two-Source Theories. The change from ¿rst person in ch. 9 to third person in ch. 10 was the basis on which scholars ¿rst claimed that Ezra 9 and 10 derived from separate sources. One of the earliest of such claims is associated with O. Eissfeldt, who argued that ch. 9 was based on an Ezra Memoir and ch. 10 was added by another author.26 Eissfeldt offers no evidence to support his claims, nor does he disprove the idea that an editor has altered a uni¿ed source to produce the change in person. Blenkinsopp also prefers this two-source theory, although he acknowledges that 10:1–8 could be drawn from a ¿rst-person original.27 He argues that the close parallels between 9:1–5 and 10:1–8 suggest they are derived from separate sources that record the same incident. However, the same reasoning might as easily support the idea that the two passages are part of a sequential narrative. Some of the contrasts which he uses to argue two sources seem overdrawn. For example he thinks Ezra’s continued fasting after the proposal to divorce the women is surprising and must result from a separate source to the preceding verses because the problem is resolved by the proposal. Yet, as the discussion of 10:6 will show, the continued fasting is only to be expected when the divorce proposal is only the ¿rst step in resolving the problem and the danger remains. A variation on the two-source theory is Fohrer’s view that ch. 10 is a de novo creation by the Chronicler.28 Fohrer does not provide reasons for his view and his idea has, until recently, not been followed by others. He accepts that Ezra 7:11–9:5 probably originated with Ezra, which makes it dif¿cult to comprehend why an editor would have created an alternative ending from the original. There are two possible reasons why an author might have created an ending to his source: either his source was 26. O. Eissfeldt, The Old Testament: An Introduction (trans. P. R. Ackroyd; Oxford: Blackwell, 1965), 543–44. 27. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 187. 28. G. Fohrer, Introduction to the Old Testament (trans. D. Green; London: SPCK, 1970), 243.

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fragmentary and he lacked an ending, or the author wanted to create an alternative ending. These two options raise a number of further questions but Fohrer does not explain why he believed the author invented this ending or what evidence might support it. His view, based on general source-critical observations, is, like Eissfeldt’s, not suf¿ciently supported to ¿nd wide acceptance. However, Wright’s analysis, discussed below, returns to the idea that ch. 10 has been added to ¿ll out the story in ch. 9. (2) One-Source Theory A. The second explanation for the differences between chs. 9 and 10, associated with Torrey and Mowinckel, is that the change in person is a stylistic device original to the text.29 In both cases they argue that the device is present in other ancient texts. However, Williamson criticizes that argument, claiming that the texts they cite are largely illustrations of a third-person introduction of a ¿rst-person story.30 A third-person introduction of a ¿rst-person narrative, such as Neh 1:1, is common. However, that does not constitute supporting evidence for the opposite change, from ¿rst person to third exhibited in Ezra 9 and 10. Examples of a change from ¿rst to third person are less common. Tobit is one example, but Williamson objects that as a later work than Ezra, it is arguable that Tobit was inÀuenced by the style in Ezra. Williamson does not discuss Dan 4, where the chapter starts as ¿rst person reportage by Nebuchadnezzar but switches to a third-person report at v. 25. This example can be said to support Torrey and Mowinckel, but it can also support the argument that an original Ezra ¿rst-person source was edited into a third-person account.31 Tobit and Dan 4 are not unequivocal evidence that the change in person is original. (3) One-Source Theory B. The third option is that the change to third person in Ezra 10 is the result of the editing of an original ¿rst-person source and that source is the same as the ¿rst-person account used in the preceding part of the narrative. Mowinckel rejected the idea that Ezra 10 was an edited form of the Ezra Memoir for three reasons. First, he did not accept that the ¿rst person material originated with Ezra. The 29. Torrey, Ezra Studies, 244–46. S. Mowinckel, “ ‘Ich’ und ‘Er’ in der Esrageschichte,” in Verbannung und Heimkehr: Beiträge zur Geschichte und Theologie Israels im 5. und 6. Jahrhundert V. Chr. (ed. A. Kuschke; Tübingen: Mohr, 1961). The difference between them is that Torrey claims the Chronicler is the author. 30. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 146.Texts cited that illustrate the change from third to ¿rst person include Dan 7:1–2; 10:1–2; 1 En. 12:1–3; Jub. 7:20–26. Note also the Cyrus Cylinder. 31. See also Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 89. 1

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dif¿culty with this objection is that non-Ezran authorship does not prevent Ezra 10 being part of a larger ¿rst person source document. Second, he claimed the uniformity of the Ezra material pointed to single author. The problem with that claim is that the sample is small and many of the features he identi¿es are common to Late Biblical Hebrew and are therefore not proof of single authorship.32 Finally, Mowinckel argued that there is little evidence of editorial activity in Ezra. Again, there is evidence to the contrary. In opposition to Mowinckel, it is now well established that Ezra narrative material exhibits clear signs of editorial activity. The previous discussion about the original position of Neh 8 clearly points to editorial adjustment of an original source document. In addition, there is some evidence of editorial activity within Ezra 10. The list of names in Ezra 10:18–44 appears to be arranged in a fashion that suits the editorial focus of the work.33 For example, Ezra 10:19 states that the men found guilty in the high priest’s family made a sacri¿ce. Later discussion will show that it is probable that every guilty man would have performed the sacri¿ce, therefore the same phrase may have originally occurred after each family group, but has been edited out. In addition, there are dif¿culties in the text with vv. 15 and 16 that will be discussed in the next chapter. There is enough evidence of editorial activity in the wider Ezra narrative and within ch. 10 to make an editorial adjustment to third person from a ¿rstperson original plausible. (4) Summary. The evidence for Ezra 9 and 10 being based on two separate sources is lacking. It is dif¿cult to choose between the other two explanations for the change in person between the chapters, which both presume an original uni¿ed work. Torrey’s view is based on his claim that the narrative is the creation of the Chronicler.34 However, as I noted above, this is a questionable assumption I do not ¿nd likely. Further, his other examples fail to support the idea that the change of person between the chapters is original. The most telling example that also evidences a change from ¿rst to third person, Dan 4, could support either Torrey’s view or Williamson’s view that the ch. 10 has been edited from a 32. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 148. 33. Some scholars argue that the list has been abbreviated. See Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 97; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 87. Rudolph also noted that the sacri¿ce in v. 19 probably applied to all the families and may have been edited out of the conclusion of each group of names. In addition, Williamson notes the arrangement of twelve lay families; see Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 158. 34. Torrey, Ezra Studies, 243–48. 1

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¿rst-person original. Since there is evidence of editorial activity in Ezra 10 as well as for the Chronicler not being the author of Ezra–Nehemiah, the weight of argument must fall with Williamson at this stage. The choice between Torrey and Mowinckel on one hand and Williamson on the other is not critical. Both these views support a uni¿ed narrative. b. Recent Source-Critical Studies This discussion over sources behind Ezra 9 and 10 has been revived by three recent studies. These three works present different perspectives on the literary development of our two chapters from those proposed previously. Dor has argued that there are three independent sources behind the text.35 Pakkala has argued that ch. 10 derives from a source and that ch. 9 was written to expand the story and incorporate ch. 10 into the Ezra material.36 While Wright has argued that Ezra 9 was written under the inÀuence of Neh 1:1b–4 and 13:23–25 and ch. 10 was composed a considerable time later also under the inÀuence of the Nehemiah narrative.37 There are dif¿culties attached to the proposals of sources underlying the narrative that warrant some caution. First, this is a small piece of text and it is easy to turn nuances into tensions. For example, Dor wants to claim that sources witness to two separations, one from “foreign women” and one from “the peoples of the land.”38 Not only is the tension dubious at a literary level, it is a meaningless subtlety sociologically. The “foreign women” are the face of the “peoples of the lands” in the narrative.39 Further, at a cultic and social level, separation from “the peoples of the lands” would have been meaningless if it did not involve a ban on marriages. The ban was about separation from impurity. The marriages, as formal joinings of pure and impure, were the antithesis of such separation. Dor’s tension dissolves in the face of the cultic and social implications of the separation. A second signi¿cant weakness of source criticism was neatly summed up by Whybray in his critique of Pentateuchal source criticism. He noted that the Documentary Hypothesis “can only be maintained on the assumption that, while consistency was the hallmark of the various documents, inconsistency was the hallmark of the redactors.”40 Wright 35. Dor, “The Composition,” 26–47. 36. Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe. 37. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 253–57. 38. Dor, “The Composition,” 26. 39. See pp. 149–55. 40. R. N. Whybray, The Making of the Pentateuch: A Methodological Study (Shef¿eld: JSOT, 1987), 49. 1

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assumes that a consistent and a brief report by Nehemiah underlies the whole of Ezra–Nehemiah and that inconsistencies mark the intervention of subsequent authors, whose consistent additions have had subsequent additions that are evidenced by further inconsistencies. Wright’s method also illustrates the danger of dealing with a literary text separately from its social environment. As part of his argument that Ezra 9 was written under the inÀuence of Neh 1:1b–4, he notes that Ezra reacts to hearing news in the same way that Nehemiah does: both sit and pray. Ezra also uses language employed in Neh 1 in his prayer. Wright further argues that Neh 13 inÀuenced the formation of Ezra 9 because Ezra pulls his hair out and Nehemiah plucks the hair of the mixed marriage offenders.41 The problem is that all these actions are symbolic. The sitting and praying in the face of bad news are typical mourning gestures (cf. Neh 1:4; Ps 137:1). Ezra’s pulling of hair is also a sign of mourning while Nehemiah uses the hair pulling to humiliate his victims.42 They are the culturally conditioned actions one would expect. All they prove is that the two men are portrayed in the same cultural context, not that one text must be dependent on another. Wright claims that Ezra 9 was written under the inÀuence of parts of Neh 1 and 13 by an author who wanted to provide a transition from the events in Ezra 1–8 and the expanded wall building report in Nehemiah. He further contends that Ezra 9 was an adequate narrative as it stood and that ch. 10 was only added “by a much later generation of writers who probably actually believed that Ezra wrote chap. 9.”43 He hints that the third-person perspective separates ch. 10 from ch. 9.44 The reason he offers for the addition of ch. 10, which he also sees as dependent on both Neh 5 and 13, is that it introduces different accents to the account. Yet he does not elaborate what those different accents are. The reasoning is weak and the evidence insubstantial. His basis for ch. 10 being a late addition is that it is a later development from Ezra 9 which was in turn developed to join Ezra 1–8 to Nehemiah. Wright’s case is dependent on all his other arguments for Ezra 9 holding up and the unsubstantiated claim that ch. 10 is a later addition. His arguments for the development of Ezra 9 are dubious and he offers no substantive case for separating chs. 9 and 10. 41. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 253–57. 42. See further on p. 84. 43. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 255. 44. Ibid., 255, 268. Strangely, Wright says he has adduced considerable evidence that Ezra 10 is a late addition, although his discussion of Ezra 10 is cursory and he comments that he does not have space to analyze the chapter (p. 255).

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Pakkala’s reconstruction of the development of Ezra 9 and 10 is the opposite of Wright’s in that he claims ch. 9 was written as an expansion of ch. 10. Of the six tensions he identi¿es between chs. 9 and 10, four are, like those I noted with reference to Wright previously, the result of his failure to take context, style or narrative development into account.45 Nevertheless, two of Pakkala’s tensions deserve some attention. The ¿rst is a difference in how the marriages are described between the two chapters. In Ezra 9 the Israelites are said to have “taken” (ć‡ė; 9:2) wives, while in Ezra 10 the Hiphil of Ĉ›Đ is used (Ĉ›ė, 10:2; ČĈĐ›ġ, 10:10; ĈĐ›ċċ, 10:14; ČĈĐ›ċċ, 10:17). Neither word is a particularly common one for marriage; ć‡ė is used for marriage only in later texts and occurs nine times with four of those in Ezra 9, 10 or Neh 13.46 The Hiphil forms of Ĉ›Đ are used of marriage only in Ezra 10 and Neh 13. Pakkala claims that the occurrence of ć‡ė in Ezra 10:44 is a result of editorial work tying chs. 9 and 10 together and that the occurrence of both words in Neh 13:23–31 is the result of that material being a Fortschreibung or editorial expansion based on Ezra 9 and 10.47 However, he acknowledges that an alternative construction proposed by Wright that makes Ezra 9 and 10 dependent on Neh 13 is possible.48 In addition, he acknowledges that Ezra 10:44 is very dif¿cult and that his conclusion that “[i]t is more probable that v.44b is an unsuccessful attempt to create a new conclusion,” is tentative.49 The whole argument hangs on an exceedingly thin thread. Additionally, as I will argue later, the Hiphil forms of Ĉ›Đ seem to have had a particular pejorative focus that arose out of community discourse that dictated its use in these cases.50 All of this makes the tension Pakkala seeks to highlight unlikely. 45. For example, he notes a tension between accusing “Israelites and their sons” in Ezra 9:2 and simply “Israelites” in 10:2. The second is clearly a summary of the ¿rst. He also claims there are different attitudes to the Torah. Ezra 9:11 speaks of the law from the prophets, which he regards as a different perspective from Ezra 7:6 and 8:11 that speak of the Law of Moses. Given the generally Deuteronomic view of the book of Ezra, this is hardly a difference if Moses is the protoprophet. This tension is also dependent on accepting that Ezra 10 is related to chs. 7 and 8 while ch. 9 is distinct. This is circular: the tension exists to prove the difference between chs. 9 and 10 only if chs. 9 and 10 are proved to be from different authors. This is a weakness in the argument that Pakkala also notes. See Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 83–89. 46. It occurs also in Ruth 1:4; 2 Chr 11:21; 13:21; 24:3; Sir 7:23; as well as Ezra 9:2, 12; 10:44; Neh 13:25. 47. Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 102, 222–24. 48. Wright, Rebuilding Identity, 253–57; Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 84–84, 224. 49. Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 102. 50. See pp. 109–13. 1

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The second tension Pakkala raises has more weight. He notes that Ezra 9 consistently uses the phrase ġČĝğćċ Đĕę (9:1, 2, 11) while Ezra 10 uses Ĝğćċ Đĕę (10:2, 11). This is a curious change in phraseology and is suggestive of a different writer. Combined with the alteration from ¿rst to third person between the chapters and the suggestion that the language related to marriage changes, these are small indications that different writers may have been responsible for each of the two chapters. However, different authorship is not the only explanation for these differences. They could be the result of editorial activity and the random effects of transmission. Nothing that Pakkala presents demands the conclusion that ch. 9 has different authorship from ch. 10. At most, it indicates that different writers may have impacted on its formation and transmission. These studies have revived the debate about the relationship between Ezra 9 and 10. However, they have yet to prove that the chapters must come from separate sources. Dor’s argument that there are three independent sources (Ezra 9:6–15, 10:2–6 and 10:7–44) behind the two chapters is not acceptable. I have already noted that the tensions she claims in the text are not justi¿ed. In addition, the three sources she proposes are not viable.51 Her Ezra 10:2–6 source, for example, would not make sense without a broader context. Wright’s case founders on a questionable development theory for Ezra 9 and the lack of substantive evidence that ch. 10 is a subsequent addition. Pakkala’s carefully argued case has more weight, but most of the tensions he identi¿es are open to other explanations that are equally likely. Two of his points, however, merit attention. When added to the change in person between the chapters these points suggest that arguments that the two chapters have different origins cannot be completely dismissed. Yet, despite this, these variations are just as easily explained as the result of editorial activity, and if it were not for the change in person there would be no motivation to posit different sources for these two chapters. In contrast to these studies, there are a number of linguistic features that tie the two chapters together. The repetition of ġćčĀēę in Ezra’s words in ch. 9:15 and in Shecaniah’s words in ch. 10:2 suggest narrative unity.52 In a similar vein, the occurrence of ć‡ė in Ezra 9:2 and 10:44 ties the two chapters together. Ezra refers to ċĕ›ć (“guilt”) four times in the prayer (9:6, 7, 13, 15) and also in his address to the assembly (10:10). M. Duggan notes a focus on the commandments of God (ġČĝĕ, 9:10, 14; 51. See also Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 87. 52. The repetition of ġćčĀēę by Shecaniah in Ezra 10:2 seems to create a deliberate contrast between Ezra’s confession without hope and Shecaniah’s confession with hope. See Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 150. 1

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10:3), references to Judah and Jerusalem (9:9; 10:7) and the association of God raging (Ěėć, 9:14) with the need to turn away his anger (Ěć, 10:14).53 Undoubtedly Ezra–Nehemiah has a complex compositional history and has been subject to various editorial alterations. Nevertheless, these two chapters show a number of linguistic connections and have a coherency and narrative Àow that is plausible. The evidence of unity outweighs the indications of difference. Therefore, it seems best to work with the chapters as a unity. c. Summary The next chapter addresses the text of Ezra 9 and 10 with an emphasis on the social and cultural aspects. I will proceed on the assumption that Neh 8’s description of Ezra reading the law reÀects events that preceded the mixed marriage controversy. While there are some indications that Ezra 9 and 10 may have different origins, I will approach the two chapters as a uni¿ed narrative that describes a social crisis over the limits of acceptable marriage.

53. M. Duggan, “Ezra 9:6–15: A Penitential Prayer Within Its Literary Setting,” in Seeking the Favor of God. Vol. 1, The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism (ed. M. J. Boda, D. K. Falk, and R. A. Werline; Atlanta: SBL, 2006), 165–80. Duggan also notes that the same enemy “the peoples of the land/s” occurs in both chapters and in the wider narrative. Thus, in contrast to Pakkala, he regards it as a unifying feature, even if the language is subtly different. 1

Chapter 4

EZRA 9 AND 10

The physical and social organizational/political context in which the mixed marriage controversy is set has been identi¿ed in Chapter 2 and the literary issues that affect how the text is read have been addressed in Chapter 3. The next step is to analyze Ezra 9 and 10 with a particular emphasis on what it reveals about the cultural and religious grids necessary for sociological analysis. The narrative about the social crisis over the mixed marriages is clearly a very signi¿cant event in the mind of the writer of Ezra– Nehemiah. It relates one of only two events about Ezra’s activity after his arrival in Jerusalem. For the writer, this event de¿nes a signi¿cant proportion of Ezra’s mission. Yet, strangely, Ezra fades from the scene, leaving questions over his effectiveness.1 Eskenazi argues persuasively that the writer deliberately diminishes Ezra’s role in order to highlight the community.2 She says that the primary focus in Ezra 7–10 is on building the people of God, described as the “holy seed,” which mirrors the building of the temple in Ezra 1–6. One of the tensions within the text is that between Ezra, who is announced with a long genealogy, outstanding credentials and enormous power, but who appears to use none of these advantages, and the community to which he devolves power and process.3 As Eskenazi puts it, 1. See, for example, L. Batten, The Books of Ezra and Nehemiah (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1913), 352; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 197–200. 2. Eskenazi, Prose, 60–70. 3. This contrast in the text is also evident in the way interpreters respond to it. Eskenazi (ibid.) notes the way Ezra starts as the central ¿gure only to fade out of the scene, while in contrast Throntveit suggests Ezra’s movements from one of the structural features of the narrative; see Throntveit, Ezra–Nehemiah, 49. The contrast between the Ezra with royal power and status, and his apparent impotence in the face of the crisis is interpreted as narrative inconsistency by Grabbe, A History, 1:325–31. Williamson also identi¿es a tension about Ezra in the text which he suggests may be the basis for the apparent ambivalence in later Judaism toward Ezra, where he is lauded as a second Moses (t. Sanh. 4.7) on the one hand and ignored (Ben Sira and The New Testament) on the other; see Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xlvi–xlviii.

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Ezra’s Social Drama If Ezra is a leader, and the leader par excellence for Ezra–Nehemiah, he achieves this status by listening to the community as much as by making the community listen to him. His is a dialogical process. Ezra thus exempli¿es a shift from the image of the fearless hero at the head of the pack to a guide who places responsibility in the hands of others and places them in the center of his report.4

The context of that dialogical process is the social crisis that occurs when marriages with women from outside the community become the focus of the debate about community identity. Structurally, the narrative falls naturally into three sections: 9:1–5 introduces the problem of the mixed marriages and describes Ezra’s immediate reaction; 9:6–15 records Ezra’s prayer; and ch. 10 describes the response to the problem. 1. The Problem Identi¿ed (Ezra 9:1–5) The narrative is introduced with a general statement that transitions from the previous narrative about Ezra’s arrival. The ¿rst two verses identify the problem, which is that men from the community have mixed the “holy seed” with the peoples of the lands by marrying their women. The following three verses describe Ezra’s reaction to the report. a. The Report The opening phrase, ċēć ġČēĒĒČ, places the following narrative at some time after the previous events, that is, the arrival of Ezra’s caravan in Jerusalem in the ¿fth month. It is, as Williamson notes, a rather “vague chronological introduction” when one is attempting to reconstruct the course of events.5 Given that Ezra’s caravan arrived in the ¿fth month and these events appear to have happened from the ninth month onward, the question about what happened in the intervening four months is raised. The common explanation is that the phrase “these events” originally referred to the reading and interpretation of Ezra’s book of the law and the celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles as related in Neh 8.6 Since the reading of the law occurred in the seventh month, there is still a two-month gap between the teaching of the law and the issue coming out here. Working on the basis that community discourse is central to identity formation, two months is a reasonable time for issues arising from Ezra’s teaching of the torah in relation to identity to be digested and discussed by the community.

1

4. Eskenazi, Prose, 70. 5. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 129. Cf. Gunneweg, Esra, 161. 6. See also pp. 53–58.

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b. Leaders and Israel There are several identity labels used in the ¿rst two verses that need to be identi¿ed in order to understand who is involved in this social crisis. I will begin by identifying the leaders and who is referred to as Israel. The subsequent section will identify the peoples of the lands. (1) The Leaders. The concern about these marriages is addressed to Ezra by the ĔĐğ‡. The Hebrew ğ‡ is derived from Akkadian and refers to a person of status who represents or is “subordinated to the king.”7 The post-exilic historical books use the word in a very general way to refer to a range of leadership positions.8 This lack of semantic differentiation means it is unclear who these leaders were. Fensham, who describes the word here as “opaque,” suggests they are leaders of the laity, priests and Levites.9 There is merit in Williamson’s suggestion that they are a small group, given they are combined with the ĔĐėĉĘ in v. 2 to indicate more general community leadership.10 They most probably are to be seen as part of the established community leadership rather than leaders from Ezra’s caravan.11 That is, this is not a case of the recent returnees accusing the colonists they have just joined, but members of the established community leadership naming a problem causing social tension. It is unlikely that the new arrivals would have been in a position to speak on behalf of the community. The way the leadership and the community react by taking responsibility for a resolution also suggests an issue they owned rather than one forced on them by virtual outsiders. At a more subtle level the concern about the mixed marriages may have been imposed on them by Ezra’s teaching, but if so, it was done in such a way that the community accepted his arguments.12 (2) Israel. The accusation is that the ēćğ‡Đ Ĕęċ, “the people of Israel,” had failed to keep themselves separate from those peoples who indulged in cultically unacceptable practices. The language used here to identify 7. H. Niehr, ğ‡, TDOT 14:193. In Akkadian, šarrum refers to the king, but in Western Semitic Ğar rarely refers to the king and more commonly refers to someone subordinated to the king. See also B. W. Baker and P. J. Nel, ğğ‡, NIDOTTE 3:1294–95. 8. Niehr, TDOT 14:211; see also HALOT CD. 9. Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 124. 10. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 130. 11. Ibid. Contra Gunneweg, Esra, 163. 12. See, for example, T. C. Eskenazi and E. P. Judd, “Marriage to a Stranger in Ezra 9–10,” in Eskenazi and Richards, eds., Second Temple Studies 2, 267. They presume Ezra and others inÀuenced the community to expel the women. 1

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these people groups is signi¿cant. It identi¿es the community and the non-community “other” peoples living in the land, and points to a key distinction within the community. First, the various usages of the name “Israel” need to be noted. It occurs 36 times in Ezra (1:3; 2:2, 59, 70; 3:1, 2, 10, 11; 4:1, 3; 5:1, 11; 6:14, 16, 17, 21, 22; 7:6, 7, 10, 11, 13, 15, 28; 8:18, 25, 29, 35; 9:1, 4, 15; 10:1, 2, 5, 10, 25).13 In eleven of the occurrences, its most frequent context, Israel designates YHWH, as “God of Israel” (3:1; 4:1; 5:1; 6:14, 21, 22; 7:6, 15; 8:35; 9:4, 15). Israel is also used to speak of the pre-exilic kingdom (3:10; 5:11). The remaining occurrences refer to the returned exiles, who are portrayed as the true representatives of the historical Israel. Those who return from Babylon are called ēćğ‡Đ Ĕę (2:2) or ēćğ‡Đ ĐėĈ (3:1). The returned community, called ēćğ‡Đ ĐėĈ, is explicitly de¿ned in Ezra 6:16 as “the priests and the Levites and the rest of the returned exiles.” In the book of Ezra (and Nehemiah) the contemporary Israelites are those who experienced the exile and indeed may still be experiencing it as Ezra 8:25 uses “Israel” to speak of the exiles in Babylon. Israel is an exclusive term that refers to a segment of the society in Yehud. The understanding that “Israel” does not include those Israelites who did not go into exile is implied in Ezra 6:16 and con¿rmed by Ezra 6:21. That verse indicates that other inhabitants of Yehud who were descendants of the old Israel were allowed to join the people of Israel if they separated themselves from the “pollutions of the nations.” People needed either to be returned exiles or to accept the cultic standards of the golah (exilic) community in order to be regarded as the people of Israel. While the text acknowledges that the repatriates are largely descendants of the tribes of Judah and Benjamin (Ezra 1:5; 4:1, 4), they are presented as the true representatives of pre-exilic Israel. As Vogt puts it, “[a]s the remaining ‘remnant’ of God and settled around the Jerusalem sanctuary in Judah the returnees understood themselves as the people of Israel in essence.”14 For Vogt this is shown not just in the explicit statements in Ezra 6 but also in the way the return to Judah is portrayed as a new Exodus in the book of Ezra.

13. The label “Israel” also occurs 19 times in Neh 1:6; 2:10; 7:7, 61, 72; 8:1, 14, 17; 9:1, 2; 10:34, 40; 11:3, 20; 12:47; 13:2, 3, 18, 26. 14. Vogt, Studie, 47: “Die als ‘Rest’ von Gott übriggelassene und um das Jerusalemer Heiligtum in Juda angesiedelte Heimkehrergemeinde verstand sich als das Volk Israel schlechthin.” 1

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The phrase ēćğ‡Đ Ĕęċ used here in Ezra 9:1 is the less common designation; it is used without the de¿nite article in Ezra 2:2 and its Aramaic equivalent occurs in Ezra 7:13 but the more common phrase is ēćğ‡Đ ĐėĈ. The label “people of Israel” or “sons of Israel,” along with the name “Israel,” are designations for the community of returned exiles or the golah community. That the two phrases designate the same group can be seen from Ezra 7 which uses both terms. Ezra 7:7 uses ēćğ‡Đ ĐėĈ to describe the group that left Babylon with Ezra, while the letter from Artaxerxes (Ezra 7:13) speaks of ēćğ‡Đ ċĕę being allowed to go. The phrases are synonyms that identify the same community, the returned exiles—a community that can include, according to Ezra 6:21, non-exiles who conform to the cultic requirements. While the “people of Israel” is a title used to designate the repatriate community, it is also used to speak of the lay people of the community in distinction from the cultic personnel. The book of Ezra regularly distinguishes the cultic classes from the remainder of the community, as can be seen in the lists in Ezra 2 (Neh 7) and 10.15 In some cases the priests and Levites are identi¿ed; at other times all the temple roles are listed separately from the laity. The threefold division of the people into the classes of priest, Levite and laity is particularly common. It can be seen in Ezra 1:5; 6:16, and 9:1; it is also used by the Chronicler (1 Chr 23:2; 2 Chr 30:25; 34:30; 35:18). A more extensive list is present in Ezra 7:7, which describes the group that left Babylon with Ezra as the people of Israel (ēćğ‡Đ ĐėĈ), priests, Levites, singers, gatekeepers and temple servants. “Israel” as a designation for the lay people of the golah community is also used in Ezra 2:70; 7:13; 8:29; 10:5, 25. Ezra 9:1 has the threefold division of the two cultic classes and the community in general. The phrase, “the people of Israel and the priests and the Levites,” is a way of designating the whole community but suggests that the temple staff, particularly the priests and Levites, held a distinctive status in the community. The division of the lists and the groups noted in Ezra 7:7 reinforce the signi¿cance of the distinction between cultic staff and laity for the writer. The emphasis in the narrative is placed on the transgression of cultic purity. Two points should be noted about this. First, the mechanism for maintaining holiness is separation from others. This is made explicit in v. 2, where the failure to maintain separation is described as mixing the holy seed with the peoples of the lands. The expectation that the people

15. The lists in Ezra 2 and Neh 7 are very similar. Most scholars presume one is dependent on the other. See the discussion below. 1

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will keep themselves separate is a very strong concept in Ezra– Nehemiah. The Niphal of ēĊĈ (“to separate”) only occurs nine times in the Hebrew Bible and seven are in Ezra–Nehemiah (Ezra 6:21; 9:1; 10:8, 11, 16; Neh 9:2; 10:29).16 These all cluster around incidents of the community separating itself from foreign people. The agenda is set in Ezra 6:21, where separating from foreigners is a key identity marker for the golah community. The language used here parallels the concerns found in priestly literature about separations, an issue addressed in more detail later.17 The people are described as the “holy seed,” who are to be separate from the abominations of the peoples of the nations.18 Mosaic Law does not prohibit such intermarriage. Despite this, holiness and separateness are fundamental concepts that had important implications for the identity of the community and the mixed marriage social drama. The second point in relation to the emphasis on cultic purity is that the transgression put the community in danger of Yahweh’s wrath (Ezra 9:14). As the discussion on the penitential prayer below will highlight, Deuteronomic theology understood that God responded to cultic impurity by bringing disasters on his people.19 The exile was understood to be an expression of Yahweh’s wrath for covenant failure. The mixed marriages were perceived to put the community in the same danger as the pre-exilic Israelites. The situation was equally dire from a Priestly point of view. The mixing of holy and profane was a recipe for destruction. Nelson likens it to mixing two chemicals in a potentially explosive combination that could result in a “fusion reaction.”20 The mixed marriages posed a grave threat to the golah community. 16. The other three occurrences are in Num 16:21; 1 Chr 12:9 and 23:13. 17. Smith-Christopher, “The Mixed Marriage Crisis,” 256. See also Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 109; Eskenazi, Prose, 68. 18. The term ›ĊĞċ ęğč is only found in Ezra 9:2 and Isa 6:13. The Isaiah passage is notoriously dif¿cult and the connections with Ezra are hard to determine. Several scholars claim the phrase in Isaiah is a post-exilic gloss; see J. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39 (AB 19; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 226; J. D. W. Watts, Isaiah 1–33 (WBC 24; Waco, Tex.: Word, 1985), 76; R. E. Clements, Isaiah 1–39 (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980), 78. If this is the case, the reference in Isaiah challenges the view of the nature of the holy ones expressed in Ezra 9:2 since it makes the people in the land the holy ones not the returned exiles. Alternatively, the term may be a concretization of the Deuteronomic ‡ĊĞ Ĕę (Deut 7:6; 14:2, 21; 26:19; 28:9; 33:3); see Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 109. 19. The implementation of the curses of the covenant could be described in terms of God’s wrath. See Deut 11:17; 29:23–27; cf. Jer 21:12 Ezra 8:22; Neh 13:18. 20. R. D. Nelson, Raising Up a Faithful Priest (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1993), 33–36. 1

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The notion of rigid separation, however, runs counter to other exilic and post-exilic texts, such as Deutero- and Trito-Isaiah, and even Chronicles, which are more inclusive in outlook.21 This stance, plus the existence of these mixed marriages, suggest that this rigid understanding of separation was not universally held in the golah community prior to this controversy. Ezra’s centrality in the controversy and the presumption that Neh 8 depicts his actions between chs. 8 and 9, point to his presence and teaching being factors that contribute to the social drama. c. The Peoples of the Land(s) (1) The List. The people to be separated from are described by the phrase ĔċĐĈęČġĒ ġČĝğćċ Đĕę, which translates literally as “the peoples of the lands as/like/according to their abominations.” The NRSV has “the peoples of the lands with their abominations, from the Canaanites, the Hittites…and the Amorites.” That is, it identi¿es the peoples of the lands with the nations listed. This creates two dif¿culties. First, it translates the preposition Ē as “with,” which is unusual.22 Second, the list, like the other lists of nations in the Hebrew Bible, is stereotypical.23 Three features indicate its stereotypical nature. First, the names of major people groups, like the Canaanites and Hittites, are generalized names that applied to different groups at different times. Second, the minor people groups, like Perizzites and Jebusites, designate early Canaanite peoples who occupied the land prior to Israel and no longer existed in the postexilic period. Third, the list uses an established pattern that indicates its dependence on older lists.24 This list shows signs of being drawn from what Ishida calls six-name lists with some modi¿cations for present circumstances (see below). Even though Neh 13:23–24 identi¿es women

21. In addition to obvious examples, Deutero- and Trito-Isaiah Mark Brett’s reading of Genesis argues that it actively resists the exclusivist views expressed here. He uses Ezra 9:1–2 as his interpretive key in a postcolonial reading of Genesis that regards narrow ethnic identity as promulgated by the pro-Persian provincial leadership. See M. G. Brett, Genesis: Procreation and the Politics of Identity (Old Testament Readings; London: Routledge, 2000). 22. The preposition Ē indicates correspondence: “like,” “as” or “after the manner of”; see GKC §118. 23. There are 27 such lists of peoples scattered throughout the Hebrew Bible. See Gen 10:15–18; 13:7; 15:19–21; 34:30; Exod 3:8, 17; 13:5; 23:23, 28; 33:2; 34:11; Num 13:29; Deut 7:1; 20:17; Josh 3:10; 5:1; 9:1; 11:3; 12:8; 24:11; Judg 1:4–5; 3:5; 1 Kgs 9:20; 1 Chr 1:13–16; 2 Chr 8:7; Ezra 9:1; Neh 9:8. 24. T. Ishida, “The Structure and Historical Implications of the Lists of PreIsraelite Nations,” Bib 60 (1979): 488. 1

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in mixed marriages as coming from two of the people groups listed here, it seems highly unlikely that the intention was speci¿cally to identify the peoples of the lands directly with these peoples.25 Rather than understand the pronominal suf¿x Ĕċ- to refer to the peoples of the lands, it seems better to read it as referring to the people groups that follow.26 That is, the personal pronoun is to be regarded as anticipatory, with the ē introducing the list that follows.27 This leads to the translation, “have not separated themselves from the peoples of the lands, whose abhorrent practices are like those of the Canaanites, the Hittites…and the Amorites.”28 This understands the peoples of the lands as acting in the same way as the nations listed but does not identify them as members of these nations. It also renders the Ē in its more normal way. This seems a better understanding of both the Hebrew grammar and the historical context in which the statement is set. The focus is on the abominations, which are indicators of foreignness and are epitomized by the peoples listed, not on the speci¿c people groups. The “peoples of the lands” are characterized as practicing abominations. The word ċĈęČġ has a wide semantic range designating something that is aesthetically, morally or ritually repulsive.29 Leviticus 18:26–30 uses the word in relation to the Canaanites and their sexual practices. It states the reason the Canaanites were “cast out” was because of these practices and threatens Israel with being “vomited out” if they follow them. Deuteronomy uses ċĈęČġ for “anything that could spoil the purity of the people,” including images (Deut 7:25–26), unclean meat (17:1) and wearing the clothes of the opposite sex (22:5).30 Preuss comments that ċĈęČġ refers to something that is ethically abhorrent and irreconcilable with Yahweh, being contrary to his will and character.31 While the term can be used in a non-cultic sense, the language used alongside ċĈęČġ in Ezra 9:11 indicates cultic pollution: ċĊė and ćĕď both refer to 25. The women in Neh 13:23 are identi¿ed as coming from Ashdod, Ammon, and Moab. The last two correspond with this list in Ezra 9:1. 26. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 126. 27. Regarding ē as introductory, see GKC §129. This is the solution favoured by Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 126. See also Eskenazi and Judd, “Marriage to a Stranger,” 268. Cautious support to read it this way is offered by Grabbe, Ezra– Nehemiah, 32. 28. This follows the JPS Tanakh. A similar translation is offered by Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 125. 29. HALOT CD; cf. R. F. Youngblood, Ĉęġ, TWOT 2:976–77; H.-D. Preuss, ċĈęČġ, TDOT 15:591–604; M. A. Grisanti, Ĉęġ, NIDOTTE 4:314–18. 30. See HALOT CD. 31. Preuss, TDOT 15:591–604. 1

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cultic impurity.32 What this might say about the speci¿c concerns of the community is dif¿cult to identify. Both lifestyle and speci¿cally cultic practices could be ċĈęČġ. Whatever the speci¿cs, people judged to practice abominations were to be kept out of the community. Since the list of peoples of the lands who practice abominations was not meant to specify post-exilic people groups and has af¿nities with other lists, it should be understood as stereotypical.33 In lists of the preIsraelite inhabitants of Canaan drawn from Deuteronomic sources, or inÀuenced by Deuteronomic theology, the peoples are named for ideological reasons.34 The aim is to point to outsiders, usually in a pejorative way, not identify speci¿c historic or ethnic groups. The Ezra 9:1 list is most likely based on Deut 7:1, which contains ¿ve of the peoples listed: Canaanites, Hittites, Perizzites, Jebusites and Amorites.35 Since Deut 7:1–6 bans intermarriage and is quoted later in Ezra’s prayer (9:12), it is the probable basis of the list. The other names in the list are probably present because they refer to contemporary enemies and make the list relevant to the contemporary situation.36 “Amorite” likely does double duty as a historical name with contemporary relevance.37 These lists tend to include updates to keep 32. The non-cultic sense of ċĈęČġ is found in Amos 5:10 and Mic 3:9. For ċĊė see R. E. Averbeck, ċČĊ, NIDOTTE 1:925–28; H.-J. Fabry, ċĊė, TDOT 9:232–35; ċĊė III, DCH 5:621. For ćĕď, see R. E. Averbeck, ćĕď, NIDOTTE 2:365–75; G. André, ćĕď, TDOT 5:330–42; ćĕď, DCH 3:366–71. 33. Leavering, Ezra & Nehemiah, 97; Larson and Dahlen, Ezra, Nehemiah and Esther, 104; Wijk-Bos, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, 40; Throntveit, Ezra–Nehemiah, 51; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 175; Gunneweg, Esra, 162; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 130; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 119; Ishida, “Lists of Pre-Israelite Nations,” 461–90. 34. J. Van Seters, “The Terms ‘Amorite’ and ‘Hittite’ in the Old Testament,” VT 22 (1972): 64–81. Van Seters’ main focus is the terms “Amorite” and “Hittite,” but he argues that the lists have a strong ideological emphasis. 35. Ishida points out that Ezra 9:1 conforms to the pattern in his table II group of six-name lists and Deut 7:1 is one of the lists in table II; see Ishida, “Lists of Pre-Israelite Nations,” 471–78, 488. Deuteronomy 7:1 is generally acknowledged as the primary inÀuence by several scholars, with Deut 23:3–6 seen by some as the secondary inÀuence. See Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 72–73; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 175; Gunneweg, Esra, 162; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 119. 36. Ishida, “Lists of Pre-Israelite Nations,” 488; Van Seters, “Terms,” 71. 37. Emending “Amorite” to read “Edomite” following 1 Esd 8:69 and Deut 23:7–8 is not necessary. Amorite occurs in Deut 7:1 and, as Van Seters argues, represents a contemporary enemy; see Van Seters, “Terms,” 76. His argument is that since “Amorite” is separated from the other pre-Israelite Palestinian inhabitants and 1

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them relevant.38 Two of the names not mentioned in Deut 7:1, Ammonites and Moabites, occur in Deut 23:3–6, where they are excluded from admittance to the assembly of Yahweh. Deuteronomy 23 has nothing to do with marriage, but regulates who can be a member of the assembly. The commonality between Deut 23:3–6 and 7:1 is foreign peoples who are dangerous because of their religious practices, which is a key issue here. Deuteronomy 23 may have inÀuenced their inclusion, particularly since it is also quoted in Ezra’s prayer (9:12), but is not necessary to explain their presence since Ammonites and Moabites are speci¿cally named as outsiders from who the golah wanted to remain distinct (Neh 13:23–27). Perhaps, like the Amorites, the names have both contemporary relevance and connection to the past.39 The apparently anomalous foreigner in this exclusion list is the Egyptian. Deuteronomy 23 excludes Egyptians and Edomites for three generations, but speci¿cally allows their descendants to become members of the assembly. Williamson notes that Lev 18:3 warns against unacceptable practices in Egypt as well as Canaan and that this may be the source of the concern about Egypt.40 Such a warning may have been combined with the warning about emulating Solomon’s behaviour in the Deuteronomic History. Solomon’s marriage to a daughter of Pharaoh is prominent in the list of his foreign wives (1 Kgs 11:1–8; cf. Deut 17:14– 20).41 Nehemiah speci¿cally refers to Solomon’s example when he deals with a similar issue (Neh 13:26). Further, in the light of the Egyptian rebellion against the Persian Empire, Egyptians were probably regarded with suspicion, especially by pro-Persian Jews such as Ezra. With concern about Egyptians and contemporary concern about Solomon’s example it is likely the addition of the Egyptians to the list, like the Ammonites and Moabites, is aimed at making it contemporary.42 The list of peoples of the lands, then, is a composite one based on Deut 7:1 with key additions. The additions have been included because they reÀect both traditional concerns and also contemporary issues. The people groups are listed primarily on ideological rather than historical grounds but the adaptations keep it historically relevant. This suggests is placed with the Ammonites, Moabites and Egyptians in Ezra 9:1, it probably refers to a known group. In this regard it reÀects a modernizing trend notable in other passages like Gen 15:18–20. 38. Van Seters, “Terms,” 71. Cf. Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 124. 39. Cf. Gunneweg, Esra, 162. 40. Cf. also Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 119. 41. Cf. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 175. 42. Gunneweg, Esra, 162. 1

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that the application of these pentateuchal texts to the current social situation in Judah is the result of some reÀection in which identifying the relevance of the law to the contemporary situation was the focus. There are a number of examples of traditions being updated to the contemporary situation in this narrative, as the subsequent discussion will show. (2) Identifying the Peoples of the Lands. Since the list of foreign peoples is ideological, the question is raised as to who these foreigners in Ezra are. The “peoples of the land(s)” are identi¿ed as the primary protagonists in several of the events narrated in Ezra–Nehemiah. The phrase comes in two forms: either with a plural “peoples” and a singular land Ĝğćċ Đĕę, or as a double plural ġČĝğęċ Đĕę.43 In either form it appears to be a speci¿cally post-exilic phrase and more focused in meaning than the widely used Ĝğćċ Ĕę. The “peoples of the land(s)” occurs primarily in post-exilic biblical texts, the exceptions being 1 Kgs 8, where the three occurrences are probably the result of post-exilic additions and one in Josh 4:24, which also appears to be a later addition.44 A number of recent interpretations of the prayer in 1 Kings argue that it has pre-exilic origins. Even if this is the case, the parallels between the context of the phrase in 1 Kgs 8 and the post-exilic texts suggest strongly that the term “peoples of the land” is a post-exilic addition.45 The “peoples of the land(s)” seems to be used in two ways, which refer to slightly different groupings of foreigners. The ¿rst usage is a general one that is simply a way of referring to foreigners or nonIsraelites. This is the case in 1 Kgs 8, where the construct phrase 43. The phrase occurs with the singular “land” in Josh 4:24; 1 Kgs 8:43, 53, 60; 1 Chr 5:25; 2 Chr 6:33; 32:19; Ezra 10:2, 11; Neh 9:24, 30; 10:31, 32. The phrase with the plural “lands” occurs in 2 Chr 32:13; Ezra 3:3; 9:1, 2, 11; Neh 10:29. A variation Ĝğćċ ĐČĉ, “the nations of the land,” occurs in Ezra 6:21 and another Ĝğćċ ĐĈĠĐ, “the inhabitants of the land,” in Neh 9:24. 44. S. J. DeVries, 1 Kings (WBC 12; Waco, Tex.: Word, 1985), 123; T. C. Butler, Joshua (WBC 7; Waco, Tex.: Word, 1983), 51; M. Cogan, I Kings (AB 10; New York: Doubleday, 2001); M. A. Sweeney, I and II Kings (OTL; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 2007), 133–36; V. Fritz, 1 & 2 Kings: A Continental Commentary (trans. A. Hagedorn; Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003), 99–101; J. A. Soggin, Joshua (OTL; London: SCM, 1972), 67; R. D. Nelson, Joshua (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 71. 45. There is no consensus about the dating of the prayer in 1 Kgs 8, but some recent commentators argue that its basis is pre-exilic. Nevertheless, they recognize that its current form reÀects post-exilic inÀuences. For example, Sweeney argues that the prayer was not originally written to address the Babylonian exile; nevertheless, the ¿nal form requires that it be read with that exile in mind; see Sweeney, I and II Kings, 130. Similarly Cogan, I Kings, 292. 1

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Ĝğćċ Đĕę occurs three times (1 Kgs 8:43, 53, 60). The meaning is quite explicit in 1 Kgs 8:53, where the Israelites are de¿ned as those whom Yahweh separated for himself from “the peoples of the land (world).” Similarly, in Josh 4:24, 2 Chr 6:33; 32:13, 19 and Esth 8:17, it is a general reference to non-Israelites. Ezra–Nehemiah uses the phrase this way in Neh 9:30 where Ezra recounts the failures of Israel and Yahweh’s response to the people’s unfaithfulness in a prayer. When Israel did not listen to the warning from the prophets it was handed over to the “peoples of the land.” The second group referred to by the phrase “the people of the land(s)” is a more speci¿c group of foreigners, the pre-conquest inhabitants of the land occupied by Israel. This is the way the phrase is used in 1 Chr 5:25 and several of the references in Ezra–Nehemiah. In Ezra 9:1, 2 and 11 the “peoples of the lands” are identi¿ed with the pre-conquest peoples. From the context, “the peoples of the land” in Ezra 10:2 and 11 must refer to the same people, although they are not speci¿cally described. Similarly, Neh 9:24 refers to the people who were conquered by the Israelites as “the inhabitants of the land,” “Canaanites” and “the peoples of the land.” In the remaining passages it is not clear which one of the two meanings is intended, but in most cases the immediate application would be to the local people, non-Israelites as de¿ned by the author of Ezra– Nehemiah. The altar builders fear the “peoples of the lands” in Ezra 3:3 and in Neh 10:31–32 the community makes a commitment not to intermarry or trade on the Sabbath with “the peoples of the land.” It is possible that the meaning here is more generally “foreigners” because people from neighbouring provinces may have come to trade and marriages to those from neighbouring regions took place (Neh 13:23). However, the reference to the covenanting group as those who separated themselves from “the people of the lands” in Neh 10:29 indicates that the focus is on those close at hand. The essence of the phrase is that it refers to foreigners, outsiders who do not belong to Israel. The reason for the separation is that the “peoples of the lands” are deemed to be impure. In his survey of the phrase Vogt points out that the “peoples of the land” in Ezra 9:11 become the “peoples of abominations” (ġČĈęġċ Đĕę) in Ezra 9:14.46 Vogt goes on to point out that the “sin language” used in reference to the peoples of the lands focuses around impurity and abomination and is drawn from the language used to describe Israel’s enemies in the “Exoduszeit.”47 This is in contrast to the

1

46. Vogt, Studie, 153. 47. Ibid.

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sin language used to describe the failings of the repatriate community, which focuses on unfaithfulness and law-breaking. Vogt says the author of Ezra–Nehemiah draws a contrast between the repatriate community and the other inhabitants of Yehud: Now if in Ezra 9:14 the contemporary inhabitants are brought into association with the heathen peoples of the Exodus era with the same sin vocabulary, in that the ġČĝğćċ Đĕę of Ezra 9:11 are called ġČĈęġċ Đĕę in Ezra 9:14, then it is clear that the author equated the contemporary inhabitants of the lands, those who did not belong to the repatriate community, with the heathen peoples of the Exodus era.48

Vogt’s point, as he goes on to elaborate, is that all people not part of the golah community were regarded as foreign. This is the mirror image of the de¿nition of Israel discussed above. Whether such people might have thought of themselves as Judean or not, as far as the author of Ezra– Nehemiah was concerned they were impure and therefore foreign. Vogt points out that this is the implication of Ezra 6:21 where those who are de¿ned as Israel are those who are repatriates or those who have separated themselves from the “nations of the land.” The Ĝğćċ Đĕę have become the ĜğćċĀĐČĉ in this verse. There was no difference between those living in neighbouring regions and those within Yehud who did not ¿t within the author’s de¿nition of Israel; all were impure and foreign. d. Marriage is the Problem The speci¿c action that portrays this failure to maintain separateness and therefore cultic purity and covenant faithfulness is marriage. The accusation focuses on community men taking women who are understood as foreign as their wives or as wives for their sons. Nothing is said about daughters of the golah community being given in marriage to these peoples. The wording of the accusation may be given in general terms and presume reciprocal marriage exchanges, or it may be that the concern only involved foreign women married to community men.49 48. Ibid.: “Wenn nun in E 9,14 die zeitgenössischen Landesbewohner mit demselben Sündenvokabular der heidnischen Völker der Exoduszeit in Verbindung gebracht werden, indem die ġČĝğćċ Đĕę von E 9,11 in E 9,14 ġČĈęġċ Đĕę heißen, dann ist klar, das der Verfasser alle zeitgenössischen Bewohner des Landes, die nicht zur Heimkehrergemeinde gehören, mit der heidnischen Bevölkerung der Exoduszeit gleichstellt.” 49. This contrasts with Neh 13:25, where Nehemiah explicitly forbids the giving of daughters to foreigners as well as the taking of foreign women. Nehemiah 6:18 refers to the marriage of Tobiah’s son to a Judean woman. According to Eskenazi and Judd (“Marriage to a Stranger,” 267), this suggests the prohibition applied 1

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In contracting these marriages, community leaders had set the example, which others had followed. The two terms used for the leaders are ĔĐğ‡, which is a vague designation for a leader, and ĔĐėĉĘ, which is an Assyrian loanword.50 Outside of Ezra–Nehemiah, in the Hebrew Bible ĖĉĘ refers to Babylonian of¿cials.51 The Nehemiah texts seem to distinguish the ĖĉĘ from the ĔĐğĎ (“nobles”), but otherwise the noun seems to be a somewhat general designation for a group of community leaders. This one occurrence in Ezra appears to follow that in Nehemiah. Its context indicates they are golah community leaders, since only members of the community could be accused of mixing the “holy seed” with the “peoples of the lands.” (1) Marriage is Unfaithfulness. The heart of the problem is that in contracting these marriages the community have, in the words of the leaders, committed an act of unfaithfulness. The word ēęĕ, which is central to this issue, only occurs in later texts, predominantly 2 Chronicles and Ezekiel, but also the Deuteronomic History and the Priestly Code.52 It can refer to unfaithfulness toward other humans or toward God. Transgression against God predominates. Ezekiel uses ēęĕ to express the “sense of religious disloyalty toward God.”53 It refers to wickedness, godlessness and sin, effectively encompassing “the entire essence of the wicked, which does not acknowledge God as God.”54 A concrete example is presented in Josh 7:1, where Achan’s theft of consecrated (ĔğĎ) goods is described as ēęĕ.55 The marriages are therefore presented as deliberate transgression and the gravest of offences against equally to men and women. They note that sex-ratio imbalance and greater control over women’s marriage choices may explain why the focus is only on men married to foreign women. Alternatively, because the Israelite women would have left their families they would have been outside the community and therefore not a visible problem according to Pakkala, Ezra the Scribe, 109. 50. The word ĔĐėĉ‡ appears to originate from Akkadian and comes into Aramaic and Assyrian with the meaning “governor.” See HALOT CD; R. D. Patterson, ĖĉĘ, TWOT 2:617; ĖĉĘ, DCH 6:117–18. For ĔĐğ‡, see p. 69. 51. Isa 41:25; Jer 51:23, 28, 57; Ezek 23:6, 12, 23. 52. H. Ringgren, ēęĕ, TDOT 8:460–63. See also R. Wakely, ēęĕ, NIDOTTE 2:1020–25, V. P. Hamilton, ēęĕ, TWOT 1:519–20, Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 16–35. 53. Ringgren, TDOT 8:461 54. Ibid., 462. 55. Josh 7:1 is the only time ēęĕ refers to offence against a rule (the ban) rather a person or God, though the rule in this case represents the divine–human relationship. See Wakely, NIDOTTE 2:1020. 1

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God. The only appropriate response to ēęĕ is to offer a guilt offering and to make restitution according to Lev 5:14–16. The language indicates that the mixed marriages were regarded as a serious breach of the community’s relationship with Yahweh. (2) Separating Racial or Religious Motives? The surface issue is clear enough; these marriages were taking place in contravention of the community’s understanding about what the law required in terms of faithfulness to Yahweh. However, the leaders’ description of the mixed marriages as mixing holy seed with the peoples of the lands has led several modern interpreters to ask whether the issue was a religious one or a racial one. The question harbours a basic misunderstanding that needs to be clari¿ed. When biblical scholars ask if the basis of the need for separation is racial or religious, they reduce a complex identity concept to one or two factors that have no explanatory value for the text. An example that presumes the issue is one of race is Lebram’s summary of Ezra’s role: “Ezra protects the biological ‘purity’ of the population.”56 As I have already noted, identity is a complex notion and such explanations are severely reductionist. This is particularly the case when such words as “race” or “ethnicity” are used without recognition that they also label complex notions that have varying content depending

56. J. H. C. Lebram, “Die Traditionsgeschite der Esragestalt und die Frage nach dem Historischen Esra,” in Achaemenid History I (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut vor het Nabije Oosten, 1987), 104: “Esra sichert die biologische ‘Reinheit’ der Bevölkerung.” Unfortunately this modern racist assumption is frequently perpetuated. For example, note this comment from Wijk-Bos, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, 41. “The term ‘holy seed’ points to a desire for keeping an ethnic purity, presumably because this would guarantee religious purity.” The most notorious example of biblical scholars and theologians using Ezra in a racial purity argument is those who supported the Nazi cause. The argument was speci¿cally used by Gerhard Kittel, “Das Konnubium mit den Nicht-Juden im antiken Judentum,” Forshungen der Judenfrage 2 (1937): 30–62. See R. P. Ericksen, Theologians Under Hitler: Gerhard Kittel, Paul Althaus, Emanuel Hirsch (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1985), 33, 62. Noting less scholarly approaches, R. Maldonado points out that a number of white separatist web sites use Ezra as a basis for racist policies. His own usage, however, perpetuates the misreading by distinguishing between ethnic and religious forms of impurity in Ezra. This is an imposition of categories foreign to the writer and seems to employ the power dynamics his hermeneutic is aimed at resisting. See R. D. Maldonado, “ ‘The Holy Seed Has Mixed Itself with the Peoples of the Lands’ (Ezra 9:2): Mestizaje and Ezra–Nehemiah in Black and White,” in Autobiographical Biblical Criticism (ed. I. R. Kitzberger; Leiden: Deo, 2002), 133–50. See particularly pp. 140–41 and 144. 1

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on the context.57 To complicate the issue further, ethnicity is a modern concept that an ancient writer would be unlikely to recognize.58 The assertion that race or religion is the centre of concern here is crudely simplistic and runs the risk of forcing anachronistic categories on the text. As Berquist states, such an assertion is responding to the wrong question.59 The “holy seed” was not, for the author of Ezra, a concept to be equated with one identity marker. Understanding what the “holy seed” and separation are about needs to take the multiple factors that produce an identity description into account. As the descriptions given in Ezra indicate, signi¿cant elements of the golah identity were genealogical connections, ones which cannot be equated naively with genetic descent, plus the shared heritage of exile in Babylonia, plus common religious practice. The golah identity involved at least three elements. To seek to distinguish whether race or religion motivated the controversy misunderstands identity by attempting to separate and eliminate essential elements that combine to create the golah community’s understanding of belonging and otherness. Comments about such distinctions are often made either to accuse ancient Israel of racism or to defend it from such attacks.60 This achieves very little in terms of understanding the setting and simply provides ammunition for modern debates. As Eskenazi notes, race is not central to the agenda of the Ezra–Nehemiah narrative.61 The issue is identity, which is multifaceted and dynamic. This must be recognized to avoid the imposition of anachronistic and unhelpfully loaded concepts on the text.

57. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity”; M. G. Brett, “Interpreting Ethnicity: Method, Hermeneutics, Ethics,” in Ethnicity and the Bible (ed. M. G. Brett; Leiden: Brill, 1996), 3–22. Brett notes that whether ethnocentricity is judged as racism or not can depend on power dynamics (p. 17). 58. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity,” 55. 59. Ibid., 63. 60. In addition to the examples above, note Williamson’s comment that presumes a racist agenda here, although he avoids any direct criticism of Ezra. He argues that “holy seed” must mean physical descent and is a twisting and misapplication of Abraham’s “holy people” (Gen 12:1–3, 7) with the law of separation in Deut 7:6–7 to produce an idea of racial separation rather than religious separation. See Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 131–32. Cf. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 176. 61. Eskenazi, “The Missions of Ezra and Nehemiah,” 522. See especially n. 24. Berquist makes the point that ethnic purity would be a strange motivation for both Ezra and Nehemiah who worked in the multi-ethnic Persian royal court system; see Berquist, Persia’s Shadow, 118. 1

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(3) Separation and Identity. The identity of the golah community included certain religious practices. This does not mean the practices were only cultic in the sense that they involved temple worship. Rather, a wider lifestyle is in mind. That lifestyle, according to Ezra 6, involved certain worship practices and, according to Ezra 9 and 10, certain social practices that separated them from others in the wider population. These practices were motivated by their experience of the exile and their understanding of their divine laws. The three obvious lifestyle characteristics are circumcision, purity laws and Sabbath observance. The characteristics of this group who saw themselves as the people of Israel are consonant with the pre-exilic ethnic traditions, but were intensi¿ed to a certain degree in the exile because of the desire to retain their identity in a foreign environment.62 Kenton Sparks states that the wellknown identi¿ers—Sabbath-keeping, circumcision and ritual cleanliness—were pre-exilic characteristics that became post-exilic identity markers. His comments about maintaining separate identity through intensi¿ed ethnic boundaries are supported by Daniel Smith’s arguments that the post-exilic Jewish community shows characteristics that are common to exilic peoples ¿ghting assimilation.63 He identi¿es four characteristics reÀected in the post-exilic literature: structural adaptation by the community, new leadership, ritual, and folklore.64 Social structural adaptation involves the adaptation of traditional structures to cope with a new environment. New leadership involves the redistribution of power through new circumstances, either by cooperation with the dominant culture or resistance to it.65 Ritual is a signi¿cant marker of boundary maintenance and preserves symbolic resistance. Here Smith draws particularly from Mary Douglas’s insights into the fear of pollution as a way of maintaining social order and notes that “fear of pollution represents the ‘stress points’ of a society.”66 Folklore preserves stories of heroes (Daniel and Esther) whose circumstances are similar to that of the community, and who overcome using the weapons the society has available, such as piety or cleverness.

62. K. L. Sparks, Ethnicity and Identity in Ancient Israel (Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1998), 324. 63. Smith, The Religion of the Landless. 64. Ibid., 69–90. 65. Smith (ibid., 79) notes that even co-operation can be a form of resistance, as reÀected in stories like that of Daniel, who cooperates but also resists. 66. Ibid., 80. Cf. Douglas, Purity and Danger, 1–6.

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(4) Summary. The report to Ezra by a small group of community leaders accused members of the golah community of threatening that community by contracting marriages that were acts of unfaithfulness toward Yahweh. The marriages mixed the golah community with the non-community members, foreigners or Jews (Yehudians) who did not conform to golah practices and were therefore impure. The concepts of purity and foreignness were part of the ideological construct of community identity. e. Ezra’s Reaction The leader’s report is followed by a description of Ezra’s reaction, a reaction that also introduces the prayer of confession. Ezra’s immediate response is to mourn the situation publicly. This action draws a crowd of supporters. He maintains his mourning until the evening sacri¿ce, at which time he prays. (1) Mourning. Continuing in the ¿rst person, the narrative records that Ezra’s response to the report of community unfaithfulness was to rip his clothes, pull out his hair and sit in public humiliation. These are the actions of mourning. The ripping of clothes was a ritual way of expressing nakedness, a token of humiliation and death (Gen 37:34; Num 14:6; 2 Sam 1:2; 3:31; 1 Kgs 21:27; 2 Kgs 6:30; 19:1; Esth 4:1).67 Pulling out hair was a substitute for shaving, which was the common ancient symbol of mourning but was banned for this purpose in Israel because of its associations with other religions (Lev 19:27; 21:5; Deut 14:1). Even these actions show something of the self-understanding of being a holy people. Trimming or shaping the beard or temple hair is banned by Lev 19:27, while Lev 21:5 explicitly bans the priests from shaving their hair. Deuteronomy combines both regulations as a demonstration that the people are in a covenant relationship with Yahweh (Deut 14:2).68 These mourning rituals conform to those expected of people who are the elect of Yahweh in Deuteronomic terms. Sitting in shocked silence was also a convention of lamentation, as seen in the case of Ezekiel (Ezek 3:15; see also Job 2:11–13; Ezek 26:16).69 While Ezra’s actions are the typical reaction of an individual to a distressing situation, the public nature of this self-humiliation and the 67. M. Jastrow, “The Tearing of Garments as a Symbol of Mourning, with Especial Reference to the Customs of the Ancient Hebrews,” JAOS 21 (1900): 23–39. 68. M. Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel (Oxford: Clarendon, 1985), 122. 69. N. Loh¿nk, “Enthielten die im alten Testament Bezeugten Klageriten eine Phase Schweigens?,” VT 12 (1962): 260–77. 1

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prayer that follows also reveal the actions of a religious intermediary. Clines characterizes this as a prophetic act drawing parallels with Isaiah’s prophetic nakedness (Isa 20) and Ezekiel’s symbolic dramas (Ezek 4–5).70 Yet there are also priestly aspects to this action. It was the priest’s job to stand on the margins between sacred and profane, to do what was required to put right any estrangement between God and the people.71 Ezra is linked to the high priesthood through his genealogy, but his priestly role is otherwise ambiguous. While his status as a priest is emphasized by the writer, so is the Exodus motif, which draws parallels between Ezra and Moses.72 This intercession is reminiscent of Moses (Exod 32:11–14). It is tempting to regard the writer as conÀating the roles of prophet and priest in his presentation of Ezra, which is the position of studies that show a fusing of prophetic and priestly traditions in penitential prayers in the post-exilic period. This synthesis of traditions is shown in the preference for priestly mediators in narratives of the Second Temple era rather than the prophetic mediators of earlier times.73 However, this perhaps reads stereotypes of the later Hellenistic and Rabbinic eras back into the intentions of the author of Ezra–Nehemiah. While there is little doubt that there is a preference for priest over prophet expressed in the Second Temple literature, the Àuidity of roles should warn us against presuming that Persian-era traditions were as rigid as later portrayals suggest. Modern scholars also need to be careful not to impose concepts from role theory too rigidly. Ancient Israelite roles were more Àuid than modern application frequently allows.74 That is evident in the ambiguity with which pivotal characters like Moses and Samuel are portrayed in the literature. Samuel is presented as a judge who acts as a prophet and a 70. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 120. 71. Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 78. He comments in relation to the prayer that Ezra’s intercession for the community is a priestly function. 72. See pp. 140–41. See Koch, “Ezra and the Origins of Judaism,” 173–97. Cf. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 182. Ezra’s Moses-like role is emphasised in 2 Esdras. 73. W. S. Morrow, Protest Against God: The Eclipse of Biblical Tradition (Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Phoenix, 2006), 169. See also M. J. Boda, Praying the Tradition: The Origin and Use of Tradition in Nehemiah 9 (BZAW 277; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999), 187–95; B. D. Sommer, “Did Prophecy Cease? Evaluating a Reevaluation,” JBL 115 (1996): 31–47. 74. The close association between priests and prophecy shows that the roles have signi¿cant overlap, as does the use of divination by priests. See L. L. Grabbe, Priests, Prophets, Diviners, Sages: A Socio-Historical Study of Religious Specialists in Ancient Israel (Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International, 1995), 64–65, 116– 18, 192–205. 1

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priest; no single role label adequately reÀects his status and actions in the literature. It is better to see the writer of Ezra–Nehemiah drawing on traditions of intermediation that modern scholars recognize as prophetic and priestly in his presentation of Ezra. There have been various scholarly reactions to Ezra’s public mourning. These reactions range from claiming it is inappropriate for a person of Ezra’s status, to claims of intemperance and defending it against any suggestion it might be seen as a cynical manipulation of the community.75 These reactions all miss the cultural signi¿cance and power of ritual. Williamson notes that Ezra’s mourning expressed the implicit repentance in the leader’s confession of the problem to him. He further notes that, while Ezra, in contrast to Nehemiah, encouraged the people to recognize the problem themselves and respond, his actions “would have been partly to assist the process.”76 The mourning should at least be seen as the culturally appropriate actions of a leader that acknowledged the gravity of the report in a way intended to inÀuence both the community and the divine. As discussion on ritual in the next chapter will show, Ezra’s mourning was signi¿cant in shaping the mixed marriage controversy. (2) The Tremblers. The people who gathered to support Ezra are described as ēćğ‡Đ Đċēć ĐğĈĊĈ ĊğĎ ēĒ, “all those who revered (lit., trembled at) the words of the God of Israel.” The designation “those who tremble” (ĔĐĊğĎċ) also occurs in Ezra 10:3. In addition, it appears in Isa 66:2, 5, which is widely taken to reÀect the same Persian period.77 In Isa 66 the phrase, as here, focuses on people who revere God’s word.78 They are presented as those who please God, in contrast to those who built the 75. Grabbe claims Ezra’s mourning is an action inconsistent with his status; see Grabbe, Ezra–Nehemiah, 138–53. Fensham (Ezra and Nehemiah, 124) rejects the idea that Neh 8 originally preceded Ezra 9 on the basis that it would make Ezra’s reaction in 9:3 “only a dramatic, act without sincerity.” However, the fact that Ezra deliberately made a public spectacle need not be interpreted as an act of insincerity. See Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 121; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 132–33. In contrast, Ezra’s reaction is also interpreted as owing too much to emotion, it is described as “almost absurdly intemperate” by Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 177. 76. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 133. 77. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 178; J. D. W. Watts, Isaiah 34–66 (WBC 25; Waco, Tex.: Word), 352; R. N. Whybray, Isaiah 40–66 (NCB; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975), 279; C. Westermann, Isaiah 40–66 (OTL; London: SCM, 1969), 411–17. 78. While the phrases are different, they all express the same sentiment: Isa 66:2, ĐğĈĊĀēę ĊğĎČ, “who tremble at my word”; Isa 66:5, ČğĈĊĀēć ĔĐĊğĎċ, “you who tremble at his word”; Ezra 10:3 ČėĐċēć ġČĝĕĈ ĔĐĊğĎċČ, “those who tremble at the commandment of our God.” 1

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temple in Isa 66:2, and they receive encouragement having suffered rejection in Isa 66:5. These “tremblers” appear to be a group within Judah who measured their piety according to faithfulness to the word of God rather than sacri¿ce. The apparent opposition to worship in the temple and to sacri¿ce has led to suggestions that the tremblers were opposed to the temple authorities and opposed by them.79 Blenkinsopp argues that they were a prophetic-eschatological group “with a rigorist interpretation of the law,” a group whose members had been excommunicated from the temple; he ¿nds it surprising that Ezra was primarily supported by this group.80 However, there is room for some caution here. The descriptions of the tremblers tell us very little about them. There are certainly similarities between the group in Isaiah and those here in Ezra, with their focus on the “word of God” and the similarity of the language used to describe them. This suggests they may be the same group. On the other hand, if they are the community that produced Trito-Isaiah, then it is hard to see how a group that was open to outsiders and opposed a narrow de¿nition of the priesthood could support Ezra and his opposition to mixed marriages.81 Williamson claims the phrase is a stereotypical one for strict observers of the law.82 Who this group was, how well de¿ned it was, and what its relationship with the temple authorities was in Ezra’s time is dif¿cult to say. Given the paucity of evidence, the most that can be said about the tremblers is that the name designates people with commitment to the “word of God” who supported Ezra’s interpretation of the law and did not prioritize the temple and sacri¿ce in their worship. A similar view of the law and its interpretation would have made such people natural supporters of Ezra. Blenkinsopp’s surprise at the tremblers’ support of Ezra is understandable if they are the same group found in Isa 66, but clear differences between Trito-Isaiah and Ezra warn that positing a speci¿c group known as “the tremblers” is unwise. The term is better taken as a generalized description of those who prioritized God’s word over temple service. 79. E. Achtemeier, The Community and Message of Isaiah 56–66 (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1982), 142; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 178–79; idem, Isaiah 56–66 (AB 19A; New York: Doubleday, 2003), 299–301. Achtemeier identi¿es the group opposed to the “tremblers” as the Zadokite priesthood. Blenkinsopp also identi¿es the priests as the opposition of the “tremblers” but regards them as legal rigorists while Achtemeier regards them as liberal. 80. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 178–79. 81. Achtemeier, Isaiah 56–66, 17–26. In contrast, see Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 56–66, 300–301. 82. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 133. 1

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(3) Prayer at the Evening Sacri¿ce. The public nature of Ezra’s mourning suggests that he was in a signi¿cant public area. Ezra 10:6 locates him “before” (Đėě) the temple when he prayed. He maintained his mourning until the evening offering. Most probably this is to be identi¿ed with “the hour of prayer” (Acts 3:1), which took place at the ninth hour or 3 pm (cf. Ant. 14.4.3). Daniel was praying at this hour when he received an answer from Gabriel (Dan 9:21). Daniel’s practice of praying three times a day (Dan 6:11) seems to represent the habits of a pious person (cf. Ps 55:18). Such habits appear to have developed in the exile in the absence of the temple and sacri¿ce. However, there is also a close association between penitential prayer and sacri¿ce. The penitential prayer partially substitutes for sacri¿ce in some settings and is coupled with sacri¿ce in others.83 Such an association makes the evening sacri¿ce the appropriate time for Ezra to make the confession. Ezra arose from his abasement and, still in his torn clothing, prayed. The noun ĐġĐėęġ, “my abasement,” most probably refers to Ezra’s humbled and mournful silence.84 While it is often associated with fasting, it cannot mean that he broke his fast because Ezra 10:6 indicates that Ezra continued to fast. Since he also retained his symbolically torn clothing, it is the rising from that silent and humbled position that is described. He was about to break his silence with a prayer of confession, but he had not ¿nished with the other aspects of his mourning. Ezra’s stance for prayer seems to reÀect the attitude he had taken when the report was made to him; he is on his knees, indicating humility, with his hands outstretched, a typical attitude of prayer.85 2. Ezra’s Penitential Prayer (Ezra 9:6–15) a. Penitential Prayers Ezra’s prayer of confession is at the same time typical and unique. It has the key features typical of other confessional or penitential prayers with which it is commonly compared (1 Kgs 8; Neh 1:5–11; 9:6–38; Dan 9:4– 19; Bar 1:15–3:8; Ps 106). Its uniqueness lies in its lack of a plea. 83. D. K. Falk, “Scriptural Inspiration for Penitential Prayer in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Seeking the Favor of God. Vol. 2, The Development of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism (ed. M. J. Boda, D. K. Falk, and R. A. Werline; Atlanta: SBL, 2007), 127–39. 84. With Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 133. Contra Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 121; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 178. 85. O. Keel, The Symbolism of the Biblical World: Ancient Near Eastern Iconography and the Book of Psalms (trans. T. J. Hallett; Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns, 1997), 308–23. 1

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Penitential prayers are prayers directed to God by “an individual, group or an individual on behalf of a group” that confess sin and petition for forgiveness, as an act of repentance.86 There is frequently some expectation that the prayer will be the ¿rst step to resolving the dif¿culties.87 Form critically the penitential prayers have the following features: 1. Praise 2. Supplication (with the need described, some muted lament and implicit request) 3. Confession of sin (admission of culpability, solidarity with previous generations and use of the Hithpael of ċĊĐ) 4. Historical review (contrasting God’s grace and Israel’s disobedience) 5. Key themes (covenant, land, law) 6. Purpose (to bring suffering to an end)88 The table below shows that Ezra’s activities associated with the prayer parallel actions connected with the penitential prayers recorded in Neh 1, 9 and Dan 9. In addition, the evening sacri¿ce is signi¿cant to both this prayer of Ezra’s and Daniel’s answer to prayer (Dan 9:21). Figure 3. Actions Associated with Penitential Prayers Ezra 9 Ezra mourns, tearing his clothes and pulling out his hair Ezra fasts Ezra weeps Ezra is in the presence of an assembled group Ezra quotes the law

Nehemiah 1; 9; Daniel 9 mourning—Neh 1:4 sackcloth—Neh 9:1; Dan 9:3 dust on head—Neh 9:1 fasting—Neh 1:4; Dan 9:3 weeping—Neh 1.4 there is an assembly—Neh 9:1 law quoted—Neh 1:8–9 law read—Neh 9:3; Dan 9:2

86. R. A. Werline, “De¿ning Penitential Prayer,” in Boda, Falk, and Werline, eds., Seeking the Favor of God, 1:xv. This de¿nition is not without its problems but is a useful working de¿nition in this context. See the discussion in the ¿rst two volumes produced from the SBL consultation on Penitential Prayer: Boda, Falk, and Werline, eds., Seeking the Favor of God, vol. 1; Boda, Falk, and Werline, eds., Seeking the Favor of God, vol. 2. See particularly the issues raised by E. Schuller, “Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism: A Research Survey,” in Boda, Falk, and Werline, eds., Seeking the Favor of God, 2:1–15. 87. Boda, Praying the Tradition, 29. 88. Ibid., 29. 1

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Like other such prayers, this prayer uses Deuteronomic language. It also evidences close parallels with Josh 7 that show it reÀects a Deuteronomic theological outlook.89 In both cases the sin of individuals affects the whole community, and it is characterized as ēęĕ. It is the task of the community to be obedient by removing the sin from its midst. The sin is identi¿ed before the sanctuary, confession is required, ĔğĎ is threatened or enacted and the aim is to turn away Yahweh’s anger.90 The prayer is also associated with a covenant-making event. However, the features of covenant in the Persian era are signi¿cantly different from earlier situations such as the covenant renewal under Josiah in 2 Kgs 23.91 Persian-era covenant renewal ceremonies are more democratic. The leader, rather than acting on behalf of the people, becomes the catalyst for the covenant and then merges with the people who enter into the covenant. It is the people who covenant that are listed, showing a greater emphasis on individual family commitment. Persian-era covenants are also more focused on speci¿c commitments, such as appropriate marriage, rather than general commands. There is an emphasis on history in later covenant renewals not present in earlier ceremonies like 2 Kgs 23, and praise is an element in the Persian-era events. The purpose is also slightly different in the later covenants, in that in 2 Kgs 23 the covenant renewal does not break the curse, whereas in Ezra–Nehemiah the expectation is that it will avert the curse or lift it. These differences between the covenant renewal ceremonies of the pre- and post-exilic eras reÀect changes in circumstances and development in theology. The theology in Ezra’s prayer is not cloned from 89. Ibid., 43–73. Boda identi¿es six features of Deuteronomic idiom common to penitential prayers of which Ezra 9:6–15 has four: (1) the phrase ċčċ ĔČĐċ Ċę…ĐĕĐĕ, “from the days of…until this day” (Ezra 9:7; Deut 2:30; 4:24, 38; 6:24; 8:18; 10:15; 29:27); (2) the use of Ĝğć, “land,” in combination with forms of ćČĈ, “enter,” and ğĐ›, “possess” (Ezra 9:11; Deut 4:1, 5; 6:18; 7:1; 8:1; 9:1, 5; 11:8, 10, 29, 31; 12:29; 28:21, 63; 30:16); (3) the phrase ĔĐćĐĈėĀĊĐĈ, “by the hand of the prophets,” with reference to the law (Ezra 9:11; 2 Kgs 9:7; 17:13, 23; 21:10; 24:2); (4) leaders listed as representative of those who experienced suffering (Ezra 9:17), or are guilty (not in Ezra 9). The ¿rst three draw on phrases identi¿ed as Deuteronomic by M. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), 342, 350–51. Boda also draws an impressive list of parallels between Ezra 9 and Josh 7. See particularly p. 58. 90. There are also some differences in the two narratives which reÀect different emphases. The prayers are different; Joshua’s prayer is a classical lament, which treats God more as a partner who is expected to respond positively, while Ezra’s is penitential, making no demands of God. In Joshua, Achan’s sin is revealed by Yahweh, while in Ezra the sin is identi¿ed by the people by applying the law. 91. Boda, Praying the Tradition, 35–36. 1

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Deuteronomy, but, as Mark Boda argues, shows signi¿cant priestly inÀuence.92 He notes ¿ve places where priestly inÀuence, mainly Ezekielian in origin, can be seen speci¿cally in Ezra’s prayer: 1. The Deuteronomic phrase ċčċ ĔČĐċ Ċę …ĐĕĐĕ, “from this the days of…until this day,” in Ezra 9:7 has had inserted into it ċĕ›ćĈ ċēĊĉ, “in deep guilt.” Guilt (ċĕ›ć) is a term used by the Priestly writer and Chronicler (Lev 5:26; 22:16; 1 Chr 21:3; 2 Chr 24:18; 28:10, 13; 33:23). 2. The term Č›ĊĞ ĔČĞĕĈ, “in this holy place,” used in Ezra 9:8 is a priestly term (Lev 10:17; 14:13; Ps 24:3).93 3. The notion of shame in Ezra has parallels in Jeremiah (3:3) and Ezekiel (16:27, 54, 61) but shows particular af¿nity with the use in Ezek 16:59–63 and 43:10–11. 4. Ezra uses ċďĐēě in a positive way, as Ezekiel (6:8, 9; 7:16; 14:22) does, and in contrast to Jeremiah, for whom it is a negative term (Jer 42:17; 44:14, 28). 5. The quotation of the law in Ezra 9:11–12 draws from Deuteronomy, but also from Lev 18:24–30. In addition, Boda notes two other features that are more general to penitential prayers that both occur in this prayer. He argues, on the basis of the wording similarities between Neh 9:33 and Ezek 18:9, that the phrase ċġć ĞĐĊĝ (Ezra 9:15) reÀects Ezekiel’s concepts of righteousness and guilt. He also notes that blessing and curses are described as “all that has come upon us” in the Deuteronomic history, Jeremiah and Ezekiel, but the form ČėĐēę ćĈċĀēĒ, which occurs in Ezra 9:13 and Neh 9:33, is paralleled only in Ezek 14:22. The weight of this evidence indicates that Ezra’s penitential prayer is based on Deuteronomic theology that has been inÀuenced by priestly perspectives. The mix of Deuteronomic and Priestly theology that Boda identi¿es here in Ezra 9 is in fact common to the penitential prayer genre. Rodney Werline argues that the roots of penitential prayer are found in Deut 4:29–30 and 30:1–10, passages that instruct exiled Israel to turn and seek God, who will respond by regathering his scattered people into their land.94 This Deuteronomic background has been merged with Priestly 92. Ibid., 68–70. See also Morrow, Protest Against God, 166–68. 93. Boda also notes that Lev 10:13–17 shows the phrase ›ČĊĞ ĔČĞĕ is synonymous with ›ĊĞ ĔČĞĕ, which is also clearly priestly (Exod 29:31; Lev 6:9, 19, 20; 7:6; 10:13; 16:24; 24:9; Ezek 42:13; Qoh 8:10); see Boda, Praying the Tradition, 69. 94. R. A. Werline, Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism: The Development of a Religious Institution (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1998), 62–64. See also Falk, “Scriptural Inspiration,” 133–34. 1

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concepts such as the need for confession, humbling of heart and reparation in Lev 26:39–42. Werline draws on Milgrom’s arguments that ēęĕ, “unfaithfulness,” can, through confession, be transformed from intentional sin into inadvertent sin. As inadvertent sin it is then forgivable through restitution and Ĕ›ć, “guilt” sacri¿ce, as reÀected in Lev 5 and 16.95 In reÀecting Deuteronomy’s call for repentance in order to be restored to the land, as well as the Priestly motif of repentance to transform ēęĕ into forgivable sin, penitential prayers merge the two perspectives. In some instances, like Dan 9, the exilic context means sacri¿ce cannot be offered, and the prayer and humbling substitute for the sacri¿ce, but in Ezra 9 the restored temple allows the opportunity for sacri¿ce to accompany the prayer (Ezra 10:19).96 b. Ezra’s Prayer While this prayer ¿ts the form-critical pattern of a penitential prayer, Williamson notes that it is unique in one matter: it consists of confession only, there is no plea.97 This emphasis on confession without plea is a result of the prayer’s rhetorical function; it is a sermon as well as a prayer, as van Grol’s rhetorical analysis shows.98 He notes that its structure alternates between confession and sermonic elements. Its phraseology also betrays the sermonic function. For example, the law texts (Ezra 9:11–12) are addressed to a group in the second person and the three rhetorical questions (Ezra 9:10–14) make more sense in a sermon than a prayer. According to Keil, the absence of a plea also reÀects the sermonic nature. He says, “Ezra does not pray for the pardon of their sin, for he desires only to bring the congregation to the knowledge of the greatness of their transgression, and so to invite them to do all that in them lies to atone for their guilt, and to appease God’s wrath.”99 This is a prayer with a double focus—God and the gathered audience. It is intended to be both confessional and persuasive. 95. Werline, Penitential Prayer; Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 17–20. 96. Falk, “Scriptural Inspiration,” 138. 97. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 128. Williamson notes that it contains: general confession (9:6–7), reÀection on God’s mercies (9:8–9), speci¿c confession (9:10– 12), statement of future intent (9:13–14), concluding general confession (9:15). There is no supplication in the imperative or jussive, which is unique. 98. H. van Grol, “Indeed Servants We Are: Ezra 9, Nehemiah 9 and 2 Chronicles 12 Compared,” in The Crisis of Israelite Religion: Transformation of Religious Traditions in Exilic and Post-Exilic Times (ed. B. Becking and M. C. A. Korpel; Leiden: Brill, 1999), 209–27. 99. C. F. Keil, “The Books of Ezra, Nehemiah and Esther,” in Commentary on the Old Testament in Ten Volumes (ed. C. F. Keil and F. Delitzsch; repr. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976), 118. Cf. Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 79. 1

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Aside from the lack of a plea, this prayer follows the pattern of postexilic penitential prayers. Unlike prayers of complaint, penitential prayers do not approach God with any sense of partnership rights, but rather with a dependence on God’s grace and no con¿dence that Yahweh is obligated to come to the supplicant’s aid as a covenant partner.100 Morrow’s argument that this is one of the indications of the deep psychological effect that the exile had on the faith of the golah community has merit. This prayer acknowledges the community’s dependence on Yahweh’s benevolence and fears that mercy may be forfeited. The prayer ¿ts so neatly into this context that it gives the impression of being composed for the setting.101 The confession precisely ¿ts the circumstances as do the hortatory elements that reÀect the prayer’s dual purpose as community confession and community persuasion. The prayer speci¿cally repeats key words from the surrounding text, for example: ġ›Ĉ, “shame”; ġĈęČġ, “abominations”; and ĖČę, “iniquity.” The change in emphasis from ¿rst person singular to ¿rst person plural also makes the transition to the third-person language in ch. 10 less abrupt. The narrow focus on confession, with no other lament genre characteristics, together with its sermonic elements that neatly ¿t the situation, point to the prayer being composed for the setting rather than being imported from elsewhere. c. Shame, History and Mercy (Ezra 9:6–9) The prayer commences with Ezra expressing his personal shame and embarrassment at the circumstances, then switches to ¿rst person plural as he identi¿es with the community. This intercessory role has shades of the prophetic, exempli¿ed by Moses,102 and priestly representation, reÀected in the high priest’s role on the Day of Atonement.103 Ezra expresses shame because the collective iniquity of the people has continued to increase. He uses two complementary metaphors, one of iniquity increasing until it is taller than a person and one of the associated guilt advancing until it encounters the heavens.104 100. Morrow, Protest Against God, 147–77. 101. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 122; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 182; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 128. 102. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 182–83. See also the discussion on pp. 84– 86 and 140–41. 103. Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 78. 104. The phrase ›ćğ ċēęĕē ČĈğ ČėĐġėČę has caused some debate, particularly since the Chronicler idiosyncratically uses ċēęĕē as a general adverb that can mean “much,” “exceedingly,” or “highly.” The reading above presumes ċēęĕē should have its usual adverbial meaning of “above” or “upwards” here. See Japhet, “Supposed Common Authorship,” 357; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 127.

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(1) Deuteronomic Language. Ezra then links the sin of the present age with the past. As Clines puts it, “he sees the men of his own generation as united in a sinful solidarity with their fathers.”105 The pronoun ČėĎėć does not just refer to the present generation but is the collective “we” of all the generations who have faced oppression. This ownership of and connection with the failings of past generations is a common feature of such confessional prayers (cf. Neh 1:5–11; 9:6–38; Dan 9:4–19; Bar 1:15–3:8). The sin of all the people has brought domination by foreign kings. While Jerusalem is being rebuilt with the support of the Persian kings and the Judeans have a window of hope, Judah’s domination by a foreign power is still portrayed as shameful and seen as a continuation of God’s punishment (cf. Neh 9:37). This attitude may be the reason for the ¿nal ċčċ ĔČĐċĒ, “as it is to this day,” which otherwise appears to be redundant, since the extension of the punishment to the present day is already stated. Whether it is original or added by a later editor the phrase points to the legacy of captivity and its resulting shame as continuing features of Jewish experience.106 As Peter Bedford puts it “[r]epatriation and temple building do not denote the end of the exile, rather they mark an implicit, albeit rather halting beginning to the restoration.”107 A theological view that accepts collective community responsibility for this sin is clear here. Later, the individuals will be dealt with; the immediate danger, however, is to the community. The guilt is theirs and so the danger of God’s wrath is theirs. The language used to express the punishment for their guilt mirrors the language of judgment in the Deuteronomic History.108 This is clear with respect to ċĈ›, “captive” (1 Kgs 8:46–53), and ččĈ, “plunder” (Judg 2:14; 2 Kgs 17:20). While neither ĈğĎ, “sword” (Jer 5:17; 9:15; 24:10), nor ġ›Ĉ, “shame” (Jer 2:26; Dan 9:7–8), occur speci¿cally in punishment statements they are in prophetic warning statements. The Deuteronomic sentiment is undoubtedly present in the understanding of these disasters as divine response to unfaithfulness, and Jeremiah’s use of the nouns ĈğĎ, “sword,” and ġ›Ĉ, “shame,” tie them into Deuteronomic theology.109 The Deuteronomic history blames the failure of the people (2 Kgs 17:7– 20) and particularly the king (2 Kgs 21:10–15) for Yahweh’s judgment on them. That same mix is evident in this prayer, where the collective

1

105. 106. 107. 108. 109.

Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 123. Cf. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 134–35. Bedford, “Diaspora,” 153. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 134; Gunneweg, Esra, 166. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 4–6.

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responsibility is acknowledged but the role of the leadership, kings and priests, is particularly noted. While the prayer shows Deuteronomic foundations it has, as I noted above, been modi¿ed with a priestly perspective particularly associated with Ezekiel. Williamson also notes the compatibility of the prayer with Ezekielian theology.110 The addition of priests alongside the kings as responsible leaders raises interpretive issues but also shows a trend already noted.111 Implicating the priests as leaders in the guilt may reÀect a Levitical anti-priest bias in the authorship of the text.112 Alternatively, it may reÀect a postexilic perspective where the diarchic leadership of the priest and the governor is mirrored in the historical review by placing priests alongside the kings. It certainly evidences the tendency to place contemporary elements alongside historical elements to reinforce their relevance for the present situation. This is a feature already noted in the list of nations, which has four historical elements and four names of contemporary enemies. (2) Mercy and the Remnant. The prayer then moves from the failure and the past to the post-exilic generation’s experience of God’s mercy. The resultant contrast between the punishment of the past and the experience of mercy in the present serves to highlight the depth of the current generation’s guilt. God’s mercy is made evident in the existence of the remnant and then further expanded through four uses of the in¿nitive ġġē, “to give.” Three of the in¿nitives—the ¿rst, third and fourth—are followed by Čėē, “to us,” indicating the indirect object. The second has the pronominal suf¿x attached to the verb. The objects of the in¿nitives are: a ĊġĐ, “tent peg” or “stake”; ċĐĎĕ, “preservation” or “reviving”; and a ğĊĉ, “wall.” The object of the second and third in¿nitives is the same, “preservation,” which has led Vogt to argue that the in¿nitives form a chiasmus.113 Chiasm is unlikely given the structure of the passage. As Emerton argues, there is no clear symmetry, with several other in¿nitives

110. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 134. 111. There is no conjunction between ČėĒēĕ and ČėĐėċĒ in the Hebrew text. Williamson (ibid., 126) rightly notes that the conjunction is not absolutely necessary, but the alternative explanation, that the waw was lost through haplography, seems likely. 112. Kyung-jin Min, The Levitical Authorship of Ezra–Nehemiah (JSOTSup 409; London: T&T Clark International, 2004). 113. Vogt, Studie, 22–35.

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intervening between the four in¿nitives of Ėġė.114 The irregularity of the Ėġė in¿nitives, one with an attached pronominal suf¿x and three with ē plus the suf¿x, also works against the chiasm. Before addressing the things God has given the repatriates, two items in v. 8 should be noted. The opening phrase of v. 8, ęĉğĀďęĕĒ ċġęČ, has also occasioned some discussion as to its meaning and translation. The most common translation is reÀected in the NRSV, which renders the phrase, “But now for a brief moment.” That brief moment is normally taken to refer to the 80 years since the ¿rst exiles returned to Yehud from Babylon.115 An alternative is advocated by Blenkinsopp, who follows Galling and translates, “[b]ut now YHVH our God has suddenly shown mercy.”116 This emphasizes God’s action rather than implying that the time of grace is potentially limited. In a footnote to the translation, he states that he follows Galling because the implication that grace was for a limited time cannot have been intended.117 Yet the danger that God may change from mercy to judgment is the essence of the concern in the prayer. It seeks to avert the danger of God’s judgment raised by the mixed marriages. To exclude the possibility of the time of God’s mercy being limited is to rule out a fundamental element that motivates the events in this social drama. In this brief moment God has shown mercy by sparing a remnant. The remnant, in this case ċďĐēě, is one of that group of loaded post-exilic words used to designate the faithful survivors.118 The general meaning of ċďĐēě is “those who have escaped disaster” but here it has the more specialized post-exilic meaning of “those who have returned from exile in Babylon.”119 This is the ¿rst of four times the word is used in the 114. J. A. Emerton, Review of H. C. M. Vogt, Studie zur nachexilischen Gemeinde in Esra-Nehemia, JTS 18 (1967): 173. 115. This is the dominant view among commentators. See, for example, Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 76; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 123; Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 129; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 135. 116. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 180–81. 117. Ibid., 183. 118. The word ċġĐēě occurs 28 times (Gen 32:9; 45:7; Exod 10:5; Judg 21:17; 2 Sam 12:14; 2 Kgs 19:30, 31; 1 Chr 4:43; 2 Chr 12:7; 20:24; 30:6; Ezra 9:8, 13, 14, 15; Neh 1:2; Isa 4:2; 10:20; 15:9; 37:31, 32; Jer 25:35; 50:29; Ezek 14:22; Dan 11:42; Joel 2:3; 3:5; Obad 17), with the majority of occurrences referring to the remnant of God’s people. Their survival is identi¿ed as being the result of God’s mercy. The word can mean “deliverance” (2 Chr 12:7) as well as “escape” or “survivor.” See V. P. Hamilton, ďēě, TWOT 2:724–25; R. L. Hubbard Jr., ďēě, NIDOTTE 3:621–25; G. Hasel, ďēě, TDOT 11:551–67. 119. HALOT CD; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 135. 1

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prayer (Ezra 9:8, 13, 14, 15). The only other time it occurs in Ezra– Nehemiah is in Neh 1:2, where, following Vogt, its most natural de¿nition is “those resident in Judah,” a more general reference.120 In the context of the prayer, this technical use of ċďĐēě “implies a positive act of restoration on God’s part.”121 Yet it also reminds them that they are survivors of judgment. The specialized meaning of ċďĐēě in Ezra suggests that the golah community had a measure of identity separate, not only from the others in Judah, but also from Jews in Babylon. This weighs somewhat against Bedford’s argument that Ezra–Nehemiah presents the golah community as a colony established and maintained by Babylonian Jews.122 Bedford argues that four elements feed into a perspective that the repatriates were dependent on Babylon for their identity: 1. that the Yehud community was dependent on Babylon for good leadership; 2. that the community was vulnerable and not in a position to develop an independent identity; 3. that the exile was not concluded by the return; 4. that the homeland of Yehud was, like Babylon, full of foreigners. This use of “remnant” to identify those who had returned from exile indicates that the perspective in Ezra–Nehemiah is more complex than Bedfrod allows.123 The situational nature of identity calls his second point into question. The signi¿cance of the community in Ezra–Nehemiah, and in particular its holiness, also undermines his thesis. Eskenazi notes that the climax of the book is the dedication of the wall in Neh 12, where the people become holy. She says, “the people as a whole, not simply the cultic personnel, attain purity as they become the congregation of God 120. The meaning in Neh 1:2 is not immediately clear. A number of recent commentators accept the argument by Vogt, Studie, 45. See, for example, Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 137; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 171. Note also G. F. Hasel, “Remnant,” ISBE 4:130–34. Blenkinsopp claims it refers to those who had never left Judah; see Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 207. He is supported by Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 93. Some argue it must refer to those who returned from exile; see Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 151; Grabbe, Ezra–Nehemiah, 40. HALOT CD gives the de¿nition “post-exilic community” for all ¿ve occurrences in Ezra–Nehemiah. 121. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 135. 122. Bedford, “Diaspora,” 147–65. 123. Note also Kessler’s critique of Bedford; see J. Kessler, “The Diaspora in Zechariah 1–8 and Ezra–Nehemiah: The Role of History, Social Location, and Tradition in the Formulation of Identity,” in Knoppers and Ristau, eds., Community Identity in Judean Historiography, 137–45. 1

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(Neh 13:1) and enter together the newly dedicated house of God.”124 Only those present in the land could be regarded in this light. There is, therefore, some measure of independent self-identity for the repatriates in the perspective of Ezra–Nehemiah. (3) The Stake and the Holy Place. To return to the things Ezra says God has in his mercy given the repatriates, the ¿rst object of ġġē presents a dif¿culty. The object is clear enough, it is a ĊġĐ, a “stake” or “tent peg.” The challenge is in what it conveys, as the various translations indicate. The NRSV nicely retains the metaphor in ĊġĐ by translating the phrase, “given us a stake in his holy place.” Others prefer to interpret the metaphor, “giving us a secure hold in his holy place”125 or “giving us a ¿rm place in his sanctuary” (TNIV),126 which not only interprets the metaphor but identi¿es the “holy place” with the temple. Blenkinsopp notes that there are four different explanations as to what ĊġĐ may connote.127 The ¿rst is the Mesopotamian tradition of putting a nail or tent peg, among other items, in the foundations of a temple.128 The exact symbolism is unclear; it may refer to an agreement between the royal builder and the deity or to the stability of the building. The uncertainty about the symbolism makes this a dif¿cult basis on which to interpret the metaphor; furthermore, it is not clear the “holy place” is the temple. A second alternative is that it is an allusion to the nomadic practice of “staking” a claim to land on which to pitch tents. What this claimed practice involved is also unclear and no support for it is provided.129 A third alternative is that it alludes to the tabernacle, the forerunner of the 124. Eskenazi, Prose, 118. 125. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 125. Blenkinsopp has the very similar, “giving us a ¿rm hold on his holy place”; see Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 180. 126. See also Gunneweg, Esra, 164. He has, “einen festen Halt in seinem Heiligtumsort gab.” 127. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 183–84. This excludes emending Ċġø ûĐ to Ċġù ùĐ , which the BHS critical apparatus notes in one secondary manuscript. The weight of evidence does not favour the adjustment and it is omitted from the BHQ critical apparatus. 128. R. S. Ellis, Foundation Deposits in Ancient Mesopotamia (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1968). 129. The staking a claim idea looks promising. Blenkinsopp expresses a preference for it, but he provides no information on the origins of the practice; see Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 183–84. Fensham also favours the idea and refers to a study by A. Musil, The Manners and Customs of the Rwala Bedouins (New York: The American Geographical Society, 1928); see Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 130. However, Musil’s book does not speci¿cally mention the practice and I have not located any clear reference to it. 1

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temple. Ten of the 24 occurrences of ĊġĐ in the Hebrew Bible are to the tent pegs of the tabernacle.130 Yet none of the other occurrences use ĊġĐ as a metaphor for the tabernacle and it seems a rather obscure allusion to make. In addition, the allusion is likely to be intended only if the holy place referred to is the temple, but this is questionable. The fourth option is a connection with prophetic metaphor. Isaiah 22:23 speaks of Eliakim being driven like a peg into a secure place: “I will drive him like a peg into a secure place.” Similarly, Isa 33:20 speaks of Jerusalem being like a tent that is secure because the pegs cannot be pulled up and the ropes will not break: “a tent that will not be moved; its stakes will never be pulled up and nor any of its ropes broken.”131 The assumption is that the metaphor is about security and that Ezra’s words depict a ¿rm and secure stake in Judah, but this seems to be at odds with the tenor of the prayer and is selective in its appropriation of prophetic metaphor.132 The metaphor in Isa 22 is not, in fact, about security but brittle strength. Eliakim is likened to a wall peg, which is destined to be cut off, resulting in Eliakim and his family falling to destruction (22:25). The peg is a symbol of apparent security that can be removed by divine action. In Isa 33:20 the claim is that the pegs will not be pulled up because of divine protection. The force of the statement is that normally removable pegs will not be removable and normally breakable ropes will not break. The potential vulnerability of the peg is implicit in both passages. Whether the composer of the prayer in Ezra 9 had Isa 22 in mind or not, it is evident that the peg metaphor can denote a vulnerable security. This opens up the option that the peg metaphor is chosen because it reÀects potential impermanence. The peg secures but is removable and its removal would be disastrous for all who depend on it. Such an understanding of the metaphor is in keeping with the sentiment of the prayer and the tone of community vulnerability in the wider Ezra–Nehemiah narrative. The phrase “brief moment” earlier in the prayer and the concern about divine retribution in the face of disobedience illustrates the precarious position the community is understood to be in. A metaphor that reÀects the ¿rmness of the established community but acknowledges its vulnerability is appropriate in such a setting. The stake implies that 130. Exod 27:19; 35:18; 38:18, 20; 39:40; Num 3:37: 4:32 131. In addition, the prophecy of restoration in Isa 54:2 uses the metaphor of enlarging the tent and strengthening stakes. 132. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 135; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 123; Leavering, Ezra & Nehemiah, 100; Gunneweg, Esra, 167; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 79.

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occupation of Jerusalem and Judah is not yet fully secure, particularly in the face of signi¿cant community sin.133 With such a reading the “stake” may refer to the community or the temple and its associated cult. The other two items given are renewal of life and, to anticipate the discussion on the “wall” below, divine protection. Since neither is a concrete item it is unlikely the tent peg refers to a particular object, which stands against understanding it as the temple. Along with the other metaphors, the stake probably refers to the establishment of the community in “his holy place.” The new community was getting re-entrenched in Yehud but they could, as history had shown, be swept away though divine judgment. The second interpretive crux in this phrase is establishing to what “his holy place” refers. The TNIV reads it as the temple and some scholars understand it that way. Blenkinsopp speaks of the temple as the outward sign that God had not abandoned his people and Williamson says it was the guarantee of the community’s stability.134 On the other hand, Myers and Batten say it is a reference to the city.135 If this is the case, then the metaphor refers to the repatriates’ occupation of the city as proof of God’s mercy. Eskenazi argues that one of the movements in Ezra– Nehemiah is a widening of the house of God concept from the temple to encompass the whole city.136 Both the temple and the city interpretations have their strengths, and the fact that the following verse mentions “the house of our God” along with Judea and Jerusalem does little to clarify the issue. The holy place is the temple at a minimum, but could be the city or even the province. Blenkinsopp notes that Isa 33:20 uses a securely anchored tent as a metaphor for Jerusalem, which lends some support to the idea that the city is the holy place.137 However, the only 133. J. G. McConville, Ezra, Nehemiah and Esther (The Daily Study Bible Series; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1985), 65. Note also Grol, “Indeed Servants We Are,” 213: “This is the message that Ezra wants to convey: one has to take special care in order to let God’s mercy be continued; it is still so early and so vulnerable.” 134. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 184; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 135. 135. Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 79; Batten, Ezra and Nehemiah, 333. Most other commentators do not attempt to unravel the metaphors in detail, but their identi¿cation of some aspects can be inferred from their comments. The holy place appears to be understood as the province of Yehud by Larson and Dahlen, Ezra, Nehemiah and Esther, 106. Allen identi¿es the “stake” as the temple and also implies that he understands “his holy place” as the land. See Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 76. 136. Eskenazi, Prose, 83–87, 119–21. She regards the “stake” in Ezra 9:8 as the temple. 137. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 184. 1

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link between Isa 33 and Ezra 9:8 is the “stake,” which is a tenuous basis on which to argue the prioritizing of the tent metaphor over other options. Since that stake is probably the golah occupation of their ancestral land, then the holy place is at least Jerusalem and potentially Judea. (4) Continuing Servitude. God’s mercy also brightens the eyes, that is, a raising of the spirits or the sense of new life and energy that comes from food after deep hunger or water in great thirst (cf. 1 Sam 14:27). This is further explained and tempered in the remainder of the verse with the second ġġē. The returned exiles have been given a little relief in their servitude. For all the gains under the Persian administration, their situation is not regarded as ideal. Their continued political subjection is, like the exile, servitude. The return to the land is some relief, but it is not complete release.138 Nehemiah 9:36–37 ¿lls out the picture, stating that the yield of the land was handed over to the Persian king who also controlled their lives: “they also have power over our bodies and our livestock at their pleasure.” Servitude in Ezra–Nehemiah recognizes the community’s political dependence, which is evidenced by taxes, levies and forced labour.139 Ezra–Nehemiah may be a pro-Persian document, but the sentiment in the prayer shows that true freedom was perceived to lie with political independence. The centre of this section of the prayer is undoubtedly focused on the servitude of the Jews and God’s mercy, which is shown in the relief they have experienced.140 The third ġġē reinforces and expands the relief in servitude expressed by the second ġġē. God’s mercy is shown in that the Jews had not been abandoned in their slavery since Yahweh had displayed his ĊĘĎ, “faithfulness.” The text simply says that ĊĘĎ has been extended to the repatriate community before the kings of Persia. This is very similar to Ezra 7:28, where Ezra praises God for showing him ĊĘĎ before the king and his court.141 That Yahweh is the extender of the ĊĘĎ is shown by Yahweh being the subject of the following in¿nitives and by the tenor of the prayer.142 The word ĊĘĎ occurs seven times in Ezra– Nehemiah (Ezra 3:11; 7:28; 9:9; Neh 9:17, 32; 13:14, 22). All seven 138. Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 131. He interprets the partial relief as referring to the partial return. To him it is only those is in exile who are in servitude. 139. Grol, “Indeed Servants We Are,” 212–19. 140. Ibid. 141. For this reading, which takes ĊĘĎ as extended by Yahweh, see H. G. M. Williamson, “The Sure Mercies of David: Subjective or Objective Genitive?,” JSS 23 (1978): 31–49. 142. Ibid.

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occurrences are in the context of an address to God in either prayer or praise. One occurrence refers to Nehemiah’s steadfastness (Neh 13:14), all the others to Yahweh’s faithfulness. The use of ĊĘĎ with reference to Nehemiah’s actions suggests the primary focus is on notions of faithfulness, graciousness and mercy.143 The foundation of Yahweh’s faithfulness is his love for his people.144 The covenant is understood; while the text does not directly link ĊĘĎ with covenant, it does presume a relationship between Yahweh and his people, which implies the covenant relationship. Nehemiah 9:32 places covenant-keeping and ĊĘĎ as parallel attributes of Yahweh’s character. Given the tenor of the prayer in Ezra 9, ĊĘĎ cannot be taken to mean it is a covenant obligation; rather, it is the expression of God’s freely given love. The people had no claim to Yahweh’s mercy because of their past sin. The Persian kings have been the agents through whom this steadfast love had been extended. This relief, or revival, has enabled the restoration and rebuilding of the temple. (5) The Meaning of the Wall. The ¿nal ġġē speaks of a fence or wall around Judah and Jerusalem. Yahweh’s extending of his steadfast love through the Persian kings had not only enabled the re-establishment of the temple, but also provided stability and protection for the community. Despite arguments claiming that the wall here must be seen as literal (and therefore that chronologically Nehemiah probably preceded Ezra), the evidence supports a more metaphorical interpretation. There are two reasons to take ğĊĉ here as metaphorical rather than literal. The ¿rst is that the wall is said to be in Judah and Jerusalem. A literal wall cannot be intended when it is regarded as protecting the region as well as the city. The second reason to regard this as a metaphor is because the word ğĊĉ usually refers to a fence or stone wall beside a road or enclosing a vineyard (e.g. Num 22:24; Isa 5:5; Ps 80:13; Prov 24:31), while ċĕČĎ (Neh 1:3) or ğĐĞ (Ezra 4:12) are the usual words for a city wall. Of the twelve occurrences of ğĊĉ only one can be taken as a city wall. The reference in question is Mic 7:11, but it does not compel us to read a literal wall in Ezra 9:9. In Mic 7:11–13 a new voice, apparently addressing Jerusalem, declares đĐğĊĉ ġČėĈē ĔČĐ, “[a] day for the building of your walls” (NRSV). The reference is most likely to the walls of the city, but the use of ğĊĉ could well carry a double meaning. That is, it may refer to

143. HALOT CD 144. R. L. Harris, ĊĘĎ, TWOT 1:305–7, D. A. Baer and R. P. Gordon, ĊĘĎ, NIDOTTE 2:211–18, H.-J. Zobel, ĊĘĎ, TDOT 5:44–64. 1

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the city walls while at the same time pointing to the enclosure of a vineyard and invoking, “a traditional metaphor for Israel in their enjoyment of a healthy relationship with Yahweh.”145 A prophetic oracle that uses ğĊĉ to invoke multiple meanings is hardly a precedent for understanding that Ezra means a literal wall in his prayer. In fact, the reverse is more likely. Since the metaphor of the vineyard is a well-established prophetic metaphor for Israel (Isa 3:14; 5:1–7; Ezek 19:10; Ps 80) and Ezekiel uses ğĊĉ metaphorically for a protective wall (Ezek 13:5; 22:30), it is likely the word was used in Ezra’s prayer because it evoked connotations of protection and relationship. When these elements are put beside the reference to the wall enclosing Jerusalem and Judah a metaphorical wall of protection seems to be the most likely meaning. (6) Summary. This section of the prayer reminds the repatriates of their shameful history and divine judgment, while claiming their current situation is the result of Yahweh’s mercy. That mercy had allowed them to settle in the land under Persian protection. With that opportunity they have been able to re-establish the temple as a place of worship. The prayer carefully balances Yahweh as judge and Yahweh as benefactor and points to the dependence and vulnerability of the community. The third-person statements about Yahweh show the hortatory nature of this section of the prayer. The listeners are being reminded of both the privilege and the responsibility of being in Yehud. d. Guilt Before God (Ezra 9:10–15) The second section of the prayer acknowledges failure to keep Yahweh’s commandments by contracting marriages with banned peoples. It claims God’s requirement is plain and the contrast between Yahweh’s mercy and Israel’s unfaithfulness is stark. It concludes with the prospect of complete destruction of the people. (1) God’s Commands and Pollution. Ezra’s confession is blunt; while God had not abandoned them they had abandoned Yahweh’s commandments. The written commandments are authoritative because they had been given through the prophets. As Williamson notes this blurs the distinction between the prophetic word and the law, all is revealed by God.146 Those who communicate that revelation, written or spoken, are

145. L. C. Allen, The Books of Joel, Obadiah, Jonah and Micah (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976), 396–97. 146. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 137.

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prophets. This is a step beyond the situation where Josiah needed the word of the prophetess Huldah to validate the book of the law (2 Kgs 22:13–20). Now the written word has the same status as the old prophetic word and is regarded as coming from the same source through the same channel. The same idea, equating the law with the words of the prophets, is found in the prayer in Dan 9:6, 10 and in Zech 1:6.147 The hortatory nature of the prayer is again obvious in the quotation of phrases related to this issue. The same sections of the law noted in the discussion about the people(s) of the lands lie behind this combination of citations and allusions, namely, Deut 7:1–3; 23:3–6 and Lev 18:24– 27. There are certainly other passages that can be drawn into the mix; Isa 1:19 has the same wording about eating the good of the land (ČēĒćġ Ĝğćċ ĈČď), for example. However, the core is in the passages already noted. Leviticus 18:24–27 is the only passage that declares the land de¿led (Ĝğćċ ćĕďġČ), whereas Deuteronomy refers to it as a rich land, full of good things. Deuteronomy 7 names the offending people groups and forbids intermarriage (ĔĈ ĖġĎġġ ćēČ), and Deut 23 names groups that cannot be admitted to Israel and commands that their welfare is not to be promoted (ĔēČęē đĐĕĐĀēĒ ĔġĈďČ Ĕĕē› ›ğĊġĀćē, 23:7). The reason for the separation is that the people are ċĊė, “polluted” (Ezra 9:11), and their practices de¿le. The word ċĊė primarily designates menstruation (Lev 15) and secondarily physical and ritual de¿lement.148 In several verses it refers to forbidden sexual intercourse (Lev 18:19; 20:21; Ezek 18:6; 22:10; 36:17) and Ezekiel uses it to describe the nature of Israel’s sin.149 Leviticus 15:19–30 makes clear that this kind of impurity impacts all it touches. The pervasiveness and contagion of this pollution meant the whole pre-conquest land had been ćĕď, “unclean.” The word ćĕď complements ċĊė in that it too refers to moral, sexual and cultic de¿lement.150 In Lev 15:2–13 ćĕď is used to describe the impurity of a man with a discharge and his condition is equally as de¿ling as menstruation. The notion of outsiders as polluted is fundamental to the expectation of separation. 147. The wording “his/my/your servants the prophets” is used in relation to warning and prophetic prediction in 2 Kgs 17:23; 21:10; 24:2; Jer 7:25; 44:4; Amos 3:7. 148. R. E. Averbeck, ċČĊ, NIDOTTE 1:925–28. See also H.-J. Fabry, J. Milgrom and D. P. Wright, ċĊė, TDOT 9:232–35; T. E. McComisky, ĈĊė, TWOT 2:555–56; ċĊė III, DCH 5:621. 149. It also occurs ¿ve times in the Temple Scroll to refer to forbidden sexual intercourse; see Averbeck, NIDOTTE 1:925–28. 150. R. E. Averbeck, ćĕď, NIDOTTE 2:365–75, G. André, ćĕď, TDOT 5:330– 42, E. Yamauchi, ćĕď, TWOT 1:349–51, ćĕď, DCH 3:366–71. 1

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(2) Contrasting Faithfulness and Failure. With v. 13 the focus jumps abruptly from Yahweh’s commands back to the history of oppression. Israel’s suffering was a result of their evil deeds, yet God had not punished them as they deserved because a remnant remained. The phrase ČėėČęĕ ċďĕē ġĒ‡Ď (lit., “you withheld to less than our sin”) is best understood as God holding back so that the punishment was less than the iniquity deserved.151 This understanding of Israel’s history is Deuteronomic in its perspective.152 Ezra follows the reiteration of Israel’s sins and God’s mercy with two questions. First, will the golah community as recipients and symbols of that mercy break God’s commands by disobeying the laws on intermarriage? Second, will God’s response to such law-breaking not be to bring further devastation that will bring an end to the people? With these words Ezra leaves the listeners with a question mark about the future. He makes no plea and offers no mitigation. The community’s guilt is reinforced with the address to God: ċġć ĞĐĊĝ, “you are right(eous).” Each occurrence of this phrase in a prayer is an acknowledgment of God’s rightness and the speaker’s guilt (Exod 9:27; 2 Chr 12:6; Neh 9:33; Dan 9:14). The righteousness of God can mean God acts salvi¿cally, and Fensham takes it that way here, understanding the ĐĒ to indicate consequence.153 That is, the remnant is evidence of God’s righteous benevolence. However, Yahweh’s righteousness is probably meant forensically, that Yahweh is just to punish.154 This view is backed up by the other contexts in which the phrase is used (Neh 9:33; Dan 9:14; see also Exod 9:27; 2 Chr 12:6) and by the ¿nal phrase in this verse, which states the community cannot stand before God because of their guilt. The phrase “to stand before” has the sense of acquittal or proving innocence (cf. Pss 1:5; 5:5; 24:3–4; 130:3). Thus we are better to understand the ĐĒ in a more adversative sense of “yet” or “but.” That is, Yahweh’s punishment was just, but despite that justness a remnant existed, a remnant that was also guilty and unable to stand before God. The end of the prayer has an implicit plea but leaves hope on a knife edge. Yahweh has been merciful in the past and the repatriates’ presence in Judea is proof

151. In contrast to Isa 40:1–2, which claims that the punishment is full and complete. 152. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 15–32. 153. Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 127, 132. 154. Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 78; Grabbe, Ezra–Nehemiah, 33; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 138; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 125. Clines speci¿cally refutes the interpretation Fensham proposes above. 1

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of that; their present guilt, however, opens the potential for complete destruction. The implication for the people listening is that they need to act in the hope that God’s judgment is averted. (3) Summary. In response to the report about the community’s unfaithfulness in marrying outside the community, Ezra reacts with public mourning. The culmination of that mourning is a prayer of confession that is as much aimed at the gathered crowd as it is at Yahweh. In the prayer Ezra rehearses Israel’s history of unfaithfulness and punishment and recognizes Yahweh’s mercy in their current return to Yehud. He reprises old laws preventing relationships with polluted people groups and confesses the repatriates’ guilt in contracting the mixed marriages. The prayer’s open-ended conclusion acknowledges God’s justice and the community’s guilt, and invites the community to respond. 3. The People’s Response (Ezra 10:1–44) The third section picks up the narrative by describing what other things were happening while Ezra was praying and the events that followed. The community leaders acknowledge the problem and agree to address it. An assembly is called where, after some debate, a commission is set up to identify offenders. The narrative ¿nishes with a list of the guilty, who make a guilt offering and divorce their wives. This chapter is well integrated into the previous story, providing a credible and disquieting sequel to the events narrated in ch. 9. As I noted earlier, while there are some slight indications that Ezra 10 has a separate origin from ch. 9, the weight of evidence suggests the two chapters should be treated as a unity. a. Loaded Words Ezra 10:1 ¿lls in the events that were happening around Ezra as he prayed and sets the stage for the next actions. While Ezra was mourning a crowd had gathered (9:4) and his prayer, which included his weeping and prostrating himself, had drawn an even larger crowd.155 The ¿nal phrase in the sentence is somewhat enigmatic: ċĒĈĀċĈğċ Ĕęċ ČĒĈĀĐĒ, “because the people wept bitterly.” It is unclear who is referred to by

155. The phrase ĔĐċēćċ ġĐĈ Đėěē ēěėġĕČ, “and prostrating himself before God,” is very similar to the one used in Deut 9:18, 25, ċČċĐ Đěē ēěėġċ, “I lay prostrate before the Lord.” The former adds to the presentation of Ezra as a Moses-like character and points to the power of his intercessory role.

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“the people.” The phrase may be a summary statement indicating that the crowd as a whole wept, but I take it to be Ezra’s supporters. That is, those who had gathered to support Ezra joined in the lament so that their combined weeping and wailing drew the larger crowd.156 Those that gathered are described as ĊćĕĀĈğ ēċĞ ēćğ‡Đĕ. In Chronicles and Ezra–Nehemiah ēċĞ usually has a technical sense referring to the returned community (Ezra 2:64, see also Neh 5:13; 7:66; 8:2, 17; 13:1) and it is used that way later in this chapter (Ezra 10:8, 12). Likewise ēćğ‡Đ refers to the true Israel, those who have returned from exile and obey the torah. The phrase used here, literally, “a very large assembly from Israel,” suggests a partial gathering of the returned community. The narrative is focused on the golah and its response to Ezra rather than depicting a mixed crowd of repatriates and other residents—who could not be Israel to the writer.157 Despite its partial nature, in that it was only made up of Jerusalemites, the crowd is presented as large and representative of the community, containing men, women and children. (1) A Community Leader Responds. Shecaniah son of Jehiel responded to Ezra’s prayer by proposing a process to deal with the problem. It is likely that Shecaniah had some standing in the community since he made the public proposal; however, we have little information about him. He is a member of the father’s house of Elam. Members of Elam were among early groups of repatriates (Ezra 2:7 [Neh 7:12]). There were also representatives of the Elam family among the group that returned with Ezra (Ezra 8:7). Shecaniah was probably a descendant of the earlier repatriates given his apparent leadership role. While Shecaniah’s response can been seen as spontaneous, it is more likely, given how communities handle such crises, that it should be seen as the result of community discussion and agreement about an appropriate response. The nature of a social drama is that various forms of discussion and negotiation begin when the crisis becomes apparent.158 156. So Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 82; Blenkinsopp, Ezra– Nehemiah, 186; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 149; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 126. 157. This is not a formal assembly according to Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 188. They are enigmatically called “Israelites” by Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 126. The word ēċĞ is not used in a technical sense according to Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 133. While “crowd” is the best translation in the context, “it is likely that it consciously includes overtones of religious assembly,” according to Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143. 158. See Turner’s examples of social dramas in his Schism and Continuity, 95– 130, 138–68, 178–203, 267–87. 1

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The public nature of the disruption requires the “representatives of public order” respond.159 This is the role Shecaniah plays. His suggestion was received positively, which indicates that his words reÀected a signi¿cant consensus among the community. Shecaniah’s recommendation in v. 3 that they act according to the advice of Ezra and the tremblers also suggests that consultation is presumed to have taken place with Ezra. A man from the family of Elam named Jehiel is listed among those who had a foreign wife (Ezra 10:26). If it is intended that this man be understood to be Shecaniah’s father, then the issue was one that had close personal associations for him.160 However, what the personal implications might be is not clear and the association is not certain. The name Jehiel is not uncommon, so identifying Shecaniah’s father with the offender in Ezra 10:26 cannot be assured even when we are dealing with one extended family.161 Shecaniah’s words raise a number of signi¿cant issues. First, he is not named as an offender in the list that follows; he does, however, use inclusive language with regard to the sin: ČėĐċēćĈ Čėēęĕ ČėĎėć, “we have been unfaithful to our God.” This indicates that, like Ezra, he identi¿ed with the failure and regarded the sin of the individuals as a community responsibility. Second, he uses unique language in referring to these mixed marriages; the Hiphil forms of Ĉ›Đ, literally “to cause to dwell” or “to set up a household,” are used as a synonym for “to marry” only in this chapter and in Neh 13, which describes a similar mixed marriage problem.162 Third, the women involved are referred to as ġČĐğĒė, a multivalent term that is new to the narrative at this point. The attitudes reÀected in the language used here are signi¿cant.

159. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 39. 160. The possible personal implications suggested by scholars vary. Some think his position in the assembly, as a child of an offender, would have been in jeopardy; so Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 126. This is rejected by Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 150, who argues that as an adult Shecaniah’s membership of the assembly would have been separate from that of his father. It may be that property rights were tied to marriages, as suggested by Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 176; SmithChristopher, “The Mixed Marriage Crisis.” However, property rights were probably a minor and background issue to the controversy rather than a major issue. See pp. 178–82. 161. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 188; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 150. There is another Jehiel, a descendant of Harim, in Ezra 10:21. 162. M. Görg, Ĉ›Đ, TDOT 6:427. The only cognate language that uses this verb with the meaning “to marry” is Ethiopic.

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The statement Shecaniah makes to Ezra also shows the same postexilic, priestly inÀuenced Deuteronomic ideology evident in the penitential prayer. In identifying with the offenders, Shecaniah, like Ezra, acknowledges that this is a community problem. The actions of these individuals have contaminated the whole community, which is threatened by God’s wrath as a result. The mixed marriages are described as unfaithfulness (ēęĕ) and the resolution required the community to recommit to faithful actions. This was to be achieved by all the individuals making a covenant pledge to act in this matter according to the law. The understanding that individual actions impact on the community and that the covenant curses will result are Deuteronomic. The sense of community contamination and the need for separation as part of the resolution reÀect priestly thinking. The covenant was narrowly focused on one issue: marriage practices. All swore the oath. This reÀects postexilic covenant practice, which required commitment from the individual males and was issue-focused. (2) Specialist Language: Marriage and Foreign Women. The language Shecaniah employs to describe these marriages and their dissolution is not the normal language used for such events. As I noted above, the Hiphil forms of Ĉ›Đ, “to cause to dwell,” occur four times in this chapter (Ĉ›ėČ, 10:2; ĈĐ›ġČ, 10:10; ĈĐ›ċċ, 10:14; ČĈĐ›ċċ, 10:17) and twice in Neh 13 (ČĈĐ›ċ, 13:23; ĈĐ›ċē, 13:27). Surprisingly, this specialist language is largely overlooked by scholars.163 Since the word is only used in connection with these mixed marriages, it appears to be a context-speci¿c designation for these relationships. Similarly, the divorces are uniquely described using the Hiphil of ćĝĐ (ćĐĝČċē, 10:3). The most common meaning for ćĝĐ in Hiphil is “to cause to go out” or “to lead out.”164 It is this idea, in terms of sending away the foreign women, that is understood here. Divorce for these women in Ezra 10 is described in terms of being forced to leave their husbands’ households. They are sent or led away. This is a blunt but appropriate antonym to the description of the marriages where the women are “caused to live” with these men. 163. The unique use of the Hiphil of Ĉ›Đ is noted by Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 92; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143–50. Others largely ignore it. 164. HALOT CD lists three general meanings: (1) “to cause to go out (from the land)” (Gen 15:7) or “to lead out (troops)” (2 Sam 5:2); (2) “produce (plants)” (Gen 1:12); (3) a miscellaneous category with a range of meanings, such as “to bring disrepute” (Num 13:32), “to pass on” (Neh 6:19). The Ezra 10 references are listed under the ¿rst option as “send away” and in stark contrast the next listing is Sir 7:25 with the meaning “give daughters in marriage”! 1

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That this is specialist language reÀecting community attitudes toward these marriages is indicated by two factors. First, the unique use of these two words in the speci¿c context of post-exilic mixed marriages suggests that they are contextual terms that convey speci¿c views on these relationships and their dissolution. Second, that those views are somewhat negative about such marriages is suggested by some of the connotations of the phrase “foreign women” noted below.165 They warn about sexual relations outside normal marriage. This is a situation where marriages that had previously been sanctioned by the leadership were now being deemed inappropriate, rather than unsanctioned marriages being challenged. Two things indicate that this is the case. The leadership showed it had considerable power in calling the community together to discuss the issue (Ezra 10:8), so it is unlikely that we should understand that families would have been in a position to contract marriages not sanctioned at leadership level. The second factor is that the leadership was identi¿ed as heavily involved in this practice. If the people with social power were involved in the mixed marriages they were in a position to provide it with social endorsement. The marriage of golah-community individuals with non-community people should be understood as an authorized practice until Ezra’s arrival. That is not to say that it should be regarded as an undisputed practice. It may have been controversial, but it was nevertheless of¿cially approved. The other word that needs to be noted in this context is that used to describe the women involved in these marriages as foreign, ġČĐğĒė. Ringgren states that the noun ĐğĒė, which always refers to a relationship, has three general meanings: “another” (e.g. “the house of another,” Prov 5:10), “outside the family” (e.g. Leah and Rachel regarded themselves as sold by their father and therefore strangers who owed him nothing, Gen 31:15), and “foreigner” (e.g. Babylonian soldiers, Obad 11; Ittai the Gittite, 2 Sam 15:19).166 The circumstances in Ezra 10 suggest that two of those meanings converge and thus indicate key characteristics of the women in question, that is, the concepts of “unfamilial” and of “foreignness.” Ringgren further notes in his discussion of ĐğĒė that in Deuteronomy foreigners fall into two groups—ĔĐğĉ, who are receptive to Yahwism (Deut 29:10; 31:12), and ĔĐğĒė, who are not receptive. Therefore the two

165. See pp. 149–52. 166. H. Ringgren, ğĒė, TDOT 9:425–27. Cf. A. H. Konkel, ğĒė, NIDOTTE 3:108–9; ğĒė, DCH 5:694–95; HALOT CD.

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types of non-natives are treated differently, the ĔĐğĒė receiving less favourable treatment. Josephus indicates that this distinction between foreigners based on their openness to Yahwism was recognized in later Judaism (C. Ap. 2.28). A ĐğĒė was a person who retained social and political links, which inevitably had a religious dimension, with his or her native region.167 This ¿ts the emphasis of this mixed marriage narrative where the main concern is that these women are associated with abominations (Ezra 9:1, 11). The concern about the mixing of holy seed with the peoples of the lands is one of incompatibility based on identity markers. Therefore, in naming these women as ġČĐğĒė the writer is emphasizing that they were women whose religious af¿liation was not compatible with that of the golah community. They were non-Yahwists in golah terms. This Deuteronomic background to the language used to describe these women and the list of peoples named in Ezra 9:1 would also suggest that they were non-Israelite women. However, the list of peoples in Ezra 9 is stereotypical and designed to identify the women as outsiders, not specify what people group they originate from. In addition, I have noted from Ezra 6 that Israelite descendants needed to separate themselves from the culticly polluting peoples in order to join the golah community. This suggests that the women, while viewed as non-Yahwistic, may be understood to include Yehudian natives, descendents of the old kingdoms of Israel and Judah and Jewish in their self-identity. It is here that the concept of “unfamilial” in the notions of ĐğĒė comes into the mix, particularly as Prov 1–9 uses the term. This foreignness is about identifying a sub-community in Yehud. In Prov 1–9 the “strange/foreign woman” is the personi¿cation of unwise living in contradistinction to Lady Wisdom. Two words are used to describe this woman in Proverbs: ċğč, “strange,” which has connotations of danger and hostility to the covenant community (Prov 2:16; 5:3, 20; 7:5), and ċĐğĒė, translated as “foreign” or “adulteress” (Prov 2:16; 5:20; 7:5; 27:13).168 The translation “adulteress” reÀects the sexually 167. B. K. Waltke, The Book of Proverbs: Chapters 1–15 (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 121; M. Guttman, “The Term ‘Foreigner’ (ĐğĒė) Historically Considered,” HUCA 3 (1926): 1–20. I am somewhat unsure about Waltke’s coupling of “pagan” with the term “foreigner.” It perhaps communicates to a certain Christian audience, but it is hardly the most accurate term to use. 168. Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 120. For ğč (ğČč), see L. A. Snijders, ğč, TDOT 4:52–58; R. Martin-Achard, ğč, TLOT 1:390–92; A. H. Konkel, ğč, NIDOTTE 2:1142–43. For ğĒė, see Ringgren, TDOT 9:423–32; Konkel, NIDOTTE 3:108–9; DCH 5:694–95. 1

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alluring and immoral aspect of her nature. Bruce Waltke argues that the ċĐğĒė in Proverbs “designates an unchaste wife who stands outside the community of the wise,” not a non-Yahwistic foreigner.169 He may be overstating the case slightly, as Ringgren notes that the warning against the strange women “is kept deliberately ambiguous so as to apply to a neighbour’s wife, a foreign woman, and a prostitute.”170 Similarly C. Maier in her study of “die fremde Frau” argues that, “the ¿gure of the ‘foreign woman’ represents here the ethnically foreign and the Jewish community tribal women.”171 Thus Prov 1–9 reÀects a merging of two of the meanings of ğĒė above, that of non-Yahwistic foreigner and of nonfamily outsider. Maier argues that the social context for the teachings about the strange women in Prov 1–9 is the early post-exilic period and that the mixed marriage problems in Ezra 9–10 and Neh 13 contribute to the meaning in Prov 1–9.172 In contrast, Claudia Camp argues that the strange woman is a multivalent symbol that inÀuenced the mixed marriage debate.173 For Camp, the strange woman is a symbolic ¿gure that synthesizes several meanings of strangeness motivated by two issues, the need for family stability and proper worship.174 While the direction of inÀuence between Proverbs and Ezra may be contentious, it is clear that issues surrounding women and outsider status were key components of community discourse in this era. The strange woman in Prov 1–9 is not identical to the foreign women in Ezra 9 and 10.175 Proverbs is focused on the danger of the strange woman to the individual whereas Ezra is concerned about danger to the community. The woman in Proverbs is a multivalent construct who represents a danger to the good life, whereas the women in Ezra are characterized as non-Yahwistic outsiders who endanger the survival of the community. Nevertheless, the strange woman in Proverbs provides a 169. Waltke, Proverbs 1–15, 122. 170. Ringgren, ğĒė, TDOT 9:428. Cf. Washington, “The Strange Woman,” 227– 28; C. V. Camp, Wise, Strange and Holy: The Strange Woman and the Making of the Bible (JSOTSup 320; Shef¿eld: Shef¿eld Academic, 2000), 43. 171. C. Maier, Die ‘fremde Frau’ in Proverbien 1–9 (OBO 144; Freiburg: Universitätsverlag, 1995), 254: “Die Figur der ‘fremden Frau’ repräsentiert daher ethnisch fremde und der judäischen Gemeinschaft stammende Frauen.” 172. Ibid., 253–54. See also Washington, “The Strange Woman,” 217–42. 173. Camp, “What’s So Strange About the Strange Woman?,” 18. 174. Ibid., 17–18. Her article presupposes a social context described in C. V. Camp, Wisdom and the Feminine in the Book of Proverbs (Bible Literature Series 11; Shef¿eld: Almond, 1985), 112–20. 175. Contra Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 150. 1

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signi¿cant contextual perspective that is relevant to the social circumstances depicted here. Proverbs shows that the merging of the concepts of “foreigner” and “non-family” in ĐğĒė is a post-exilic phenomenon, one which supports other indications that the women condemned in Ezra 10 as foreign included Yehudian natives from outside the golah community. As Washington puts it, “[a] Judean of illicit background is as alien to the community of Ezra–Nehemiah as a Moabite or Egyptian.”176 Proverbs 1–9 also presents a social context in which sexual relations outside accepted marriage is dangerous. Given the non-standard language for marriage (Hiphil Ĉ›Đ), these marriages were characterized as being of questionable legitimacy. Therefore the label ĐğĒė connotes a woman who is a dangerous outsider and sexual relations with such a woman courted disaster because it mixed the holy with the unholy. The language used by Shecaniah is loaded with ideas that both call into question the validity of these relationships and label them as dangerous. The Hiphil of Ĉ›Đ should most probably be understood in the sense of a union that is not fully accepted by the community. This is heightened when combined with ġČĐğĒė, which identi¿es the women as non-Yahwistic outsiders who pollute the families concerned and endanger the community. Shecaniah confesses that the community is guilty of engaging in marriage-like relationships with women whose outsider status transgresses the community’s covenant obligations and therefore endangers its future. Yet he also sees hope, an element Ezra had not entertained in his prayer.177 (3) A Solution Proposed. Shecaniah’s proposed solution is to make a covenant. The language used is rather unusual in that what he proposes, ČėĐċēćē ġĐğĈĀġğĒė, “make a covenant to our God,” which is out of keeping with usual language in covenant-making with Yahweh. When ē is used with the object of the verb in covenant-making it indicates the inferior party in the agreement.178 It is improbable that the author of Ezra–Nehemiah would think of Yahweh as an inferior party! Japhet has argued that the concept of covenant had changed by the Persian era and 176. Washington, “The Strange Woman,” 239. 177. The ¿nal words in 10:2, ġćčĀēę, are identical to those of Ezra in 9:15 and highlight the contrast in attitudes between the two men. 178. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143. M. Weinfeld, ġĐğĈ, TDOT 2:259, states that ē is only used in covenant making of a superior, particularly a conqueror, prescribing terms to an inferior, or granting rights and privileges (Exod 23:32; 34:12, 15; Deut 7:2; Josh 9:6, 7, 11, 15, 16; Judg 2:2; 1 Sam 1:11; 1 Kgs 20:34; 2 Chr 21:7). He regards the use in 2 Chr 29:10 and Ezra 10:3 as late and irregular. 1

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that Chronicles understands covenant-making as the taking of a binding oath before God.179 This idea is con¿rmed in Ezra 10:5, where the response to Shecaniah’s proposal is to swear an oath. Japhet argues that in Ezra 10:3 (and 2 Chr 29:10) the preposition ē indicates a unilateral commitment made in the temple to obey Yahweh’s law. It is interesting that in both cases cited the motive is to avert the wrath of God. Thus the form of covenant here is that of a binding agreement pledging obedience to a covenant that already exists. The phrase, as Williamson suggests, is probably best translated into English as, “let us make a covenant before our God.”180 While Neh 10:1 (ET 9:38) uses slightly different language, ċėĕć, “pledge,” rather than ġĐğĈ, the procedure recommended in Ezra is similar to the one described there.181 An oath was sworn in the temple and the names of the oath-takers recorded, with God as the witness, rather than a party to the covenant. The commitment proposed is to send away the outsider women and their children. The proposal, as noted above, uses non-standard language for divorce and would have involved the return of these women and their children to their fathers’ households. As noted previously, Shecaniah’s comment that this is in accordance with the advice Ezra had already given implies the solution had been proposed beforehand by Ezra.182 The ¿nal phrase of the verse, ċ‡ęĐ ċğČġĒČ, “and let it be done according to the law,” is somewhat enigmatic: it reads like a formulaic concluding statement but is unique to this passage. This fact makes it dif¿cult to evaluate. It might simply be meant as a general encouragement to act in order to bring the social situation in line with Ezra’s interpretation of the law’s requirements. In this case, Shecaniah’s words 179. S. Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles and Its Place in Biblical Thought (trans. A. Barber; 2d ed.; BEATAJ 9; Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 1997), 96–116. 180. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143. 181. The phrase in Neh 10:1 is unique and its import debated. For some, the phrase is largely synonymous to ġĐğĈ ġğĒ; so Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 173; Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 234. For others, ċėĕć may imply some key difference; so Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 312; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 332–33. The debate has been somewhat shifted by Japhet, The Ideology of the Book of Chronicles. Japhet concludes that post-exilic usage of ġĐğĈ refers to a binding oath rather than the establishing of a covenant. This supports both arguments above, that the phrase ċėĕć ĔĐġğĒ is equivalent to ġĐğĈ ġğĒ but that it also reÀects differences with the older form of covenant. 182. The MT says it is the advice of “the Lord,” but this is clearly unsatisfactory. Ezra is a more natural partner to the tremblers in giving the advice than God. The correction requires the change to only one vowel. 1

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urging Ezra to act in v. 4 clarify what he has in mind. The other alternative is that the stipulations of Deut 24 are in mind here. Deuteronomy 24:1–4 regulates against a man remarrying a wife whom he has divorced and who has since been through another marriage. However, it seems unlikely that Deut 24 is in mind since it regulates remarriage not mixed marriage or divorce. The most likely meaning is the ¿rst option. Shecaniah summarizes his statement by af¿rming that the law must be obeyed. This reinforces the message that the decision to end the marriages was based on what the community interpreted the law to require.183 It implies that the community accepted the interpretation and was prepared to act at Ezra’s direction. Having proposed a process for solving the dif¿culty, Shecaniah concludes by exhorting Ezra to take action. The three imperatives he uses (ĔČĞ, ĞčĎ, ċ‡ę) point to a desire for urgent action. He states that the authority and initiative lie with Ezra (ğĈĊċ đĐēęĀĐĒ) and that Ezra has the support of the community in the action he takes. The exhortation ends with the double imperative ċ‡ęČ ĞčĎ. The exact same phrase occurs twice in 1 Chr 28:10, 20, while the similar and directly Deuteronomic (Deut 31:23; Josh 1:6, 7, 9) ĜĐĕćČ ĞčĎ, “be strong and courageous,” also features (1 Chr 22:13; 2 Chr 32:7; cf. also 2 Chr 19:11). The two phrases are a call to take up the reins of leadership, particularly in reference to enacting torah.184 So, Shecaniah urged Ezra to use his authority and enact the law. b. Community Action Ezra responded to the exhortation by requiring the community leaders to take an oath to do as Shecaniah had suggested. This is the most straightforward way of reading the text, which only mentions the leaders of the priests and then simply speaks generally of “the Levites, and all Israel” taking the oath.185 It is not necessary to read, as Blenkinsopp does, that this as a singling out of the priesthood. He claims this shows that Ezra drew his support mainly from the laity, “especially from those elements alienated from the temple and its clerical bureaucracy.”186 However, 183. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 189. 184. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 5, 343. He points out the call to be strong and resolute, which originally applied to conquering the land in Deuteronomy (cf. Josh 1:6, 9, 18; 10:25), is, however, also used in Josh 1:7 with respect to observance of the Torah. 185. The MT literally says ĔĐČēċ ĔĐėċĒċ Đğ‡, “the leaders of the Levitical priests” but on the basis of the Greek texts, which read ̯̫Ҥ̭ к̬̲̫̩̯̝̭, ̯̫Ҥ̭ ѣ̡̡̬Ӻ̭ ̦̝Ҡ ̡̛̰̯̝̭̈, a waw is understood prior to Levites. 186. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 189.

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relying on a literal reading of the grammar to make the point here is questionable and would require us to understand that the oath was taken by only representative priests, but by all non-priests present. As I noted earlier, priest, Levite and Israel, are used together to designate the whole community. In such a case, reading the construct ĐğĠ as referring to all three nouns, ēćğ‡ĐĀēĒ, ĔĐČēċ and ĔĐėċĒċ is not unreasonable.187 It seems more likely that the meaning is that leaders of the community were put under oath to resolve the mixed marriage issue.188 The leaders responded by swearing the oath. Nehemiah also demanded an oath from those he found in mixed marriages (Neh 13:25). Notwithstanding the similarity of the issue and the method of resolution, there are several differences between the two cases. Nehemiah extracted his oath after threats and some violence toward the offenders. His oath is focused on the offenders and puts them under obligation not to continue the practice of mixed marriage in the future. Ezra’s oath placed the community leadership under obligation to deal with the problem by dissolving the existing marriages. (1) Continued Mourning. After administering the oath Ezra retired to the room of Jehohanan son of Eliashib where he continued to fast and mourn over the issue, probably overnight.189 The note about Ezra continuing to fast suggests ongoing concern about the potential consequences of the transgression for the community. His actions indicate that the oath did not constitute a resolution to the problem and that the danger from divine wrath had not yet passed.190 The mixed marriages were obviously regarded as such a serious breach of the covenant relationship that 187. While usual syntax would lead to the expectation that the construct would appear before each noun (e.g. 1 Chr 24:5; 28:1), there are exceptions. Other examples of ĐğĠ covering consecutive nouns are 1 Chr 13:1; Ezra 8:29, and Jer 29:2. In each case the nouns designate part of a greater whole (army, temple staff, Judeans). See GKC §128a. 188. So Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 127. See also Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 139; Batten, Ezra and Nehemiah, 341. 189. The repeated đēĐČ in this verse is awkward. The Greek and Syriac versions and 1 Esd 9:2 suggest ĖēĐČ, “to stay overnight,” may have been the original Hebrew text and was inadvertently copied as đēĐČ. The emendation is presumed by a number of scholars. See NRSV; ĖĐē, HALOT CD; Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 82; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 187; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 80. However, the MT is defended by Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 135–36. The argument seems ¿nely balanced, confusion of đēĐČ for ĖēĐČ is understandable, but the Greek and Syriac versions could be seen as providing a gloss that clari¿es what is hinted at by the MT. 190. Contra Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 189. 1

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extended mourning was necessary. An analogy might be David’s mourning the child born to Bathsheba (2 Sam 12:15–20). In that case David mourned until it was clear Yahweh would not heal the child. In this case, Ezra’s extended mourning perhaps indicates continued concern until action was commenced to resolve the issue. (2) The Assembly Called. In response to the oath, the leadership of the golah community sent out a message requiring attendance at a plenary meeting. While no indication of lapsed time is given, the urgency and signi¿cance of the issue suggest that the proclamation was issued relatively soon after the events before the temple. A further indication of the urgency and signi¿cance is shown in the respondents being given three days to appear, with severe penalties for non-compliance. While a literal three days would have been adequate time to gather representatives of the golah in Jerusalem, given the relatively small geographical area of Yehud and the proximity of communities beyond the frontiers, such as those in the Lod-Ono Valley, it is more likely that the phrase indicates that appropriate notice was given. Yet it also indicated that immediate response was expected.191 The reason for the threat of ĔğĎ against those tempted not to comply with the summons to the assembly is most probably the inÀuence of Deut 7 and the understanding that these mixed marriages were an act of unfaithfulness. What is meant by the phrase ČĠČĒğĀēĒ ĔğĎĐ is not entirely clear. Occurrences of ĔğĎ are largely concentrated in Deuteronomic narratives where the meaning focuses on consecration and extermination.192 However, Ezra 10:8 must refer to the consecration of property since the people are threatened with expulsion from the assembly and therefore are not subject to the death sentence.193 ĔğĎ is used in postexilic priestly material to indicate the dedication of things or people to the temple (Lev 27:21, 28; Num 18:14; Ezek 44:29). It is evident from the context that ĔğĎ involves some form of con¿scation of property here but the exact nature of the process is unclear. It may have referred to the con¿scation of animals (1 Esd 9:4) or to all property.194 At the very least 191. The phrase is stereotypical and means adequate but not excessive time was given for response. Cf. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 128–29. 192. H. Loh¿nk, ĔğĎ, TDOT 5:180–99; D. A. Baer and R. P. Gordon, ĔğĎ, NIDOTTE 2:276–77; ĔğĎ, DCH 3:317–19; HALOT CD. 193. Note Loh¿nk, TDOT 5:187. He points out the common factor in use of the Hophal is punishment. 194. Clines limits it to movable property, but ĔğĎ need not be limited to that. See HALOT CD; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 129. 1

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the threat involved ¿nancial hardship and loss of community status with all its privileges and protections, at worst utter destitution and expulsion. The former would make them paupers, the latter slaves. The “they” who made the proclamation could be Ezra and Jehohanan since they are the ones mentioned prior to the verb.195 However, the sentences beforehand have concentrated on Ezra, while Jehohanan is only mentioned in passing as the possessor of the room. The next verse identi¿es the authority behind the penalties for non-compliance as the “leaders and elders.” This makes the community leadership the likely originators of the proclamation. They had the authority to impose such penalties, but so did Ezra (7:26). This may again be one of the places where Ezra’s role has been diminished by the author for the sake of emphasis on the role of the community. Since both Ezra and the established community leadership had the need to communicate and the power to impose penalties, it may be that this was a joint action and the missing subjects in v. 7 obscure that for the sake of enhancing the role of the community leadership. Alternatively, and perhaps more likely, the narrator used the general term “of¿cials and elders” to convey that the leadership, which included Ezra, sent out the summons. The net effect is that Ezra’s involvement in sending the message is minimized. The phrase ĔĐėĞčċČ ĔĐğ‡ċ suggests that a wider group of leaders may have been involved in this process. It is possible that it is a hendiadys but the phrase is unique in the Hebrew Bible so there is no corroboration for reading it that way. Despite that lack of external supporting evidence, there are reasons to take it as a collective term for the community leadership. The tendency in Ezra–Nehemiah to use multiple name phrases, such as “the people of Israel, priests, and Levites,” to designate a total group suggests that this phrase is indicating that the whole leadership acted in concert. This is reinforced by the observation that Ezra 9:2 uses the phrase ĔĐėĉĘċČ ĔĐğ‡ċ to name a leadership group larger than the ĔĐğ‡ mentioned in 9:1. The noun ĔĐėĞč is only used one other time in Ezra (3:12), where it identi¿es the older members of the community with some memory of the ¿rst temple. The Aramaic equivalent (Ĉ‡) is used several times (Ezra 5:5, 9; 6:7, 8, 14) to refer to the leadership group under the governor. Given the tendency to use multiple names as a way

195. That Ezra is the originator of the message is presumed by Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 86. It is also implied by Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 128. That the community leadership sent the message is presumed by: Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 80; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 190; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 154; Batten, Ezra and Nehemiah, 342. 1

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of indicating the totality of a group, and the precedent in 9:1 and 2, the combined phrase “of¿cials and elders” probably indicates that all the community leadership made the summons. (3) The Assembly Gathered. The result of the proclamation was full attendance at the assembly. The description is deceptively inclusive; “all the men of Judah and Benjamin” no doubt refers to the totality of golah community, just as it does in Ezra 1:5.196 They were the ones required to attend by the proclamation. The NRSV’s gender inclusive “all the people of Judah and Benjamin” is probably wrong.197 While 10:1 notes the presence of women and children with reference to the representation of a gathering, it is most likely that only men were expected to attend the policy announcement. The lists in Ezra–Nehemiah make it clear society was structured around males who were family heads. Despite comments by some scholars about early democracy this is not about modern Western ideals; we are dealing with a society structured on patriarchal and tribal lines.198 Even Athenian democracy, which is contemporary with the era depicted in Ezra–Nehemiah, was restricted to male citizens. This assembly is not about democracy but promulgating a decision.199 The debate reported among the golah at the assembly over the mixed marriages (10:12–15) might suggest some community participation in the decision-making process. Yet a number of factors suggest otherwise. First, Ezra announced the verdict on the marriages (10:10–11) without apparent discussion, a scenario followed by Nehemiah (13:25). What discussion took place at the assembly was focused on the timing of the dissolution of the marriages, not whether the divorces should take place. Further, the way the assembly was called with the threat of the ban for absentees indicates an authoritarian leadership. This is supported by my earlier assessment of the leadership structure in Yehud and Fried’s

196. It is not a “national assembly” as claimed by Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 80. 197. In contrast, the TNIV maintains the gender exclusiveness of the verse. 198. Cf. C. U. Wolf, “Traces of Primitive Democracy in Ancient Israel,” JNES 6 (1947): 98–108. I am also hesitant about comments about democracy and egalitarianism in the public square made by J. W. Wright, “A Tale of Three Cities: Urban Gates, Squares and Power in Iron Age II, Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid Judah,” in Davies and Halligan, eds., Second Temple Studies III, 49–50. The mood in Yehud seems to be more inclusive than in the pre-exilic and Neo-Babylonian periods and was moving in the direction of the Greek polis, as he notes, but was still inÀuenced by Persian models, which were heavily authoritarian. 199. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 128.

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claims that the Persian authorities held tight control in their provinces.200 Given the seriousness of the problem and the model of governance it would be wrong to characterize this meeting as democratic. Dissolution of these marriages would have required a signi¿cant level of co-operation among the people but this does not constitute democracy even in the Athenian form.201 At this stage we are told that these events happened in the ninth month, the winter. This is a necessary detail because it affects the events that follow. The twentieth day of the ninth month places these events in December and makes the reaction to the wet conditions and subsequent arrangements to deal with the situation understandable.202 Weather conditions in Jerusalem at that time of the year can be cold and unpleasant. The sense of urgency over the issue is indicated by scheduling the assembly immediately and the perseverance with the meeting despite the inclement weather. The meeting took place in the square before the temple, presumably the place for major public meetings (Neh 8:1). The crowd was in a sorry state, trembling both because of the wet, probably cold, weather and on account of the matter that had led to the assembly. The zeugmatic construction at the end of this verse gives what Blenkinsopp describes as “one of the more realistic scenes in the book.”203 The crowd’s discomfort is described as both physical and emotional. Ezra’s address to the assembly is summarized in one brief sentence. It presents the leadership’s perspective on the issue utilizing the language of his earlier prayer (ēęĕ and Ĕ›ć) and Shecaniah’s proposal (Hiphil of Ĉ›Đ and ĐğĒė).204 Marriage to foreign women is an act of unfaithfulness to Yahweh and adds to the guilt accumulated by past generations.

200. Fried, Great King, 156–233. See also J. Cataldo, A Theocratic Yehud? Issues of Government in a Persian Province (New York: T&T Clark International, 2009), 37–66. 201. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 193. 202. The plural (ĔĐĕ›ĉċ) may indicate that the rain was heavy (GKC §124e). 203. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 192. Similarly Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 129. 204. In using ĐğĒė, van Wijk-Bos claims Ezra is caving in to pressure from Shecaniah and the crowd; see Wijk-Bos, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, 43–46. However, this misrepresents Ezra’s role in these events. His teaching and actions are in accord with this language and his prayer characterizes the “peoples of the lands” as those who practice abominations and are therefore unclean. Ezra is a leader in this event not a helpless of¿cial swept along by popular opinion. 1

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The summary is followed by a command that required acknowledgment and action from the crowd. The phrase ċĊČġ Čėġ, literally “to give thanks/praise,” is usually interpreted to mean “confess,” which is how the phrase is rendered in many English translations (e.g. JPS, NRSV, NASB, NIV).205 The same phrase is used in Josh 7:19, where Achan is urged to confess his sin. In Ezra the phrase parallels the call to give glory to God. The idea seems to be that giving praise recognizes that Yahweh’s judgment is just and thus implicitly acknowledges the wrongdoing.206 The second imperative (ȇę) demands action to do God’s will, that is, to do what is pleasing to God.207 What pleases God is then speci¿ed with the third imperative (ČēĊĈċ), separation from the foreigners. The two phrases, “peoples of the land” and “foreign women,” are probably meant to be seen in parallel.208 The assembly’s response was to agree with the proposal. They answered with a loud voice: “It is, as you say, up to us to act.” This shouted agreement probably ful¿lled, at least partially, Ezra’s demand that they confess. The more speci¿c confession was an offering by each of the offenders (10:19). The effect of this meeting was that the offenders “now have ranged against them not only Ezra and the law but also the collective will of the community.”209 This assembly formally adopted the view of the mixed marriages presented by Ezra and his supporters as the community stance. (4) Discussion About Timing. The crowd also accepted that the decision obligated them to act but pointed out the practical problems immediately before them. Three dif¿culties are identi¿ed: the crowd was large, the weather inclement, and the problem reasonably extensive. The task was perceived to be one that would take some time. The proposal to establish a commission to deal with individual cases seems to be practical.210 Who 205. The Jerusalem Bible retains the more literal rendering, with “now give thanks to Yahweh.” 206. HALOT CD. 207. ĖČĝğ is used four times with the verb ċĠę (Ezra 10:11; Pss 40:9; 103:21; 143:10) and is best translated as “will”; see HALOT CD. 208. Batten, Ezra and Nehemiah, 344. Batten comments, “[t]he clauses are practically synonymous, the former somewhat broader.” 209. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 130. Cf. the similar but more negative assessment by Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 193. 210. Given that the assembly agreed the marriages were unfaithfulness, it is unlikely that this proposal should be understood as an attempt to shelve the problem. Such an argument is in agreement with Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 140, but against Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 193. 1

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was to make up the commission is not fully clear since the proposal uses the vague term ĔĐğ‡. However, its mode of operation is generally clear. The alleged offenders were to present themselves to the commission accompanied by their local leadership. Such leadership would have been in a position to provide the relevant supporting information to enable the commission to come to a judgment. The statement about turning God’s anger away from the community is usually taken to mean that the assembly saw their repentant actions as preventative.211 That is, they were seeking to avert Yahweh’s future wrath, which was anticipated if they continued to act disobediently. This is the tenor of Ezra’s prayer—that disaster, perhaps even total annihilation (9:14), could be the result of continued disobedience. (5) Opposition. The report of four people who express some opposition in 10:15 has a number of interpretive problems. It is far from clear what stance the four named people took in relation to the mixed marriages and the solution proposed. Indeed, it is dif¿cult to discern whether the four agree with each other. Verse 15 ¿ts awkwardly between vv. 14 and 16 and Rudolph argues that it is a parenthetical comment.212 Understanding the verse as an insertion between vv. 14 and 16 helps makes sense of what is being said. Verse 15 does not continue the narrative Àow but is an aside about a particular incident related to the decision about the commission. De¿ning Ċĕę, which has a wide semantic range, is crucial to understanding what is meant in Ezra 10:15.213 To understand Ċĕę as “stand for,” as in “support,” can be ruled out. That would contradict the narrative by claiming the men were the only supporters of the proposal. In the previous verse Ċĕę is generally taken to mean “to represent.”214 Carrying that meaning through to this verse would indicate that Jonathan and Jahzeiah were selected as representatives and the two Levites 211. The last phrase of 10:14 is awkward (ċčċ ğĈĊē Ċę), particularly when ē Ċę occurs earlier in the sentence. Emending the second Ċę to read ēę is suggested by ½̡̛̬ in the Greek and supported by the Vulgate and Syriac. 212. Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 95. Followed by Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 156. 213. It can mean “go up before” (Exod 33:9; Ezek 22:30), “stand in position” (Exod 33:10; Isa 11:10; 61:5), or “remain standing” (Gen 19:17; 1 Sam 20:38) with a range of nuances within each general de¿nition. HALOT CD; E. A. Martens, Ċĕę, NIDOTTE 3:432–33; H. Ringgren, Ċĕę, TDOT 11:178–87. 214. NRSV; TNIV; NASB; JB; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 191–94; Gunneweg, Esra, 176–77; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 140; Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 137; Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 95–96. 1

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worked with them. First Esdras 9:14 supports the idea that Jonathan, Jahzeiah along with Meshullam and Shabbethai formed the commission. However, this ignores the contrast in the somewhat adversative initial word of the verse đć. The Greek versions also exhibit some confusion over what is meant: the LXX states the men supported Ezra in contrast to 1 Esdras.215 Further, v. 16 is more probably a description of the selection of the commission rather than identifying the activity of the commission. The other option would give Ċĕę the opposite meaning from v. 14 and read the meaning of “stand against” or oppose. This ¿ts in well with the adversative sense of đć. Furthermore, Ezra–Nehemiah characteristically records opposition to the major events it recounts, such as the building of the temple (Ezra 4; 5:3–17) and the building of the wall (Neh 4; 6:1–14). The establishment of the golah community is another key issue in the narrative, so some record of opposition would ¿t the pattern. In addition, reading the verse as a record of opposition means that there is no conÀict with v. 16, which reports the selection of the commission. However, it would mean that signi¿cantly different meanings would be attributed to Ċĕę in adjacent sentences. This is certainly not impossible and Williamson observes that the different prepositions following Ċĕę (ē in v. 14, ēę in v. 15) suggest some difference in meaning.216 Further, if this is a parenthetical comment by an editor, as Rudolph suggests, then the different uses of the verb come from different writers.217 The idea that the men opposed the proposal for a commission is the only one that ¿ts in well with the Àow of the narrative. It also provides a reason to name the men; they stood out as a vocal minority who did not support the process. It also complements my reading of v. 16 below. This seems the best solution.218 If the message of the verse is understood to mean that there was opposition to the plan, the next question is whether all four men named were opposed or whether two were opposed and the other two argued against them. The best sense is that Jonathan and Jahzeiah were supported

215. Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 96. 216. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 156. 217. Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 95. 218. Note a number of major translations, including NRSV; TNIV; NIV; NASB; JB; see also Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 80; Blenkinsopp, Ezra– Nehemiah, 194; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 130; A. H. J. Gunneweg, “Zur Interpretation Der Bucher Esra-Nehemia,” in Congress Volume: Vienna, 1980 (ed. J. A. Emerton; Leiden: Brill, 1981), 176–77; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 156; Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 141; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 86; Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 95–96. 1

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in their opposition by Meshullam and Shabbethai the Levite. This makes the best sense of the masculine plural suf¿x on ğčę: “Meshullam and Shabbethai the Levite supported them.” The ¿nal question is whether the four men opposed the plan because they were in favour of the mixed marriages or because they opposed the mixed marriages but found the delay in setting up a commission and conducting an enquiry unacceptable. Given the tendency in Ezra– Nehemiah to record opposition to the community’s efforts to obey Yahweh, it would be natural in this context to presume that the four men rejected the proposal to implement divorces, perhaps because they were in favor of the mixed marriages.219 However, the best identi¿cation of Meshullam and Shabbethai makes them associates and supporters of Ezra. Both names occur in the list of supporters when Ezra reads the law in Neh 8.220 In addition, as Myers notes, the opposition is focused on the proposal for a commission.221 They do not appear to be directly opposing the divorces. This suggests that the four were in fact rigorists who wanted more decisive action. The identi¿cation of two of the objectors with associates and supporters of Ezra and the focus of the objection on the proposal for a commission rather than on the mixed marriages themselves indicates that this opposition is different from that recorded elsewhere in Ezra–Nehemiah. This is not opposition to efforts to do Yahweh’s will as was the hostility to building the temple or the wall. On the contrary, it is opposition to a process that is viewed as too soft. This conclusion ¿ts the record of the meeting in that it proclaimed a formal policy concerning the mixed marriages and announced the fate of the existing mixed marriages. The meeting was not a forum for debate. This is in line with the conclusions already drawn about the strong authority structures in the golah community. It also explains why the men are named—they represent a more radical obedience than the solution adopted. In contrast, anyone opposed to the policy would have been expelled from the community and their name would not have been worthy of being recorded. These protesters wanted the marriages dissolved immediately rather than have the delay which left the community contaminated and in danger of Yahweh’s wrath.

219. So Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 80. 220. Rudolph identi¿es Shabbethai as a supporter of Ezra and calls him a “Gesetzeseiferer,” that is, a “Zealot for the Law,” who “opposed the proposal for a commission because to him it was too weak”; see Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 95. 221. Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 86.

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c. Dissolving the Mixed Marriages The assembly ¿nished with the establishment of the commission which is said to have worked for three months. A portion of v. 16 (ČēĊĈĐČ ġČĈćċ Đ›ćğ ĔĐ›ėć ĖċĒċ ćğčę) is corrupted to the point that Williamson protests that the “MT can scarcely be constructed as it stands.”222 The verb lacks an explicit subject and a waw, at least, would be expected between “Ezra the priest” and “men” and possibly a preposition like “with.” To make sense of the MT the assembly has to be presumed as the subject of the verb “separated.” If that is the case, it appears to be saying that the assembly acted by selecting Ezra along with men who were the heads of the family groups to make up the commission. Having the whole assembly do the selection is possible but seems somewhat unusual in a society that was more autocratic than democratic.223 In addition it was a departure from Ezra’s usual tactics to this point, which had been to put the issue into the hands of the community, rather than take an active role.224 An alternative is to understand the Niphal of ēĊĈ reÀexively and translate it as the JPS Tanakh does: “Ezra the priest and the men who were the chiefs of the ancestral clans—all listed by name—sequestered themselves on the ¿rst day of the tenth month to study the matter.” The problem with this translation is that it leaves a text without logical Àow. It understands v. 15 to name the commission to deal with mixed marriages. It also regards v. 16 as saying that Ezra and the clan leaders, not the commission, shut themselves away to study the law on the issue and then sees v. 17 jumping back to explain that the commission ¿nished its role. While such a reading is possible and retains the MT, it is hardly the best solution. The solution taken by a number of translations and commentators is to follow the reading in 1 Esd 9:16, which reports the process differently.225 It says that Ezra was the one who selected the commissioners from the heads of the family houses:

222. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143. 223. Contrary to the claims by Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 141. Although he follows the 1 Esd 9:16 reading here, he sees traces of democracy in Ezra’s methods. 224. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143–44. 225. See, for example, NASB; NIV; NRSV; Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 83; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 192; Gunneweg, Esra, 177; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 143–44; Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 137; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 81; Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 96. 1

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Ezra’s Social Drama ̦̝Ҡ ц½̡̧̙̪̝̯̫ ч̝̰̯ԗ ̮̠̬̝̭̂ ѳ ѣ̡̡̬Ҥ̭ к̩̠̬̝̭ ѓ̨̟̫̰̙̩̫̰̭ ̯Ԗ̩ ½̝̯̬̥Ԗ̩ ̝Ѿ̯Ԗ̩, ̦̝̯ʰ Ѷ̨̩̫̝ ½̘̩̯̝̭, ̦̝Ҡ ̡̮̰̩̦̘̤̥̮̝̩ ̯ӭ ̨̛̩̫̰̣̩ӛ ̯̫ԉ ̨̣̩Ң̭ ̯̫ԉ ̡̠̦̘̯̫̰ ц̯̘̮̝̥ ̯Ң ½̬ӝ̨̟̝.226 Now Ezra the priest selected for himself leading men of their families, all by name; and on the ¿rst of the tenth month they sat down together to examine the matter.

This reading is supported by three observations. First, it ¿ts with Ezra’s usual methods of placing the responsibility for dealing with the problem in the hands of the community and the emphasis on the community in the text. Second, it follows a process one would expect to be more likely in an authoritarian ancient Near Eastern society and suggested by the Persian governance patterns. Third, it provides a likely explanation for the dif¿cult reading in the MT, that is, that the Hebrew original was Čē ēĊĈĐČ, the ē having been lost by haplography and the Č then joined to the preceding verb.227 These factors favour following an emendation based on the 1 Esdras reading rather than following either of the options above that are based on the present MT. The commission began its work ten days after the assembly, on the ¿rst day of the tenth month.228 It met for the next three months and completed the task by the ¿rst day of the New Year. The prompt start by the commission indicates the continued sense of urgency about tackling these marriages. d. Summary Ezra 10:1–17 describes the events subsequent to the formal report about mixed marriages to Ezra. Ezra’s prayer drew additional observers from the golah community and elicited a formal response from Shecaniah, who ¿lls the role of a community representative. Shecaniah’s proposal was that the community commit itself to the dissolution of these relationships which were acknowledged as acts of unfaithfulness. His language labels the marriages as socially unacceptable and the women as pollutants in the community. He urged Ezra to act decisively and assured him of support. Ezra made the community leaders present swear an oath to ful¿l Shecaniah’s proposal. Subsequently the combined community leadership sent out a decree requiring all men to present themselves in 226. LXX Göttingen text. 227. See BHQ critical apparatus. 228. This presumes that the text should read “to examine” (ĠČğĊē) rather than “of Darius” (ĠČĐğĊē) as the MT has. This follows the Greek and Syriac versions. The reference to Darius may well have resulted from a careless scribe who expected the name to follow a date.

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Jerusalem urgently. The resultant assembly formally accepted the accusation of unfaithfulness and agreed to dissolve the marriages. Circumstances—the inclement weather and the extent of the problem— led to the proposal that a commission be set up to hear the individual cases. This proposal was challenged by at least four men who appear to have desired more decisive action. Nevertheless, a commission made up of some key community leaders was appointed by Ezra to carry out the task. The commission began meeting ten days after the assembly and took three months to do its work. e. Concluding the Issue (Ezra 10:18–44) This ¿nal section of the chapter draws the narrative to an end by listing the names of the guilty men and describing the remedial actions. The list has some textual dif¿culties that make the number of men identi¿ed uncertain—between 109 and 113 depending on how the list is divided.229 Several scholars regard the number of offenders to be relatively small given the level of concern about mixed marriages.230 This in turn raises some questions about the completeness of the list and the signi¿cance of this issue for the community. The last verse in the MT (v. 44) shows signs of corruption, which makes the meaning of the ¿nal statement dif¿cult to grasp. The narrative ends on a seemingly negative and anticlimactic note. (1) The List. The ¿rst statement is a summary of the commission’s ¿ndings. What follows is essentially a list with explanatory statements in vv. 19 and 44. It is the third list in Ezra, the others being: the list of returnees in Ezra 2, and the list of those who returned with Ezra in Ezra 8:1–14. The list in Ezra 10 follows the arrangement used in Ezra 8, with temple staff followed by laity; Ezra 2 has the same division but the opposite order. Unlike the other two lists, this one does not have a title. Blenkinsopp takes the lack of a title as evidence that the list has been inserted into the conclusion of the narrative.231 He reconstructs the original narrative conclusion with v. 19 following v. 17, which was then completed by v. 44 in a form similar to 1 Esd 9:36. This would make the

229. 1 Esd 9:18–36 has 101 names, 26 temple staff and 75 (possibly 76 if Simon Chosamaeus [9:32] is read as two names) lay. 230. See, for example, Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 197. Blenkinsopp notes the offenders are 1 in 270 going on the list in Ezra 2. Note also Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 131; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 87; Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 97. 231. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 197. 1

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original ending say that the men who married foreign women, divorced their wives, sending the women along with any children away. Blenkinsopp argues that editing the list into the narrative has led to an anti-priest bias, in that the priests alone were subjected to the guilt offering. However, it is equally possible to understand that the priests acted on behalf of the rest of the community with their offering. Williamson also suggests that the list existed in an alternative form and shows signs of editing into its current position; he does not argue, however, that the narrative at one time existed without the list.232 His argument for editing rests on two pieces of evidence. First, the pledge and sacri¿ce in v. 19 would have been required by all the guilty parties, not just the priests. Second, his reconstruction of the list of lay families results in a grouping of twelve families.233 It seems reasonable that all the guilty would have needed to make the pledge to the commission. That assumption is supported by Milgrom, who points out that the trespass is referred to as ēęĕ several times and that the appropriate response to erase the offence of unfaithfulness is a guilt offering (Lev 5:14–16).234 The relevance of the pledge and sacri¿ce to every offender makes it likely that a statement like v. 19 was associated with each section of the list. The absence of such a statement suggests some editorial abbreviation. The grouping of twelve families also suggests a level of arti¿ciality. Since there are precedents for such typological schematization in Ezra (7:1–10; 8:35–36), it seems likely that this is a deliberate construction.235 These two points have weight and make it likely that an original list has been shaped and possibly abbreviated for this context. (2) The Guilt Offering. The list begins with the temple staff set out in a hierarchical order: priests, Levites, singers and gatekeepers—the same order used in the list in Ezra 2. The order of the priestly families starts the same as Ezra 2 but the last two families are transposed.

232. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 157–58. 233. The MT listing has ten families but there are some incongruities that call for textual adjustments. Reconstructions arrive at either 12 or 13 families, 12 being judged more likely by several commentators, including Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 133; Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 197; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 156– 58. 234. Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 71–73. 235. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 158.

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Figure 4. Priestly Families Ezra 10 Jeshua (high priest) Immer Harim Pashhur

Ezra 2 Jedaiah (of the house of Jeshua) Immer Pashhur Harim

The list is interrupted in v. 19 with the statement that the four members of the family of Jeshua pledged themselves to divorce their foreign wives and to sacri¿ce a ram as a guilt offering.236 The text is unclear about the issue of the offerings, the second part of the sentence lacks a verb and the plural adjective ĔĐĕ›ć is awkward. It is usually repointed to read Ĕĕ›ć, “their guilt offering,” or ĔĐĕ›ć, “guilt offerings,” on the basis of 1 Esd 9:20 and the Vulgate.237 That is complemented either by the verb “to offer” being understood or by the force of the initial verb Ėġė being carried over to the second clause. That is, the guilty men pledged themselves both to divorce and to make an offering. Despite the textual dif¿culties, the intent of the verse seems obvious; the guilty committed themselves to the necessary redressive action. The making of a guilt offering shows that the offence was taken as an unwitting one (Lev 5:14–19). Some scholars argue that the reason for this is that the marriages were judged unacceptable on the basis of an interpretation of the law rather than an explicit command.238 The offenders were not deemed guilty of a deliberate offence because they were acting according to an alternative interpretation of the law at the time they contracted the marriages. What weighs against this argument is the specialist language used of these marriages noted above. Using the Hiphil forms of Ĉ›Đ raises questions about these marriages and suggests that they may have been an innovation that breached previous social expectations. However, those social expectations may not have been supported by interpretation of the torah about community purity, as here. Recent research on penitential prayers shows that the function of these prayers was to transform sin from deliberate to unwitting so that it was 236. The phrase “to give a hand” means to give a pledge; see HALOT CD. For examples, see 2 Kgs 10:15; 1 Chr 29:24; 2 Chr 30:8; Ezek 17:18. 237. See BHQ critical apparatus. The Syriac also suggests that divorce and offering were pledged, but the Old Greek supports the MT. 238. Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 83; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 131; Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 143; Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 73. Milgrom argues that the community was “innocent of the law” because the offence was identi¿ed as the result of Ezra’s midrash, not the direct command of the text.

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forgivable.239 Therefore, Ezra’s prayer prepared the way for the guilt offering to take place even if the mixed marriages were understood as a deliberate contravention of previous cultic standards. The distinctive feature of the guilt offering is that it required restitution.240 In this case the restitution is divorcing the foreign wife.241 The statement about the guilt offering is placed after the ¿rst four offenders are named, but it probably reÀects the actions of all those found guilty. It seems incongruous that only one family of priests made a guilt offering. It may be that, just as the high priest held a representative role, the actions of these men from his family are meant to be taken as representative of the offenders. However, two points indicate that this is not a case of priestly representation. First, the usual offering when the priests make a representative offering on behalf of the community is a bull (Lev 4:13–21). The magnitude of the offence also suggests that sacri¿cing one ram would have been inadequate. Second, as I also noted earlier, Milgrom has argued convincingly that the offence of ēęĕ, “unfaithfulness,” is signi¿cant and all the men who offended would have been required to make the offering.242 These considerations make it more likely that the offering made by the high priest’s family is meant to be representative of what each family of offenders did. It is likely the same statement about an offering followed each listed family but was edited out when the list was inserted into this narrative.243 The ¿rst section of the list is completed by the remaining three priestly families and then the Levites, singers and gate keepers. (3) The Conclusion of the Affair. The second section lists the descendants of the lay families. I noted previously that “Israel” is a label that can be used for all the families not part of the temple staff. The MT lists ten families, but there are problems with the list and the resolutions to 239. Boda, Praying the Tradition, 29; R. A. Werline, “ReÀections on Penitential Prayer: De¿nition and Form,” in Boda, Falk, and Werline Seeking the Favor of God, 1:209–225. See pp. 88–92. 240. The Ĕ›ć, “guilt offering,” seems to rely to some degree on the regulations of the previous ġćďĎ, “sin offering,” in terms of how it was conducted. They appear to be largely the same but the restitution requirement means there is enough difference that the Ĕ›ć is regarded as a separate category of offering. See Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 1–12; J. E. Hartley, Leviticus (WBC 4; Dallas, Tex.: Word, 1992), 75–80. Cf. also H.-J. Klauck, “Sacri¿ce and Sacri¿cial Offerings,” ABD 5:870–91. 241. Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 71. 242. Ibid., 71–73. 243. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 158. 1

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problems in the text at vv. 31 and 40 produce a list of twelve families.244 Ezra 8 also has twelve families listed, though the lists only partially overlap. Most of the family names are also found in the list in Ezra 2.245 The issues around dividing the list and identifying the people do not bear on this study and need not be explored. Suf¿ce to note that the list is shaped to draw a link between the families and the community. It reinforces the message that their unfaithfulness and subsequent repentance has community implications. The ¿nal verse is a conundrum that has exercised scholars for a long time. The ¿rst phrase is straightforward: all those listed had married foreign women. The remainder is corrupt (ĔĐėĈ ČĕЇģ ĔĐ›ė Ĕċĕ). One solution is to follow 1 Esd 9:36: ½̡̘̩̯̭ ̫̯̫̥҅ ̮̰̩ԕ̦̥̮̝̩ ̟̰̩̝Ӻ̦̝̭ ж̧̧̡̡̫̟̩Ӻ̭, ̦̝Ҡ ж½̧̙̰̮̝̩ ̝Ѿ̯Қ̭ ̮Ҥ̩ ̯̙̦̩̫̥̭. This leads to an English translation: “All these had married foreign women, and they put them away together with their children” (NRSV). This is tidy and it is possible, “with a little good will,” as Blenkinsopp says, to reconstruct the MT to reÀect this reading.246 However, it is arguable that the 1 Esdras reading is the result of a scribe’s attempt to clarify the MT. Further, the present MT is supported by other ancient versions, which suggests it is the more original reading.247 Clines likes a solution proposed by Schneider that transposes ›ĐČ and ČĕЇĐČ,248 which translates as, “and they put their wives away from them, even if there were children.” The dif¿culty with this proposal is that reading ĔЇ to mean “divorce” or “put away” stretches its semantic range to questionable lengths, as Clines acknowledges. If the MT is followed, then it could be read as a statement that some of these wives had borne children, “and there were from/among them women, and they bore children.” This also has problems. The two plural pronouns are masculine, so this means understanding that the women who bore children are referred to by a masculine pronoun, something that is not unprecedented in Late Biblical Hebrew.249 It also means understanding 244. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 119; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 159; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 87. 245. For issues regarding the lists, see Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 21–39, 138–62, 263–76. 246. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 200. The proposal substitutes ĔČĎē›ĐČ for the ĔĎĕ ›ĐČ and re-divides the ¿nal two words as ĔĐėĈČ ĔЇĐČ, the ĔЇĐČ being added by dittography. See the BHS critical apparatus. 247. The MT is supported by the Vulgate and the LXX manuscripts, Alexandrinus, Vaticanus, and the Lucianic recension. The reading is also implied by the Syriac. 248. Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 133. 249. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 145; GKC §135o.

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ĔЇ as “give birth,” or “bear (children),” which is also stretching semantic boundaries.250 Such a reading also seems to state what “would be so obvious as not to be worth mentioning,” as Blenkinsopp points out.251 Each solution has its problems and it is impossible to select any of them with any degree of certainty. Neither 1 Esd 9:36 nor the MT adds much to the narrative; they both con¿rm the divorces occurred and that children were involved. This may be the point; it corrects v. 19 by pointing out that the cost to the men was not just their wives but also the children of the unions.252 The separation of children along with the women would have been the logical extension of the initial report. These children were the result of the mixing of “holy seed” with impure seed. They were the embodiment of the conÀicting holy–unholy mixture that compromised the community and posed such danger. Reporting the expulsion of the children from the community completed the cleansing of the community by responding to the initial concern. 4. Summary To sum up: Ezra 9 and 10 relates a social conÀict in Persian Yehud over marriage and its effect on the identity of the golah community. Members of the golah community de¿ned themselves as the true Israel using genealogical, historical and cultic boundary markers and saw themselves as holy. They understood outsiders as foreign in the same sense as the Pentateuch de¿ned the pre-conquest people groups in Canaan, who were characterized as impure people who practiced abominations. This meant that golah community members married to foreign women had committed an act of unfaithfulness by mixing the impure with the holy. That unfaithfulness left the community exposed to God’s wrath and therefore in danger of complete destruction. The community leaders alerted Ezra to this danger and he responded by enacting a ritual of public mourning. This drew a crowd, many of whom supported Ezra’s concerns. At the evening sacri¿ce Ezra acted as an intercessor for the community by praying a penitential prayer that rehearsed community unfaithfulness in 250. The possibility that ĔЇ can mean “bear (children)” is allowed by HALOT CD on the basis of a parallel with Arabic presented by L. Kopf, “Arabische Etymologien und Parallelen zum Bibelwörterbuch,” VT 9 (1959): 276. However, it is the only biblical example and must remain questionable when it is such an isolated case. It is rejected by Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 200. 251. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 200. 252. Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 81–82. 1

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contrast to God’s mercy. The prayer simultaneously acted as a sermon urging the community to respond with repentance. Shecaniah responded to the prayer on behalf of the community by admitting the community’s unfaithfulness. His language indicates that these marriages were already questioned in the community and narrowed the issue to the wives by labeling them foreign women. Ezra extracted an oath from the community leadership to resolve the problem but continued to mourn through the night. An assembly was called shortly after, with threats of the ban for any absentees being made. At the assembly Ezra reiterated the failure of the community and the assembly assented to the judgment. There was some debate over the timing of the redressive action but a commission was set up to deal with the mixed marriages and avert the wrath of Yahweh. The commission worked for three months; ultimately, over one hundred men were judged guilty and responded by making a guilt offering and divorcing their wives.

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Chapter 5

THE MIXED MARRIAGE SOCIAL DRAMA

In this chapter I will analyze the events narrated about the mixed marriage controversy from a social science perspective. The analysis will aggregate the various strands of information that have been gathered to this point, namely, the description of historical Yehud, the exegesis of the narrative of the mixed marriage controversy, and the symbolic systems reÀected in the cultural customs, social organization and religious commitments evident in both the description of Yehud and Ezra 9 and 10. In Gottwald’s terms, this chapter will present a triangulation of the various data that ¿lls out our perceptions of the issues and events presented in the narrative. Earlier I argued that social science analysis of an ancient narrative like the mixed marriage controversy aids our understanding of the narrative by exposing the social context in which the writer composed and the implied audience read the work. This reveals aspects of the social context which are not immediately apparent to readers at a chronological and cultural distance from the context of the narrative. The discussion that follows will focus on revealing the cultural context of events in order to illuminate the narrative. This will both con¿rm and challenge previous readings of this narrative. 1. Elements of a Social Drama Victor Turner’s social drama model is the heuristic tool for the following analysis. To summarize the discussion from Chapter 1, social drama is the model used to analyze the process that a social group works through in order to address the crisis caused by a breach of the community’s social norms. I will assess the narrative for evidence of the four stages of this model—breach, crisis, redressive action and reintegration.1 The crisis and its resultant changes can leave a mark that Cottle identi¿es as a ¿fth stage, ebbing/reviving.2 This identi¿es residual effects of the crisis 1. Turner, Schism and Continuity, 95–203, 267–87. See pp. 11–17. 2. Cottle, “Social Drama in a Mediatized World,” 109–24.

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which ebb over time but are revived periodically by related circumstances. The next chapter will look for evidence of residual effects from the mixed marriage controversy. Turner argues that a key to understanding the events in a social drama is to identify the root paradigm or paradigms that inÀuence the participants. Root paradigms are cultural models that exist in the heads of the main actors: [Root paradigms] have reference not only to the current state of the relationships existing or developing between the actors, but also to the cultural goals, means, ideas, outlooks, currents of thought, patterns of belief, and so on, which enter into those relationships, interpret them, and incline them to alliance or divisiveness.3

A root paradigm is a cultural model that inÀuences one or all of the key actors in the social drama either, consciously or unconsciously. Such root paradigms, Turner argues, are situated deep in the actors’ psyches, they “reach down to the irreducible life stances of individuals, passing beneath conscious prehension to a ¿duciary hold on what they sense to be axiomatic values.”4 The deeply embedded nature of root paradigms for Turner means that he is not describing a systematized worldview. They are not “precision tools of thought” but concepts that emerge “clothed in allusiveness, implicitness, and metaphor.”5 Neither are they stereotyped guidelines; they are instead the fundamental foundations of belief that dictate action in the encounter of “emotionally charged wills.”6 Root paradigms, then, are the foundational notions on which a person or group of persons base their actions in a social drama. Turner speaks in the plural because the events of the social drama tend to be informed by a linked set of root paradigms rather than one model or pattern, even though one paradigm may predominate. This is illustrated by Turner’s application of social drama to the conÀict between Thomas Becket and King Henry II of England.7 Turner argues that the circumstances and personalities involved ultimately led Becket to view the conÀict, and respond to it from the model of martyrdom.8 As Chancellor, 3. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 64. 4. Ibid. 5. Ibid. 6. Ibid. 7. Ibid., 60–97. 8. Turner’s assessment is supported by historians. For example, M. Staunton notes that New Testament and early church martyrs became models for Becket’s public confrontations. See M. Staunton, Thomas Becket and His Biographers (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2006), 129–36. 1

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Becket had worked to achieve Henry II’s agenda of establishing his governance over all areas of his domain and reinforcing feudal society in England. Once he was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, however, he acted in ways that reÀect resistance to Henry’s purposes. As Henry increased the pressure, Becket responded from the paradigm of martyrdom. This is particularly evident in the events at Northampton, where Becket, under extreme, pressure celebrated St. Stephen’s mass out of season, then carried the sacred host with him when he went to meet the king. Although his death at the hands of Henry’s knights did not come for a further six years, Becket’s actions in celebrating the mass of a martyr at Northampton and his refusal to use church sanctions against Henry point to Becket consciously embracing the martyr paradigm in response to Henry’s determination to crush him and end Church independence. That root paradigm reÀected a coalescing of other signi¿cant paradigms, such as sacri¿ce for a greater good, resistance to oppression and the Church’s role as an independent force in feudal society. Closely related to root paradigms is the use of symbols and symbolic action. Symbols are potent communicators of the key elements of root paradigms. Turner’s argument that Becket was motivated by a martyrdom paradigm is illustrated by his symbolic actions of celebrating St Stephen’s mass immediately prior to seeing King Henry, then carrying the sacred host and bearing his own cross, rather than have it carried before him, to that meeting.9 Symbols can encapsulate key aspects of a root paradigm, even combining elements of several root paradigms in a powerful and evocative way. Turner emphasises that symbols are multivocal; they have a range of meanings depending on the circumstances and the views of the participants in the social drama.10 The multivocal nature of symbols makes them potent forms of communication and rallying points for a range of people within a society. The mixed marriage controversy in Ezra displays the four elements— breach, crisis, redress and reintegration—of a social drama process. By analyzing the processes, identifying the paradigms that form the conceptual background to it and unpacking the symbols that are utilized during it, key aspects of the narrative become clearer. The examination of this social drama will reveal the extent of Ezra’s inÀuence, point to tensions at various levels in the community that connect to the debate, examine the mix of concepts that inÀuenced the process, and note the power of ritual and symbol to shape attitudes and behaviour.

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9. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 87–89. 10. Ibid., 55.

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2. Mixed Marriage and Identity Formation Ezra–Nehemiah presents a perspective on the events that resulted in the establishment of a new community subsequent to the Neo-Babylonian invasion of Judah and the deportation of key elements of its population. It narrates those events as a re-establishment project led by elements who returned from exile in Babylonia. Fundamental to the re-establishment project was the formation of a community self identi¿ed as the renewed Israel. The focus was re-establishing the people of Israel, resident in the land promised by Yahweh and faithful to the covenant founded in the past. A major element in the project was the rebuilding of the temple and the re-establishment of cultic worship. That had been achieved prior to Ezra’s arrival. The second element in the mind of the writer of the book of Ezra was the formation of the people of Israel.11 The mixed marriage social drama results from a community addressing such identity formation issues. The structure of Ezra–Nehemiah con¿rms the signi¿cance of identity formation for the work. Eskenazi shows that the overall theme of Ezra– Nehemiah is building the house of God.12 This theme is presented in three movements: building the temple (Ezra 1–6), building the people (Ezra 7–10), and building Jerusalem (Neh 1:1–7:5). Thus Ezra 7–10, the second movement, is focused on establishing a people of God in Yehud; that is, de¿ning those characteristics that are truly Israelite and ensuring that the community conformed to them. As observed earlier, the identity language in chs. 9 and 10 highlights the signi¿cance of the issue. The speci¿c arena for that identity-formation process was marriage and the impact of outside women in particular on the identity of the golah community. We might also note that the historical circumstances in which Ezra– Nehemiah was compiled was a context in which the community in Yehud was still struggling to maintain a distinctive identity in the face of external and internal pressures. Internal pressures included the merging of people from Babylonia with indigenous Yehudians. External pressures included inÀuence from neighbouring people groups and the policies of imperial administration. The historical context out of which the book of Ezra–Nehemiah emerged indicates that community identity is an issue immediately relevant to the social context in Yehud.

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11. Eskenazi, Prose, 39–42. 12. Ibid., 37–45, 60–77.

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3. The Exodus as Root Paradigm A range of root paradigms supported the establishment project. A Deuteronomic view of the covenant relationship with Yahweh was the primary paradigm. This was augmented by strands of Priestly ideology, particularly about holiness, repentance, and sacri¿ce.13 However, the main objective of re-establishing Israel in the Promised Land made one paradigm the premier model by which the community saw itself and its task, namely, the Exodus (cf. Gen 12:1–9; 15:17–21; Exod 3:7–10; Deut 1:8; 4:37–38). The paradigm drew on what I refer to as the grand Exodus narrative. This involves traditions of escape from Egypt, covenant, desert wanderings, and conquest of Canaan. This is a wide range of traditions that may have existed in the community in various oral and written forms.14 It is arguable that there were several paradigms at work; however, these are drawn together by the understanding that the community was reprising the Exodus to re-establish Israel in Yehud. A number of factors indicate the centrality of the Exodus. The motif shapes the Ezra–Nehemiah narrative and the presentation of ¿gures like Ezra. The law of the people was that provided by Moses during the Exodus, while the perspective on the land and the peoples of the land was that derived from the Exodus narrative texts. Incorporated within this paradigm were signi¿cant common identity markers such as a shared history in slavery, a people in covenant relationship with Yahweh, and occupation of the land. These concepts were bound together in a Deuteronomic form with some adaptations that reÀected Priestly theology. Being the people of Yahweh was characterized by obedience to the Law of Moses, which offered blessing, control of their land and the provision of necessary resources for a satisfying life, while disobedience risked Yahweh’s good will and their status as his people (Deut 4:1–14; 6:1–25; 7:1–31; 27:1–28:68; 29:10–29; 30:15–20).15 The recent exile, which was incomplete in the mind of the writer of Ezra, made that risk tangible.16 13. For the evidence of Deuteronomic theology modi¿ed by Priestly theology, see the discussion on Ezra’s penitential prayer, pp. 88–106, and discussion on the prayer below. 14. See S. Niditch, Oral World and Written Word (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1996). As Niditch argues, ¿fth-century B.C.E. Jewish culture was largely oral in orientation. Written texts contributed to community discourse, but not as a primary inÀuence. While Neh 8 provides an example of the written text inÀuencing understanding and practice, the community nevertheless relied predominantly on oral transmission, including the oral presentation of written text, as Neh 8 describes. 15. Cf. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 225–32, 307–19. 16. See p. 94, and Bedford, “Diaspora,” 153. 1

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Any transgression of the Law required repentance and sacri¿ce and renewed obedience. The Exodus narrative provided examples of failure and models for correction. I want to argue that the Exodus, as the primary root paradigm, works at two levels in the mixed marriage narrative. First, it is the paradigm that shapes the writer’s presentation of the restoration project. Second, the Exodus works at a more fundamental level: it guides and shapes the ideology that informs the controversy. The ideology of the golah community and the thinking of Ezra and his party portrayed in the mixed marriage controversy all rest on “Exodus-shaped” presuppositions. Thus the Exodus is not simply a metaphor that shapes the writer’s portrayal of events. The Exodus grand narrative is a root paradigm, a deeply imbedded cultural model, which is a foundation for the thinking and actions of the post-exilic community in Yehud portrayed in this social drama. a. The Exodus in Ezra Ezra–Nehemiah perceives the restoration project as analogous to the original Exodus and conquest. The chapters on Ezra’s mission (Ezra 7–10) in particular are shaped by the Exodus paradigm. Koch identi¿ed four elements in Ezra 7–10 that indicate Ezra and his party are presented as reprising the Exodus.17 He notes that the primary purpose of the journey was restoration of the cult and points to allusions of cultic procession in the language used to describe the journey from Babylonia to Jerusalem (“going up,” ČēęĐČ, Ezra 7:7; ċēęĕċ, Ezra 7:9; cf. Pss 120– 134). Ezra also ensured his party included Levites so that all the roles required of a cultic journey were present (cf. Num 10:13–28). The party departed in the ¿rst month, as did the ¿rst Exodus in the Priestly tradition (Exod 12:2; Num 33:3). The narrative twice notes that the return took place in Artaxerxes’ seventh year, which alludes to the caravan leaving in a sabbatical/Jubilee year, a year of redemption (cf. Exod 21; 23; Lev 25; Deut 15; 31). Finally, Koch says, Ezra’s actions of separating the mixed marriages is analogous to the removal of the Canaanite inhabitants and the new tabernacles festival is likened to the celebrations under Joshua (Neh 8:17). Koch’s points can be expanded, and others added, that show how deeply the Exodus paradigm inÀuenced the author’s thinking. Ezra’s penitential prayer shows a sense of af¿nity between the current community and the Exodus generation. The characterization of the exile as 17. K. Koch, “Ezra and the Origins of Judaism,” JJS 19 (1974): 184–90; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 93. Koch’s historical reconstruction is questionable but the literary allusions he notes are valid nonetheless.

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slavery and the release as an act of Yahweh’s benevolence draws that parallel with the Exodus experience. The portrayal of Jewish subservience as slavery is consistent in Ezra–Nehemiah even though Persian rule was relatively benevolent (Ezra 9:9; Neh 9:36). One of the ideological challenges that faced the Jewish communities in Babylon and Yehud was that their “slavery” remained after they regained access to their land (Ezra 9:8–9). This gap between the paradigm and reality seems to have acted as a motivation to obey the Law. Yahweh’s benevolence had given them a new opportunity but it was also a spur to continued obedience in order to maintain the gifts of that good will (Ezra 9:10–15). It is possible that the Exodus motif is also responsible for other elements in the narrative, like the enormous quantity of valuables Ezra is reported to have transported to Jerusalem. The Exodus generation were reputed to have despoiled the Egyptians and those spoils had supplied the materials for the tabernacle (Exod 3:21–22; 11:2; 12:35–36). Williamson notes that this theme is present in Ezra 1:6.18 He also notes that transporting sacred vessels was already an established prophetic motif that portrayed the expected return from Babylon as a second Exodus (e.g. Isa 52:11–12). It may be that the riches Ezra transported were not only meant to endorse the Persian support for the temple in Jerusalem, at a mundane level, but also to parallel the Exodus, at a symbolic level. Unlike the return of the original temple vessels, which served to legitimate the rebuilt temple, Ezra’s valuable cargo speaks more about Yahweh’s control of the events of history and good will toward the people of Israel; because Artaxerxes’ decree, which provided the valuables, is portrayed as being instigated by Yahweh.19 In addition, there are allusions to Ezra as a Moses-like ¿gure in these chapters. Koch comments that Moses’ place in this second Exodus is represented by the Law.20 However, this fails to recognize how signi¿cant Ezra, the expert in the Law of Moses, is in reintroducing the Law to 18. Williamson, “Torah and History,” 161. Cf. Smith-Christopher, “Ezra– Nehemiah,” in The Oxford Bible Commentary (ed. J. Barton and J. Muddiman; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 316. 19. L. Fried, “The Land Lay Desolate: Conquest and Restoration in the Ancient Near East,” in Lipschits and Blenkinsopp, eds., Judah and Judeans in the NeoBabylonian Period, 50–52. The return of the image of the god legitimated a restored temple in the ancient world. Fried argues that temple vessels substituted for the image for the aniconic Yahwists. She points to the sentiments of Isa 52:11, which indicates that the return of the vessels is proof that Yahweh was returning to the temple. She also notes the signi¿cance of the temple vessels in Ezra 1–6, where they are mentioned three times (1:8–11; 5:14–15; 6:5). 20. Koch, “Ezra and the Origins of Judaism,” 187. 1

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Yehud. The two key stories about Ezra show him encouraging faithfulness to the Law: dissolving mixed marriages and reinstating the feast of booths. His travel from Babylon to Yehud without Persian military protection may also allude to his Moses-like role, leading people to the land dependent on Yahweh’s protection. Ezra also follows Moses’ prophetic role by acting as an intercessor in his penitential prayer.21 Ezra’s status is kept vague; he is a priest of impeccable background, but he does not take on some priestly roles and operates separately from the temple. His status includes authority over priests by virtue of his royal authority. Similarly Moses, though not himself a priest, is a priest-like ¿gure who established the priesthood. These allusions to Moses in the portrayal of Ezra are subtle. Given that the general Exodus motif shapes Ezra– Nehemiah and that the model of the Exodus has impacted the description of Ezra’s mission, it would be natural for the leader of that mission to be seen to have some Moses-like characteristics. It is not surprising that Ezra is portrayed as a second Moses in sections of later Judaism.22 b. The Exodus as Root Paradigm My argument is that the Exodus paradigm reaches deeper than the shaping of the narrative. It is a key aspect of the worldview that informs the web of issues that make up the mixed marriage social drama. The Exodus paradigm is a fundamental presupposition held by characters in this narrative, dictating their words and actions. 21. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 182. Blenkinsopp comments that through the penitential prayer Ezra presents himself as heir to the prophets and Moses. His basis for this is that the theme of “the sins of the ancestors” was already established by the prophets (Zech 1:4–6) and that preaching the Law and warning of a breach was a prophetic role of which Moses is the archetype. As I have already noted, the “sins of the ancestors” theme is not restricted to the prophets and was already evident in penitential prayers and psalms. Nevertheless, Zechariah shows that the theme was also utilized in post-exilic prophetic settings. For Moses’ intercessory prayers, see Exod 32:11–14, 31–32; 34:9; Num 11:2, 11–15; 12:13; 14:13–19; 21:7; 27:5, 15–17; Deut 9:18–21; 25:29. Ezra’s intercessory role is discussed further on pp. 157–60. 22. It is possible to look at Ezra’s reputation in Judaism as somewhat mixed, in that he is ignored by Ben Sira, who lauds Nehemiah (Sir 49:13), and is not mentioned in the New Testament. See Grabbe, Ezra–Nehemiah, 152. Nevertheless, Ezra does have a place of signi¿cance in Josephus and Rabbinic writing. Josephus praises him as the principal priest of the people (Ant. 11.5.1), while there are numerous references in Rabbinic texts. In the Talmud he is credited with reestablishing the Law, indeed of being worthy enough to have received the Law if Moses had not preceded him (Sanh. 21b; t. Sanh. 4:7). Also, being his descendant is prestigious (Ber. 27b) and being his disciple is said to be a great honour (Sotah 48b). See Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, lxxii–lxxiv.

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A clear starting point for that claim is the conception of the golah community in Ezra as the true Israel. The community’s self understanding, as presented in the narrative, is that it was the true representative of pre-exilic Israel and heir to the Exodus heritage. That notion is evident in the de¿nition of the community in Ezra 6, where they are identi¿ed by the same markers as the Exodus community: experience of slavery/ exile and commitment to the covenant. The covenant commitment is expressed supremely in their holiness, evidenced through separation from polluting people. The community called themselves Israel and, following Vogt’s description, “understood themselves as the people of Israel in essence.”23 The identity of the community is focused around their being the true heirs to the Exodus people. In the Exodus traditions, the pre-conquest inhabitants of the land of Canaan were condemned by Yahweh and portrayed as a danger to the Israelites. That is made quite explicit in Deut 7:1–6, which commands the destruction of the inhabitants, forbids intermarriage and warns against apostasy. This is the foundation passage by which the outsider women were identi¿ed as foreign and condemned in Ezra. The response to these mixed marriages is guided by traditions about the Exodus experience.24 They are presented as being in the minds of the community leaders who reported the problem. They are presumed by Ezra’s penitential prayer. Further, the community agreement that the marriages were acts of unfaithfulness and were to be dissolved is based on the presumption of the relevance of these Exodus traditions for their present circumstances. Two traditions from this Exodus paradigm in particular sit in the background of the mixed marriage controversy. First, Josh 7 is a story that has links with the issues raised in Ezra’s penitential prayer.25 Achan’s theft of the dedicated (ĔğĎ) goods is, like the mixed marriages, described as ēęĕ because it transgresses “divine sancta,” that is, it profanes what is

23. Vogt’s phrase is, “verstand sich als das Volk Israel schlechthin” (Studie, 47). See p. 70 for the longer quote. 24. It is interesting to note that Deut 7 exhibits close connections with the book of Exodus. Loh¿nk argued that Deut 7 is a literary unit built on Exod 23:20–33 and 34:11–16; see N. Loh¿nk, Das Hauptgebot: Eine Unterscuchung literarischer Einleitungsfragen zu Dtn 5–11 (Rome: Ponti¿cal Biblical Institute, 1963), 167–88. See also Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 46–47; D. L. Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1–21:9 (WBC 6a; Nashville, Tenn.: Thomas Nelson 2001), 162–63; J. G. McConville, Deuteronomy (AOTC; Leicester: Apollos; Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2002), 149–51; R. D. Nelson, Deuteronomy (Louisville, Ky: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 98–99. 25. See p. 90 n. 89. 1

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set apart as holy to Yahweh.26 Joshua 7 also reinforces the idea that individuals endanger the community by their unfaithfulness. Hence the community leadership in Ezra 10 threatens with ĔğĎ, “the ban,” those who are not willing to comply with the call to an assembly. It is the necessary redressive action in response to those who threaten the wellbeing of the community. The second tradition that has relevance is the narrative of Baal Peor (Num 25), which highlights the dangers of foreign women to the cultic purity of Israelite men. Two items of evidence point to the relevance of this tradition for the concepts evidenced in the mixed marriage controversy. First, the tradition about Baal Peor was part of the pool of material used to illustrate Israel’s history of unfaithfulness to Yahweh. Psalm 106:28–31 lists, among the litany of Israel’s past sins, the incident at Baal Peor and Phinehas’ intervention to stop the resultant plague. The psalm is exilic or post-exilic in date and parallels penitential prayers, such as Ezra’s, which view Israel’s history as a record of unfaithfulness.27 Rodney Werline and Daniel Falk have both argued that the penitential prayers draw from a common pool of theological concepts.28 While Ezra 9 does not run through an explicit list of past sins as Ps 106 does, the intertextual linkages between the penitential prayers suggest that the Baal Peor tradition was known and utilized in the Persian period.29 That idea is reinforced by Deut 4:3, which follows up a

26. Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 18. Milgrom argues that ēęĕ applies to all dedicated items and encompasses the widest scope of sancta. 27. For arguments that Ps 106 is post-exilic, see, for example, L. Allen, Psalms 101–150 (WBC 21; Waco, Tex.: Word, 1983), 51–52; H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 60–150 (trans. H. C. Oswald; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 317–18; C. C. Broyles, Psalms (NIBC; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1999), 406; E. S. Gerstenberger, Psalms, Part 2 and Lamentations (FOTL 15; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 244; J. Eaton, The Psalms (London: Continuum, 2005), 367. See also P. J. Budd, Numbers (WBC 5; Waco, Tex.: Word, 1984), 277. Not everyone agrees that Ps 106 is exilic or postexilic. Dahood argues that it is probably pre-exilic because it is older than 1 Chr 16 and has some archaic grammatical constructions. M. Dahood, Psalms III: 101–150 (AB 17A; New York: Doubleday, 1970), 67. The use in 1 Chr 16 does not necessarily mean the psalm is pre-exilic and the grammatical constructions are an ambiguous witness. Even if Ps 106 is pre-exilic, it was very likely in use in post-exilic worship, as its incorporation into 1 Chr 16 suggests. 28. Werline, Penitential Prayer, 62–64; Falk, “Scriptural Inspiration,” 133–39. 29. Intertextuality is a fraught concept with a range of meanings. See Patricia Tull, “Intertextuality and the Hebrew Scriptures,” CurBS 8 (2000): 59–90. I am using the term here to refer to the use of older tradition by the more recent material without judging what form that older material might have taken. Fishbane refers to 1

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command to obey the law by citing Yahweh’s destruction of those who worshipped Baal of Peor as evidence of the cost of disobedience. Deuteronomy does not describe the events at Baal Peor but presumes the tradition is known.30 Deuteronomy 4 is a later addition to the book that focuses on obedience to the law.31 The presence of Baal Peor in Ps 106:28–31 and Deut 4:3 points to the tradition being a well-established example of disobedience and its consequences in the post-exilic era. The second piece of evidence that Num 25 was inÀuential in the conception of the Exodus root paradigm is that Phinehas traditions appear to have been known in post-exilic Yehud. Priests who claimed descent from Phinehas were part of the priesthood active in post-exilic Yehud. One Gershom, probably a family head, of the line of Phinehas was among those who accompanied Ezra when he went to Jerusalem (Ezra 8:2). Perhaps more signi¿cantly, Ezra himself is identi¿ed as a descendant of this Aaronic priest. The author’s inclusion of Phinehas in Ezra’s genealogy makes it likely that he expected his audience to be aware also of Phinehas’ signi¿cance. Presuming that the lists in Ezra reÀect actual migrants, then, the presence of Phinehas’ descendants in Yehud, who could be expected to keep traditions about him alive, adds to that probability. The explicit mention of Baal Peor in Ps 106 and Deut 4:3 indicates that a tradition that resembled Num 25, if not a written form of the tradition, was part of the common pool of examples of Israel’s past unfaithfulness in the post-exilic era. When this is coupled with the strong connection between Phinehas and Ezra, it seems likely that the Baal Peor tradition contributed to the worldview portrayed in the Ezra 9 and 10 narrative. Numbers 25 tells about Israelite sexual relations with Moabite and Midianite women that led to worship of Baal of Peor. This provoked Yahweh to anger and the resultant plague was stopped only when Phinehas the priest killed an Israelite who blatantly took a Midianite woman into a tent (ċĈĞ) close to the tabernacle while the congregation the older tradition as traditium, which he claims the biblical authors reused in various ways to speak to the issues of their contemporary situation; see Fishbane, Biblical Interpretation in Ancient Israel, particularly pp. 408–40. 30. Deut 3:29 simply notes that the Israelites had camped in the valley, but it uses the more neutral name Beth Peor. This supports the argument that Deut 4, with its more negative view of the place, is a later addition to chs. 1–3. It also suggests that the focus on Israelite sin at Baal Peor is a later emphasis since the more neutral language in ch. 3 avoids pejorative connotations. 31. Nelson, Deuteronomy, 4–9, 61–64; McConville, Deuteronomy, 102; G. von Rad, Deuteronomy (trans. D. Barton; London: SCM, 1966), 12; Christensen, Deuteronomy 1:1–21:9, 72. 1

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was mourning the plague deaths. The narrative is possibly an amalgam of traditions in which sexual relations with foreign women resulting in apostasy, Yahweh’s anger, and priestly zeal are linked, perhaps by the Priestly writer.32 The literary history of the narrative is not signi¿cant to this discussion since the tradition in some form was known and utilized. Ideas about the inhabitants of the land and the alien and dangerous nature of their worship practices are clearly presented by this story. In particular, it highlights the cultic dangers posed by relationships with the nonIsraelite women. The Num 25 tradition seems tailor-made for the issues in Ezra 9 and 10 and supports the notions assumed in the narrative. It is also likely to have been part of the material that informed the social discourse surrounding these kinds of issues in the post-exilic community. Numbers 25 and Josh 7 support some other elements of the mixed marriage debate. The notion of God’s wrath against the disobedient is fundamental to Deuteronomy (e.g. Deut 4:3; 7:1–6; 11:13–17, 26; 28:15–68; 29:10–29) and a key fear in Ezra’s prayer (Ezra 9:14). This idea is supported by these Exodus paradigm traditions. In Num 25 apostasy resulted in a plague and in Josh 7 trespassing on sancta led to defeat in battle. In both cases the malefactors needed to be removed to restore safety to the community. The traditions also highlight the need for bold and decisive action on the part of the community leadership to avert God’s wrath. In Num 25 it was Phinehas, the priest zealous for Yahweh, who took decisive and drastic action in order to avert Yahweh’s wrath. In Josh 7, the priestly activity of discerning hidden sin was utilized to identify the malefactor, and punishment (ĔğĎ) was effected to rid the people of the contamination. These stories not only highlight the dangers but point to the solution.

32. T. R. Ashley, The Book of Numbers (NICOT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 514–15; Budd, Numbers, 278; B. A. Levine, Numbers 21–36 (AB 4A; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 279–80. The identi¿cation of both Moabite and Midianite women in the narrative has led many scholars to presume that the story is a conÀation of two traditions. Budd argues that the psalmist brought those traditions together in Ps 106:28–31 and the psalm became the basis for the Priestly writer to conÀate the elements in the present Num 25 narrative. However, Kraus argues that the Pentateuch must have been complete before the psalm was written. He points out that the psalm follows the canonical form of the Pentateuch closely in its sequence of events and that its Deuteronomic outlook on that history points to a post-exilic provenance. See H.-J. Kraus, Psalms 1–59 (trans. H. C. Oswald; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989), 317. An argument that Num 25 is not a conÀated account but preserves its original unity is presented by J. Milgrom, The JPS Torah Commentary: Numbers (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1989), 476–77. 1

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In this sense the Josh 7 and Num 25 traditions act as “paradigm exemplars,” that is, models of how to apply the primary paradigm. David Jackson adopts the phrase from Thomas Kuhn’s study of paradigm shifts.33 Following Kuhn’s suggestion, that his concept of a scienti¿c community can be applied to other settings, Jackson argues that it has parallels with religious communities. Enochic Judaism, Jackson argues, represents a paradigm shift from other forms of Judaism. He goes on to claim that 1 Enoch manifests three paradigm exemplars that model the application of the primary paradigm or “disciplinary matrix.”34 That disciplinary matrix in 1 Enoch is a paradigm of regularity and deviance from Yahweh’s order, which is modelled by paradigm exemplars of relationships between angels and humans that are interpretations of Gen 6–9. In Ezra 9 and 10 the disciplinary matrix is the Exodus paradigm and possessing Yehud through obedience to Yahweh. The Josh 7 and Num 25 traditions are exemplars of the danger and the necessary redressive action when community members are unfaithful. The Exodus paradigm is a key aspect of the worldview depicted in the book of Ezra. It was used by the writer to shape aspects of the book and particularly the narrative about Ezra. The Exodus paradigm is also fundamental to the thinking of the golah community in Yehud. It de¿ned the golah community as Israel, rescued by and in covenant relationship with Yahweh; it de¿ned outsiders as impure and the women as particularly dangerous; and it dictated decisive action to separate the community from the foreigners for the sake of the community’s wellbeing and possession of the land. The Exodus paradigm was foundational to the notions that led to the mixed marriage controversy and guided the social drama process that resulted. 4. Foreign Women as Symbol a. Symbol, Turner and Semiotics There are two signi¿cant rituals in this mixed marriage social drama— Ezra’s mourning and penitential prayer—that create the crisis and initiate redress, and the guilt offering and divorce that complete the redress and facilitate reintegration. However, there is a signi¿cant symbol in this social drama that has a ritual aspect, though its primary function is in the social discourse that surrounds the mixed marriage controversy. That symbol is the “foreign women” (ġČĐğĒė ĔĐ›ė). Importantly, this symbol is

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33. D. R. Jackson, Enochic Judaism (London: T&T Clark International, 2004). 34. Ibid., 21–28.

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a natural outgrowth of the Exodus root paradigm and the Josh 7 and Num 25 paradigm exemplars. It links the notions in the root paradigm to the relationships in Yehud. The label “foreign women” is a symbol that has a number of interrelated connotations that tie the whole controversy together.35 The breach involves marriage to foreign women who become the focus of the resultant crisis. Divorcing the foreign women is part of the act of repentance in the redressive action and the reintegration phases of the social drama. The foreign women collectively symbolize the focal issues in the mixed marriage controversy for the community. Turner de¿nes a symbol as “a thing regarded by general consent as naturally typifying or representing or recalling something by possession of analogous qualities or by association in fact or thought.”36 He was particularly interested in symbols as elements in a ritual and he identi¿es symbols as “objects, activities, relationships, events, gestures, and special units in a ritual.”37 Nevertheless, he does include people as symbols in one list and describes the key ¿gures in two historical studies, Thomas Becket and Miguel Hidalgo, as symbols in their respective struggles.38 Turner says a key characteristic of symbols is that they are multivocal, that is, they connote a number of different concepts.39 From a semiotic perspective Turner’s description indicates that symbols have a number of connotations or are “overcoded.”40 That is where “certain minimal expressions” have a range of additional meanings assigned to them.41 While Turner does not refer to semiotic theory in relation to symbols, I will use semiotic explanations to clarify some matters below. 35. I am using “connotations” here in the sense described by Eco, A Theory of Semiotics, 54–57. A symbol both denotes and connotes: it denotes the referent while connotations are implications or ideas associated with the referent. The label “foreign women” denotes a particular group of women but it connotes attendant concepts: that the women are impure, dangerous etc. 36. Turner, Forest of Symbols, 19. 37. Ibid. 38. People are included in the list of symbols in Turner, “Introduction,” 8. The references to Becket and Hidalgo as symbols occur in Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 88–89, 99. Hidalgo was an early leader of a Mexican uprising against the Spanish. 39. Turner uses the term “multivocal” to refer to a susceptibility to many meanings, rather than “multivalent,” which he regards as referring to motivations; see Turner, “Introduction,” 8. Turner says multivocal symbols represent a number of concepts; however, in Eco’s semiotic terms this is better understood as the multivocal symbol connoting a number of ideas. 40. Eco, A Theory of Semiotics, 133–35. 41. Ibid., 134. 1

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Turner describes symbols as having three properties: condensation, they condense many things and forms into a single construction; uni¿cation of signi¿cata, a range of differing signi¿cata are united through the possession of analogous qualities; polarization of meaning, symbols tend to have two poles of meaning. The two poles he designates as “ideological” and “sensory.” 42 Components of the moral and social order cluster around the ideological pole (reciprocity, respect for elders, and obedience to authority), while natural observable characteristics of the symbol cluster around the sensory pole (blood, sexual organs, birth, death). Turner states that the multivocal, or polysemic, nature of symbols is the result of two factors: a limited number of symbols have to do service in representing a whole culture, and over time additional meanings are added to those symbols.43 However, Turner’s observations, which arise out of his ¿eldwork and are largely restricted to a ritual context, are less helpful when dealing with literary sources. A semiotic approach, such as that of Eco, is helpful here. Basing his ideas on the work of Charles Sanders Peirce, Eco distinguishes between the referent (denotation) and the connotation of a symbol, whereas Turner simply refers to symbols being multi-referential.44 Using Eco’s model, a symbol denotes a particular item, but simultaneously connotes another group of meanings.45 As I will discuss below, the phrase “foreign women” denotes or names women who are not integrated into the community. However, the phrase also connotes a group of associated meanings, including: the women are not accepted as part of the community, they do not conform to cultic expectations, and they pose a danger to their husbands and the community. Eco’s concept of “unlimited semiosis,” that one sign gives rise to a related sign that gives rise to a further related sign,46 is helpful for 42. See Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 55; Turner, “Introduction,” 3–25. Cf. Turner, Forest of Symbols, 27–29. 43. Turner usually refers to symbols as multivocal, though he uses “polysemy” in his Forest of Symbols, 43–44. 44. Ibid., 29. 45. In Peirce’s original triadic concept of signs, the symbol is labelled the “representamen” (foreign women). That to which the symbol refers is called the “object” (the foreign wives) and the associated idea or ideas are labelled the “interpretant” (non-Yahwistic, impure, and dangerous). While “sign” is Peirce’s overall term, he also used the word sign when he referred to the representamen in early and later work. For example, compare: CP 5:283 (dated 1886); 1:480 (dated 1896); CP 8:332 (dated 1904). See also R. Marty, “76 De¿nitions of the Sign by C. S. Peirce,” n.p. [cited 12 December 2009]. Online: http://robert.marty.perso .cegetel.net/semiotique/76defeng.htm. 46. Eco, The Role of the Reader, 175–99.

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understanding the multivocal nature of the “foreign women.” “Foreign women” connotes several concepts that were closely associated in the worldview of the golah community. For example, the women were outsiders because they do not conform to cultic expectations. This in turn made them dangerous because they contaminated the community and were an inÀuence that could lead their husbands into apostasy. This multiplication of connotations can be referred to as “overcoding.” b. Connotations of Foreign Women The phrase “foreign women” is introduced into the Ezra 9 and 10 narrative by Shecaniah in response to Ezra’s ritual mourning (Ezra 10:2). It denotes particular women but connotes a range of ideas about their status and inÀuence. The “foreign women” embody the concerns within the golah community about foreigners, the “people(s) of the lands” and their impure practices (Ezra 9:1–2; cf. 10:11), that initiated this social drama. They also stand for the transgression (ēęĕ) of the golah community in Ezra’s penitential prayer (Ezra 9:12, 14; cf. 10:10). As the events conclude, they are also part of the means by which the community resolves the dilemma (Ezra 10:3, 11, 19, 44). The foreign women symbol condenses several connotations in one brief phrase and uni¿es a range of concerns about foreigners in the community. In the discussion about the phrase ġČĐğĒė ĔĐ›ė, “foreign women,” in the previous chapter it became apparent that it draws meaning from both Deuteronomy and the social context that produced the wisdom tradition represented by Prov 1–9.47 Deuteronomy uses ĐğĒė to refer to the foreigner who is unreceptive to Yahwism, in distinction from the ğĉ, the foreigner who is open to Yahwism.48 This is made more pointed in Ezra by describing these foreigners as impure (ċĊė and ćĕď) and those who practice abominations (ċĈęČġ). These descriptors emphasize a status and practice that is contrary to the will and character of Yahweh.49 By labelling the women as ġĐğĒė, the book of Ezra presents these women as outsiders who were non-Yahwists in golah community terms. They had not assimilated into the community and its cultic worship in particular. The strange woman (ċĐğĒė/ċğč ċ›ć) in Prov 1–9 has a less direct association with the concept of the foreign women in Ezra than the foreigner in Deuteronomy. The strange woman witnesses to a social discourse in the post-exilic era. Claudia Camp describes her as a symbolic

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47. See pp. 109–13. 48. Ringgren, TDOT 9:426–27. 49. See Preuss, ċĈęČġ, TDOT 15:591–604.

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synthesis of several meanings of strangeness; she is a “sociopsychological reality of men threatened by a multiply stressed social situation, including religio-political power struggles, economically oppressive foreign rule, and the pressures of cultural assimilation.”50 While there is debate about which text may have inÀuenced the other, both Prov 1–9 and Ezra 9 and 10 bear witness to a social discourse about women who are foreign and dangerous brought about by the multiple pressures on the community in Persian Yehud. Proverbs 1–9 broadens the concept of foreignness suggested by Deuteronomy to include the non-family—that is, a foreigner is anyone who does not ¿t into the community by virtue of origins or cultic behaviour. This wisdom perspective also labels these women as sexually attractive but dangerous to those who have sexual relationships with them.51 The strange woman in the book of Proverbs is the symbol that combines sexual allure and the danger of death as a motivation to maintain societal norms: both Turner’s sensory and ideological poles are present in the symbol. The foreign women symbol in Ezra–Nehemiah is not simply a combination of all the possible meanings found in Deuteronomy and Prov 1– 9.52 There are aspects of the strange woman (ċĐğĒė/ċğč ċ›ć) in Proverbs, such as her promiscuity/adultery, that are not connotations of the foreign women (ġČĐğĒė ĔĐ›ė) in Ezra–Nehemiah. As a counterpoint to Lady Wisdom the strange woman in Proverbs is a broader symbolic representation. What Proverbs’ strange woman shows is that notions of the extrafamilial, sexual attraction and danger were connotations attached to ĐğĒė in the post-exilic social context. The foreign women symbol in Ezra combines connotations of non-Yahwistic worship with those of outsider status and the attraction and dangers associated with the mixed marriages. The foreign women symbolism was made even more potent in that it readily intersected with and was enhanced by elements of the Exodus root paradigm. That is already evident in the Deuteronomic element in the symbolism, but it also connects with paradigm exemplars. The Num 25 tradition about worship and sexual relations with Moabite women dovetails with elements of the foreign women symbol. These foreign 50. Camp, “What’s So Strange About the Strange Woman?,” 29. 51. Camp (ibid., 18) argues that the imagery of deviant sexuality dominates in Prov 1–9 and that is what gives the strange woman the power to function as an archetype of disorder. 52. James Barr referred to this danger of assuming that all meanings relate to a given text as “illegitimate totality transfer”; see J. Barr, The Semantics of Biblical Language (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1961), 218. 1

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women drew Israelite men into apostasy and endangered the community. Historical precedent is explicitly connected with contemporary Yehud in the later incident in Neh 13:26 where a parallel is drawn with Solomon being led into sin by his foreign wives (cf. 1 Kgs 11:1–13). The danger is emphasized by pointing out that Solomon was an outstanding king, beloved by his God, “but even he (ČġČćĀĔĉ) was made to sin by foreign women (ġČĐğĒėċ ĔĐ›ėċ)” (Neh 13:26). Solomon committed an act of unfaithfulness (ēęĕ) just as the Israelite men at Baal Peor did. In Ezra– Nehemiah this unfaithfulness contaminates the community and all are in danger. Solomon and Baal Peor, and also Achan, remind the post-exilic community that the danger of such women is not restricted to the families involved but impacts on the whole community. In this way the notion of the danger posed by the foreign women is wider than the strange woman in Proverbs. In Proverbs (2:1–22; 5:1–23; 6:1, 24–35; 7:1, 5–27) the strange woman is only a danger to the unwise young man, but the foreign women in Ezra–Nehemiah pose a danger to the whole community. The Exodus paradigm through the Baal Peor paradigm exemplar readily intersected with connotations of the foreign women symbol to heighten the perception of danger. The symbol of the foreign women also carries the notion of pollution or ritual uncleanness, as the text makes clear.53 The women are twice made the symbol of the people(s) of the lands (Ezra 10:2, 11), who are characterized as impure because they practice abominations (Ezra 9:1, 11). Ezra’s penitential prayer describes the land in which the abominations are performed as impure using the words ċĊė and ćĕď. The most common meaning of ċĊė in the Priestly literature is “menstruation” (see Lev 12:2, 5; 15:19–20, 26), which is described as ćĕď, unclean or impure (Lev 15:26).54 Boda argues that the Priestly inÀuence in the penitential prayer is mediated through an Ezekielian perspective. Ezekiel uses ċĊė of Israel’s sins (Ezek 36:17).55 Leviticus 15 makes clear that the impurity of menstruation was highly contagious; anyone who touched a menstruating woman or any object she had contact with was unclean until the evening. As representatives of the peoples of the lands who practiced abominations, the foreign women were portrayed as a polluting force that contaminated everything with which they came into contact. The designation of these wives as foreign women turned them into a powerful symbol that carried a number of notions reÀecting beliefs about the negative impact of the mixed marriages on the golah community.

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53. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 59–62. 54. See pp. 103–4. 55. Boda, Praying the Tradition, 68–70.

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The foreign women signi¿ed outsiders who were resistant to Yahwism, as de¿ned by the golah, and therefore could not be assimilated into the community. They represented agents of apostasy, contagious impurity and an alluring temptation that carried destruction for the community. Characterized in such a way, different aspects of the symbolism would have appealed to speci¿c groups and individuals. In the next chapter I discuss which interest groups in Persian Yehud would have responded to particular aspects of the foreign women symbol. Whichever connotations a person or group responded to, the message to the community as a whole was that such women were undesirables to be excluded. The various connotations help link the notions in the narrative with concerns relevant to the community in Yehud. It is unlikely that every connotation of the foreign woman symbol was called to mind each time the phrase was mentioned; rather, those aspects most relevant to the situation were highlighted. Eco points out that the receiver of a communication does not immediately think of all the potential meanings associated with the message but selects those properties that the context makes relevant.56 Relevant properties are highlighted or blown up while irrelevant properties are narcotized, pushed into the background. He illustrates this with reference to a word like “monsieur” which connotes a range of potential features of the adult male. Yet speci¿c elements of a male, like hands or heart, may not called to mind unless the context identi¿es them. The Ezra narrative focuses on those properties or connotations of the foreign women symbol that represent those things that are harmful to the community. Other aspects are narcotized—such as, for example, the fact that the women are wives and mothers, an aspect that slips into the narrative at the very end (Ezra 10:44). Marriage to these women represented alliances and opportunities for men and their families. These more positive aspects are suppressed or ignored by the narrative. c. Powerful Symbols One of the strengths of Turner’s observations about symbols is his emphasis on their power to move people and instigate social action.57 In his ¿eld observations of the Ndembu people, he noted how they responded to symbols in ritual situations and how individual and corporate behaviour was affected by both individual symbols and the combined symbols of a ritual. Turner’s language abbreviates the communication process somewhat since this power of symbols to which he refers is, strictly speaking, not in the symbol but in the perception of

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56. Eco, The Role of the Reader, 23. 57. Turner, Forest of Symbols, 35–43. Cf. also Janzen, Witch-Hunts, 23–27.

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those who interact with the symbol. It is the meaning derived from the symbol by those who use and observe it that motivates. This power to instigate action and bring about change is reÀected in the mixed marriage narrative. Shecaniah ¿rst uses the phrase ġČĐğĒė ĔĐ›ė when he proposes a course of action to deal with the contamination of the community. By symbolizing the women in this way he draws together the connotations of danger these women represent. A number of features in the narrative indicate that it is this sense of danger that constitutes a powerful motivation to act. Ezra’s continued mourning through the night after the community agreed to act reÀects continued concern about the community’s welfare (Ezra 10:6). That concern is shown in the community leadership’s threat of ĔğĎ against any who did not cooperate (Ezra 10:8) and it is implied in the comment about the assembly trembling when they gathered to address the issue (Ezra 10:9). Finally, the wish expressed when the commission was appointed to judge the marriages is that its actions would avert Yahweh’s anger (Ezra 10:14). The foreign women symbol conveyed connotations of danger to the community that motivated the community’s response. The foreign women also have a symbolic function in the guilt offering, a ritual which effects a change. The process of seeking Yahweh’s forgiveness for those judged guilty was divorce and a guilt offering. The guilt offering (Ĕ›ć) required that the offender make reparation and pay a one-¿fth penalty along with offering a ram as sacri¿ce (Lev 5:14–16). In this case the reparation and penalty are the sending away of the foreign women (Ezra 10:19), in the process costing the families the alliances the marriages represented. Thus the foreign women were the symbolic currency by which the men involved made their reparation and paid their penalty. This symbolism contrasts with that used in the discourse preceding the ritual. It reÀects two other aspects of symbols noted by Turner. First, symbols are capable of connoting disparate elements.58 In the social discourse leading up to the guilt offering, the foreign women connote impurity, covenant unfaithfulness and danger, but in the guilt offering ritual they connote repentance and its cost. The second is that the relevant connotations of a symbol are dictated by context.59 This is one area where Turner’s discussion of symbols resonates with semiotics. Turner notes that what he refers to as the “positional meaning” of a symbol can only be interpreted in association with other symbols in a totality.60

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58. Turner, Forest of Symbols, 28. 59. Ibid., 51–52. 60. Ibid., 50–51.

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Likewise semiotics recognizes that symbols can only be interpreted in relation to other symbols.61 The foreign women symbolize more than one notion—which notion, or group of notions, is context-dependent. The idea that the foreign women symbolize simultaneously impurity and also the cost of guilt in ritual is not contradictory. Rather, it is the result of the meaning of the symbol being dictated by its context. Thus in the guilt sacri¿ce ritual the foreign women connote the cost of repentance and so effect a change in the status of these men and the community. The men are rehabilitated and the danger the community faces from Yahweh’s anger is reduced. The context-speci¿c nature of the symbolism hints at another issue, that is, who it is that controls the symbols. The text is clearly patriarchal in its focus. The meaning of the symbol is de¿ned from the perspective of a male elite, as is Proverbs’ strange woman.62 Certain aspects of the symbol, like foreignness, were relevant to the whole community and so helped a wider community relate to the issue. However, the role of the women as the reparation payment in the guilt offering highlights that they only meaningfully exist in this narrative as symbols whose sense is controlled by the male elite.63 As Hays points out, it is this narrow perspective, the text’s “monologism,” that warns the reader that the historical context out of which the narrative arises is more complex than that presented in the text.64 d. Summary The phrase ġČĐğĒė ĔĐ›ė turns the women in these marriages collectively into a powerful symbol of the danger to golah community identity. The phrase encapsulates concepts of the peoples of the lands as non-absorbable outsiders who harbour cultic pollution, pose the danger of apostasy, and exemplify the dangers of sexual allure in a forbidden relationship. In addition they are the symbol that focuses the debate and spurs action, and the ritual symbol that signi¿es the cost of faithlessness and full reparation for the men. The aspect of the narrative which touches the sensitivities of contemporary Western scholars, the costs the women paid in being demonized then separated from their husbands, is not raised in the

61. Eco, A Theory of Semiotics, 139–42. Note also the comments above that a reader only actualizes meanings of a symbol relevant to the context. 62. Camp, “What’s So Strange About the Strange Woman?,” 29. 63. C. B. Hays, “The Silence of the Wives: Bakhtin’s Monologism and Ezra 7– 10,” JSOT 33 (2008): 68–69. 64. Ibid., 71–80.

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text.65 They are hidden behind a symbolic representation, and issues of equality and women’s rights that exercise us were not entertained by the writer.66 Within the context of the social drama, the foreign women are the central symbol representing both the problem and a signi¿cant aspect of its solution, while the cost paid by these women is pushed into the background. 5. The Mixed Marriage Narrative as Social Drama I have argued that the mixed marriage crisis emerges out of, and reÀects, a social context in which the process of community identity-formation was signi¿cant. In addition, I have claimed that the Exodus paradigm has inÀuenced the Ezra 7–10 passage in two ways. First, the writer of Ezra has used the Exodus paradigm to shape aspects of the narrative such as the presentation of Ezra as a person and the return of his party to Yehud. Second, the Exodus is a root paradigm that is foundational to the worldview of the characters in the Ezra 9 and 10 narrative. Further, I have concluded that the phrase “foreign women” is a signi¿cant symbol in that narrative. It ties together a number of ideas and concerns about outsiders in the community that are in the background of the narrative. With this foundation I now want to view the narrative through the prism of the stages of a social drama. Any insights the social drama model may offer into the historical context will be dealt with in the next chapter. The current discussion is solely focused on the writer’s presentation. a. Breach The breach in the mixed marriage narrative is clearly the marriage of golah community men to non-community women. It is described in terms of unfaithfulness to the covenant with Yahweh. The golah community is presented as the true Israel, a community that saw its role to be re-establishing Israel in the land and living as a people faithful to the covenant with Yahweh. Those outside the community were characterized 65. Discomfort with the episode is ¿rmly expressed by Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 116–18; Wijk-Bos, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, 47; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 159. 66. Hays, “The Silence of the Wives,” 59–80. Hays states that the writer has intentionally silenced any competing voices (p. 79). He suggests the monologic nature of this text, in contrast to the dialogic nature of so much of the Bible, is the result of the relatively short time between the events and the text’s canonization. There was no time for old conÀicts to be settled and the same families were still in power. 1

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as impure, and therefore any intermingling of community and outsiders resulted in contamination of the community. Such a contaminated community was guilty of the same offence of covenant unfaithfulness as the old Israel and Judah, and faced the same consequences. In those terms the breach was signi¿cant. In focusing on the mixed marriages, the leader’s report narrows the broader issue of identity formation down to one speci¿c social issue. The opening statement points to this being an existing point of tension. It is implicit in the leader’s report, which both indicates that these marriages had been contracted by leading families, suggesting a level of social sanction, and that it is an act of covenant unfaithfulness. The anxiety expressed in the report is also evident in the reaction when Ezra went into public mourning. He was joined by a group of people described as those who tremble at the words of God. This group of people may have been socially marginal, but they function in the narrative as an indication that disquiet about the mixed marriages existed within the community. That disquiet is further evident in the unique language used to describe the marriages later. The Hiphil forms of Ĉ›Đ, “to cause to live,” in reference to marriage and the Hiphil of ćĝĐ, to refer to divorce, are contextspeci¿c. They appear to be somewhat pejorative and imply the marriages are not fully acceptable to the community. The breach is a symbolic protest—in this case it signalled a change in the boundary markers forming the identity of the golah community. This would engender the kind of social debate the narrative points to. The narrative reÀects the model in indicating that the crisis that developed had its foundations in an existing social discourse. While the breach is the result of social tensions, Ezra is clearly signi¿cant to the process. His entry into the situation may not have created the debate, but the inference in the narrative is that he reshaped it. These marriages had been sanctioned by the community leadership because leading families were involved. Yet the community leaders changed their view, agreeing that the marriages constituted a breach of the covenant with Yahweh and needed to be dissolved. According to Ezra 10:3, the redressive action needed to resolve the breach had already been proposed by Ezra. The change from these marriages being one element in a wider debate to being the focus of a social crisis required something new. Ezra and his party are the new element. If the view that Neh 8 originally preceded this chapter is correct, then it would reinforce Ezra’s signi¿cance in the change in view. The breach is a community action, but Ezra’s presence is central to the transformation from social debate to crisis. 1

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b. Crisis Turner notes that the crisis phase has a number of liminal characteristics: it is the threshold between two more or less stable phases; it exposes the factional intrigues that up to this point have been covert and confronts the social body with them in a way that demands that they be addressed. The tension can rise over this time and result either in some redressive action that deals with the conÀict or in a long-lasting schism. At such a time the key structures of the society, such as root paradigms and foundational social roles, play a leading part.67 For the mixed marriage narrative, fundamental beliefs about the covenant and community solidarity, along with roles like religious intermediation, have an important function. The breach was identi¿ed by the leaders who reported to Ezra. What turned this reported breach into a crisis for the community was Ezra’s response to the report. His public mourning drew a crowd that included a number of people who supported his position. He followed this with a penitential prayer which addressed the crowd about the seriousness of the breach as much as it confessed the failure to God. The result of the mourning and the prayer was a commitment from the community leadership to address the problem marriages. Ezra’s reaction to the report about the marriages has been characterized by Grabbe as weak and inconsistent with his high status as a Persian of¿cial.68 While Grabbe is thoroughly conversant with the historical context of Ezra–Nehemiah, he has failed to recognize the full signi¿cance of Ezra’s actions in this part of the narrative. The mourning and prayer show a ¿gure who assumes a religious intermediary role and utilizes the power of ritual to compel the community to act on these marriages. Ezra assumes the role of religious intermediary in both his mourning and his prayer. The mourning is on behalf of the community and reÀects the danger the community is presented as facing. I noted earlier that the portrait of Ezra alludes to him as a Moses-like ¿gure. Moses’ intercessory role is mentioned several times in Pentateuchal writings (Exod 33:12–16; Num 11:1–2; 12:13; 14:10–19; 21:4–9).69 His reputation as an effective intercessor is also stated in Jer 15:1. Ezra also stands between the people and God in his mourning and prayer. This is a classic prophetic role that portrays the prophet as a true representative of Yahweh in succession of Moses (Deut 18:14–21; 1 Sam 7:3–11; Amos 7:1–6; 67. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 38–39. 68. Grabbe, A History, 1:330. 69. Y. Muffs, Love and Joy: Law, Language and Religion in Ancient Israel (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1992), 11–24.

1

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Jer 11:14; 15:1).70 Yet Ezra is also given a long genealogy that links him back to the high priesthood. Standing between God and the people as an intermediary was also a priestly role. The high priest had responsibility for confessing the sin of the nation on the Day of Atonement (Lev 16:15–22). Hogewood argues, on the basis of Speech-act theory, that penitential prayer is based on priestly ritual utterance.71 In particular, he notes the role of confession in the Day of Atonement scapegoat ritual. Confession by the high priest over the goat separated sin from the offending people. Likewise, Hogewood argues, penitential prayers performed the same task of separation, but without a visible carrier for the sin. He also notes that when the confessor is a representative of the community, the perlocutionaly force of the confession is that the community is confessing its sin.72 The writer of Ezra–Nehemiah never speci¿es Ezra’s role except as an agent of the Persian administration, but through allusion points to qualities found in Moses and the of¿ce of high priest. The aim seems to be to create an aura of authority around Ezra without being speci¿c. The portrayal of Ezra in this intermediary role presents him as a pivotal ¿gure in the community’s conformity to the Law of Moses. Ezra’s two ritual actions of mourning and prayer transformed the reported breach into a social crisis. I have noted above Turner’s observations on the power of symbolism and ritual to motivate people to act: the mourning and penitential prayer ¿t his de¿nition of ritual.73 For a person of Ezra’s status to mourn publicly, as he did, was a powerful message that the community faced the gravest of crises. In a society where ritual acts carried motivational force this would have provided substantial impetus to act against the marriages. Ezra’s penitential prayer, however, 70. The primary claim to being a prophet like Moses was made through a call narrative, but intercession also features. See J. K. Hoffmeier, “Moses,” ISBE 3:415– 25. 71. J. C. Hogewood, “The Speech Act of Confession: Priestly Performative Utterance in Leviticus 16 and Ezra 9–10,” in Boda, Falk, and Werline, Seeking the Favor of God, 1:69–82. 72. Ibid., 1:73–74. Speech-act theory identi¿es three forces involved in the speaking of certain utterances: (1) locutionary, the act of saying something; (2) illocutionary, the performance of an act in saying something; (3) perlocutionary, the performance that results from saying something. The result of Ezra’s confession is that the community had confessed its sin of the mixed marriages. This initiated a process the community was obligated to complete. 73. For the power of symbols to motivate see Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 56. Turner (Forest of Symbols, 19) de¿nes ritual as “formal behaviour… having reference to beliefs in mystical beings or powers.” 1

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took that motivation further. The prayer is a message to the people and a plea to God. The message reinforced the crisis indicated by the mourning. The prayer also initiated an act of public repentance and therefore dictated the process that should be followed, that is, what kind of Godward act should be done.74 The community had in effect confessed its sin and needed to follow through with sacri¿ce and reparation. Ezra placed the community in a liminal state, balanced on the threshold, with repentance initiated but not completed. Ezra’s prayer began a process that the community was compelled to ¿nish. Not only did Ezra’s actions place a ritual obligation on the community, but they also included political pressure to act. This was a society where shame was a tool of punishment (Neh 13:25; cf. 2 Sam 10:4–5). Ezra’s mourning was an act of ritual humiliation. In an honour–shame society the community leadership could not ignore the public selfhumiliation of a high of¿cial. When the high level of control by Persian of¿cials and the directive nature of that rule are recognized, it is clear that it would have been politically unthinkable for the community leadership to ignore a cultic act initiated by Ezra.75 The combined ritual and political elements mean Ezra left them with a task they could not avoid. Ezra’s actions, which moved these marriages from a breach of social norms to a community crisis, are founded on some of the fundamental structures of the golah community. He employs mourning, penitential prayer, and the role of the intermediary between the people and God. He also utilizes in his prayer the idea that these acts of unfaithfulness endanger the community by exposing it to Yahweh’s wrath. Ezra’s prayer and the social crisis also rest on other fundamental notions that have already been noted. It assumes that the community is the true representative of old Israel with the task, modelled on the Exodus, of re-establishing the people of Yahweh in the land he gave to them. The Exodus paradigm also supplied the basis for identifying non-community members as polluted and therefore incompatible with the holy people of Yahweh. The solution to the problem—separation from the polluted people and sacri¿ce by the guilty—also rested on the community’s worldview assumptions. Ezra’s mourning and prayer were not, in the cultural context, acts of weakness but acts of leadership that required the golah community leadership to respond. The writer of Ezra–Nehemiah portrays Ezra as a ¿gure of political and cultic stature. The ritual actions are consistent with that power and status. His efforts were successful in inÀuencing the

1

74. Hogewood, “The Speech Act of Confession,” 81–82. 75. Fried, Great King, 156–57.

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community by transforming the breach into a crisis and initiating the redressive process that he intended the community to follow. Shecaniah agreed that the marriages were an act of unfaithfulness and urged Ezra to take a commitment from the leadership to redress the problem by dissolving the marriages. Ezra administered an oath committing the community to deal with the mixed marriages and so initiated the transition to the third phase of the social drama. c. Redressive Action The third phase of a social drama, redressive action, is aimed at limiting the crisis and returning the community to stability and peace. The mechanisms used for redress depend on the scale of the issue, ranging from personal advice to formal legal action. Turner notes that the adequacy of the social structures to deal with the crisis is crucial to the outcome. Failure to achieve an adequate solution can result in violent conÀict or, in the case of small and weak communities, “endemic, pervasive, smouldering factionalism, without sharp, overt confrontations between consistently distinct parties.”76 Successful redress either restores some form of stability or cements a divide. Unsuccessful redress leads to conÀict ranging from various levels of “cold war” to overt action. The assembly that met a few days after Ezra’s public mourning was pivotal to the community’s future. The assembly was a transitional event that brought the crisis phase to its completion and initiated the redressive action. The redressive action consisted of the commission to evaluate speci¿c cases and then the ceremony of covenant commitment, repentance and sacri¿ce that brought the affair to a conclusion. Like the assembly, the ¿nal ceremony is transitional, possessing elements of redress and the fourth phase, reintegration. Aimed at redress, the assembly process was intended to limit the crisis by addressing the divisive issue. However, the narrative indicates that it risked heightening the crisis because there was contention over the redressive action. I argued in the previous chapter that characterizations of this meeting as democratic—that is, as a community discussion over the validity of the marriages—are inaccurate. There are no indications that the narrative intends to communicate that this meeting debated the validity of the marriages, and several which indicate otherwise. The social context of this meeting is an authoritarian community. In such a context it is more likely that the purpose was to announce the need for corrective action and bind the participants to the arrangements

1

76. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 41.

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rather than debate the merits of the marriages. Five factors show this is how the assembly should be understood. First, the leadership had already agreed with Ezra’s assessment of the marriages as covenant unfaithfulness and collectively bound themselves to rectify the situation. Second, the threat of ĔğĎ announced the intention to purge the non-compliant from the assembly.77 Thus anyone in this category was presumed to be in breach of the covenant and a threat to the community. This in turn suggests that the judgment on the validity of the mixed marriages had already been made. Third, the people that gathered are described as trembling from both the cold and the seriousness of the matter. The crowd is portrayed as already aware that the situation was regarded as critical and as expecting to face condemnation and painful corrective action. Fourth, the only report on what was said regarding the mixed marriages at the meeting is a summary of Ezra’s words which announced the community’s failure and commanded confession and obedience. Fifth, the focus of discussion at the meeting was on the most appropriate time to enact the redress, not whether it was appropriate. All this indicates that the assembly should be understood as a meeting to announce and coordinate the redress. One further item of evidence can be added to those above indicating that the assembly was not a public debate about the validity of the marriages. The assembly agreed that a commission be set up to investigate individual cases, “until the ¿erce anger of our God because of this matter is turned from us” (Ezra 10:14). A number of commentators presume that disaster was still theoretical and future, and therefore that there was hope of averting it.78 However, the motive clause implies the community was already experiencing Yahweh’s anger. This is suggested by the phrase “¿erce anger” (Ěć ĖČğĎ), which occurs in both Num 25:4 and Josh 7:26. In both cases Yahweh’s anger was experienced prior to remedial action. In Num 25 the plague occurred before action was taken, and in Josh 7 Israel had already experienced military defeat. This intertextual link suggests that the community should be understood as interpreting its present circumstances as an expression of Yahweh’s displeasure. The text, however, does not identify what form that anger was manifested in.

77. As Horbury (“Extirpation and Excommunication,” 43, 66) notes, excommunication requires a high degree of organization and cohesion. 78. Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 80; Blenkinsopp, Ezra– Nehemiah, 194; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 156; Wijk-Bos, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, 47. 1

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The meeting focused on the redressive action, but was disrupted by the four men who expressed opposition to the plans of the assembly. This challenged the leadership of the assembly and points again to differing opinions in the community. The issue over which they disagreed was the timing of the redress.79 The four named men were not supporters of the mixed marriages. Rather, they wanted immediate action. The appointment of the commission to investigate cases indicates that these ¿rebrands did not control the process. The ¿nal act in this social drama is a formal ritual in which the guilty men performed the expected cultic act as a means of pleading for forgiveness from Yahweh. The guilt offering prescription in Lev 5 required the penitent to make reparation as well as pay an additional 20 percent ¿ne and sacri¿ce a ram. The divorce substituted for the reparation and ¿ne, as I noted above.80 The narrative states that only one family of priests, descendants of Joshua ben Jozadak, sacri¿ced rams and pledged to divorce their wives. I understand this action as representative; each guilty man performed the same ritual. Ezra 10:19 says that the men made a commitment to send away their wives along with the sacri¿ce. Verse 44 con¿rms that that initial commitment was carried through and recognizes that children were also involved. d. Reintegration Reintegration is the ¿nal phase in the social drama, when the community is reconstituted as a whole functioning body. Like the assembly that initiated the redress, the sacri¿ce was a transitional event that was the culmination of the redressive action and also served the function of reintegration. In this case the narrative implies that the community was reformed into a functioning body through the redressive action. The statement is not explicit and the narrative about Ezra’s mission breaks off with an enigmatic and textually corrupted ¿nal verse about the women being sent away. Nevertheless, the reader is left with the impression that restoration is achieved and Yahweh’s anger was averted through the conformity of the men to the commission’s judgment. That impression is supported by the continuing story about Nehemiah’s mission to Jerusalem some years after these events. The sacri¿ce served an additional function to its role as the cultic rite, which dealt with the individual’s transgression before Yahweh. The offering also functioned to reintegrate the offenders into the community. The offering signalled to the community the acceptance of the verdict

1

79. See pp. 122–24. 80. See pp. 152–54.

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and the conformity of the penitent men to the community’s marriage norms.81 It also reaf¿rmed the men’s commitment to the cult and to the well being of the community. In this sense it was the step that reintegrated each offender back into the community. The man whose holiness was contaminated was made holy again. He had been a liability to the community with his foreign wife but now became an unmarried man who was again a functioning member of the community. The abrupt end to the narrative raises questions about the effect of the process. Turner comments that a key question to ask about social dramas is whether the mechanism for redressing the breach is adequate. Since a similar mixed marriage incident occurs at a later stage under Nehemiah (Neh 13:23–27) a question is raised about the adequacy of the commission, divorce and offering to deal with the issue. Blenkinsopp, for example, interprets the later event in Nehemiah as an indication that the process under Ezra was not effective.82 A second issue is how the community was affected after these events. Turner states that social dramas always change the community. Status, relationships, alliances, and power structures are different from those that existed prior to the crisis.83 The fact that their names were recorded hints that the status of the men who offended was not the same after the event. The people involved in the mixed marriages were not to be forgotten. These two points raise issues that relate to Cottle’s additional ¿fth stage in the social drama, that of a residual memory, which ebbs and is periodically revived after the event. Whether these questions are answerable is dependent to a certain degree on the relationship between the narrative and historical events in Yehud. It is this issue that the next chapter addresses.

81. Kennedy and Barr argue that the prominence of restitution in the guilt offering points to its emphasis on restoration of loss. They point to Ezra 10:19 as an example for their argument; see A. R. S. Kennedy and J. Barr, “Sacri¿ce and Offering,” in Dictionary of the Bible, 868–76. 82. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 201. 83. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 42. 1

Chapter 6

HISTORICAL TRACES

1. Indications of Historicity The analysis above has pointed to several factors in the narrative that have not been explored or recognized previously. Key conclusions are: the signi¿cance of the Exodus as a root paradigm, the symbolic signi¿cance of the foreign women label, and the impact of ritual on the mixed marriage social drama process. These conclusions also have the potential to inÀuence the way the historical situation in mid-¿fth-century B.C.E. Yehud is conceived. In this section I focus on the evidence that the social drama model provides of historical traces in the narrative and the impact of these traces on historical reconstruction. There are reasons to approach this narrative with some expectation that it contains historical traces. First, the broader context of a historical return to Yehud under the Persians has some external con¿rmation. Second, the narrative arose within a community faced with the pressures created by conquest, deportation, recent repatriation, economic stress and political tensions. These are the circumstances likely to generate the kinds of issues in relation to community identity, boundaries and marriage as Eskenazi and Judd’s comparisons with the modern return to Israel show.1 Third, the nature of the narrative suggests connections with historical events. This is indicated by the social science analysis, which shows the social processes reported are credible, and by the text, which contains content that is most likely the result of community discourse over identity. This is not a claim that the whole Ezra narrative is historically accurate, but that the mixed marriage narrative has enough possible connections with the past to warrant looking for historical traces.2 1. Eskenazi and Judd, “Marriage to a Stanger.” 2. Smith-Christopher raises signi¿cant questions about the beginnings of the stories of Ezra and Nehemiah given how unlikely it is that they would have had direct access to the Persian King; see Smith-Christopher, “Ezra–Nehemiah,” 310.

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Three factors in the narrative indicate the credibility of the events from a social science perspective and likely historical traces. First, the society depicted has the necessary elements for conÀict over marriage. A society where a portion of the people had suffered exile and then repatriation would be expected to be very conscious about identity issues.3 Further, marriage is often a key boundary marker and the subject of social discourse about identity. The structure of Ezra–Nehemiah and the content of Ezra 7–10 point to the mixed marriage controversy being an issue of identity formation. The lists in Ezra–Nehemiah indicate that two thirds of the male immigrants who arrived in Yehud were without families. This, as Eskenazi and Judd point out, is very similar to the statistics for the modern return of Jews to Israel.4 They point to strikingly similar social tensions around marriage, which arose in both settings.5 While there are a number of motivations that encourage marriages across social boundaries, such as political alliances, access to resources, and social advancement, the simple lack of women made recourse to mixed marriages imperative for many families. This social drama ¿ts the sociological expectations about the kinds of tensions around identity formation that would result from the circumstances depicted. The striking similarities between the social issue in Ezra–Nehemiah and the social issues experienced in the modern return to Israel reinforce the credibility of the narrative. The society depicted in Ezra–Nehemiah resembles the historical context of the community that produced it. Like the modern return to Israel, these are meaningful issues for a community 3. Berquist, “Constructions of Identity in Postcolonial Yehud,” 61–62; idem, “The Social Context of Postexilic Judaism,” 51; idem, Judaism in Persia’s Shadow, 131–37; Kessler, “Persia’s Loyal Yahwists: Power Identity and Ethnicity in Achaemenid Yehud,” in Oeming and Lipschits, eds., Judea and the Judeans in the Persian Period, 107–12; D. L. Smith-Christopher, “Between Ezra and Isaiah: Exclusion, Transformation, and Inclusion of the ‘Foreigner’ in Post-Exilic Biblical Theology,” in Brett, ed., Ethnicity and the Bible, 117–42; D. L. Smith, “The Politics of Ezra.” Maintaining a distinct Jewish identity was probably not an issue only in Yehud. Johnstone argues that Jewish identity in the diaspora was a factor in the structuring of Exodus. See W. Johnstone, “The Revision of Festivals in Exodus 1–24 in the Persian Period and the Preservation of Jewish Identity in the Diaspora,” in Yahwism After the Exile: Perspectives on Israelite Religion in the Persian Era (ed. R. Alter and B. Becking; Assen: Royal Van Gorcum, 2003), 99–114. 4. Eskenazi and Judd, “Marriage to a Stanger,” 275–76. 5. Eskenazi and Judd (ibid., 278–84) identify three forms of intermarriage that could be an analogue to the Ezra 9 and 10 situation, though reÀecting different tensions: (1) tensions based on different heritages (ethnicities)—between Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews; (2) tensions between Jews and non-Jews—mainly with Muslims and Christians; (3) tensions between orthodoxy and non-orthodoxy. 1

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struggling to establish itself. It is probable that this mixed marriage narrative reÀects tensions that the people in Yehud recognized and experienced. It seems implausible that someone would, partially or wholly, create such a narrative when the community is likely to have experienced events like those depicted in this mixed marriage controversy. How closely Ezra 9 and 10 resembles those events is more dif¿cult to evaluate but the social drama analysis allows some suggestions. The second indication that Ezra 9 and 10 contains historical traces is provided by the social drama model. The congruence between the social drama process and the narrative points to a social process that is credible. It follows steps that are socially coherent and utilizes methods congruent with post-exilic Jewish culture. Ezra’s role in turning the marriages from a breach of norms into a crisis is based on his use of the culturally appropriate rituals of mourning and penitential prayer. The assembly that met in Jerusalem shows the community leaders exercising the kind of social power that my reconstruction of Yehud indicates existed historically.6 The threatened ĔğĎ sanction clearly reÀects a post-exilic modi¿cation of the old laws. The guilt offering also shows some modi¿cation of the traditional reparation and penalty requirements to ¿t new circumstances. The power of the ritual of repentance not only brings the matter to a conclusion but serves as a mechanism to reintegrate the estranged men back into the community, albeit in a modi¿ed way. The coherence of the narrated events with the social drama model along with modi¿cations of old laws appropriate to the era points to a culturally and historically credible record. The third indication that the narrative contains historical traces is the specialist language used in the text. The language used to speak about the non-golah peoples and the women, along with that used to refer to the marriages and their dissolution, is content-loaded (overcoded) language that derives from community discourse. This language suggests that social discourse over identity and marriage was a feature of the writer’s historical circumstances and that of the source documents. There are three factors about the specialist language used in Ezra 9 and 10 that point to the language rising from within the community and reÀecting a social discourse about outside women and appropriate marriage. First, the language that is used about the women themselves shows evidence of being derived from contemporary discourse that combines the Deuteronomic traditions with contemporary concerns about neighbouring peoples, Priestly concerns about purity and concerns about socially unacceptable relationships with outsider women in Persian 1

6. See pp. 47–50.

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Yehud. The label “foreign women” utilizes a combination of elements that are present in Deuteronomy and Prov 1–9 and draws on notions relevant to the golah community.7 It does not simply appropriate the connotations of the ĐğĒė as non-Yahwistic outsiders from Deuteronomy. It mixes those ideas with Priestly concerns about purity and contamination. Further, the women represent the “peoples of the land(s),” another term that is context-speci¿c. The designation “peoples of the land(s)” is not one developed in the exile but one relevant to identity issues in Yehud. The term is developed out of the Exodus paradigm and uses Pentateuchal language to distinguish the golah community from those with whom it interacted. Smith-Christopher notes that the way the foreign women are de¿ned by “old terms” implies a pejorative slur that points to community debate.8 The combination of the various connotations about foreignness, impurity and alluring but dangerous women within a single label points to discussion and reÀection about these issues within the community. Proverbs 1–9 also stands as a witness to a discourse about the inÀuence of outside women in Yehud. The strange woman is a construct that reÀects social concerns in post-exilic Yehud. Those concerns about the detrimental impact of an outsider woman on a man with whom she has a socially unacceptable relationship exhibit overlap with the foreign women label. Whether the mixed marriage controversy shaped the characterization of the strange woman or the strange woman construct inÀuenced the foreign women label is dif¿cult to say. Nevertheless the strange woman of Proverbs eloquently witnesses to a social discourse among the elite that intersects with the foreign women label. A second indication that the specialist language in the narrative derives from community discourse is the way the writer uses it. This is noticeable in the language that is used for marriage and divorce. It is introduced abruptly into the narrative on the lips of a community leader. This suggests that the author expected his audience to recognize the language and accept it as their own. The language an author chooses is designed to communicate to a “model reader.”9 As Eco puts it, the author must be able to “foresee a model of the possible reader [who is] able to 7. See pp. 149–55. 8. Smith-Christopher’s remarks are made on the assumption that the narrative reÀects a historical situation. He further notes that the presence of literature that expresses a more positive attitude toward foreigners who af¿liate themselves with the Israelites (e.g. Isa 60:1–5, Jonah, Ruth) also indicates community debate. 9. Eco, The Role of the Reader, 17. For Eco, an author must have a model reader in mind in order to present a consistent message. 1

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deal interpretatively with the expressions in the same way that the author deals generatively with them.”10 For example, this book is addressed to scholars expected to have an advanced level of English comprehension and to be conversant with some specialist jargon and several languages associated with biblical scholarship. The author of Ezra expected the non-standard language about marriage to be comprehensible to his audience and that Shecaniah’s words would be a credible statement from a community leader. The language is so context-speci¿c and so loaded it is unlikely to have been created by the author for effect. The writer expected the reader to understand that the phrase “foreign women” was a symbol with multiple connotations and that the mixed marriages were labelled as dubious. The choice of language is deliberate as far as the author’s model reader is concerned, but the social context of the writer is unconsciously revealed to a more removed reader, the modern scholar, in the process. The third element that points to this specialist language arising out of the community is that it is identity language. The creation and negotiation of the elements that constitute group identity are the result of community discourse.11 Identifying the “peoples of the land(s)” is only necessary in relation to the golah community. The language about marriage is speci¿cally about marriage in the context of community boundaries. Because such language is usually developed in community discourse, it is more likely to be drawn from the community than to be the creation of an individual writer. It too witnesses to community identity being a contemporary issue for the writer. The combined evidence points to the specialist language in the text being community language developed through discourse about identity. A further point about the text that also suggests it connects with historical events is the use of tradition. The author draws on traditions such as Baal Peor and Solomon’s wives that warn about the dangers posed by foreign women. The appropriation of these traditions without explanation indicates they were known in the community. That such traditions were known also indicates that issues about mixed marriage were relevant to the writer’s assumed audience. One ¿nal point that indicates this narrative reÀects historical issues in the social context of Persian Yehud. That is, that this mixed marriage narrative is not the only text of the post-exilic era that grapples with issues of identity. Texts in Trito-Isaiah (Isa 56; 63), Ruth and Jonah

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10. Ibid. 11. See pp. 22–29.

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indicate some difference in notions about how Judean identity should be conceived. Whether or not these texts are a speci¿c counterpoint to Ezra– Nehemiah, they witness to differences of opinion that circulated in the post-exilic community about identity and relationships with outsiders. On the evidence above the conclusion that Ezra 9 and10 reÀects events that occurred in Yehud is reasonable. The levels of probability that a crisis erupted over suitable marriages in the context of community discourse over identity are high. The narrative ¿ts the historical context that produced it and its broad claims have a measure of external support. The social drama model demonstrates that it also follows culturally and historically appropriate procedures. The narrative uses language with content that is most likely the result of social discourse. It also assumes audience knowledge that points to mixed marriage being a contemporary social issue. The analysis shows the narrative is historically credible at a general level and that evidence, like the identity language, opens windows into ancient Yehud. The next task is to return to the text and the physical, political, cultural and religious grids that have been built up and ask what other historical data might be observed in the mixed marriage narrative when the social drama model is applied. The caveats about the provisional nature of any historical reconstruction noted in the introduction naturally apply. 2. Historical Traces a. The Exodus Paradigm in Post-Exilic Yehud The Exodus has a signi¿cant impact in the book of Ezra; it shapes the writer’s presentation of the narrative about the character Ezra and is presented as a root paradigm on which the golah community operates. It is possible to go one step further and say that the Exodus paradigm was a root paradigm for sections of historical society in Yehud. This can be demonstrated from two perspectives. From a social science perspective, root paradigms are social constructs. Therefore, the Exodus root paradigm is not simply the imposition of the writer; it reÀects the beliefs of the writer’s social context. From a literary perspective, a writer needs to utilize words and concepts shared with the target audience in order to communicate effectively. The writer of Ezra–Nehemiah worked on the basis that there were people in the community who understood the conceptual world presumed by the root paradigm. The Exodus root paradigm reÀects the assumptions of a community within the social structure of Yehud. 1

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Such a conclusion is hardly a surprise since the Exodus is the paradigm for the return to Yehud from Babylonia in other texts that originated in the exilic and post-exilic periods. Examples from the Psalms and Isaiah will illustrate the point. Psalm 105 draws on the Exodus traditions to praise Yahweh’s faithfulness to the covenant and power to rescue. The psalm is usually dated to the period of the exile because it appears dependent on the Pentateuch and particularly imitates the Priestly code in describing the Sinai covenant “as a sequel to and ful¿lment of the covenant with Abraham.”12 A section of the psalm (vv. 1–15) is quoted in 1 Chr 16:8–22. That quote indicates that the psalm was in current use in the Persian era, since “the Chronicler was evidently supplying from cultic material used in his own day words suitable to the occasion” of the Ark being brought up to Jerusalem by David.13 Chronicles is normally dated between 515 B.C.E. and 300 B.C.E., usually to the later ¿fth century.14 Psalm 105, which draws on Exodus traditions to encourage obedience to Yahweh in its own day, in its own right and in its use by the Chronicler, conveys Persian-era views. Similarly Ps 106, discussed earlier, is also dated to the exilic or early post-exilic period.15 The reasons for doing so largely overlap with those for Ps 105. Psalm 106 also presupposes the Pentateuch and is quoted in 1 Chr 16:35–36. There is also a close parallel between Ps 106:27 and Ezek 20:23, with both using the same language to refer to the exile.16 Further, Ps 106 has the same style and theology as the penitential prayers. Like them, it views Israel’s history as one of covenant unfaithfulness and draws on the Exodus as evidence of that failure. Yahweh’s covenant faithfulness and Israel’s covenant faithlessness are demonstrated by the Exodus traditions in psalms in current use in the post-exilic era.

12. Kraus, Psalms 60–150, 309. For a post-exilic date, see also Allen, Psalms 101–150, 40–41; Gerstenberger, Psalms, Part 2, 230. While not wanting to rule out the possibility that the psalm is pre-exilic Eaton concedes that the evidence suggests it originates in the fourth century; see Eaton, The Psalms, 367. 13. Allen, Psalms 101–150, 40. 14. G. N. Knoppers, 1 Chronicles 1–9 (AB 12; New York: Doubleday, 2003), 106, 116; S. Japhet, I & II Chronicles (OTL; London: SCM, 1993), 23–28; Williamson, Israel, 83–86; J. Myers, 1 Chronicles (AB 12; New York: Doubleday, 1965), lxxxix. 15. Allen, Psalms 101–150, 49–53; Kraus, Psalms 60–150, 317–18; Boda, Praying the Tradition, 17, 66–68, 73; Broyles, Psalms, 406; Gerstenberger, Psalms, Part 2, 244. 16. Note also Boda’s discussion on the way Ezek 20 has impacted the whole Psalm; see Boda, Praying the Tradition, 66–68. 1

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Similar themes are also present in Deutero-Isaiah. The Exodus is used in Isa 43:16–21 “to identify Yahweh and describe his miraculous power.”17 The prophet’s use of the Exodus in this case is to urge his audience to turn from their preoccupation with the past to see God’s present activity in saving his people. They are to see the power of Yahweh demonstrated in the Exodus as present in his current activity. The Exodus is also referred to in Trito-Isaiah (63:11–19), to emphasize Yahweh’s covenant loyalty and active presence with the people he rescued. This particular oracle is notable because it expresses a sentiment in clear contrast with Ezra. Trito-Isaiah’s view of God’s people, which also reÀects a post-exilic context, is much broader than the exclusivist view presented in Ezra.18 Trito-Isaiah envisions a people in covenant with Yahweh that is wider than those who claim to be Israel, “[f]or you are our father, though Abraham does not know us and Israel does not acknowledge us” (Isa 63:16, NRSV). In contrast, Ezra restricts that relationship to a select group that even excluded people with blood ties to old Israel. Isaiah also combines creation motifs with Exodus motifs in a number of places, such as Isa 43:1–7. Berquist suggests that this might reÀect a merging of two streams of thinking: creation motifs reÀecting a priestly perspective and the Exodus motifs reÀecting a political perspective.19 In this way the prophet communicated the pending return to two distinct Babylonian Jewish constituencies. The Exodus paradigm on its own seems to have communicated to different groups among post-exilic Jews. This can be seen in the way these writers, who all use the Exodus paradigm, express differing attitudes about who the people of Israel are. The Chronicler’s picture of Israel is subtly different from that in Ezra. For the Chronicler, Israel includes those from the old northern kingdom of Israel who accept worship of Yahweh in Judean terms.20 This is a broader view than that of Ezra, where the northerners were rejected when they attempted to join the temple-building programme (Ezra 4:1–3). Then there is the contrast between Ezra’s narrow view of Israel as the people 17. Watts, Isaiah 34–66, 130. 18. A post-exilic dating for Trito-Isaiah is the consensus of most critical commentators; see Watts, Isaiah 1–33, xxix–xxxii; Whybray, Isaiah 40–66, 38–43; Westermann, Isaiah 40–66, 295–96. 19. Berquist, Persia’s Shadow, 40. 20. Williamson, Israel, 126–31. Williamson shows that “Israel” is used in several ways in Chronicles. One of the most frequent is as a designation for the whole people, including people from the north: 2 Chr 29:24; 30:6, 21; 31:1, 8, 33a; 35:3, 17. 1

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of God and the more open perspective in Deutero- and Trito-Isaiah. These texts have different perspectives on what constitutes Israel but all use the Exodus to communicate notions about God and the return to Yehud. The use of the Exodus paradigm in exilic and post-exilic texts suggests it communicated the restoration project in a manner that related to several Jewish interest groups. The Exodus as a model of Yahweh’s faithfulness, Israel’s unfaithfulness, and the restoration project is present in a range of post-exilic material. It was not a model that was restricted to a narrow group of people. Its presence in psalms used in temple worship in that period point to its role in expressing and shaping the worldview of Yahwists in Yehud. The Exodus is a root paradigm for the golah community in the mixed marriage narrative. It is also a root paradigm for the compiler of Ezra–Nehemiah and for a large section of society in Yehud from the early return to Hellenistic times. b. Ezra the Catalyst One obvious issue in seeking historical traces in the text is Ezra’s role. Lester Grabbe has commented that the text seems to portray at least three Ezras and that we do not have enough information to deicide which of these might more accurately reÀect a historical ¿gure behind the narrative.21 This socio-cultural analysis does provide some data that enable us to draw some conclusions about Ezra. Part of Grabbe’s dif¿culty is that he sees a disjunction between the Ezra of prestige portrayed in the long genealogy and Artaxerxes’ letter and the apparently powerless Ezra who mourns when given the news of the mixed marriages. However, Ezra’s mourning and penitential prayer are a politically astute use of his status and leadership role to shape the identity debate and dictate its resolution. There is a more coherence in the picture of Ezra in the text than Grabbe has observed. This in turn suggests that more reliance can be put on the narrative’s information about Ezra. The analysis in the previous chapters also suggests, however, that Ezra’s role was greater than that presented in the narrative. This is a point that is suggested by a number of commentators.22 Ezra is the narrative’s central character, yet he fades out of the scene after the assembly. A number of features support Eskenazi’s argument that the narrative

21. Grabbe, A History, 1:331, and Ezra–Nehemiah, 138–53. 22. E.g. Allen and Laniak, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 71; Blenkinsopp, Ezra– Nehemiah, 179; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 127–29; Clines, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, 116; Myers, Ezra Nehemiah, 76; Rudolph, Esra und Nehemia, 85.

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deliberately diminishes Ezra’s role in order to enhance the role of the community. By relocating the account about Ezra’s teaching role from before Ezra 9 to Neh 8 the editor has removed a signi¿cant element in the build up to the corporate action.23 The narrative has the community leaders draw Ezra’s attention to the marriage issue and Shecaniah, a community leader, urges Ezra to take action after his penitential prayer. The marriages are dealt with by a commission, which results from community debate at the assembly. Ezra’s role is simply to appoint its members. Faced with the deliberate reduction of Ezra’s role in the text, it is easy to see how Grabbe can conclude that Ezra’s role is contradictory to the status he has as Artaxerxes’ agent in chs. 7–8. Yet once the editorial bias is noted and the signi¿cance of Ezra’s actions observed his centrality to the events is apparent. Ezra’s role, according to Artaxerxes’ rescript, was to promulgate the law and see that it was enforced. This made it inevitable that he would deal with matters that affected the identity of the community, since cultic commitments were a signi¿cant element of the golah identity. When Neh 8, which describes Ezra’s teaching from the Torah, is restored to its original place in the sequence of events, it is evident that the controversy arose after Ezra began teaching. This in turn suggests that his teaching changed views in the community about these marriages. Given the autocratic nature of the administration and leadership in Yehud and Ezra’s royal appointment, it is likely that his interpretation was understood to be de¿nitive. The strength of the top-down administration in Yehud is backed up by the way Nehemiah responded to those he considered transgressors (e.g. Neh 13:25). As the king’s law enforcement agent, Ezra was in a position to insist that his understanding of the law was the correct one. Ezra’s royal role and his teaching activity were focused on the Law of Moses. Since the golah community’s identity was based on that law, he shaped the identity debate. Despite the way the narrative reduces Ezra’s role in these events, reading with the social drama model shows he is central to all that happens. The mixed marriages had been occurring across the upper levels of the golah community, but the leadership were particularly implicated. Shecaniah was not himself involved in a mixed marriage, yet he allied himself with the community when he responded to Ezra by agreeing that the marriages constituted unfaithfulness. This suggests that his words were spoken on behalf of the community leadership, indicating that they collectively accepted responsibility for the situation. That

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23. Eskenazi, Prose, 62–70.

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supposition is con¿rmed by the level of cooperation that followed and the active participation of the leadership in the process. The leadership had been unfaithful and acknowledged their unfaithfulness. The golah leadership’s changed view about the mixed marriages resulted from Ezra’s activity. Turner notes that the actors in a social drama are swept along by the process, much like the actors in a Greek tragedy caught up by the Fates.24 The social processes require certain actions of the participants. Ezra can be seen as a man caught up in events and forced to act on them. While she does not utilize Turner, van Wijk-Bos suggests that Ezra was helpless in the face of events.25 She argues that Ezra was forced to take action by Shecaniah and, despite being the expert in the law, he succumbed to Shecaniah’s creative exegesis that turned the women into representatives of the peoples of the lands. However, this is contradicted by evidence that Ezra was responsible for the community’s response. When the signi¿cance of Ezra’s rituals of mourning and prayer are recognized, it is apparent that he acted in a strategic way. The rituals were acts of leadership that produced effects that he intended. Ezra was the catalyst for the social drama and the penitential prayer shows he intended that the community repudiate these marriages. While certain actions were required by the situation, Ezra was caught up by events that he initiated and controlled. Despite the editor’s minimization of Ezra’s role, it is evident that his is the decisive role in the narrative. That in turn suggests that the historical Ezra was a central ¿gure in a crisis about marriage and community identity. Identifying Ezra as the pivotal ¿gure in the mixed marriage crisis raises further questions. First, what aspect or aspects of Ezra’s teaching might have been new to the community? One possibility is the emphasis on the whole people as holy. The leaders describe the people by the term “holy seed,” a highly unusual description.26 Further, they describe the crime as a failure to keep this holy seed separate from outsiders. Deuteronomy and the Priestly writer conceive of holiness differently. “Holiness in the Priestly view is a condition that can be secured only by constant physical puri¿cation and sancti¿cation, whereas in Deuteronomy it is the

24. Turner, Schism and Continuity, 94. 25. Wijk-Bos, Ezra, Nehemiah, and Esther, 43–48. 26. The only other occurrence is Isa 6:13, though “holy” is without the de¿nite article in that case. There it refers to the remnant in the land. The use of the term here to refer to the returned exiles rather than the remnant that remained is almost the opposite of Isaiah. See Eskenazi, Prose, 68.

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effect of a unique act of God—the divine election of Israel.”27 While Deuteronomy can call Israel “holy,” holiness in the Priestly tradition is more usually restricted to the priests (Lev 21:6–24) or Nazirites (Num 6:5). Priestly holiness, which is maintained by separation from the unclean, is applied to the whole people by the leaders in Ezra 9:1. Milgrom argues that understanding the community as holy in Priestly terms is Ezra’s innovation.28 He claims that Ezra produced it by merging Deuteronomy’s statements that Israel was a holy people with the Priestly emphasis on trespass on divine sancta, which merits divine punishment.29 The merging is mediated by Jer 2:3, which depicts Israel’s enemies as “eating” Israel and predicts their punishment because Israel is holy.30 The enemies have committed desecration by metaphorically eating what only the priests can eat. Israel’s holiness is de¿ned in the Priestly sense of being divine sancta by Jeremiah. What Jeremiah used as a metaphor, “Ezra fuses into a legal midrash directed against Israel itself which allowed the ‘enemy’ to in¿ltrate by means of marriage. Thus Israel ‘the holy seed’ has been adulterated.”31 That is, Ezra took Deuteronomy’s statement that Israel was holy and combined it with the Priestly notion that holiness was a state of high sanctity. He was helped by Jeremiah’s metaphor that already equated Israel with this high level of sanctity. Ezra concluded that the men of the golah community, by marrying foreign women, had introduced cultic contamination into a holy community. Since the sanctity of the community was compromised by the presence of the foreign women, the men who brought them in were guilty of transgressing a purity boundary. Milgrom’s argument is strengthened by the discussion about the pejorative language used to describe the marriages. The existence of that pejorative language indicates the community was uncomfortable about the marriages but regarded any dangers as limited to the immediate individuals or their families. The urgent concern in the Ezra 9 and 10 narrative arises out of the conviction that the marriages are a violation of

27. Weinfeld, Deuteronomy and the Deuteronomic School, 226. 28. Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 71–74. 29. See ibid., 72. 30. Ideology in Ezra–Nehemiah usually shows development of a concept based on Deuteronomy and modi¿ed by Priestly inÀuences either from P or Ezekiel. Jeremiah is a link in the chain joining Deuteronomy and Priestly ideas at times; in particular, it links Deuteronomy with Ezek 20. Boda identi¿es Jeremian inÀuences in aspects of Ezra’s penitential prayer; see Boda, Praying the Tradition, 45–46, 82, 187. 31. Milgrom, Cult and Conscience, 73. 1

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the covenant and therefore place the whole community in imminent danger. Just as such violations led to plague at Baal Peor, to defeat at Ai and to exile for Judah, the current community faced potential annihilation for this unfaithfulness (Ezra 9:14). The change in attitude suggests a change in the fundamental understanding of the issue. The transition from viewing the mixed marriages as unwise to unfaithful acts against the covenant with Yahweh pivots on the conception of the nature of the community. Milgrom’s contention that the holiness of the community was an innovation that Ezra brought to the debate ¿ts the shift in perceptions in the community and Ezra’s central role in the crisis. Second, if Ezra was the catalyst which propelled mixed marriages into the centre of the repatriate community’s identity debate, did he speci¿cally target the mixed marriages? There are a number of pointers that suggest he did. Starting with his initial response to the leaders’ report, Ezra set out to make it a de¿ning issue. The public mourning and a penitential prayer at the time of the evening sacri¿ce forced the community to act against the mixed marriages. Further, focusing the debate in this way suggests that Ezra regarded the community as suf¿ciently informed about the issues and suf¿ciently predisposed to act in a way consonant with his interpretation of the requirements of the Torah. The only way he could be con¿dent about this was if he believed he had already laid suf¿cient groundwork for the community to follow his lead. That con¿dence implies that he had taught about appropriate marriage and discussed it with local representatives. Ezra 10:3 indicates that divorcing these women was a solution that Ezra had already proposed. It is possible this refers to discussions during Ezra’s mourning, but the logic of the accusation that the marriages contaminated the community necessitated separation—impurity and holiness must be separate. Divorce would have been the obvious solution to people who had been taught by Ezra that the community was holy and needed to maintain that holiness by separation from contaminants. Ezra’s teaching, which had produced the mixed marriage crisis, implicitly required separation as a response. The narrative in Ezra 9 and 10 underplays Ezra’s role in the mixed marriage controversy to highlight that of the community, but the implications in the text and the insights of the social drama model indicate he played a pivotal role.32 Tensions over the impact of marriages to outsider women were probably already present in the community. However, the eruption of this issue only months after Ezra’s arrival suggests that his presence was inÀuential in the rise in tensions. That idea is enhanced by

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32. Cf. Eskenazi, Prose, 60–70.

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his role in promoting the Law of Moses, which inevitably would have led him to encounter social boundary issues. His public teaching role transformed the debate. In particular, he merged aspects of Deuteronomy with Priestly views of holiness, which changed the discourse from one about individual family concerns to community survival. Ezra’s actions in mourning and praying made the marriages the focal point of the identity debate and demanded that the golah community respond to the perceived threat. Ezra added new elements to the community’s identity debate, then acted to create a social crisis and point to its resolution; he was the catalyst for the mixed marriage controversy. c. Social Discourse and Foreign Women The crisis stage in a social drama brings previously hidden tensions into the open, where they have to be dealt with. De Fina argues that identity has separate but interrelated aspects, an ideological level and a more localized level based on senses of af¿liation—the latter being grounded in social interaction.33 She gives the example of “Mexican undocumented workers” in the US who accept the ideological label “Hispanic” as identifying them as Latin in distinction from other Americans but who also resent the label because it categorizes them with other Latins from whom they wish to be distinguished.34 How one reacts to an identity label depends on context. The “foreign women” label had both ideological and local application, and how it was perceived will have varied according to community context. I have argued that Ezra’s actions drew on existing community discourses about the mixed marriages. What he made the focal issue at an ideological level linked with the more localized and practical concerns within the community. I indicated three reasons for assuming debate within the community: the need for marriage partners forced the consideration of marriages outside the community, the specialist language about the women and marriage points to community debate and that identity concepts develop through community discourse. The reasons for disquiet about the mixed marriages undoubtedly varied depending on the speci¿c context. Several of those concerns are encapsulated in the 33. A. De Fina, “Group Identity, Narrative and Self-Representations,” in De Fina, Schiffrin, and Bamberg, eds., Discourse and Identity, 354–55. She comments, “[a]nalysts need…to be able to link local identities to shared ideologies and beliefs, but they also need to be able to account for the fact that the construction and presentation of identity is a process in constant development and that one of its crucial sites of negotiation is interaction.” 34. Ibid., 357–75. 1

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symbol of the “foreign women,” which is why the symbol was so potent. People saw their local concerns, developed through community discourse based on social interaction, expressed through the ideology of the foreign women symbol. Berquist also suggests there were multiple reasons for rejecting the mixed marriages.35 He identi¿es them as: tainted leadership, concern about outside political inÀuence, control of land and wealth and inheritance concerns. He emphasizes the economic and political issues and claims the religious and ideological issues simply served the former. My analysis indicates that the ideological factors were the primary drivers of the controversy and that political and economic issues were subsidiary. Nevertheless, the subsidiary issues provided key points that linked the local concerns with the ideological emphasis on purity. I suggest these concerns can be identi¿ed as emanating from three contexts: family, cultic and political spheres. (1) Family. The prospect of an outsider in the family would inevitably have engendered debate and concern on several fronts. If the new wife refused to assimilate to aspects of the family culture, particularly its cultic commitments, she would have been a source of continued tension. Such tensions could only have increased when she had children and the family was faced with the issues of the children’s culture and cultic adherence. If, as is the case in Neh 13, the children conversed exclusively, or primarily, in their mother’s language, then they would be isolated from their father’s community.36 Exclusion from the community would, from a golah perspective, be exclusion from true observance of the cult. Fensham claims worship was probably conducted in Hebrew, meaning that children who did not speak Hebrew were excluded from the cult on language grounds, though lack of knowledge of the language used in liturgy does not necessarily prevent worship.37 Roman Catholics worshipped in Latin whatever the vernacular for centuries. Further, the need for interpretation in Neh 8 suggests many of the golah, as Aramaic speakers, did not understand Hebrew well. Nevertheless, a foreign mother could, by the language she used with the children, restrict and potentially exclude her children from the community and therefore from the cult.

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35. Berquist, Persia’s Shadow, 118–19. 36. Ibid., 117–18. 37. Fensham, Ezra and Nehemiah, 267.

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The circumstance of children not speaking Hebrew depicted in Neh 13:24 points to women whose primary connections were with their own family’s community. They were not well assimilated into their husbands’ family and community. The maintenance of family links and ultimate loyalties with an outside community raises the prospect of family division, and concerns about inheritance and the control of wealth from family property. It is these kinds of family tensions that are reÀected in materialist interpretations of the mixed marriage controversy, such as those of Washington and Eskenazi.38 Janzen criticizes these arguments, which regard fear of the loss of land through the outsider wife as a motivating factor in the suspicion of these women. He notes that marriage custom usually did not allow women to inherit land if the husband died and there were no children.39 Older law codes like the Code of Hammurabi (CH 171–173 [ca. eighteenth century B.C.E.]) and Middle Assyrian Laws (MAL 25 [fourteenth–thirteenth centuries B.C.E.]) indicate that other male relatives inherited, with the wife having entitlement to a living from the fruit of that property while she survived.40 If she remarried she lost all claims on her previous husband’s property (CH 171–172). Where there were children, the sons inherited and had responsibility to provide for their mother (MAL 46). Second-century B.C.E. marriage contracts found at Wadi Murabba!at south of Qumran are in line with the Mesopotamian laws in this matter.41 They indicate that the widow was entitled to a living from the property, while the children ultimately inherited it.

38. Washington, “Israel’s Holy Seed “: 427–37; T. C. Eskenazi, “Out of the Shadows: Biblical Women in the Post-Exilic Era,” JSOT 54 (1992): 25–43. Concern about outsider wives inheriting is also presumed by J. Blenkinsopp, “The Social Context of the ‘Outsider Woman’ in Proverbs 1–9,” Biblica 72 (1991): 470–73. The inheritance of Zelophehad’s daughters (Num 36:6–12) is occasionally raised in this context. That exception is not at issue here. The concern is about foreign wives inheriting from their golah husbands, not daughters inheriting. Daughters inheriting would not have been a concern to the golah community so long as the daughters were members of the community and married within it, as the guidelines in Num 36 state. 39. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 55–58. 40. The Code of Hammurabi could be dated as early as 2123 B.C.E. but most date it to the eighteenth (1792–1750 B.C.E.) or early seventeenth century (1728–1886 B.C.E.). See R. E. Hayden, “Hammurabi,” ISBE 2:604–8; S. A. Meier, “Hammurapi,” ABD 3:39–42. 41. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 57. He points to three secondcentury B.C.E. Aramaic contracts from Murabba!at (Mur 21 ar 14–16; Mur 115 gr 10–12; Mur 116 gr 8–12), which show that a wife was given entitlement to a living from her deceased husband’s property but did not inherit the property. 1

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Over a millennium of marriage law is consistent; widows did not inherit from deceased husbands. What can be discerned about inheritance in pre-exilic Israelite culture also follows the trend that property was kept in the family through male inheritance.42 Outsider women inheriting from deceased husbands were unlikely to be a threat to the golah community. There is evidence from Elephantine (TAD B3.3 [Kraeling 2] 449 B.C.E.) that a wife could get control over her husband’s property at his death, but ultimately her children inherited all that property.43 Eskenazi claims that Yehud is likely to have had similar practices to Elephantine.44 She offers three reasons. First, both communities were under Persian control. Second, there was good communication during the Persian era, so each community would have been aware of the practices of the other. Third, there are features of the contracts, such as the right of a wife to initiate divorce, that more closely reÀect Mesopotamian practices than Egyptian practices. This evidence is not strong proof that Elephantine contracts reÀected practices in Yehud. Persian control did not guarantee uniform laws since the administration allowed and encouraged local law. Nor would good communication necessarily change established practices. Mesopotamian law, like the Torah (Num 27:36), was focused on retaining property within a family, which stands in tension with the practice at Elephantine. When the Murabba!at contracts reÀect the standard Mesopotamian practice that sons inherited property, it is unlikely that the practices from Elephantine inÀuenced Yehud’s inheritance customs. Yet even if practice in Yehud did follow the examples from Elephantine and husbands did give their outsider wives a share of their property, the community would not have lost the property. At her death, the wife’s children with the golah husband would have inherited whatever property she had obtained from that relationship plus her own property, providing a potential gain for the community. The Elephantine contracts do not suggest potential loss for the golah community so long as the children remained in the community. Loyalty of the children to the community is the key.45 The struggle for control of land and property was more likely to have been an individual family issue than a wider community one. However, it is probable that family-based fears about the loyalty of 42. Z. Zevit, The Religions of Ancient Israel: A Synthesis of Parallactic Approaches (London: Continuum, 2001), 626–31; J. Blenkinsopp, “The Family in First Temple Israel,” in Perdue et al., eds., Families in Ancient Israel, 72–74. 43. Eskenazi, “Out of the Shadows,” 30. 44. Ibid., 30–31. 45. Berquist, Persia’s Shadow, 117. 1

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offspring from the mixed marriages caused concern and fed into the wider community concern about mixed marriages. Outsider women who did not adopt the cultic commitments of the golah community would also have been a concern because they were potential inÀuences on their husband’s cultic loyalties. Ezra 9 and 10 does not speci¿cally state that cultic loyalty was a problem in the community.46 Nevertheless, the concern is implied in the narrative and pervades the worldview of the community portrayed by the narrative. The women are considered polluting because they were associated with practices that were cultically unacceptable. While the accusation of practicing abominations is suf¿ciently general to include a number of condemned practices, non-Yahwistic cultic activity was included.47 The Deuteronomic History, and its portrayal of Israel’s relationship with Yahweh, is fundamental to the community’s outlook. That history is deeply concerned about cultic faithfulness and the role of Solomon’s wives in leading him away from Yahweh is notable (Deut 17:17; 1 Kgs 11:1–11). The connection between Solomon’s wives and community concerns about apostasy is made explicit in Neh 13:26. The Baal Peor tradition also maintained the notion that outsider women encouraged apostasy. Since these traditions were the common stock of the community, foreign women were probably perceived by the golah community to be a threat to covenant loyalty. That perception of the danger of covenant unfaithfulness probably had some substance in reality. Since the Yahwism of the golah community was strict, a number of practices which were acceptable at a popular level in Yahwism would have been regarded as acts of abomination and expressions of unfaithfulness. Ackerman points out that worship of the “Queen of heaven” (Jer 7:16–20; 44:15–19, 25) and of Tammuz (Ezek 8), which were particularly associated with women, were part of the popular religion of sixth-century Judah.48 Such worship practices are labelled “abominations” (ġČĈęġ) by Ezekiel (8:6, 13, 15, 17) and undoubtedly would have been seen in the same light by Ezra and the golah. Ackerman argues on the basis of Isa 57:3–13 and 65:1–7 that cults 46. Janzen uses this point to argue that apostasy cannot be a concern to the community; see Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 53–55. However, I disagree with him on this. The concern is too pervasive in Ezra–Nehemiah for it not to be a community concern. 47. Ezra 9:11 describes the abominations as ćĕď and ċĊė, which have cultic implications. See pp. 103–4. 48. S. Ackerman, Under Every Green Tree: Popular Religion in Sixth-Century Judah (HSM 46; Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press, 1992), 5–35, 79–93. 1

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of the dead and fertility cults continued to be practiced in post-exilic Judah.49 Women who engaged in these rites, which were acceptable to many Yahwists, would have been seen as impure forces and dangerous inÀuences on their husbands in the golah community. The attraction of popular levels of cultic practice is likely to have been a present problem for the strict members of the golah. Family concerns about outsider women were probably predominantly related to children and their loyalty. Women were usually the primary inÀuence on their children, so women who practiced an alternative form of Yahwism or adhered to another cult were more likely to raise children who did not adhere to the golah brand of Yahwism. As a consequence, those children were separated from the community, which lost the next generation. The language the children spoke may have been an issue in some cases. The children’s loyalty in terms of control of property and its fruits may have been an associated area of concern. It is possible that some men were inÀuenced in their cultic practices by their foreign wives. The only example cited is Solomon, but the continuation of practices associated in popular religion with Yahwism but condemned by the prophets suggests that the perceived threat had a basis in fact. Whatever the reality, the perception of outsider women as agents of apostasy was part of the rhetoric associated with their foreignness. (2) Cultic Concerns. The regulations about priests and marriage make it clear that there is a particular concern about cultic purity that restricted their marriage options (Lev 21:7–8; Ezek 44:22). However, there was clearly some room for negotiation as to the boundaries necessary to maintain their holiness. Leviticus 21:7–8 restricts a priest from marrying a promiscuous woman, a raped woman or a divorcee.50 The limits on the high priest are more strict, proscribing marriage to a widow and stipulating that the woman must be a “virgin of his kin” (Lev 21:14). Ezekiel is slightly stricter than the Holiness Code, allowing ordinary priests to marry only virgins or widows of priests (Ezek 44:22). He also restricts all priests to marrying women from “the house of Israel,” a requirement made explicit in Leviticus only for the high priest.51 A number of priests 49. Ibid., 102–212. 50. In reading “raped” for the dif¿cult word ċēēĎČ I am following J. Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22 (AB 3A; New York: Doubleday, 2000), 1791, 1806–8. HALOT CD supports this, reading “deÀowered” in Lev 21:7; see also W. Dommershausen, ēēĎ II, TDOT 4:421; G. A. Long, ēēĎ, NIDOTTE 2:151. 51. Lev 21:14 restricts the high priest to marrying his own kin, that is, within priestly families. See Levine, Leviticus, 145; Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1819. While 1

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in this Ezra narrative proved to be married to foreign women and it may be that Ezekiel’s restriction to the “stock of Israel” reÀects the need to make the restriction explicit.52 The existence of Ezekiel’s restrictive legislation alongside evidence of more liberal practice indicates that this was an area with some difference of opinion. Thus it is likely that tensions existed, at least within the priesthood, but probably more broadly, about the impact a foreign wife might have on the holiness of a priest. If that wife engaged in practices that were offensive to the golah community, the concern would have been heightened. (3) Political. A third area of probable debate about mixed marriages is over political marriages. Marriage was a key method of consolidating political claims and alliances in the ancient world. There are a number of examples of such marriages in the Ezra–Nehemiah narrative. Nehemiah 6:18–19 records that Tobiah was married to the daughter of Shecaniah of Arah and his son Jehohanan to a daughter of Meshullam. Similarly, a grandson of the high priest Eliashib was married to one of Sanballat’s daughters (Neh 13:28). Such marriages not only established alliances, they allowed foreign political inÀuence in Yehud, as Nehemiah’s struggles against Tobiah indicate (Neh 6:17–19).53 At the beginning of the return from Babylon the early repatriates had been very clear that foreign inÀuence was unwelcome (Ezra 4:1–3). Opposition to the re-establishment project would only have reinforced the view that neighbouring leaders were enemies, as Ezra 4 depicts them. These experiences must have made political marriages to neighbouring elite families a subject of contention. While these marriages gained inÀuence in the political processes in neighbouring lands for the allied Jewish families, they simultaneously opened avenues for neighbouring inÀuences in Yehud. The concern about the cultic unfaithfulness of men in these marriages is raised in Neh 13:26 by the comments about the dangers Solomon’s foreign wives presented. Mixed marriages at a political level provided an avenue for outside inÀuence in the province and therefore represented potential compromise to its independence. The marriages also posed the danger of cultic compromise among the leaders involved. Ezek 44:22 restricts priests to marrying Israelite women, it actually broadens the high priest’s options from priestly families to Israelite families. 52. So Milgrom, Leviticus 17–22, 1820. 53. Tobiah is described as Đėĕęċ ğĈęċ, “the Ammonite servant,” in Neh 2:10, and presumed to be a Persian of¿cial in the provincial government. Whether he was Jewish, as the later Tobiad family in Ammon suggests, or Ammonite, he would have been foreign by golah standards. 1

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(4) Local and Ideological Implications. The label “foreign women” served as a symbol that connoted a range of meanings. The symbol was meaningful to the community as a whole because different interest groups perceived their local concerns about outsiders expressed through it. These local concerns developed from social interaction and were based as much, if not more, on a sense of af¿liation as on ideological factors. The foreignness of the women gathered up concerns about outsiders who endangered the community. Political marriages promised status and opportunities to inÀuence allies in neighbouring provinces but posed the danger of external inÀuence in the community. There are echoes of the allure but ultimate self-interest of the strange woman in Prov 1–9 in this. Some foreign women brought up their children with an alternative mother tongue and loyalty to outside families. This threatened family ties to the golah community and possibly control over property. Foreign women did not worship Yahweh after the manner of the golah community and consequently were perceived as impure. They posed a threat to holiness, particularly that of priests. In addition, their nonYahwistic practices made them agents of apostasy (Jer 44:15–30; Ezek 8:14; 13:17–23). With notions such as Solomon’s failure and the apostasy at Baal Peor in the background, any foreign wife was perceived as a threat. The concerns about foreigners in Ezra–Nehemiah point to connections between the symbol of the foreign women and various localized discourses in the community. The objection to the foreign women in the text was ideologically based but it intersected with concerns created through face-to-face social interaction. Identity formation is a continuous discourse, that is, ideas about identity continue to develop and change through social interaction. The act of labelling these women as foreign not only connected them as a group with various community discourses about identity, it also contributed to those discourses. The dialogue between the ideology of the symbolism and social interaction is highlighted by labelling theory, which is predominantly associated with criminology and social deviance.54 Labelling theory is based on the concept that certain unacceptable behaviours are socially constructed, and that once a person is labelled as deviant, that person is viewed differently by the community. For example, a person labelled with a mental illness is treated differently from a “normal” person because of assumptions about that person’s behaviour related to the label. Referring to these women as foreign, a label that connoted danger to the community would have inÀuenced perceptions about them. 54. A. Giddens, Sociology (5th ed.; Cambridge: Polity, 2006), 800–802, 809; T. J. Scheff, ed., Labelling Madness (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice–Hall, 1975). 1

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This in turn would have served to escalate the concerns and affected interaction with the women. The women originally caused concerns because they came from outside and had not assimilated into the community, but were then labelled as deviant. The label increased the level of danger they posed and so encouraged more negative attitudes and actions toward them. d. A Witch Hunt? The beginning of Ezra 10 marks a key transition in the mixed marriage narrative. In Ezra 9, the problem is a failure to separate from the peoples of the lands, but Shecaniah’s response narrows the issue down to the outsider women. He made the women the target and pre¿gured the solution the community adopted. His language labelled the marriages dubious and symbolized the women as a contamination that endangered the community. Janzen characterizes this narrowing to target the women as a witch hunt.55 Using theory from Mary Douglas and Richard Fenn, he argues that the golah community in Yehud was characterized by strong external boundaries but weak internal boundaries.56 Douglas refers to this kind of social group as “high group, low grid.” 57 “High group” refers to a social group that is ¿rmly separated from other social groups it is in contact with and maintains clear boundaries. “Low grid” societies allow individuals considerable freedom within the society and have few social expectations. When behaviour that deviates from the social norms in such a society reaches crisis point, the blame will be placed on people perceived to be outsiders masquerading as insiders—witches, who need to be expelled. Restoring social norms takes the form of a witch hunt. Furthermore, according to Fenn, this type of social group performs a ritual of puri¿cation as its means of restoring the social order.58 While this is an attractive explanation for the events in Ezra 9 and 10, there is a serious Àaw in Janzen’s characterization of the golah community as “high group, low grid.” The picture of society in Yehud developed here is of an authoritarian society ruled from the top-down, one 55. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 49–69, and Witch-Hunts, 19–21. 56. He bases his ideas around the grid-group concept developed by Douglas from Basil Bernstein’s ideas about language and worldview. See Douglas, Natural Symbols, 54–68. This is augmented by insights from R. K. Fenn, The End of Time: Religion, Ritual, and the Forging of the Soul (London: SPCK, 1997). 57. Douglas, Natural Symbols, 54–68. Its characteristics are well summarized in Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 64–66. See also Janzen, Witch-Hunts, 57–62. 58. Fenn, The End of Time, 31.

1

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where conformity to social norms is required. It is a “high grid” society, not the “low grid” one that Janzen describes. The Persians controlled the society through the local elite and that elite needed tight control in order to meet Persian requirements. The golah community leadership’s control is well illustrated in the call for an assembly sent out with threats of ĔğĎ against the non-compliant. The message that the summons would be enforced is clear. It is unlikely that making the leadership swear an oath to follow the recommendation for addressing the issue, as Ezra does, would have been an adequate step toward resolution in a low grid society. Neither could a commission into the marriages have expected cooperation and compliance. Such societies are characterized by low respect for authority ¿gures and little faith in justice systems, human or divine.59 The social structure revealed by the mixed marriage social drama reÀects a high grid society, not a low grid one. Janzen, who argues that the text must be taken at face value when determining the reason for the expulsion of the women, does not take at face value the text’s claim that these women were outsiders. His argument assumes that the text hides the identity of the women behind an outsider label. However, the previous discussion of community identity issues supports the idea that these women were outsiders. They are characterized as resistant to Yahwism and af¿liated outside the community. Thus these women were tolerated outsiders who, under Ezra’s inÀuence, became shunned outsiders. The problem is not weak internal structures according to the text and the community identity struggles it indicates, but weakening external boundaries. This assessment is con¿rmed by Fenn, who notes that the predominant ritual in a society with high internal integration, Douglas’ “high grid,” and low or weakening barriers with other social groups, “mid to low group,” is a ritual of aversion.60 That is, these societies perform rituals to strengthen social cohesion, reinforce differentiation, and avert disaster. The danger of the mixed marriages according to Ezra’s penitential prayer (9:14) was community disaster, and the motivation for the divorces according to the assembly was to avert Yahweh’s anger (10:14). The actions and motivation of the community ¿t a group with strong internal integration and lowering external boundaries. The golah community was not “high group, low grid” as Janzen describes it, but “mid group, high grid”—strong internal conformity but with weakening external boundaries.

1

59. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 64–65. 60. Fenn, The End of Time, 31, 104–26.

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While Janzen’s characterization of the society is questionable, his characterization of the process as a witch hunt is not entirely inaccurate. A “witch” is an “ideal type” of a social pariah and can be present in a range of social structures, including high grid, as Douglas identi¿es.61 She points to an African tribe called the Tallensi as an example of a high grid society, where two groups are rejected: the outsider who has no clan ties and a few old women outlawed as witches. In focusing the debate about community identity on women characterized as foreign, the golah community’s actions have elements of a witch hunt. However, that assertion needs to be balanced by the recognition that it is the men who married them that are held responsible for the women and forced to expel them. The language used of the marriages, “to cause to live” (ĈĠė), emphasizes the responsibility of the men in bringing the women into the community. The women are not blamed for being who they are. Rather, the men are blamed for putting them in the wrong place, a point Janzen recognizes.62 In the sense that the women are made social pariahs and pay the price for being so labelled, this can be described as a witch hunt, but the men are held responsible for bringing them into the community. e. Conformity to the Commission’s Demands The account about the assembly and the commission in Ezra 10 does not indicate that there was any dissension from the commission’s judgments. The only dissension mentioned is over how to deal with the mixed marriages. However, Blenkinsopp suggests that this effort at reforming the marriage practice was not successful and that a number of guilty men may have ignored the commission’s decision.63 His reasoning is based on the low number of men listed as offenders and the subdued note on which the episode ends. Blenkinsopp’s conclusion raises a question about how likely it is that a man or his family could have evaded the commission’s judgment.

61. Douglas, Natural Symbols, 63. The dif¿culty that Janzen has in taking up this terminology is that in contemporary parlance the terms “witch” and “witch hunt” are ones that can be ¿lled with varying content depending on context. A witch is a social pariah who can be the victim of ideologically based persecution—a witch hunt. In this sense anthropologists like Douglas have simply appropriated a term that easily accommodates a range of socially marginalized people in different societies. 62. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 60, 62. 63. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 198. What Blenkinsopp seems to overlook, in arguing that not everyone who was found in violation of the marriage restrictions took the “extremely hard and sacri¿cial option,” is that the alternative, ignoring the leadership, was harder and probably more costly.

1

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There are several indications already noted that suggest that Blenkinsopp has failed to read the social situation accurately. Two factors in the narrative itself point to the community doing all it could to get compliance from the guilty. The ¿rst is the mood of the community. The mixed marriages were regarded as a very serious matter. The community was viewed as being on the brink of disaster because of the combination of impure outsiders and the holy people. This unstable mix gave rise to the fear of destruction in Ezra’s prayer. The urgency of the assembly meeting and the desire to avert Yahweh’s anger also point to a community leadership who believed the existence of these marriages posed a danger to the community. The leadership’s willingness to enact ĔğĎ sanctions against anyone who did not comply with the summons to the assembly reinforces that point. Anyone who did not attend was judged guilty of deliberately endangering the community and removed. The second indication that the community enforced its guilty verdicts is the power of the leadership to gain compliance. If the golah community leadership had the power to get families to a mass assembly, then it is unlikely that they lacked the power to enforce the decisions of the commission. The earlier assessment of the social structure in Yehud indicates that the leadership did have this kind of power. It also seems unlikely that people who ignored the commission’s judgments would have been treated any more leniently than those who failed to attend the assembly. Those found guilty were endangering the community as much as those who did not attend the assembly. The only response to such people was to remove them from the community to eliminate the contamination. Therefore it is probable that any who had failed to comply would have faced the ĔğĎ sanction. In addition, the cost in social shame was a powerful incentive for a guilty man to accept the commission’s judgment. An honour–shame system has enormous power to gain compliance from community members who are not in full agreement with that community’s values.64

64. In honour–shame societies a family will go to great lengths to maintain its reputation. Ahmed Abou-Zeid records that in Egyptian Bedouin society if a murderer sought refuge in the tent of his victim’s family they would be honourbound to accept him. This extreme example shows how powerful honour is as a guide to behaviour. See A. Abou-Zeid, “Honour and Shame Among the Bedouins of Egypt,” in Honour and Shame: Values of Mediterranean Society (ed. J. G. Peristiany; London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1965), 243–59. In contemporary society, the power of groups to gain compliance from reluctant members is evidenced by closed communities and cult groups. People comply with leadership demands because the cost of disobedience is perceived to be higher than the com1

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A ¿nal support for the idea that the guilty complied with the commission comes from Turner. He notes that an individual or family will act against their own interests in a social drama for the sake of the community.65 A high level of corporate solidarity is a feature of Israelite families both before and after the exile.66 Again, the interests of the individual and the family merge in honour–shame societies.67 It is possible that a family involved in a mixed marriage accepted a judgment for a divorce, despite the personal cost and disagreement with the judgement, for the greater good of the community. Just as individual actions had endangered the community, individuals were expected to pay the cost of rescuing the community. Again, the Josh 7 tradition reinforced the priority of the community over the individual and family. This is a perspective that a modern scholar in an individualistic society may ¿nd hard to understand, but in a communal society it is more normal. Faced with claims that mixed marriages were contaminating his community and likely to bring disaster, a convicted man would comply in the hope of averting divine anger. Scholarly judgments that presume that dissenting families simply ignored the commission fail to reckon with the power of the social dynamics at work in such situations. It is highly unlikely that any individuals or families openly dissented from the commission’s decisions. Even those who disagreed with judgments brought against them most probably complied, out of fear of the cost either to themselves, to the community, or both. f. Residual Effect Cottle has suggested a modi¿cation to the social drama model based on his observations of the residual effects of high pro¿le social dramas in which the media play a signi¿cant role.68 He argues that the memory of these events slowly ebbs and is periodically revived through the media. Clearly the mixed marriage social drama is not a mediatized event like the modern social dramas on which Cottle based his observations. pliance. This is well illustrated by Ngaire Thomas’s story of her life in, and eviction from, New Zealand Exclusive Brethrenism; see N. Thomas, Behind Closed Doors (2d ed.; Auckland: Random House, 2004). 65. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 85–96. 66. Leo G. Perdue, “The Household, Old Testament Theology, and Contemporary Hermeneutics,” in Perdue et al., eds., Families in Ancient Israel (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 237–39. 67. Abou-Zeid, “Honour and Shame Among the Bedouins of Egypt,” 243–59. 68. Cottle, “Social Drama in a Mediatized World,” 109–24. 1

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Nevertheless, the narrative was recorded and able to inÀuence the community. Indeed the current version, which is probably based on an earlier document, is evidence of the continued inÀuence of the narrative beyond its original setting. This indicates some residual effect. Turner raises the question about whether the redressive actions taken by a society are adequate to deal with the crisis.69 The question about the success of this community cleansing is frequently raised by scholars.70 The existence of literature in the Hebrew Bible that is more open to cross-cultural marriages (Ruth, Esther), along with the record that Nehemiah encountered a similar problem during his second tenure as governor, suggest that this forced divorce was not successful long term. However, the social processes involved point to a somewhat different assessment. As a process of de¿ning identity boundaries it may be inferred that the course of action was successful because the golah community survived and prospered to the extent that its identity became the de¿ning identity of the people in the region. The conformity of the one hundred plus men to the judgment of the commission suggests that the redressive machinery was adequate to deal with the community crisis. Further, the continued existence and growth of that community would suggest that the redressive action re-established a level of social calm. Judged in terms of social stability and durability, the process does seem to have been successful. The recurrence of the problem under Nehemiah (13:23–28), while not identical, is similar enough to call the longer-term success of the process into question. Yet, as Blenkinsopp observes, a gap of twenty-¿ve years is long enough for recidivism to occur without necessarily calling into question the effect of the earlier process.71 In this regard it needs to be remembered that the boundaries of identity are constantly under negotiation and change will occur over time. In the normal course of events the de¿nition of a label like “foreign women” would continue to be debated and adjusted.72 Judgment in later cases may have been different because the boundary markers had shifted. This may account for the different outcome with Nehemiah. The offenders agree to stop further marriages 69. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 41. 70. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 200; Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, xlvi–xlviii; J. Bright, A History of Israel (London: SCM, 1980), 393. 71. Blenkinsopp, Ezra–Nehemiah, 363. This contrasts with Bright, who does see the recurrence as implying Ezra’s failure; see Bright, A History of Israel, 393. 72. An example of the kind of continued development of the concept is provided by Camp’s discussion of the stages of development of the “strange woman,” of which Ezra–Nehemiah’s “foreign woman” is one manifestation; see Camp, Wise, Strange and Holy, 40–71.

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but do not have to divorce their wives. Is this a residual effect? Kidner suggests that the impact of the divorces on the social order may have inÀuenced later judgments.73 Unfortunately the report in Neh 13:23–28 is too brief to gauge the impact of the earlier event on the sentences. Ezra 10 is silent about the social impact, so any reasoning on this line is speculative. The incident in Neh 13 was prompted by children who did not speak Hebrew and appears to be a smaller and more isolated incident.74 There are several differences from the mixed marriages in Ezra. Nehemiah chose to deal with the families directly rather than have the community leadership judge the cases. Concern about apostasy was raised but community contamination was not. The sentence was also different. In other respects there are similarities. The issue had the same basis, in that community identity is the underlying issue. The language used to designate the marriages (ČĈĐ›ċ, Neh 13:23) and the characterization of the wives as foreign women is the same. The use of these labels with a different judgment suggests that the level of impurity implied in the notion of a foreign woman had shifted. It no longer constituted a danger to the community as a whole. This may be a shift in the direction of the concept of the strange woman in Prov 1–9, who only endangered the man who had sex with her. The oath Nehemiah got the men to swear is based on Deut 7:3, which is one of the texts used to de¿ne the impure outsiders in Ezra 9. This indicates that the same texts that were relevant in Ezra’s social drama continued to guide interaction with outsiders. The one-verse report about the son of Jehoiada who had married a daughter of Sanballat also shows a similarity to Ezra 9 and 10. Nehemiah banished him. This reÀects the emphasis on separation (ēĊĈ) in Ezra, and possibly also the ĔğĎ sanction, in that it removed contamination from the community. The marriage of a priest to a foreign woman continued to be seen as contaminating, but the marriage of a lay person to a foreign woman was not viewed as community-endangering contamination. The Neh 13 incident suggests that some residual effects from the earlier Ezra 9 and 10 social drama were present. The Torah traditions (Deut 7) by which relations with outsiders were judged remained the same. The marriages to outsiders were labelled with the same language. The non-compliant priest was banished just as the non-compliant in Ezra were threatened with ejection from the golah community. These elements indicate some residual effect from the Ezra social drama on the Nehemiah situation. On the other hand, there are differences. Foreign

1

73. Kidner, Ezra and Nehemiah, 152–53. 74. Williamson, Ezra, Nehemiah, 397.

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women were not so contaminating to the community when married to lay people. This suggests some shift in the view about the holiness of the community. The evidence is limited, but some residual effects can be detected. Also evident are the shifts that occur as social boundaries continue to be negotiated. One further residual effect of the Ezra social drama may be continued social stigma. This also draws on an observation by Turner. He notes that the status quo after a social drama is not the same as that which pertained before.75 Shifts in relationships, alliances, status and power take place during a social drama and these change the social constitution of the community. The sacri¿ce and divorce enabled the guilty man, and the family he represented, to be reintegrated back into the community. However, it is unlikely that his social position was unchanged. The guilty and their families remained linked to these events in community memory and, presuming the list in Ezra 10:18–44 is derived from a written source, in formal records. The shaping of the list into groups of twelve with key families named indicates that the writer wanted this to be seen as an event that affected the whole community. Nevertheless, in an honour-shame society, association with the mixed marriages undoubtedly carried a stigma, subtle as it may have been. The reintegration of these men is unlikely to have facilitated a complete return to their former place in the social order.76 This would have affected individuals and their families, but would have faded and been revived only if events occurred that continued to link the family with the controversy in public memory. This social drama does show some signs of residual effects. It is probable that the immediate effect was on guilty men whose family reputations suffered. Longer term, some of the underlying principles are evident in Nehemiah’s dealings with a similar incident. However, there were also some shifts in perception. The foreign women symbol had lost its connotations of dangerous impurity where lay people were concerned. 3. Summary In summary, there are a number of points where viewing the mixed marriage controversy through the social drama lens provides data that are useful in historical reconstruction. The foregoing discussion indicates how previous reconstructions of the historical context in Persian Yehud can be evaluated and nuanced.

1

75. Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, 42, and Schism and Continuity, 161. 76. Berquist, Persia’s Shadow, 143.

CONCLUSIONS

The mixed marriage social drama had an ideological basis. At the root of this social drama was an issue of community identity. In this I agree with Janzen and others who have argued this case, and disagree with interpretations which suggest that concerns about property or Persian political motives produced the controversy.1 While concern about inheritance and Persian policy contributed to the circumstances that give rise to the crisis, they did not create it. The primary and pivotal motivation is ideological. What motivated the process was a particular understanding of who the golah community in Yehud considered itself to be. That understanding was inÀuenced by Ezra’s teaching, which changed the golah community’s self-perception and therefore changed their understanding of the effect of marriage to foreign women on their community. The Exodus grand narrative was a root paradigm for signi¿cant sections of the Persian-era community in Yehud. The signi¿cance of the Exodus paradigm has long been understood to shape the writer’s presentation of the events in the book of Ezra. However, the inÀuence of the paradigm goes much deeper. The golah community’s self-understanding was founded in the Exodus grand narrative. That is not just the view of the community as presented by the writer, but reÀects the social situation of the writer and his readers. The community understood itself as a covenant people who were holy, separate from others and required to maintain that holiness and separation. They were the recipients of Yahweh’s benevolence, rescued from foreign slavery and given a land. They saw those in the land who did not conform to their views on Yahwism in the same light as the pre-conquest inhabitants of Canaan. The Exodus wilderness tradition of the apostasy at Baal Peor and the conquest tradition of Achan’s transgression were paradigm exemplars that fed the community’s understanding of covenant unfaithfulness, outsiders and the dangers they presented to the whole community, and guided the ways the community and its leaders needed to respond to unfaithfulness. 1. Janzen, “Scholars, Witches, Ideologues,” 67–69.

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Ezra’s Social Drama

The golah community in Yehud was part of a Persian-dominated society that ran on authoritarian lines. The community was controlled by its leadership, who enforced its standards. Scholars should not conceive of society in ancient Yehud in modern democratic terms with high levels of individual freedom. To do so will inevitably lead to misunderstanding with respect to social dynamics resulting in misinterpretation of the narrative and error in historical reconstruction. Further, the golah community existed in an environment where identity markers were under constant pressure and debate over boundaries was common among various interest groups. These are the social dynamics that need to be recognized alongside the ideological factors that fed into the events of the mixed marriage controversy. Ritual and symbols play a very important part in the mixed marriage social drama. The impact of Ezra’s use of ritual has not been fully appreciated by interpreters in the past. The bias against ritual that Turner had to recognize and overcome as an anthropologist is now being addressed by scholars of the Hebrew Bible. This study contributes to that process with respect to the signi¿cance of Ezra’s actions. Turner’s emphasis on the emotional impact of ritual also needs to be noted. Ritual has the power to move people. Ezra used it to inspire and require action over the mixed marriages. It also changed the status of the offenders in this social drama. Similarly, the signi¿cance of symbols needs to be recognized. By condensing multiple meanings a symbol connotes notions that intersect with the various issues of importance in a community. Like rituals, symbols also have expressive and motivational power. In order fully to appreciate the processes enacted in the mixed marriage social drama, it is imperative to recognize the cultural symbols and understand their meaning and power. The community in Yehud actively drew on the past but adjusted the institutions and traditions for new circumstances. The obvious example is the designation of these women as foreign and representative of the peoples of the lands. Deuteronomic formulations were reapplied to current circumstances. Yet those traditions were also modi¿ed by other inÀuences. The foreign women symbol had connotations that came out of community discourse and reÀected old categories adapted to new situations. The symbol continued to change, as the alternate form in Prov 1–9 and the slightly different emphasis on contamination in Neh 13 indicate. The Deuteronomic understanding of the holiness of the people took on elements of Priestly holiness that affected the self-conception of the community. Old institutions were also modi¿ed to ¿t the present. The guilt offering was modi¿ed by the addition of penitential prayer as a 1

Conclusions

195

means to transfer the sin away from the community and open the way for forgiveness. Penitential prayer itself was a modi¿cation of the lament inÀuenced by the experience of the exile and its impact on theology. The guilt offering was also modi¿ed for the circumstances with a combined reparation and penalty payment in the sending away of the non-community wives. Incorporated into this also was a covenant ceremony that had been modi¿ed from those of the monarchic era. The foundational institutions and traditions that anchored the community were modi¿ed to the context. This is Ezra’s social drama. While the writer of the narrative has minimized Ezra’s role to a large degree, the social science approach shows that Ezra was the central character in these events from start to ¿nish. It was Ezra’s teaching that laid the foundations for how the marriages would be viewed. It was Ezra’s response to the report of mixed marriages that turned the claimed breach of norms into a social crisis. Ezra assumed leadership by acting as the community’s intermediary before Yahweh and acknowledging its sin. He was the catalyst that forced the community leaders to begin the redressive action and he chose the commission that carried out the investigation according to parameters that he had set. Ezra created the crisis, propelled the action and dictated the solution.

1

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1

INDEXES INDEX OF REFERENCES HEBREW BIBLE/ OLD TESTAMENT Genesis 1:12 109 6–9 146 10:15–18 73 12:1–9 138 12:1–3 82 12:7 82 13:7 73 15:7 109 15:17–21 138 15:18–20 76 15:19–21 73 19:17 122 31:15 110 32:9 96 34:30 73 37:34 84 45:7 96 Exodus 3:7–10 3:8 3:17 3:21–22 9:27 10:5 11:2 12:2 12:35–36 13:5 21 23 23:20–33 23:23 23:28

138 73 73 140 105 96 140 139 140 73 139 139 142 73 73

23:32 27:19 29:31 32:11–14 32:31–32 33:2 33:9 33:10 33:12–16 34:9 34:11–16 34:11 34:12 34:15 35:18 38:18 38:20 39:40 Leviticus 4:13–21 5 5:14–19 5:14–16 5:26 6:9 6:19 6:20 7:6 10:13–17 10:13 10:17 12:2 12:5 14:13 15

113 99 91 85, 141 141 73 122 122 157 141 142 73 113 113 99 99 99 99

130 92, 162 129 81, 128, 153 91 91 91 91 91 91 91 91 151 151 91 104, 151

15:2–13 15:19–30 15:19–20 15:26 16 16:15–22 16:24 18:3 18:19 18:24–30 18:24–27 18:26–30 19:27 20:21 21:5 21:6–24 21:7–8 21:14 22:16 24:9 25 26:39–42 27:21 27:28

104 104 151 151 92 158 91 76 104 91 104 74 84 104 84 175 182 182 91 91 139 92 117 117

Numbers 3:37 4:32 6:5 10:13–28 11:1–2 11:2 11:11–15 12:13 13:29 13:32 14:6

99 99 175 139 157 141 141 141, 157 73 109 84

Index of References 14:10–19 14:13–19 16:21 18:14 21:4–9 21:7 22:24 25 25:4 27:5 27:15–17 27:36 33:3 36:6–12 Deuteronomy 1–3 1:8 2:30 3 3:29 4 4:1–14 4:1 4:3 4:5 4:24 4:29–30 4:37–38 4:38 6:1–25 6:18 6:24 7 7:1–31 7:1–6 7:1–3 7:1 7:2 7:3 7:6–7 7:6 7:25–26

157 141 72 117 157 141 102 143–47, 161 161 141 141 180 139 179

144 138 90 144 144 144 138 90 143–45 90 90 91 138 90 138 90 90 104, 117, 142, 191 138 75, 142, 145 104 73, 75, 76, 90 113 191 82 72 74

8:1 8:18 9:1 9:5 9:18–21 9:18 9:25 10:15 11:8 11:10 11:13–17 11:17 11:26 11:29 11:31 12:29 14:1 14:2 14:21 15 17:1 17:14–20 17:17 18:14–21 20:17 22:5 23 23:3–6 23:7–8 23:7 24 24:1–4 25:29 26:19 27:1–28:68 28:9 28:15–68 28:21 28:63 29:10–29 29:10 29:23–27 29:27 30:1–10 30:15–20 30:16

90 90 90 90 141 106 106 90 90 90 145 72 145 90 90 90 84 72, 84 72 139 74 76 181 157 73 74 76, 104 75, 76, 104 75 104 115 115 141 72 138 72 145 90 90 138, 145 110 72 90 91 138 90

209 31 31:12 31:23 33:3 Joshua 1:6 1:7 1:9 1:18 3:10 4:24 5:1 7

139 110 115 72

7:1 7:19 7:26 9:1 9:6 9:7 9:11 9:15 9:16 10:25 11:3 12:8 24:11

115 115 115 115 73 77, 78 73 90, 142, 143, 145– 47, 161, 189 80 121 161 73 113 113 113 113 113 115 73 73 73

Judges 1:4–5 2:2 2:14 3:5 21:17

73 113 94 73 96

Ruth 1:4

64

1 Samuel 1:11 7:3–11 14:27 20:38

113 157 101 122

Index of References

210 2 Samuel 1:2 3:31 5:2 10:4–5 12:14 12:15–20 15:19

84 84 109 159 96 117 110

1 Kings 8 8:43 8:46–53 8:53 8:60 9:20 11:1–13 11:1–11 11:1–8 20:14 20:15 20:17 20:19 20:34 21:27

77, 88 77, 78 94 77, 78 77, 78 73 151 181 76 45 45 45 45 113 84

2 Kings 6:30 9:7 10:15 17:7–20 17:13 17:20 17:23 19:1 19:30 19:31 21:10–15 21:10 22:13–20 23 24:2

84 90 129 94 90 94 90, 104 84 96 96 94 90, 104 104 90 90, 104

1 Chronicles 1:13–16 1:36 1:52

73 34 34

2:3–4:23 4:13–15 4:43 5:25 8:1–40 12:9 13:1 16 16:8–22 16:35–36 21:3 22:13 23:2 23:13 24:5 28:1 28:10 28:20 29:24

33 34 96 77, 78 33 72 116 143 170 170 91 115 71 72 116 116 115 115 129

2 Chronicles 6:33 8:7 11:21 12:6 12:7 13:21 19:11 20:24 21:7 24:3 24:18 28:10 28:13 29:10 29:24 30:6 30:8 30:21 30:25 31:1 31:8 31:33 32:7 32:13 32:19 33:23

77, 78 73 64 105 96 64 115 96 113 64 91 91 91 113, 114 171 96, 171 129 171 71 171 171 171 115 77, 78 77, 78 91

34:30 35:3 35:17 35:18 Ezra 1–8 1–6 1:2 1:3 1:5 1:6 1:8–11 2

2:1–67 2:2 2:7 2:33 2:59 2:64 2:68 2:70 3 3:1 3:2 3:3 3:10 3:11 3:12 4 4:1–3 4:1 4:2 4:3 4:4 4:12 5:1 5:3–17 5:5 5:9 5:11 5:14–15 6

71 171 171 71

63 67, 137 36 70 27, 36, 70, 71, 119 140 140 31, 35, 71, 127–29, 131 30 70, 71 107 35 70 107 27 70, 71 55 70 70 77, 78 70 70, 101 27, 118 123, 183 171, 183 36, 70 27, 28 27, 70 49, 70 102 70 123 118 118 70 140 70, 83, 111, 142

Index of References 6:5 6:7 6:8 6:14 6:16 6:17 6:21 6:22 7–10

7–8 7 7:1–10 7:6 7:7 7:9 7:10 7:11–9:5 7:11 7:13 7:14 7:15 7:25–26 7:25 7:26 7:28 8

8:1–14 8:2 8:7 8:11 8:18 8:22 8:25 8:29 8:31

140 45, 118 118 70, 118 70, 71 70 70–72, 77, 79 70 25, 29, 52–56, 58, 67, 137, 139, 155, 165 173 64, 71 128 64, 70 70, 71, 139 56, 139 70 59 70 70, 71 58 70 58 34 118 70, 101 56, 58, 64, 73, 127, 131 127 144 107 64 70 72 70 27, 70, 71, 116 56

8:35–36 8:35 9–10 9

9:1–5 9:1–2 9:1

9:2

9:3 9:4 9:6–15 9:6–9 9:6–7 9:6 9:7 9:8–9 9:8

9:9

128 70 55, 112 1–4, 6, 16, 17, 24, 25, 26, 29, 50, 52–67, 73, 83, 90–92, 99, 102, 106, 111, 112, 132, 134, 137, 143–46, 149, 150, 155, 165, 166, 169, 173, 175, 176, 181, 185, 191 59, 68 53, 57, 73, 149 26, 58, 65, 70–78, 111, 118, 119, 151, 175 26, 64, 65, 69, 71, 72, 77, 78, 118, 119 86 26, 70, 106 65, 68, 88, 90 93 92 65 65, 90, 91 92, 140 26, 91, 96, 97, 100, 101 49, 66, 101, 102, 140

211 9:10–15 9:10–14 9:10–12 9:10 9:11–12 9:11

9:12 9:13–14 9:13 9:14

9:15

9:16 9:17 10

10:1–44 10:1–17 10:1–8

103, 140 92 92 65 91, 92 26, 64, 65, 74, 77–79, 90, 104, 111, 151, 181 64, 75, 76, 149 92 65, 91, 96, 97, 105 26, 65, 66, 72, 78, 79, 96, 97, 122, 145, 149, 176, 186 26, 61, 65, 70, 91, 92, 96, 97 61 90 1–4, 6, 16, 17, 24–26, 29, 50, 52, 53, 56–68, 71, 83, 93, 106, 109, 110, 112, 113, 127, 129, 132, 134, 137, 143–46, 149, 150, 155, 165, 166, 169, 175, 176, 181, 185, 191 106 126 59

Index of References

212 Ezra (cont.) 10:1–6 10:1 10:2–6 10:2

10:3

10:4 10:5 10:6 10:7–44 10:7 10:8

10:9–14 10:9 10:10–11 10:10

10:11

10:12–15 10:12 10:14

10:15 10:16

10:17 49 26, 70, 106, 119 65 26, 64, 65, 70, 77, 78, 109, 149, 151 58, 66, 86, 109, 113, 114, 149, 156, 176 115 26, 70, 71, 114 88, 153 65 26, 35, 66, 118 26, 48, 72, 107, 110, 117, 153 49 26, 36, 56, 153 119 26, 64, 65, 70, 109, 149 26, 65, 72, 77, 78, 121, 149, 151 119 26, 107 26, 48, 64, 66, 109, 122, 123, 153, 161, 186 122, 123, 125 26, 27, 48, 56, 72, 122, 123, 125

10:18–44 10:18 10:19

10:21 10:25 10:26 10:31 10:40 10:44

Nehemiah 1 1:1–7:5 1:1–4 1:1 1:2 1:3 1:4 1:5–11 1:6 1:8–9 2:10 3 3:1–32 3:15 3:17–18 3:19 4 5 5:13 5:15 5:17–18 5:17 6:1–14 6:2 6:17–19

26, 64, 109, 125, 127 61, 127, 192 26 61, 92, 121, 127– 29, 132, 149, 153, 162, 163 108 70, 71 108 131 131 26, 58, 64, 127, 149, 152, 162

63, 89 137 62, 63 60 96, 97 102 63, 89 88, 94 70 89 70, 183 21, 31, 39, 40 30 39 39 39 123 63 107 45 48 48 123 31 34, 183

6:18–19 6:18 6:19 7 7:4–69 7:7 7:12 7:61 7:66 7:70 7:71 7:72–8:18 7:72 8–10 8

8:1 8:2 8:13 8:14 8:17 9–10 9 9:1 9:2 9:3 9:6–38 9:8 9:17 9:24 9:30 9:32 9:33 9:36–37 9:36 9:37 9:38 ET 10:1 10:3 10:15 10:16 10:21

183 79 109 31, 54–56, 71 30 70 107 70 107 27 27 53 56, 70 54 52–58, 61, 66, 68, 73, 86, 124, 138, 156, 173 70, 120 107 27 70 70, 107, 139 54 53, 89 70, 89 70, 72 89 88, 94 73 101 77, 78 77, 78 101, 102 91, 105 49, 101 140 28, 94 114 114 108 61 61 77

Index of References 10:29 10:31–32 10:31 10:32 10:34 10:40 10:44 11 11:1 11:3 11:4 11:20 11:25–36 11:36 12 12:1–26 12:12 12:22 12:23 12:47 13

13:1 13:2 13:3 13:14 13:15 13:18 13:22 13:23–31 13:23–28 13:23–27 13:23–25 13:23–24 13:23 13:24 13:25

13:26

72, 77, 78 78 77 77 70 70 65 30, 31, 54, 55 54 70 36 70 30 36 31, 97 30 27 27 27 70 63, 64, 108, 109, 112, 178, 191, 194 98, 107 70 70 101, 102 28 70, 72 101 64 190, 191 76, 163 62 73 74, 78, 109, 191 179 64, 79, 116, 119, 159, 173 70, 76, 151, 181, 183

13:27 13:28

109 183

Esther 1:1 1:16 4:1 8:17

45 45 84 78

Job 2:11–13

84

Psalms 1:5 5:5 24:3–4 24:3 40:9 55:18 80 80:13 103:21 105 105:1–15 106 106:27 106:28–31 120–134 130:3 137:1 143:10 Proverbs 1–9

2:1–22 2:16 5:1–23 5:3 5:10 5:20 6:1 6:24–35

105 105 105 91 121 88 103 102 121 170 170 88, 143, 144, 170 170 143–45 139 105 63 121

111–13, 149, 150, 167, 191, 194 151 111 151 111 110 111 151 151

213 7:1 7:5–27 7:5 24:31 27:13

151 151 111 102 111

Ecclesiastes 8:10

91

Isaiah 1:19 3:14 4:2 5:1–7 5:5 6:13 10:20 11:10 15:9 20 22 22:23 22:25 33 33:20 37:31 37:32 40:1–2 41:25 43:1–7 43:16–21 52:11–12 52:11 54:2 56 57:3–13 60:1–5 61:5 63 63:11–19 63:16 65:1–7 66 66:2 66:5

104 103 96 103 102 72, 174 96 122 96 85 99 99 99 101 99, 100 96 96 105 80 171 171 140 140 99 168 181 167 122 168 171 171 181 86, 87 86, 87 86, 87

Index of References

214 Jeremiah 2:3 2:26 3:3 5:17 7:16–20 7:25 9:15 11:14 15:1 21:12 24:10 25:35 29:2 42:17 44:4 44:14 44:15–30 44:15–19 44:25 44:28 50:29 51:23 51:28 51:57

175 94 91 94 181 104 94 158 157, 158 72 94 96 116 91 104 91 184 181 181 91 96 80 80 80

Lamentations 1:1 45 Ezekiel 3:15 4–5 6:8 6:9 7:16 8 8:6 8:13 8:14 8:15 8:17 13:5 13:17–23 14:22 16:27 16:54

84 85 91 91 91 181 181 181 184 181 181 103 184 91, 96 91 91

16:59–63 16:61 17:18 18:6 18:9 19:10 20 20:23 22:10 22:30 23:6 23:12 23:23 26:16 36:17 42:13 43:10–11 44:22 44:29

91 91 129 104 91 103 170, 175 170 104 103, 122 80 80 80 84 104, 151 91 91 182, 183 117

Daniel 3:2 4 4:25 6:11 7:1–2 9 9:2 9:3 9:4–19 9:6 9:7–8 9:10 9:14 9:21 10:1–2 11:42

45 60, 61 60 88 60 89, 92 89 89 88, 94 104 94 104 105 88, 89 60 96

Joel 2:3 3:5

96 96

Amos 3:7 5:10 7:1–6

104 75 157

Obadiah 11 17

110 96

Micah 3:9 7:11–13 7:11

75 102 102

Haggai 1:10–11 2:23

28 44

Zechariah 1:4–6 1:6 4

141 104 44

APOCRYPHAL/DEUTEROCANONICAL BOOKS 1 Esdras 8:69 75 9:2 116 9:4 117 9:14 123 9:16 125 9:18–36 127 9:20 129 9:32 127 9:36 127, 131, 132 9:37 56 Ecclesiasticus 7:23 7:25 49:12b–13 49:13

64 109 52 141

Baruch 1:15–3:8

88, 94

1 Maccabees 4–5

38

Index of References 2 Maccabees 1:18 1:20–36

52 52

NEW TESTAMENT Acts 3:1 88 PSEUDEPIGRAPHA 1 Enoch 12:1–3 60 Jubilees 7:20–26

60

MISHNAH Berakhot 27b

141

Sanhedrin 21b

141

Sotah 48b

141

215

TOSEFTA TALMUD Sanhedrin 4:7 67, 141

Code of Hammurabi 171–173 179 171–172 179

CLASSICAL Herodotus Histories 61–87

Middle Assyrian Laws 25 179 46 179

Josephus Antiquities 11.5.1 11.120–58 11.159–83 14.4.3

46

141 52 52 88

Contra Apion 2.28 111 TABLETS, INSCRIPTIONS, AND PAPYRI Behistun III.3 33 III.10 33

Wadi Murabba!at Marriage Contracts 115 gr 10–12 179 116 gr 8–12 179 21 ar 14–16 179 Passover Papyrus TAD A4.1 35 TAD A4.7 47 TAD B3.3 180

INDEX OF AUTHORS Abou-Zeid, A. 188, 189 Achtemeier, E. 87 Ackerman, S. 11, 17, 181, 182 Albertz, R. 48 Allen, L. C. 39, 53, 54, 75, 96, 100, 103, 105, 107, 116, 118, 119, 123–25, 129, 132, 143, 161, 170, 172 Alt, A. 44 André, G. 75, 104 Ashley, T. R. 145 Averbeck, R. E. 75, 104 Avigad, N. 46, 47 Baer, D. A. 102, 117 Baker, B. W. 69 Balentine, S. E. 1, 28 Bamberg, M. 22–25 Barr, J. 150, 163 Barth, F. 25 Batten, L. 67, 100, 116, 118, 121 Bedford, P. R. 1, 94, 97, 138 Berquist, J. L. 1, 22, 24, 25, 27, 28, 48, 50, 82, 165, 171, 178, 180, 191 Betlyon, J. W. 32, 47–49 Bishop, R, 10 Blenkinsopp, J. 2, 27, 31, 39, 48, 53, 54, 58, 59, 67, 72, 75, 76, 82, 85–88, 93, 96–98, 100, 107, 108, 114–16, 118, 120–23, 125, 127, 128, 131, 132, 141, 161, 163, 172, 179, 180, 187, 190 Boda, M. J. 85, 89–91, 130, 151, 170, 175 Brett, M. G. 6, 73, 82 Briant, P. 33, 46, 48 Bright, J. 190 Broshi, M. 43 Broyles, C. C. 143, 170 Budd, P. J. 143, 145 Butler, T. C. 77 Camp, C. V. 1, 112, 150, 154, 190 Carter, C. E. 3–5, 7, 27, 30–32, 37, 38, 40, 42, 43, 46, 47 Cataldo, J. 120

Christensen, D. L. 142, 144 Clements, R. E. 72 Clines, D. J. A. 39, 53, 75, 76, 85, 86, 88, 93, 94, 96, 97, 99, 105, 107, 108, 116–21, 123, 127–29, 131, 155, 172 Cogan, M. 77 Cohen, M. 9 Cohen, R. 37 Collins, J. J. 27 Cottle, S. 10, 134, 189 Dahlen, K. 53, 75, 100 Dahood, M. 143 Dandamaev, M. A. 48 Davies, P. R. 1 De Fina, A. 22–25, 177 DeVries, S. J. 77 Demsky, A. 39 Dommershausen, W. 182 Dor, Y. 58, 62 Douglas, M. 1, 7, 23, 83, 185, 187 Duggan, M. 66 Dwyer, P. 9 Earl, D. S. 18 Eaton, J. 143, 170 Eco, U. 16, 147, 148, 152, 154, 167, 168 Edelman, D. V. 21, 30, 38 Eissfeldt, O. 59 Ellis, R. S. 98 Emerton, J. A. 96 Ericksen, R. P. 81 Eskenazi, T. C. 1, 25, 26, 50, 52, 58, 67–69, 72, 74, 79, 82, 98, 100, 137, 164, 165, 173, 174, 176, 179, 180 Esler, P. F. 1, 4, 6, 22 Fabry, H.-J. 75, 104 Falk, D. K. 88, 89, 91, 92, 143 Faust, A. 44 Fenn, R. K. 185, 186

Index of Authors Fensham, F. C. 39, 53, 54, 69, 76, 86, 96– 98, 101, 105, 107, 114, 116, 121–23, 125, 129, 178 Finkelstein, I. 43 Fishbane, M. 84, 144 Flanagan, J. 2, 4, 17–20, 22 Fohrer, G. 59 Fried, L. 47–49, 120, 140, 159 Fritz, V. 77 Galling, K. 44 Geertz, C. 9 Gergen, K. J. 24 Gerstenberger, E. S. 143, 170 Giddens, A. 32, 37, 49, 184 Ginters, L. 9 Gordon, R. P. 102, 117 Görg, M. 108 Gottwald, N. K. 4, 5 Grabbe, L. L. 20, 21, 30, 37, 39, 40, 46, 49, 58, 67, 74, 85, 86, 97, 105, 141, 157, 172 Grisanti, M. A. 74 Grol, H. van 92, 100, 101 Gunneweg, A. H. J. 53, 68, 69, 75, 76, 94, 98, 99, 122, 123, 125 Guttman, M. 111 Hagedorn, A. 4, 22, 24, 25 Hamilton, M. W. 1, 23 Hamilton, V. P. 80, 96 Harris, R. L. 102 Hartley, J. E. 130 Hasel, G. 96, 97 Hayden, R. E. 179 Hays, C. B. 154, 155 Herion, G. A. 4–6 Hess, R. 39 Hoffmeier, J. K. 158 Hogewood, J. C. 158, 159 Hoglund, K. G. 2, 31, 35, 37, 38 Horbury, W. 1, 161 Hubbard, R. L. Jr. 96 In der Smitten, W. 56 Ishida, T. 73, 75 Jackson, D. R. 146 Janzen, D. 1, 2, 151, 152, 179, 181, 185, 186, 187, 191 Japhet, S. 53, 93, 114, 170

217

Jastrow, M. 84 Johnstone, W. 165 Jokiranta, J. 22 Jonker, L. 24, 25 Judd, E. P. 69, 74, 79, 164, 165 Keel, O. 88 Keil, C. F. 92 Kennedy, A. R. S. 163 Kessler, J. 97, 165 Kidner, D. 53, 190 Kittel, G. 81 Klauck, H.-J. 130 Knoppers, G. N. 22–24, 26, 28, 170 Koch, K. 85, 139, 140 Konkel, A. H. 110, 111 Kopf, L. 132 Kramer, C. 42 Kraus, H.-J. 143, 145, 170 Laniak, T. 39, 53, 54, 75, 96, 100, 105, 107, 116, 118, 119, 123–25, 129, 132, 161, 172 Larson, K. 53, 75, 100 Leavering, M. 53, 75, 99 Lebram, J. H. C. 81 Lemche, N. P. 4 Levine, B. A. 145, 182 Lipschits, O. 1, 27, 31, 32, 36–43 Loh¿nk, N. 84, 117, 142 London, G. A. 43 Long, G. A. 182 Lukonin, V. G. 48 Maier, C. 112 Maldonado, R. D. 81 Martens, E. A. 122 Martin-Achard, R. 111 Marty, R. 148 Mayes, A. D. H. 5 McComiskey, T. E. 104 McConville, J. G. 100, 142, 144 McEvenue, S. E. 44, 45 McFarland, D. A. 10 McNutt, P. 4, 18–21 Meier, S. A. 179 Meyers, C. L. 4 Milgrom, J. 57, 80, 92, 104, 128–30, 143, 145, 175, 182, 183 Min, K.-J. 95 Morris, B. 8

218

Index of Authors

Morrow, W. S. 85, 91, 93 Mowinckel, S. 56, 60 Muffs, Y. 157 Musil, A. 98 Myers, J. 20, 39, 54, 61, 85, 93, 97, 99, 100, 114, 116, 118, 123–25, 127, 131, 141, 170, 172 Nel, P. J. 69 Nelson, R. D. 72, 77, 142, 144 Niditch, S. 138 Niehr, H. 69 Oeming, M. 1 Olyan, S. M. 1, 26 Overholt, T. W. 4 Pakkala, J. 58, 60, 62, 64, 65, 72, 80 Patterson, R. D. 80 Perdue, L. G. 4, 189 Petersen, D. L. 25 Pohlmann, K. 56 Preuss, H.-D. 74, 149 Rad, G. von 144 Rainey, A. F. 4 Richards, K. H. 1 Ringgren, H. 80, 110–12, 122, 149 Ristau, K. A. 22–24 Rogerson, J. 7 Rudolph, W. 39, 53, 54, 61, 109, 122–25, 127, 172 Sacchi, P. 21 Sapir, E. 15 Schechner, R. 10 Scheff, T. J. 184 Schiffrin, D. 22–25 Schuller, E. 89 Shiloh, Y. 42, 43 Shotter, J. 24 Smith, D. L. 2, 4, 26, 27, 28, 83, 165 Smith, J. Z. 23, 25 Smith, M. 45 Smith, W. R. 4 Smith-Christopher, D. L. 2, 26, 72, 108, 140, 164, 165, 167 Snijders, L. A. 111 Soggin, J. A. 77 Sommer, B. D. 85 Sparks, K. L. 83

St. John, G. 8 Staunton, M. 135 Stern, E. 31, 32, 38, 46, 47 Stone, K. 22 Sweeney, M. A. 77 Thomas, N. 189 Throntveit, M. A. 53, 67, 75 Torrey, C. C. 52, 53, 56, 60, 61 Tull, P. 143 Turner, V. W. 8–16, 107, 108, 134–36, 147, 148, 152, 153, 157, 158, 160, 163, 174, 189–91 Van Gennep, A. 8 Van Seters, J. 75, 76 VanderKam, J. C. 52 Vogt, H. C. M. 36, 70, 78, 79, 95, 97, 142 Wakely, R. 80 Waltke, B. M. 111, 112 Washington, H. C. 1, 2, 112, 113, 179 Watts, J. D. W. 50, 72, 86, 171 Weber, M. 4 Weinberg, J. 27, 30 Weinfeld, M. 90, 94, 105, 113, 115, 138, 142, 175 Werline, R. A. 89, 91, 92, 130, 143 Westermann, C. 86, 171 Whybray, R. N. 62, 86, 171 Widengren, G. 45, 48, 50 Wijk-Bos, J. W. H. van 53, 75, 81, 120, 155, 161, 174 Williamson, H. G. M. 20, 39, 40, 52–58, 60, 61, 65, 67–69, 74, 75, 82, 86–88, 92–101, 103, 105, 107–109, 112–14, 116, 118, 122, 123, 125, 128, 130, 131, 139, 140, 155, 161, 170–72, 190 Wilson, R. R. 4, 5 Wolf, C. U. 119 Wright, D. P. 104 Wright, J. L. 54, 55, 58, 62–64 Wright, J. W. 31–34, 37, 38, 119 Yamauchi, E. 104 Youngblood, R. F. 74 Zevit, Z. 180 Zobel, H.-J. 102 Zorn, J. R. 42